Harry Potter One Shots

I'm Here

All rights belong to the author, Ponytail Goddess

Despite the fact that it was nine in the morning on a sunny spring day, the room where George Weasley slept fitfully was still pitch black, with the exception of a few thin lines of crisp light that had snuck through the closed blinds and were slowly making their way up the mess of sheets where that contained their owner's sullen figure.

George groaned and scowled deeply as consciousness loomed towards him, quickly burying his head deeply into the extra pillow he had hijacked from Fred's bed with the hopes of going back to sleep. "...not now...not now..." He thought, mentally whining to himself as he clenched the pillow closer to himself...but it was too late. Already, he was awake and his parched throat was screaming for some sustenance.

Not bothering to look up from the pillow, George's hand ungracefully flopped up onto his nightstand and searched over the mess of papers and pills for glass of water that he had charmed to fill itself back up over and over again. He seemed to be reaching further and further over, but was having no luck finding the cup.

Frustrated, George looked up only to find that the cup was indeed not on the nightstand. Giving the room a once over while squinting, George discovered that he had left the cup in the bathroom that was adjacent to he and Fred's bedroom.

Grimacing at this new discovery, George began to feel around the nightstand again for something else. "Where's my bloody wand..." He muttered, looking around him and on the floor beside his bed. However, the wand was nowhere to be found.

Cursing in a low voice because he could not magically call his glass of water to him without his wand, George slowly sat up. His muscles seemed to be groaning in agony as he did this, since he only gotten up out of his bed to use the bathroom for the past two weeks. Stumbling from his bed, somehow George managed to make it to the bathroom and ungracefully leaned against the sink, using his free hand to grab the cup of water. Quickly, he chugged down glass after glass until his growling, empty stomach was finally filled.

Gasping for air, George chanced a glance at the mirror, but he could only see a shadowy outline of himself. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face only to find that it was disgustingly greasy and that he was apparently sporting quite a bit of stubble, perhaps enough to count as the beginnings of a beard. However, rather than properly cleaning himself, he simply splashed some water from his refilling cup into his face and rubbed it a bit, not bothering to even towel it off before he left the bathroom.

Despite the fact that it was going to be quite warm that day, George had found that he was cold most of the time and thus stopped to pick up a red Gryffindor sweatshirt off of the slightly-cluttered floor. As he was struggling into it, he suddenly stopped midway and listened.

Had he just heard a crash? Was someone downstairs?

This piqued George's curiosity as he knew who it couldn't be. No Weasley's could enter or apparate into the shop, as George had cast several spells around the shop so his family would stop smothering him with pity. After the funeral, he simply could not take anymore of that-

The funeral...George grimaced as this very unwelcome thought entered into his mind. The thoughts and memories it had evoked in him were terribly painful and George nearly found himself heading back to his bed where he could merely ignore his grief by succumbing to the black emptiness of his dreamless sleep. If Fred was in George's dreams, he sure didn't remember. Sleep had become his one solace...his escape from a reality that was too bitter to think about.

However, another crash sounded from down below and he found that he could no longer put off the investigation. Silently, George opened the door to his room for the first time in two weeks and gasped as the morning light blinded him. Immediately, he shielded his eyes, cursing under his breath at his discomfort. He stood frozen in his doorway for a few minutes while his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Finally, he took his first few wobbly steps out the door, his legs a bit uncertain of themselves after having gone without use for so very long.