#sorry for flooding the dh tag for a bit

[ickle-ronniekins]

everything and more, part IV

A/N: part four coming at you—getting into the war, here—sorry this is so bloody long i am sincerely trying to not write long parts but i can’t help myself, also to conjure ~real emotions~ play “at the burrow” from dh whilst listening to this

warnings: mentions of war, death, ptsd, anxiety, not proofread

tag list for fred: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @how-do-life-does @semmelsemi @perksofbeingawf @cottageoflove

other: @gwenandtheunfortunatename @bbystrawberry0421 @valwritesx

PART I | PART II | PART III | EVERYTHING AND MORE

Battle of Hogwarts

You’d been separated. Fred didn’t even know what side of the castle he was on at this point. Somehow, in the midst of the chaos, he’d lost you. Fear tugged at his heart as he looked around for any sight of you.

Dirt and dust and rubble were blocking his sight.

“Oi!” Bill called from a few feet away, looking rather hellish and distraught, “You alright, mate?”

Fred didn’t answer, but instead, rubbed soot out of his bloodshot eyes. Nearly everything was on fire, or crumbling to pieces. He continued to fire spells in every which direction.. not paying attention to the death eaters nearing closer. George nearly lost his balance and fell over the side of the castle.

What time was it? How long had this been going on? Days, weeks, months?

Panic rose in Fred’s chest as he became more and more frantic.

“Freddie!”

He whirled around—seeing you nearly knocked the wind right out of him. There were large, bloody gashes covering your face and above your eyebrows, your hair matted down by dirt in a thick braid, rips and tears in your jeans, bottom lip covered in blood.

You seemed to have bit down quite hard when you were knocked to the ground.

“Merlin..” Fred started, barely able to finish his sentence. He hoisted himself over bricks and large chunks of castle and took your bruised face very gingerly in his hands. “What happened to you?”

Your throat was very dry. “Got caught between some death eaters—seemed to have got them all, Lupin sent us this way—”

But before you could finish, it seemed as though another wave of followers were attempting to penetrate the protective enchantments, and were succeeding very quickly.

Horrified, Fred squeezed your hand and pointed to the far end of the corridor. “Go—go! Go with Ginny—”

“What?” you asked, his last words hanging in the smoky air. “Fred, no! I’m not leaving you!”

“Please,” he pleaded through gritted teeth, his eyes glistening with tears. Everything seemed to go silent around you both, and his heart hurt as he continued, “Go. Please.”

He squeezed your hand once more.

Regrettably, you let go of his hand and made your way towards Ginny—far from Fred, George, and the rest of her brothers. You continued more of your protective enchantments, watching with a heavy heart as death eaters continued to fire spells with no effort at all. George was thrown back into a wall that crumbled around him, causing his leg to snap underneath the weight of the bricks. Somewhere next to you, a scream escaped Ginny, her lip quivering as she shut her eyes tight.

Percy ran to George’s aid, who was crying out in pain. Bill and Fred and Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were fighting off a group of death eaters about four times larger than their group, whilst George struggled to get to his feet as his brother tried quickly to mend his bones.

The smoke from the fire burned your eyes, and they filled with tears—you rubbed them with the back of your shirtsleeve, desperate to see in front of you, anything.. even three feet. The air was heavy and thick with smoke and debris.

“No!” you heard a shout. It sounded like George.

There was a gasp next to you. Ginny had her hand clamped over her mouth, as if to hold herself back from letting any noise escape her lips.

Fred was busy firing at someone over the edge of the balcony—he’d knocked them right off, when he turned to Bill to share a sincere, yet exhausted smile, and he didn’t notice another behind him.

You wanted to scream, but couldn’t find your voice. Ginny clutched your arm as tight as she could.

As the death eater stealthily fired a spell in the direction of his brothers, Percy yelled into the distance, “Fred—!”

As the spell hit the small of his back, Fred fell to the ground—his lifeless, limp body sprawled out over multiple chunks of castle, and George’s hoarse cries echoed throughout the corridor, Bill stood over his brother in shock, Ginny fell to her knees beside you, the death eater vanishing into thin air as Arthur and Remus attacked.

With every ounce of strength he had in him, George crawled over to his twin, meeting you and grabbing onto your shoulders, pleading with his brother to wake up. Just wake up. Move a finger. Give a sign. Don’t be dead.

Anything.

“Wake up, Freddie,” George was saying through choked sobs. His eyes were puffy and red. The color was draining from Fred’s face, his hands already turning cold. “C’mon—wake up, mate—”

Everything went black.

Six weeks later

It seemed as though St. Mungo’s had turned into your new home.

You and George brought in some tea to a very tired Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Gratefully, they thanked you both, and excused themselves for a moment, placing featherlight kisses to Fred’s cheek before leaving.

It was the first time in weeks Mrs. Weasley had let herself sit still for a moment. She was not doing very well. The bags under her eyes were becoming heavier as the days drug on, the worry in her heart and mind loud and overbearing. She couldn’t lose a son, she just couldn’t. She couldn’t lose Fred.

All of the Weasleys and close friends came in shifts, but you and George hardly ever left. You couldn’t.

Ginny would always come with Harry at her side; it was difficult for her to come alone. Ron could barely keep his head up without the gentle hand of Hermione on his shoulders.

Six weeks since the war, and there was barely any sign of improvement. The Healers said he’d wake after a month. Then, they promised at five weeks. Then six. Still nothing.

They were doing everything they could, but he wouldn’t awaken. His voice flooded your mind. Reckon I’m a bit stubborn, don’t you think? There was no change. Other than that Fred’s face was flooded with color again.

But he hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t opened his eyes. It’d been far too long since you heard his voice. Your heart ached for it.

You peered down at him in the hospital bed, his bright red hair messy and askew despite efforts from the healers to keep it at bay. He desperately needed a haircut. You could almost hear him. Mum’s going to murder me if I grow my hair long again.

He looked.. dead. Lifeless. Uncomfortable. Nobody had moved his green jacket from the chair opposite his bed. It was still covered in soot, dust, blood. Nobody had the heart to move it. Beside you, George squeezed your hand and said, “C’mon—let’s sit, you look exhausted.”

You begrudgingly moved three feet from Fred’s bed to the couch.

“Have you slept?”

“Barely,” you replied. “I’ve tried, though. Have you?”

George cleared his throat. “Me, too.”

There was comfortable silence between you both as you sat and watched Fred, hoping for any sort of movement. Questions were bubbling to the surface, questions you didn’t want to ask, questions you were afraid of.

“George,” you started.

He hummed softly, turning towards you with tired eyes.

You’d always been close—ever since you and Fred had gotten together. You and George had fell into this comfortable friendship—it was easy. Like you’d known him for years before you met.

You pushed back tears and bit your quivering lip before asking him, “What if he doesn’t wake up?”

The words alone seemed to send you into a complete breakdown. George wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his chest, the hospital room very blurry to you now as you didn’t fight back tears anymore.

“No,” George said, denial engulfing him completely. “No, he has to wake up.”

You squeezed your eyes shut again, resting comfortably into George’s shoulder, using every ounce of strength and energy you had left in you to fight the crying. You brushed the falling tears away with the sleeve of your cardigan. You peered down at the healed gashes across your hand, the painful memory of the war still very upfront in your mind.

“Yes,” you replied. “He does.”

You were surprised when George said, “But if he doesn’t..” he had a hitch in his voice, shut his eyes and breathed in deeply before continuing, “we have each other.”

There was another choked sob on his end, and you knew it hurt him more than anything in the world to say that—but he was trying to be strong. For you. You didn’t want him to do that, not now. You grabbed his hand that was dangling off of your shoulder and squeezed it tight. There had been no color in the world since the war; Voldemort’s demise seemed minuscule when you looked longingly at the life he had almost taken from you all.

While the rest of the wizarding world was at rest, you and George were busy doing your best to stay above water.

Two weeks later

July had come alarmingly fast, and it brought a dry heat with it. Even the flowers outside of the Burrow had trouble staying in bloom, the excess water not helping in the slightest. Mrs. Weasley stopped putting in more effort than she needed too.

She was exhausted.

She’d been crying herself to sleep every evening.

Still, Fred was laid out in bed, in the same position he was the day before—his eyes still softly closed, mouth in a thin line, arms placed comfortably at his sides.

With a bit of a push from the Healers to leave so they could do more work, you and George begrudgingly headed back to your apartment. It was good, though. You’d cook some food for the family, get a fresh load of laundry, take a shower, maybe sleep. Everything still seemed to be moving in a very slow motion, though.

When you arrived back at St. Mungo’s that evening, you spotted Ginny outside, crying into Harry’s arms. But Harry put your horrified thoughts to rest. Fred was still alive, but the Healers didn’t have any more good news. They said, actually, there was absolutely no end in sight as to when he would wake.

Two months. It had been two months since you heard his voice and felt his touch.

When you walked in, Percy and Charlie excused themselves to have a bit of tea with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Hermione poked her head in. “We’re just outside if you need us,” her voice was soft and calming in a way nothing else was. You and George nodded gratefully before she shut the door.

You both stood at Fred’s bedside, not speaking, not touching, not making a single sound. Just watching and waiting. Suddenly, you heard a crash. It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d been in some sort of daze until the noise startled you. You looked to your left to see George in a crying heap on the floor.

Had you cried all of your tears? You didn’t know. You were so shocked to see your best friend lying on the ground, his head heavy in his hands, his hoarse cries reverberating off of the hospital walls. You fell to the floor next to him and cradled him in your arms, rocking him back and forth.

You didn’t say anything, though. You didn’t need to. You couldn’t, really—there was nothing to say that would make him feel any better. But each other’s presence—you supposed that, in the midst of everything, it was enough.

You let him cry in your arms for what seemed like hours as you ran your fingers through his knotted hair and in circles across his back. His shoulders were tight and tense. You cried, too. You didn’t know how long you were there.

You eventually readjusted to lean against the couch, George still silently sobbing into your shoulder as you squeezed his knee and tried to slow your own tears.

A soft, gentle voice came from the bed.

“Get off my girlfriend, prat,”

You and George shot up, looked at one another, and peered at the bed as you brushed tears away. Fred still looked as though he was asleep. Had it really been him, or were you imagining things? You hadn’t had a proper nights sleep in weeks. Hallucinating was certainly a possibility.

But no. It was Freddie. His eyes opened slowly with a flutter, and his smile was soft and cracked. “Mm, thirsty,”

You rushed to his side, in shock at the moment. You helped lift a cup of water to his lips, and he sipped gratefully. Before you knew it, George was nearly bouncing off the walls—you pressed your lips gently to Fred’s head, still letting tears escape, extra cautious to be gentle with him. He still looked like hell, but he was awake. Finally.

He was awake.

George cried out of the hospital room to the healers, his family, his friends. In just a few moments, the room would be overcrowded.

Fred wrapped his fingers around yours, his tired eyes looking up at you with delight. Without skipping a beat, his personality came flooding through as he puckered his lips dramatically and whined, “C’mere.”

Gently, you pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips and you felt reawakened. Revitalized. Alive. “Missed you,”

George rushed to his side and couldn’t help but cry again.

“Don’t go soft on me, Georgie,” Fred squeaked. His voice was very throaty.

George let his head fall into his twin’s lap before looking up again and doing his best to show no signs of tears. Wasn’t working, though.

“Just missed you, mate,”

You hadn’t said anything. Not yet. You couldn’t seem to find your voice the moment Fred found his. Your throat suddenly felt extremely dry. Finally, then, you said, “Really missed you.”

“Thank Merlin,” Fred replied, now looking very alert and awake as the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione flooded the hospital room. It was very crowded and very overwhelming. “Was worried you two got together while I was out cold.”

You and George actually snorted in the surprise of the moment and at Fred’s overwhelming sarcasm and hugged one another tightly as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley made their way towards their son, beaming through joyful tears. Everyone was silent for a moment as Fred gulped down more water, and this time, his voice sounded clearer and louder than it ever had before.

“So—what’ve I missed?”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated darlings, this has been an extremely difficult series to write and this part was even harder x