Fic: When It All Breaks Apart (George/Viktor) Part 3/3

[katmarajade]

The next day George found himself wandering aimlessly through one of the lesser-used corridors of the first floor. This… whatever it was with Fred had come to a head, because George simply couldn't take it anymore. It had been weeks of time apart, entertaining separate interests (which was crap as the only non-coinciding interests they had were shagging Angelina and Viktor) and disturbingly civil interaction. He missed his twin and this holding a grudge thing was clearly not working for them.

Someone had tracked in a truly impressive amount of dirt and tiny rocks, which would give old Filch heart failure for sure when discovered. The thought of Filch all red-faced and ranting with that thrice-damned, mangy Mrs. Norris spitting prissily in the background cheered him slightly. He kicked a few pebbles around, doing his part to make the mess even bigger.

It was in the middle of a particularly solid kick, which sent a stone skipping a good fifty feet down the hall, that George was hit by a sudden blast of nauseating panic. Fred was in trouble. George's lungs felt devoid of air as he spun wildly around and sprinted down the corridor, blindly following his twin-honed gut feeling to find Fred. Drawing his wand as he ran, he hurtled down a flight of stairs, just barely making it off the last step before the magical staircase started twisting away.

He nearly tripped over Angelina's prone form. He paused only long enough to note that she was stunned but breathing and kept going, hearing voices just around the corner.

Flying around the corner, the first thing he noticed was Viktor and Poliakoff shouting at each other in furious Russian, wands out. George didn't have to understand the language to know that the words were part of a vicious argument and probably even fouler than usual. George spotted Fred slumped in a corner, clutching at his wrist. Another one of Viktor's Durmstrang cronies stood menacingly over him. Fred looked like he'd been hexed several times and possibly punched, judging from the bruises already sprouting on his face, but his eyes were flashing fire, so he was still fighting, though clearly they'd taken his wand.

With a practically inhuman growl, George leapt between Fred and his attackers. Viktor and Poliakoff looked up in surprise at the sudden intrusion and all three of the Durmstrang students looked instantly wary. Viktor looked at him with a strange expression of sadness, but George could not spare a second of his brain power to decipher what that meant. He was furious.

As he stood over Fred in a protective crouch, he could feel every ounce of his not inconsiderable store of magic rising to the surface. Fred reached up and grabbed his non-wand hand. With the added boost from Fred and the pure unadulterated rage on his face, George Weasley looked more dangerous than anyone ever would have fathomed possible, a very far cry from the usually jovial jokester.

The tip of his wand sparked warningly and the other two Durmstrang students looked furtively between Viktor and the frightening sight of the pissed off Weasley twins and ran. Viktor stepped toward George, holding his hands up in an entreating gesture. George pointed his wand straight at the man, who had only just last night made love to him and had told him that he was the most precious thing on the planet.

"Get away from my brother," George growled, barely able to see straight through the haze of his anger.

"George, please. You know that I would never do anything to hurt Fred. You know this. Hurting him would hurt you and I would never, ever do that. Please, George, I…"

George cut off Viktor's pleas with a sharp jab of his wand, and Viktor's eyes grew darker as he realized that George had cast a silencing spell on him. Viktor released the spell with a mere wave of his hand, but did not speak other than to quietly say George's name one more time. Viktor's face held no trace of his trademark scowl as he stared heavily at George, his eyes full of resignation.

He looked absolutely heartbroken, and that, more than any words he could have spoken, gave George a moment's pause. Viktor looked minutely hopeful at the slight softening of George's expression, but then Fred squeezed George's hand again and he was reminded again of what had just happened and that his twin was hurting because of them.

Everything had been leading up to this point for months. George knew that the time had finally come that he had to choose, no matter how much he didn't want to make the choice. He also knew with heart-aching certainty that he could never choose anyone over Fred, no matter how much he cared about them. Viktor sighed as George's faced closed off, and, with one last sad look, he walked slowly away, his shoulders seeming even more stooped than usual.

As soon as Viktor rounded the corner, George spun around and dropped to the floor. He wrapped his twin in a crushing embrace until Fred poked him in the ribs and made him loosen his grip.

"Nice of you to show up, Georgie."

"What happened? I could feel it. I was just walking around and bam, I felt sick and I knew you were in trouble and I ran and you were… oh, crap, Angelina!"

Fred looked like he had momentarily forgotten about his girlfriend as well, "Merlin's manky beard, I totally forgot! Is she okay? Where is she?"

"They stunned her. She's just around the corner. I almost tripped over her when I was running over here. She was breathing steadily enough and looked the right color, so I'm sure she's fine. Nothing a bit of enervate can't fix," George quickly assured his twin, feeling that odd empty feeling come creeping back up and expecting Fred to immediately go check on his girlfriend. But Fred didn't move except to fling his good arm around George's shoulders.

"I've missed you, you wanker."

"Yeah, me too. I'm rather missable, you know." George neatly dodged as Fred laughed and swatted at his head. "We're still the same, you know." George stared at Fred as if begging him to agree.

"I know. We're exactly the same. Remember what mum told us we were little? That when we popped into existence, we were so amazing and brilliant that our perfection couldn't be contained in just one individual, so the universe split us in two. But we're still two parts of one whole, George. Always have been, always will be. Nothing, not birds, not blokes, not anyone or anything can change that. You and me. We're so much more than what sort of bits we fancy. But speaking of fanciable bits, I should probably go check on Angie's lovely but unconscious arse."

"Yeah, probably," George and Fred clung to each other for another few seconds and George felt like all the madness and everything that had been pulled apart had in that moment been magically put back together. As long as he had Fred and Fred had him and they were still the same and together for always, well, everything else was icing on an already perfect cake, wasn't it?

*** ***

Viktor spent the next two weeks making attempts to talk to George, but George would have none of it. Parchment aeroplanes were floating next to his head every morning when he woke up, but he binned them without reading. Viktor tried to pull him aside, even going as far as talking to him in public, which they never had done.

The constant badgering only strengthened George's resolve, and he continued to ignore Viktor's increasingly desperate efforts.

Hard as he tried to keep a stiff upper lip, George couldn't help but notice that Viktor looked miserable, even skinnier than usual and his shoulders even more slumped. He looked as if he wasn't sleeping well, and the purple smudges under his dark eyes became more pronounced each day. His face was fixed in a permanent scowl, and the playful smirk that had so often lurked behind his glares had faded.

Seeing Viktor like that made George's chest feel cold and hollow; it hurt, seeing his own pain mirrored on a non-identical face, so George made every effort to avoid seeing him.

Fred only asked him about it once, when he realized that Viktor was the person George had been sneaking off to see for the past five months. George confirmed Fred's suspicions that he and Viktor had been together, but, despite Fred's prodding, he adamantly refused to talk about it any further. In a rare display of tact, Fred finally dropped it.

Viktor eventually gave up his efforts after Easter holidays, and there were no more parchment aeroplanes by his bed, no more entreating looks, no more hearing Viktor say his name in that thick accent. George wasn't sure whether he was relieved or saddened by the sudden respite.

Viktor apparently began spending a lot more time with Hermione, ostensibly up in the library, though George refused to go up there anymore, so he couldn't be certain. From what he could piece together from other people's comments, Viktor and Hermione often sat together, talking quietly and glaring at intruders. It was around that time that the ridiculously fabricated Harry-Viktor-Hermione love triangle gossip began running rampant through the halls of Hogwarts (and apparently the rest of the Wizarding world), and Hermione seemed to be in a foul mood whenever George saw her.

She did make one effort to talk to him, extricating him from a raucous game of Exploding Snap that he, Fred, Lee, and Alicia were playing in the common room. With usual Hermione directness, she told him just how brokenhearted and despondent Viktor was and how George was being completely unreasonable and how he should talk to Viktor and resolve all of it.

Their conversation was much shorter than she would have liked, but George was rather proud of himself for letting her prattle on as long as he had. He did owe her, after all. Not to mention, Hermione Granger with a cause was a fucking scary phenomenon and he had no great desire to get on her bad side. Plus, deep down, he knew she was right. But it still didn't change anything.

*** ***

George became quite adept at pretending that his heart wasn't aching over the next couple weeks. And he managed to keep up the pretense up until about thirty minutes into the third task when he saw Flitwick levitating Viktor's unconscious body out of the maze.

George must have started shaking noticeably, because suddenly Fred was holding his hand just like he always had when they were small. Tossing out some silly excuse to their mum and siblings, Fred dragged George down the rickety stairs to the relative quiet underneath the stands, where they had a clear view of Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall reviving Viktor.

George breathed a sigh of relief when Viktor sat up, looking pale and disoriented. Suddenly a look of horror came over Viktor's face, draining his already ashen face of all remaining color. Viktor shook his head and muttered something over and over in Bulgarian that George couldn't understand. Then, eyes suddenly widening, Viktor pitched to the side and vomited.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Karkaroff stood a few feet away, discussing the situation in hushed tones, while Madam Pomfrey clucked over Viktor. Neither Fred nor George could make out much of what they were saying, but they caught several mentions of Unforgivable Curses.

Viktor had curled up into himself, hugging his long legs, rocking slightly, and muttering to himself in Bulgarian. Every few minutes he would unfold himself to vomit again. He was clearly in shock. Madam Pomfrey finally conjured a stretcher and began levitating Viktor back to the castle.

George did not even realize that he was hugging himself and making an odd sort of breathless whimpering noise until he felt Fred's familiar arms wrap around him and heard soothing shushing noises. Fred hadn't done that since they were small children and George used to have recurring nightmares.

George clung to Fred, feeling as small as he had back in those nightmare days, and stared at Viktor's retreating form. He was extraordinarily grateful that Fred had dragged him down here, because he would have been horrified if anyone but Fred had seen the pathetic, wibbling mess he had turned into.

"George," Fred paused, "Maybe you should… maybe you should go to him." Fred's voice sounded worried and hesitant, but when George said nothing in response, he soldiered on.

"I mean, you obviously care about the bloke a lot and he looks like he's pretty messed up… I mean, I don't know what exactly happened between you two, because you've not been too keen on talking about it, but… it hurts me to see you hurt like this, Georgie and you've been hurting for months."

"It's past now. Doesn't do any good to dwell on it. I made my choice, Fred. Yes, I cared about him—a lot. I mean, I never… But I love you more. And that's what it comes down to, isn't it? I had to choose, didn't I? Viktor or you. And I chose you. I will always choose you. I hurt without him. It really fucking hurts. But I can't live without you, Fred."

Emotions played over Fred's face in a dance of confusion. "You don't… I mean, is that what all of this is about then? All year you've been a right prick to Angelina, because you think somehow I was choosing her over you? That's… that's not even possible, George. I could never ever choose anyone else over you. You are and always will be the most important person in my life—you're me. I mean, we're two of the same whole, you know? I don't think either of us can ever really be complete without the other one." Fred reached out and poked at his twin until George met his eye.

"There's no choice, Georgie. I don't want you to choose. If you want him, then fucking be with him. That's not choosing him over me. It's not a one or the other sort of deal. And it seems like he must really care about you too, so that makes him good in my book. Plus, you should know that he stepped in and stopped those Durmstrang prats from hexing me."

"He was stopping Poliakoff and Petrov?"

"Yeah, those two caught me and Angelina snogging and went mental! Stunned Angie and punched me and kept ranting about me being some sort of cheating bastard. I had no idea what they were on about at the time, but it made a bit more sense later on, once I knew that you and Krum were," Fred waved a hand vaguely, "you know. And I realized that they probably thought that I was you and that I was cheating on their friend. So, all in all, I give them points for loyalty and enthusiasm, but demerits for brains and critical thinking. Probably should have said that earlier, but… I don't know, I didn't get what was happening at first and then I was just so bloody glad that we were talking again and you were so ridiculously do not speak of it! about the whole thing and I didn't really realize that I should have pressed it until later on…"

"Well, that actually makes a good bit of sense. I kind of knew that Viktor would never curse you, but I was so bloody irate, and, at the time, it felt a lot like I had to choose one or the other of you. And we were finally all right and I didn't want to bollocks that up, yet again. Then later, well, it was all just… and I was…"

"You were a stubborn arse," Fred interjected.

"Sounds like me," agreed George with a wry smile. "You really think I should try to talk to him?"

"The poor boy looked like he just got his arse kicked by a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He could do with some comfort," Fred smirked at him.

"And you're okay with this?"

"Yes, you whinge-a-lot tosser! I am okay with you. And if he's what you want or is good for you or whatever the fuck you want to call it, I'm okay with him. You don't need to make overdramatic gestures to prove that I am the most fabulous person ever in your world. I already know that. So go comfort flyboy in his time of desperate need and stop worrying so much. You're going to make us look old."

George grinned at his twin, feeling as though every burden he'd ever carried had been lifted away. Everything in his life aligned in that moment and George felt as if everything were absolutely perfect.

Then Harry Potter reappeared a mere thirty feet away from them, sobbing and clutching the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory and babbling to Dumbledore that You-Know-Who was back from the dead. And George knew, with a cold certainty from somewhere deep in his soul, that things would never be perfect again.

*** ***

It was many hours later before George got the chance to find Viktor. The whole damn world had apparently gone topsy-turvy in a matter of a few hours. You-Know-Who was back and as evil and horrid as ever, Cedric Diggory had been murdered, their favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor turned out to be a Polyjuiced Death Eater, Sirius Black was not in fact a mass murderering nark, Fudge was a twat-faced imbecile with a serious case of denial, and George Weasley had finally realized that he was in love.

All in all, a bit of a strange day.

Having finally escaped his very weepy mother, (who had been clutching any of her available children to her for long, drawn out cuddles at constant intervals every since she returned from the hospital wing) George made his way through the eerily quiet corridors.

He chanced a quick look into the main room of the hospital wing and was relieved to see that Madam Pomfrey was apparently in her office.

A large black dog, that he now knew to be Sirius Black, sat at the edge of one of the beds, and George could only assume Harry was behind that curtain. Sirius flicked his tail and gave George one bored, disinterested glance before returning to his vigil of intense staring.

Hermione had made a comment about the real Mad-Eye Moody being in the bed next to Harry's, so George decided to go for Curtain Number Three. Moving quickly, lest Pomfrey return and ply him with Skele-Gro or something equally sadistic, he slipped past the curtain, drawing it tightly closed him behind him.

His deductive skills were ace, as usual, and lying in a hospital bed, clearly far too tiny for his long limbs, was Viktor. He was sleeping restlessly and looked too pale.

George moved closer, reaching out a hand to touch Viktor's forehead, but drew back at the last second. He was hit by the sudden realization that maybe he shouldn't be standing there. Maybe Viktor would be angry that George had shown up after nearly two months of damn near shunning him.

But then Viktor whimpered in his sleep, twitching from what was clearly a nightmare, and George found that none of it mattered. He brushed a hand across Viktor's face, making a quiet shushing sound. Viktor jolted awake at the contact but remained silent, breathing hard and staring at George as if he were still part of the dream.

George kept lightly stroking Viktor's face in what he hoped was a soothing, comforting manner.

"You're okay. It was only a dream," George whispered.

Viktor continued to stare at him, emotions playing across his face. Confusion, disbelief, annoyance, hope, longing, and what George thought might possibly be love.

"Are you all right? I mean, I know that you're not all right—you were cursed and all and it was horrible, but are you hurt? I mean, physically?"

Viktor shook his head, "No, only my mind is hurt, knowing what I did. I hurt someone… they made me…" George pressed a finger to Viktor's lips to silence him.

"You want me to get you out of here? I mean, if you want to stay or need to be here or something then I don't want to push, but I know that if I were you, I'd want out. Deal with it all myself, without healers pouring noxious potions down my throat and hounding me about resting every bloody second."

"Yes, please." That was all that George needed. He quickly gathered Viktor's belongings, tossing them onto the bed. Viktor shoved his feet in his boots, not bothering to lace them and shrugged into his robes without even removing the hospital provided pajamas and grabbed his wand.

"Let's go."

Suddenly they heard the bustling and unmistakable off-key whistling of Madam Pomfrey, who was back from her office to check on her patients. George glanced desperately around the curtained off area. There was nowhere to hide. Viktor looked crosser than ever.

Just as the whistling reached the curtain and George could smell her, that cloying mix of potions and antiseptic and chocolate, a voice called out, distracting her.

"Hello, sorry, Madam Pomfrey?" The footsteps retreated as she walked quickly to greet her newfound patient, shushing him soundly and warning him not to wake her other patients.

George grinned as Fred launched into an earnest speech about how difficult the day had been, what with Harry being practically a brother and the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and how he just couldn't sleep and would she possibly be willing to give him something to help him relax or a Dreamless Sleep Draught to help him through this trying time.

Madam Pomfrey, who always needed people to coddle in times of crisis, bought the story immediately and began clucking over Fred, the poor dear. She hurried off to grab a potion from the store room and George heard the tell-tale tongue click from Fred, indicating the coast was clear.

George pulled Viktor with him, darting across the room and through the door. He shot Fred one last grateful look, getting a smirk and a wink in return, and disappeared just as Madam Pomfrey returned.

*** ***

After the initial sprint out of the hospital wing area, George and Viktor walked in slow silence for a long time. Neither seemed to want to break the silence. Viktor finally spoke,

"Why are you here, George?"

"Here, as in this dimly lit Arithmancy hall at three in the morning?" Viktor simply stared at him expectantly, and, with a deep sigh, George continued more seriously,

"I was a prat. You know what a stubborn arse I am. I… yeah," George ran a hand through his hair, feeling flustered and unsure, while Viktor watched him in that bloody unsettlingly expressionless way of his.

"I was a total arse. But when I saw you come out of that overgrown maze of doom, all pale and dead-looking, well, I went all panicky and stupid. Fred had to drag me down from the stands so that I didn't completely freak out in front of everyone. Then you woke up and I was so relieved and then you looked so bad, so… hurt and upset, and my heart hurt. You know? I mean, like my chest went all twingey and tight and I couldn't breathe properly and all I wanted was to run out there and make sure you were all right and never, ever let go.

"I didn't, obviously, because Pomfrey and Dumbledore and all the Professors were out there and looking after you and it all looked so grim, but I was a right mess. Fred calmed me down, and he said that I should go after you. He said that it wasn't a choice between him and you, and that I was being a bone-headed imbecile and that maybe you needed me or something.

"And then Harry came back and the whole fucking world pretty much went to shite and it took me a while to figure it out, but even though everything is in a state of total madness and it's the start of another war that might kill us all… probably will, actually, what with the pathetic state of things… but the point isn't the whole we're all going to die bit, it's more the we're probably all going to die, but I can't be arsed to care, because I'm fucking in love, and it's making me all cheerful and stupid and I suddenly don't give a damn about anything else, including the newly risen Lord Moldy-Shorts and his death-eating minions and the pending apocalyptic evil and…"

Viktor cut off his babbling with a bruising kiss, pushing George up against the wall and snogging him with two months of pent up passion. Viktor finally breathlessly pulled away, leaning his forehead against George's and pressing his forearms against the wall behind them, trapping George, who was definitely not protesting. George let out a disbelieving gasp and started to say something, but Viktor just smirked at him and muttered,

"You talk so much." George shrugged and offered a lopsided grin in response. "You talk so much, but all I hear is I love you."

George's ears went as red as his hair and he shrugged again, "Well, yeah, that was a key point, that and, you know, imminent war. But I can see how you'd fixate."

"I love you too. I think you know this. I have for a long time. But George, in two days I will return to Bulgaria and this… I do not know what we can do," Viktor sighed and lifted a hand from the wall to stroke George's cheek, the calluses on his thumb scratching familiarly against George's skin.

"You could stay here, stay in England, or Scotland, or wherever, but close by. We've got loads of Quidditch teams that would happily ditch their Seekers for a chance at Viktor Krum, and you could spend the summer with me and Fred and it would be loads of fun. You've never really met Fred, but he's the best, really."

Viktor smiled sadly at him, tracing one of George's unruly red eyebrows with a finger. "I cannot stay here, George. I wish that I could, but I must go back home. Perhaps before all of this, I could have stayed. But now, with such a Dark Wizard rising, I must go home. I must convince my father to fight against this, and I must convince him before the other side does. And they will try. Sometimes he is blinded by power and ambition, and I worry that this Dark Lord will tempt him with these things."

"You think You-Know-Who is going to try to recruit your dad?"

"Yes. Not directly, of course. I do not think you understand just how powerful my father is or how much influence he holds in my country."

"And you have to be the one to do this?"

"There is no one else my father will listen to. He is very stubborn, like you," Viktor teased, still watching George with sad eyes.

"Well, at least you've something to do. So far, my parents have told me to just sit back and do nothing like a good ickle boy," George said irritably, which made Viktor's mouth quirk into a typical Viktor almost-smile.

"Yes, and we know that you are so good at doing exactly what you are told."

"I don't even know what is going on—it's all been super hush-hush."

"Maybe you are not meant to help them with their missions."

"But I want to help! I can't just sit here and do nothing, knowing that that reborn bastard is out there, biding his time before he tries to take over the world again or whatever the hell his new evil plan is."

"Perhaps you do not do nothing. Perhaps you do what you do best— invent things. Fake wands and sweets that turn you into a bird will probably not help here, but I think you could create things that will help."

"Huh, inventions for the cause. I like it. That's actually a damn good idea. And Mum needn't know that we're making war-mongering, evil-eradicating stuff, you know, along with these brilliant new sweets that will give you a nosebleed just long enough to get out of class… Fred and I were just discussing them yesterday. They'll be brilliant, you'll see. I'll send you some."

"I would like that."

"I mean, you won't have classes to skive off of, but…"

"I would like that, George."

"Right then. So two days, really? That's so little time."

"You're George Weasley. You can fit more into two days than most people can fit into two weeks."

George laughed and clutched Viktor closer to him. Forget two weeks. George had two months of missed opportunity to cram into the next two days and he was going to make every single second count.

In two days, Viktor would leave, but George was determined that it would only be temporary. They had a war to fight and an undead psychopath to defeat, but George Weasley was not one to let such minor details get in the way of something he wanted.

If he had to kill every single one of the Death Eaters and their evil, snake-eyed boss himself in order to get his bloody happily ever after, then that's what he'd do. And when they were done, he'd have Fred and he'd have Viktor and it would be all fucking rainbows and sunshine.

He kissed Viktor almost violently and Viktor pushed back just as hard, with insistent lips and tongues and questing hands rememorizing every inch of each other's bodies. George poured all of his promises into Viktor with every touch, every kiss, every breath.

It would all work out. It had to. He'd promised. And George Weasley never broke a promise.

*Fin

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