Chapter 1
When I step into the Great Hall and see George Weasley embracing Ron and crying, I already know. I already know and yet I pretend that I don't.
When the fight started, Fred and I lost each other immediately, swept up in the rush and the oncoming enemies. And yet I had confidence in him. I had this certainty that he was going to come back.
Later, I will blame his death on this. Me and my certainty that he'd be alive.
"George...?" I ask his twin, his other half, a silent question. I beg to anything and everything that what I'm suspecting is not true. I already know and yet I pretend I don't.
George turns to me, his usually beaming face hollow and lost. Tears stream down his face, cleaning the dirt from it. He strides over and envelops me in an all-consuming embrace.
I already know and yet I pretend that I don't.
I pull away from him, feeling the tears fill my eyes already. And then I see it.
I see him.
Lying there, eyes to the ceiling. Eyes that are looking but not seeing.
Eyes that looked at me, filled with love. Eyes that will never look at me like that again.
I stumble toward him, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. My knees hit the stone floor hard, but I don't care. I reach out, trembling, my hands brushing against his face. His skin is still warm, but too still, too lifeless.
"Fred, stop mucking about, you numpty," I choke out, smoothing down his messy hair. It's always messy—I was always the one to fix it. My tears fall freely now, landing on his cheeks, and I pause, waiting for him to crack a joke, to wipe them away, to tell me this is just another one of his pranks. For him to suggest another stupid name for my baby.
Our baby.
He doesn't reply, eyes glassed over.
I feel Molly's hand on my shoulder, and I can hear George's sobs in the background.
"Angelina." She says softly, her own voice trembling. I turn to her aged face, see the redness in her eyes. "He's...he's gone." I shake my head violently, as if doing that will make any of this less true.
"No. No, Mrs Weasley, he's still here, it's just a stupid prank he's playing. Right, Fred?" I look back toward Fred, who's still not responding.
"Fred...?" I ask one last time, but he is gone. The father of my child, my best friend, and the love of my life, Fred Weasley, is dead.
A scream rips from my throat, raw and guttural, echoing through the hall. George is there instantly, his arms wrapping around me again, pulling me away from Fred. I fight him, thrashing, my hands reaching out for Fred, for anything, but it's no use.
"Angelina, please," George begs, his voice breaking. He's crying harder now, his tears soaking into my hair as he holds me tightly. I collapse into his embrace, my strength leaving me completely, sobbing against him.
Behind us, Molly weeps quietly, her hand clutching Arthur's. Ginny stands nearby, her face pale and expressionless, her eyes red and puffy. The grief of the Weasley family hangs in the air like a storm cloud, suffocating and endless.
"We were supposed to get married," I whisper hoarsely, so much so that only George can hear. "We were supposed to raise this baby together."
George doesn't say anything. He just holds me tighter, as if trying to shield me from the weight of what's just happened. But there's no shielding from this.
He's gone.