Fic: Drabble: Burnt, George Weasley, R Title: Burnt Author: Harleen harleen Character: George Weasley Word Count: 360 Rating: R Warnings: Angst, implied twincest, implied suicidal thoughts, Deathly Hallows spoilers. Disclaimer: I don't own them and no money is being made from this. Summary: Cold blank stare, empty and bare. Author's Notes: Inspired by the song 'Burnt' by Econoline Crush, the lyrics are here. This is what happens when I picture post-DH George without Fred. Thanks to phoenix__fire for looking this over. Cross-posted at my journal and at various places. This fits in with the 'doing something unexpected' prompt, even if it is a bit late.
He stuck to the shadows now, the light in his eyes replaced by a steely darkness, the laughter in his voice cold and mirthless instead of happy and mischievous like it once was.
Silently, he would glide through the seedy underground world of bars and derelict places that no self respecting wizard would ever dream of being seen taking part of. The playground of the fugitives from justice, those that had escaped the grasp of the Aurous and thought that they were safe.
But they weren't, not from him.
In his eyes, they were nothing but vermin, prey to stalk as only a huntsman could. The unbearable pain that tore apart his soul had made him that way.
He would follow them through the alleyways and deserted streets, waiting for that one perfect moment.
When he would finally strike, death would come quickly; perhaps a bit too quickly for his liking. Regardless of that, it was one less menace out there, one less reminder of what was cruelly taken from him that day.
Part of him hoped that they would finally put him out of his misery, but they never did. But he knew he couldn't do that to himself, not until every last one of them got what they deserved.
After the latest victim had been dealt with, he felt as he always did, empty and lifeless inside. He left as swiftly as he could, his thoughts as black as the night sky as he made his way to the shabby little bedsit that he was currently residing in. Once he was inside, he went and picked up the only decoration in the room, gazing at it with a heavy heart.
It was a photograph of the one he lost, the only person he'd ever truly loved. The young man in the picture was laughing, without a care in the world, making silly faces at his brother.
George touched the image of Fred with his fingertips. "Soon, love. We'll be together again as soon I am done. I promise you," he said, pressing the photograph to his lips as the sobs took over his body.