[Fic-HP] To Fall

[misanagi]

To Fall

Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
Characters: George Weasley, Fred Weasley and Lee Jordan.
Warnings: Spoilers for DH. Language. Angst.
Summary: George and Lee have a drink.

Notes: Written for thanfiction. Set in his Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness universe but it can be read on it's own. Still, if you haven't read thanfiction's story I really recommend that you do. It's an amazing read.

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"You should tell him to go to what’s left of the Gryffindor common room. He could share his stash with George and Lee. They’re up there not coping with Fred the same way.(…)"
Thanfiction – "Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness"


"Do you wa—"

"No." George held up the bottle of firewhisky and pushed it into Lee's hands before the sentence could be completed.

The bottle passed hands and George kept his eyes down, looking but really not at the cracked floor of the common room. His fingers were numb. He flexed them slowly, once, twice. Tired. His eyes closed for a moment and for a blessed second he saw only black. Then the images were back. He forced them open, fighting the sting of tired eyes and held his hand to Lee.

The weight of the bottle felt good. It was considerably lighter than a few minutes ago but that was alright. Fred knew he could get more. He washed down the choking feeling in his throat with a swig of alcohol. It burned but not as much as it should. It had come from their secret stash, from the compartment in their room that hadn't been discovered in the two years since they had left Hogwarts. It was theirs and he was drinking it alone.

He let the bottle rest on the floor but kept his fingers around the neck as if holding on to it were something important. It was a while before he took another swig.

* * *

The air was cold and he could see his breath, smoky white and coming in fast gasps.

"Did we lose them?"

George looked around, feeling ridiculous the moment he did. It wasn't as if the Death Eaters would be hiding behind the bushes. If they were here they would have seen them and probably be in the middle of a fight now, if not dead. "I think so."

Fred let out a long breath and leaned back on the wall of an old pub. "Lee?"

"He apparated…" George shrugged. Anything after that wasn't more than a guess but Lee was resourceful and he would find a way to be alright.

Fred nodded and put his hands inside his pockets. A few moments later he produced a crumpled paper of Muggle money and showed it to George.

"By Merlin, yes," George answered without skipping a beat and they both walked inside the ragged Muggle pub, tucking their wands carefully under their jumpers.

* * *

"We drank to the bastards."

There wasn't any sound of acknowledgement but George knew Lee was listening. "We gave them a toast and wished them messy deaths." George let out a small chuckle, surprising himself. "Fred hoped they would shit themselves as they died and I reckon some of them did."

"Shit themselves when they were taken by kids," Lee added. His voice sounded raspy and solemn but there was a hint of humor there, even if it was forced.

He had seen some of them die, kids they had teased and pranked; kids they had made laugh. There had been so many bodies and most of them, almost all of them smaller than his brother's. He reached for the bottle, picked it up and heard it shatter. It was a moment before he realized he had broken it, before he saw the blood in his hand.

It didn't even hurt.

* * *

"This is rubbish!" said Fred feigning disappointment. "Only five hundred galleons?" He gave the parchment in his hand a distasteful look and threw it on the table.

"I'll be sure to write a letter to Voldy informing him of our disappointment," George deadpanned. "I'm sure he'll find a speedy way to correct the situation."

"Well, after out last encounter with his lovely minions I thought we would be worth at least a thousand," Fred said with a grin.

"Quite right you are but maybe he's just hoping the twelve snakes he assigned to get us will have better luck." He took the parchment on his hands and examined it. "The picture isn't even a good one. You'll figure they would use color if they are trying to catch a Weasley."

"Maybe he's tight on galleons." Fred grabbed a couple of butterbeers from a cupboard, did a quick cooling charm and offered on to George. "Which explains this insult much better. I'm appalled, I tell you, apa— bloody hell! Mum!"

George let the parchment fall on the table. "Maybe she hasn't seen it yet?"

Fred was already scrambling for a spare piece of parchment and some ink.

"No time for that," George said and after a moment they both took out their wands and casted a patronus.

* * *

Lee healed his hand and vanished the blood. George kept looking at it for a moment and then summoned another bottle. This time he was careful opening it but instead of drinking, he offered it to Lee.

Lee just stared back at him until George said, "I spilled."

Lee took the bottle and had a long drink. Then he offered the firewhisky back. "I'm not getting drunk alone."

George took it and downed quite a bit of the fiery liquid. "I wouldn't let you. Not tonight."

The next time George looked up Lee's eyes were misty. Lee glanced away but George kept looking at him. His own eyes stung but he didn't feel tears coming. Lee, though… his eyes were red, even though George hadn't seen him cry.

"Do you…" George's voice cracked but after clearing his throat he managed to continue. "Do you want to talk?"

* * *

"Come on, Lee. We brought it specially for you."

"And you wouldn't want to hurt our feelings."

"As you know they are easily hurt."

"And as our friend it's your duty to be complacent."

"Just as it is our duty as your friends to bring you gifts."

"Oh, bloody alright, just stop that," Lee said, trying to look exasperated but his smile betrayed him. "But if Kingsley hexes me for being pissed—"

"Like you'll get pissed with a bit of vodka," Fred said dismissively.

"You forget, our friend, that we saw you win a drinking contest against three sailors just a scant few years ago." George patted him on the back and poured the clear liquid on three shot glasses.

"If you can't have a drink with your mates now and then, then you are really too old for all this rubbish," said Fred with conviction, gesturing at the equipment used to transmit Potterwach.

Lee took his drink and gave it a careful look. "It was a bit responsible of me too decline at first."

"A horrible offence which we are sure you won't be repeating." Fred raised his own glass and then George followed.

"Never," Lee vowed and took a drink.

* * *

"I'm not sure there's anything to say," Lee said. His voice was sad, too sad and it hit George like a punch in the gut.

"Sure it is," George replied, trying to sound casual but too aware that his own voice sounded sad and hollow and empty. "Great Mr. Lee Jordan can hardly be speechless."

Lee snorted. "I'm doing a pretty good job of that now. A fucking pretty good job of everything." He reached for the bottle and had a healthy drink.

"No mate," George said evenly, all attempts of normality gone. "You don't get to do that now."

Lee looked as if he had been hit. His eyes lowered and this time George could see a tear on the corner of his eye. "Sorry."

"No, you don't get to do that either." George let himself fall back on the floor, bits and pieces of debris digging into his back. He looked up at the scorched ceiling and tried to breath slower. His chest felt heavy. He open his mouth to speak and felt a sob coming but the urge disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving him tired, worn.

"Just have a drink, Lee."

* * *

"I've been thinking about uncle Fabian and uncle Gideon."

"You don't even remember them."

"True," Fred conceded. "But I've been thinking about them."

"You're pissed," George said, opening his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping anyway.

"They went together. That's what mum always says."

A cold shiver went down George's spine. "They were heroes. She always says that too."

There was a pause. "We might not go together."

Any lasting lightheadedness was gone immediately and George was sober as he would ever be. "It's our birthday, you git." His voice didn't sound as careless as he would have wanted it to. "Cut it out with the death talk."

There was no reply. The rest of the night was quiet.

* * *

When he sat up again he felt dizzy. The room spun a couple of times and he had to put a hand on the floor to anchor himself before he could focus his eyes -more or less- again.

The firewhisky was in his hand and he raised it slightly. "To my uncles," he whispered before he tipped it and drank half of it.

Then he felt Lee's fingers over his and he let go of the bottle. "To Fred," he said.

His chest tightened and George closed his eyes. He felt Lee put the bottle back on his hand. He chocked down a sob and raised it as high as he could. He opened his eyes and felt tears pool on the corner of his eyes. "To my brother," he whispered, and let them fall.


- The End -