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George Weasley (weasleygred) wrote in wished,

"Fuck," George couldn't stop the breathed exclamation from escaping. The room smelled of blood and death in a way George didn't really recognize as anything but wrong. The stillness that he'd felt before was still there, and George was fairly certain that whoever had done this was long gone. They'd done all the damage they could do, anyway.

The bodies left were more blood than anything else, eviscerated and faces twisted in pain.

Staring at them, horrified and sickened, the only real thing George could think was that he was really glad it was them finding this, and not Angelina.

He swallowed, regretting the sharp breath he pulled in, since it led to a sharper smell of the room.

They were dead. There was no question of that, but George still somehow found himself stepping past Fred, further in to bend over the stiff body of Ange's mum, checking for signs of life he KNEW weren't there. "Merlin. . . Ange. . ." he straightened, looking at Fred. "What do we do now?" They could tell the Aurors, but half of them might be in the Death Eater's back pocket.

He swallowed again, willing himself not to be sick.