Fiction: Lost in Reality - (Part 8)

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Title: Lost in Reality - Part 8
Characters: George, Lee
Rating: PG-13 for this part
Word Count: ~3500
Summary: Reality is the state or quality of being real. But what is real? And more importantly, what is not real?

All credit goes to tree00faery for being an excellent beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.


Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten


gone . seven

Day seven started with a luxurious breakfast.

"First time on a broom since before the battle, yesterday, wasn't it?" Lee asked, moaning at the taste of coffee.

"Yes," George said. His face was full of pleasure as he bit into a sugary muffin. They'd nicked it from the bakery across the street. There had been no people, but lots of things that were freshly baked and smelling divine. "Enjoy it?"

"I did," Lee said. "You?"

There was a pause before George answered. "Yeah."

*

"Any progress?" Lee poked a glob of goo that wobbled across the battered work table in the potion lab where George had been holed up the whole day while Lee had been sleeping upstairs on the couch.

George shook his head, blinking through the steam that emanated from a wide but flat-bottomed cauldron. "I'm trying to break down the potion and extract the ingredients."

They'd discovered the rest of the potion Lee had taken to follow George in the fantasy lab. Trying to wrap his mind around that concept was breaking Lee's brain, so he tried not to think about it. "Does that work?"

"No," George said, "but it gives me something to do." He tossed a small vial at Lee. "I brewed this, too. That'll work."

Lee caught the vial with a blue potion inside. "And that helps us back home?" The words were almost lost between fits of a barking cough.

George wrinkled his nose. "No, it makes you look and sound human again. And hopefully you'll stop sneezing on every surface that can't get away fast enough."

"Right," Lee said. "Thanks."

*

Lee lounged on the sofa, lying back with a bar of chocolate in his hand. He watched George eating curry - from the Indian place next to Gringott's.

"Do you think there'll still be food tomorrow? Still hot, still fresh, just waiting for someone to pick it up?"

George shrugged. "I'll eat it as long as it's available," he said without bothering to swallow first.

"This is fucked up. Fred said you'd find a way home."

"Why don't you ask him how I'm supposed to do this? Why does he know everything but for some reason doesn't want to show his face?" There was anger in George's voice, and underneath it, hurt. "I'll keep looking," he said.

Lee blinked at him, surprised at the defiance he saw. "Chocolate?" he asked, and offered his bar.

* * *


gone . eight

"What if we're stuck here?" Lee asked. He was sitting next to George on the counter of the shop, legs dangling and squinting against the morning sun that shone in through the windows.

George took a swig from his butterbeer before he answered. "Then we're stuck."

"Stuck stuck?"

"If we're stuck stuck, then we're stuck stuck," George concluded.

Lee nodded. It made sense.

There was a long pause. They sat in comfortable silence, still looking out into the empty Alley.

"Think they'll miss us?" George asked.

Lee looked sideways at George. "I reckon." He nudged George's ankle with his sock clad foot. "I'd miss you." This version of George became more and more real for him. It couldn't be healthy, he thought.

George put his head on Lee's shoulder and took a deep breath. "I think I'd miss them, too," he said.

***


gone . nine

"This is not a good idea," Lee said, but followed George nonetheless as he climbed the impressive stairs of the huge stone building.

"Come on, Jordan. We're in a daydream. It might be the only chance we ever have to do this."

Lee glared at George who held the heavy door open for him. "It's my daydream. Why aren't we doing what I want?"

George gave him a look. "I admit that you're mostly good company, even funny sometimes. You're entertaining, reasonably fit, conveniently popular, and have the wonderful ability to stay calm in almost every situation." George made a heavy pause. "But your plans are shit."

"Right. And you're saying that breaking into Gringott's for no reason other than we can is a good plan?"

*

"Admit that your plan was shit," Lee said two hours after they'd entered the wizarding bank and seven minutes after they'd come back to the shop, half running, half stumbling. He was kneeling in front of George, cutting open George's ruined, blood-spotted jeans.

George was leaning against the same counter they'd sat on in the morning and flinched as the cold metal of the scissors touched his shin. "Never," he said.

"Don't be so bloody stubborn." Lee folded back the cut fabric, wincing as he had to tug to get it out of the open wound on George's knee. George hissed, and Lee looked up concerned. "You all right?" he asked.

George nodded jerkily, biting his lip.

Lee put the scissors aside and gripped George's leg tightly with his left hand, high on his calf, just below the knee. "It's going to hurt."

"Just do it."

Lee concentrated on cleaning the wound first. He had to cast the spell twice - his magic was still not reliable. While the charm was too weak the first time, it was far too strong the second time. George cursed and trembled, but Lee didn't let go of his leg.

"It's okay," Lee said. "Squeaky clean. And it's not as deep as I thought it was." It was a lie; it looked as if George had offered his knee to a hungry dragon and not just fallen down on stones and glass while being chased by a squad of Goblin Inferi.

"Just do it," George ground out through clenched teeth. His hands were balled into fists, and his knuckles were standing out white.

Healing magic wasn't Lee's favourite discipline. While he had a knack for charms, he wasn't fond of the responsibility that came with it. His emergency skills were still trained, though. Once Kingsley Shacklebolt had joined Potterwatch, Lee had learned all sorts of useful things.

"Stop thinking of blokes in kilts and start working, Jordan." George sounded pained.

Lee grinned slightly and said, "Just concentrating. Hang in there." He ran the tip of his wand along the edges of the wound, slowly mending flesh and skin, careful with his spells even if that meant having to repeat them more often. "Keep still," he said as the muscles twitched and George tried to pull his leg back. "I'll stun you if I have to."

George huffed and hissed as the next spell was cast. "Always compassionate. Should have become a healer."

Lee chuckled, looking at the result of his work. It wasn't perfect, but it could have been worse. "I thought about it. But green's just not my colour." There were angry red lines where the skin had knitted itself back together. "Still got some of the magic healing lotion?"

George nodded and shifted as if to stand up. "There should be some in the work room. Where it's always been."

"Sit," Lee commanded and kept him from getting up with his hands on George's shoulders.

The corners of George's mouth twitched. "Bottom, left, blue jar."

Lee had already turned around and was on his way to the emergency potion cabinet. "I know. Just stay put," he called back over his shoulder.

He found the blue jar and was back within moments. The thick gel was cool to the touch as he scooped it up and rubbed it into George's skin.

George sighed with his eyes closed. "Why all the effort?" He asked. "You said - ooh, that's nice - I'm not real. Why not just leave me there - ouch! Keep it gentle, man - to rot?"

Lee looked up and frowned. "You're not serious, are you?" He resumed rubbing when George wiggled his leg impatiently. "We've been saving each other's arses since we were eleven. That doesn't change just because I won't be able to take this version of you home with me. Besides," he grinned, "I like you better."

George kicked him.

* * *


gone . ten

Lee was standing in front of a small cauldron, stirring a murky substance in carefully counted strokes. "What now?" he asked when the concoction changed from being liquid into a thick gel. "It did what you said it would."

George, who was standing in front of his own cauldron - thrice the size of Lee's - and who was still trying to brew something that would counter the effects of the first potion, held up his index finger. A minute later, he looked up and pointed to a shelf behind Lee. "Add what smells good."

Lee frowned at him. "Add what smells good? How's that going to help?"

"It's going to make it smell good."

"But how does that make any difference. I don't care how it smells."

George snorted. "You should. You're making lube."

Lee gaped at him. "You give me that little kid's cauldron, tell me that what I do is important and then make me brew lube? Seriously?"

The grin Lee got in return made his heart melt a little. "You were out of trouble and you learned something useful. Win-win," George said.

"How is it that you're so obsessed with my sex life?" Lee added vanilla and cinnamon, also a trace of pine.

"Just curious."

"U-huh."

* * *


gone . eleven

It was long past sunset, and they were sitting in the middle of Diagon Alley, a candle between them. Lee couldn't remember it ever being that dark. No window was lit, there were no lights on the street, and it was utterly silent. Lee shivered as a gust of wind blew cool spring air into his face.

George held his wand over the candle and muttered an incantation.

"It's not going to work," Lee said.

"I know," George answered under his breath, falling back into the incantation without leaving a pause.

"Then why are we doing this?"

George lowered his wand. "Same reason I've been trying to brew a potion, we tried to floocall someone, we turned the wireless on, and we tried to find the exit to Diagon Alley that somehow, miraculously, disappeared. Trying to summon Fred isn't the most insane thing we've ever done."

Lee snorted. "No, it's not."

"Now help me concentrate. You were the last who saw him. Try to focus."

Lee watched George go through the steps of the ritual again, and then again. It didn't work. Lee was getting bored and blinked up into the dark sky. "What was the most insane thing we've ever done?" he asked. "I mean, we did a lot of stupid stuff. Like trying to summon all books with naked people in them in the library. Who'd have thought there were so many. Still, no reason for Pince to-"

"Fuck's sake, Jordan. Could you just shut up for a minute or two while I try this here?"

Lee was startled at the anger in George's voice. "Calm down. No need to be sore."

George put down his wand. "Sore? Are you kidding me?"

The look in George's eyes told Lee to keep his mouth shut. For once, he listened.

"This has nothing to do with being sore." George's voice was dangerously low. "This is me trying to call my brother. The one that died on me, remember? The one who was the other half of myself and now refuses to talk to me."

"But he's just part of the fantasy," Lee reasoned.

"How does that matter? He's Fred. I'm George. I don't care who's real and who's not. For all I know you're not real either. What's the difference? He doesn't want to talk to me. He went away and left me with nothing. And now he comes back and talks to you."

"Maybe he can't."

"'Course he can," George snapped. "He can see me and hear me. That's what you said. And why does he know so much if he's not in charge? Don't bullshit me, Jordan."

"I'm not trying to-"

"Just fuck off."

"That doesn't work in a world where only two people exist." Lee crossed his arms in front of his chest in an unconscious gesture of defiance.

"That works in no world," George muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lee wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

George threw up his hands. "You're like a big overgrown puppy, all bark and no bite. You're good at following people around. You've always followed us around. And now that Fred is gone, you follow me. The minute it gets tough, you tuck your tail between your legs and whine. Don't you have other friends, Jordan? I'm starting to get sick of you."

Lee gaped at him.

"Have you still not figured out why I haven't changed the wards yet?" George's voice was bitter and cutting. "We set them together. I can feel Fred's magic whenever I pass through. It's the strongest bit of his magic I have left. You think you're important enough for me to get rid of that?"

"Well, fuck you, too, Weasley." Lee got up, kicked the candle so that it flew through the air and went out before it even hit the ground. Then he went back inside.

He heard George yell, "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

* * *


gone . twelve

They sorted it out in their own way.

Most of the morning, they ignored each other. Lee organised rolls and jam, George made coffee, they both took turns in the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. For lunch, George cooked pasta with white sauce. It was slimy but edible.

After lunch, George sent the plates flying to the sink, went to the booze cabinet and took out a bottle of Firewhiskey. It was still untouched as the only thing they'd drunk in the evening so far had been ale.

George opened the bottle and gave it to Lee. (I'm sorry, yeah?)

Lee accepted it, took one long gulp, felt the burning liquid flow down his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and gasped, his insides on fire, and he shook his head before he looked at George and gave him the bottle back. ('s okay. I'm sorry, too.)

They emptied the bottle of Firewhiskey with single-minded determination.

*

"So what was the most insane thing we've ever done?" George asked, slurring his words. They were now in a little pub on the northern end of Diagon Alley. After finishing their bottle of Firewhiskey, they'd walked down the street, entered this place, and raided the bar. They'd found some real treasures and lined them up on the counter.

Lee had tried the tequila and decided he liked it, even if it made the world spin a little. He looked up from his efforts to peel off the label. "The most insane thing I've ever done was trying to fuck Katie Bell."

George blinked at him, and Lee grinned proudly.

"Katie Bell?" George's look of confusion was amusing. "I didn't know she was a man."

That struck Lee as one of the most hilarious things he'd ever heard, and he collapsed in hysterics. "She's no man. And we both decided that a hug was far less trouble than fucking."

George groaned. "If you were any more gay, you'd shit glitter."

Lee pointed with his bottle, spilling half of its content. "If you were any more of an arse, you'd shit...". He frowned. "You'd shit shit."

George laughed so hard that tears ran down his cheeks.

* * *


gone . thirteen

George held Lee's head and kept the long knotted hair out of his face as Lee leaned over the toilet and got rid of what was left in his stomach. It was hard to decide whether the stench or the colour was worse.

"I'm going to die," Lee rasped pitifully. "I'm not going to survive this."

George made a disgusted noise. "Don't be a baby. You've been through this before. You'll survive."

"I won't. And you're going to-" Lee broke off mid-sentence leaned over the rim of the toilet and gagged.

"I'm going to make fun of you and make sure you won't forget this morning," George finished for him. "I've no idea why I'm doing this."

Lee groaned, hoping that the thick, yellow liquid George had given him would start working soon. He felt like an Inferi looked. "You're doing it because you're a softy." He leaned back, wiggled, tugged, pushed until he could place his head on George's lap. "And because I've done this a hundred times for you."

George grabbed the towel he'd drenched in cold water and put in on Lee's forehead. "Don't play the martyr, Jordan. I've done it just as often."

"After the last year I've got a head start." Lee moaned at the heavenly feel of cold cloth.

George rubbed the back of Lee's neck, his other hand keeping the wet cloth in place. "I can make you a fish sandwich to repay you for your efforts. With mayonnaise sauce. And maybe a glass of milk."

Lee whimpered. "I hate you so much, Weasley."

*


gone . fourteen

Lee didn't blame the sofa for the fact that he'd spent another night with hardly any sleep. The old tattered cushions were comfy and big enough for him to lie back without having to worry about falling off. The problem was that his brain seemed to start talking itself into overdrive whenever Lee wanted to get some rest.

He was sitting on the kitchen worktop, his legs dangling, and his heels thumping against the cupboard beneath in a quiet, steady rhythm. Time went by even if the only thing Lee did was staring at the wall above the sink. The morning sun would soon light up the small kitchen and start another day. The fourteenth day since he'd left the real world if he'd counted right. Fourteen days; it was unbelievable. What if they really were caught forever?

There was the soft sound of bare feet on the floor. It was George, hardly more than a shadow in the darkness. He walked over to Lee and leaned against the worktop, his hip touching Lee's thigh. For a long time they were side by side - George standing, Lee sitting - before George said, "I'm sorry."

Lee turned his head and looked at the silhouette of George's profile. "For what?" he asked.

George shrugged. And when he spoke, his voice sounded small in the darkness of the night. "Lots of things. Starting this. Trapping you." His voice was getting quieter. "Not being a real friend. That Fred died. That... I don't know. Everything."

"Hard night?" Lee asked.

George shrugged again. Lee reached out and wrapped an arm around George's shoulder.

George took a shuddering breath. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he said. "He wasn't supposed to die, and we weren't supposed to end up here." He ran a hand through his hair, and when it fell back down, it landed on Lee's thigh. "I didn't mean what I said." George turned around and moved until he was standing in front of Lee, between his legs, both hands on his thighs. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Lee said. After a moment of consideration, he wrapped his arms around George, pulling him closer.

"What are you doing?" The words were whispered more than spoken. George's breath tickled Lee's ear.

"I'm trying to cuddle you better."

"'s not gonna help."

Lee rubbed his hands up and down George's back. "It's not going to hurt either, so take it like a man."

George shook with what Lee thought was laughter and sadness all at once. That was okay. It was something they could deal with.

George pressed his face against Lee's neck as if to hide from the world. He didn't fight the embrace or the way Lee was still stroking his back. Lee felt George's arms come slowly around his waist. "It's not gonna help," he said, tightening his grip and grabbing the back of Lee's shirt with both fists. "It's too big. It's not gonna help."

"We can try." Lee spoke with a soothing voice, even though his throat and chest felt tight. "Maybe it'll work and maybe it won't. But I think we're out of options."

George coughed wetly. "What d'you mean?"

"We tried drinking, fighting, yelling, hexing, drugs, and ignoring." He paused. George was shaking now, and clawing at his shirt. "Let's give it a try."

"You're wrong. It's gonna hurt and-" George wanted to say more, but he couldn't fight the broken sobs that shook his whole body.

Lee kissed George's temple and then pressed his cheek against it. "It'll get better. Hang in there."

He kept repeating those words over and over, rubbing George's back, holding him very close and tight and trying to give as much comfort as was possible.


Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten

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