"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering."― Nicole Krauss, "The History of Love"
| George Weasley |
| Prisoner of Azkaban -Deathly Hallows part 2 |
| Sequel to 'S...
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IT HAD ALMOST BEEN A full week since the incident at the Ministry. It turned out that since Harry's blood brought back Voldemort, they were connected, and the noseless wizard appeared at the Ministry, disappearing only seconds before the Minister himself appeared. Sirius Black was dead, by his own cousin. And Hazel Lupin was still at St. Mungo's.
Remus was a mess. He hadn't eaten or slept in a full week, not only had he lost his last best friend, his daughter was still fighting for her life. He hadn't seen her dark brown eyes for almost a week and that broke him. The man was practically greying in front of everyone's eyes as he stayed in hospital, refusing to leave his daughter's side.
George was even worse off. He had stayed besides Hazel ever since the nurses and doctors allowed visitors. He slept on the uncomfortable chair at the end of her bed. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley visited everyday, as did the rest of the Weasley children, Harry and Hermione. Neville had tried but he was turned away by the doctors and instead he left a vase of sunflowers by the door. The same sunflowers that were now resting on the bedside cabinet.
To say people were loosing hope would've been an understatement. They didn't want to lose it, but as the days drew on and the longer Hazel stayed unconscious the more the doctors began to talk about the next step. A conversation that always made both Remus and George furious, both of them storming off anyone someone spoke those damn words, 'She may never wake up'.
Remus had finally fallen asleep. Tonks had slipped him a sleeping potion in his coffee to get him to finally rest up. George was up, though, his hand holding tightly onto Hazel's. His eyes were stinging as if someone had just cut onions near him, he wanted to cry but he couldn't, it was almost as if he ran out of tears. He stroked the back of her knuckles softly, not even daring to look up at her face as he did so. His other hand was in his pocket, toying with a small velvet box that seemed to be burning a deep hole in his pocket.
"Please wake up, little wolf," George whispered, his voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper, "I can't live without you. None of us can. We need you back, Hazel," And with that, he placed his head down next to her hand, his tired eyes finally closing, the beeping from the heart machine lulling him into another dreamless sleep.
