George Weasley was a troubled man. In a post-war wizarding community, troubled people were not uncommon. Most would agree, however, that George had been dealt a particularly unfair lot. Everyone had lost someone, everyone had felt indescribable pain, but George had lost someone so close, he might as well have lost half his soul. A few years after the war, everything had settled into a new normal. This new normal now pictured George standing in his joke shop. Sunday: the one day a week he closed the place, but he always worked on Sunday, usually restocking, putting the fake wands and stray pygmy puff back into their proper locations. That reminded him... 'Still missing that green pygmy puff'. He knew that it hadn't been stolen; everything was charmed to immediately relocate itself to the shelves if someone had stolen with intent. 'Poor thing must be lost, wandering the expansive store all by its lonesome,' he mused.
George walked up the stairs to his flat above the shop; all the work had been completed. He entered the flat to see his owl perched on the window sill. He gave it a treat and took the post. One postcard of the Eiffel Tower from Angelina, who was currently visiting her extended family in France. He smiled at his girlfriend's tourist like behavior, knowing that she had been to visit her family in France at least 2 dozen times. He shoved his hand in his right pocket, yep, the engagement ring he had carried around for nearly six months was still there. He loved her, wanted to marry her, but he still wondered if it was wrong to.
The second piece was a reply from Ron, who was only writing to tell George that he couldn't help with the shop tomorrow. "Git," George tutted at the letter or more specifically to the author of the letter. He put both letters down and exited the main room to go take a shower before going to a family dinner at the Burrow, for which, he was probably going to be late. Angelina was one who kept them on time to events. He was slightly miffed at the prospects of managing the shop by himself on the day before magical children were to return to Hogwarts from winter break.
As predicted, George walked in late for dinner at the burrow. Everyone was seated except for Molly, but she was always the last to sit down or to eat. George muttered a slight "hullo" to his family and family friends, who ate regularly with the Weasleys. He sat between Percy and Teddy, whose hair was red now and made it seem as if he were just another Weasley.
The little kids, who sat around the table, didn't even know who Fred was. No one ever talked about Fred, especially not George and the rest of the family didn't have the heart to bring him up in the fear that they would set George into a deep depression. The family didn't ever mention it, but George was a quiet man now. He ran a joke shop, but was no longer a joker. George remained an inventor, but left the front of the shop to Angelina, Verity, and the odd part time help. He was just not the same as before. He survived as George by acting as Fred was never there. It was the only tolerable way he could find to carry on.
After dinner the various members of the family and their friends dispersed throughout the house. George didn't like being alone, never had. For so long he felt disoriented without Fred. Angelina had been that anchor for the 2 years that they had been dating, even the 2 years previous to their relationship, when they had grown much attached to one another. An airy voice drew him out of his mind.
"Are you remembering something very unwelcomed?"
George looked around him, then down. For as bright as Luna Lovegood dressed, her short stature made it easy to overlook her.
"Um, no, well, yes," he stumbled over his words. He had been on friendly terms for years with Luna, and almost never thought of her as Looney Lovegood anymore, but she still made people speechless with her odd behavior and dress. He realized that he had stared at her for more than could ever be comfortable, but he doubted that he could make her uncomfortable.
He continued, "You weren't here for dinner," He cringed at his blunt statement.
"No, I was finishing packing for my adventure, but I'm sure your mum will send me home with leftovers," she answered his unasked question. She didn't wait for him to comment on that, instead she asked him a question, "Ron said you needed help at the shop tomorrow, do you still need help?"
"Oh," the question took George aback, "Yeah, I do. You want to help?"
"Yes," She answered shortly.
"Um, well, it's a 16 hour day - Back to school, you know - and I can pay you. We open at 6 am. What would you consider a fair wage?"
"A pygmy puff," she stated, he couldn't tell if she was paying attention. Her eyes were looking at him, but it didn't feel like she was actually looking at him, like she was looking at something beyond him.
"A pygmy puff? You want a pygmy puff for 16 hours of working in a joke shop?"
"Yes, I hear they sing the most amazing songs on boxing days!"
He had bred pygmy puffs since he was 17 years old and not once had he heard any form of harmonic organization, not even on Boxing Day. He watched her walk away to greet Harry and Charlie, whom she was actually very close with. They both admired animals and he was always interested in her descriptions of various, possibly unreal, creatures.
'Great,' George thought to himself with a puzzled look on his freckled face, 'I won't have to deal with the whole shop tomorrow...I think'. George's mind was taken away from Luna helping or possible not helping tomorrow at the shop by Teddy and Victoire wanting him to play dragons and dragon tamers with them. Guess who got to be the dragon...
5:59 am the next day...
George stood in his shop; he could hear the buzz of the crowd lined up outside, and still no sign of Luna. 'Maybe she forgot' George thought as he checked his watch once more. He thought too soon. He heard the familiar whooshing sound of someone arriving by floo. He turned to look at the small, blonde witch.
"Where have you been?" He noticed her small frown at his direct question.
"You said 6am for a 16 hour shift. I thought it would be rude to intrude for a 16 hour and 1 minute shift. How would you pay me in pygmy puffs for that?"
George felt a little bad; Luna always seemed innocent, odd, but innocent.
"Okay, that's fine. Put on that robe. You've been in here before, yeah? I'm going to be restocking shelves and trying to manage the chaos today. All you have to do is ring people up at the registers. There's a chart of different spells that will tell you what to charge and where to find items for people who ask. Sorry for the rush."
He said all this in the short walk to the front door, which he unlocked and opened to the demanding crowd. It never failed to shock him that this many people loved his products. He momentarily chided himself, they weren't just his. He let it go; knowing that he wouldn't be able to handle those emotions once he went there and he had a busy day ahead.
As expected the day was chaos. George checked in with Luna periodically throughout the day, worried that he had thrown her into this madness with absolutely no training. However, she looked fine, the customers liked her or at least were amused by her. There was only one small incident when a little Finnegan brat called her Looney, but she just gave him a lollipop, which George believed to be a normal one.
So, at the end of the day, Nearly the entire stock was used up, the shelves were rather bare, there hadn't been one single lull in customers, and Luna and George sat on stools in the back of the shop having a drink. Fire whiskey for George, Olive juice for Luna. George had a few tears in his robe, 'ruddy kids'. Luna's hair stuck in odd directions, but George couldn't tell if that was because of the hectic day or just because it was Luna.
In an attempt to make some conversation, George asked, "Are you ready for you trip?"
"What trip?" She asked for clarification.
"Uh, yesterday, you said that you missed dinner because you were getting ready for a trip."
"My adventure, oh yes, I leave tomorrow!"
George didn't see the difference between trip and adventure, but he continued anyway, "Where are you tr- adventuring to?"
"All over, I suppose. Wherever Rolf is," she sipped contently and stared at the corners of the room. George tried to followed her gaze, but found it difficult as he she didn't seem to be looking at or for any one thing.
"What's a Rolf?" He asked her, deciding it best to simply look at her, even if she was looking at everything except him.
"Who," she corrected.
"What?" He was very confused.
"Not what, who," she corrected again.
"Oh, who, then, is Rolf?"
"He's an adventurer," she answered bluntly.
George waited, suspecting that she might continue. He just stared at her...
He stared for a very long time until Luna asked, "Have you fallen asleep with your eyes open?"
His eyebrows crinkled and decided that Luna might be the most frustrating person he'd ever met. She always began and ended conversation with odd and unfollowable timing. "Why do you ask?"
"You didn't ask another question," Luna now turned to him. He almost wished that she wouldn't look him in the eye, it made him more uncomfortable than when she acted unfocused. She had the most haunting eyes.
"Yeah, okay...Why are you going on an adventure with Rolf?" He pressed his lips together impishly. He felt like he was treating her like a child and it made him feel childish too.
"Rolf wants to study, catalog, and write about magical creatures and plant life that are usually passed over by most of the wizarding community. I've been employed as his research assistant."
Luna's answer was so direct and detailed; it made George wonder if her dreamy personality was a mask. If it was a mask, she was much practiced; her eyes never lost their startling quality. They were always somewhere between lazy and stunning, it was disturbing.
"Oh, that sounds perfect for you. I wonder if there is anything I could use in the shop," George was actually genuinely interested in this discovery.
"I'll keep some notes on useful items for you to look at when I come back, if you'd like."
"I'd like that a lot, Luna, thank you," he smiled at her.
He looked at the clock on the wall to see that it was very late. He was just about to suggest that they part, but she asked a question instead.
"Why don't you have anything about Fred in the shop?"
He thought he was going to be sick. It was true, there was nothing to show that Fred had ever existed to those that hadn't already known, but there definitely should have been. Some might have called Luna rude, or mean, but really she was just saying something that he probably needed to hear, something that others were unwilling to bring up.
Luna didn't see the anguish on his face. Or maybe she did, but she continued anyway, "Wasn't this his shop too?"
She didn't say it in spite; in fact, she seemed to say it with almost no emotion at all as if she were commenting on the shade of wall paint he had used. She just looked at him...haunted him. She just continued to speak, "When my mom died, my dad didn't speak for months. So, I painted a mural of her in my house, it kind of hurt to see her face at first, but then it just felt nice."
She inspected her olive juice and George would have been grateful for the momentary reprieve, but she just went on, "You're not the same anymore. You're not just lonely. You don't laugh, not even with Angelina at Burrow dinners, just barely living."
He felt like he was going to cry or scream, or both. But the tears and words didn't come. How could she just sit there, saying those thing, and still be so calm, but she just continued, "You know Fred only spoke to me twice," George didn't want to hear any more, but she didn't consider him, "Once he called me Looney and once he apologized for it. It was nice. I don't think it's fair to anyone to not be able to talk about Fred, because you don't want to talk about Fred."
She ended and stared at a shelf. George just sat on his stool staring at his empty glass. It had been years since Fred had died. Everything in George's life reminded him of Fred: His family, his shop...even Angelina, who Fred had fancied once. George really didn't know what to say, so he didn't speak at all. They just sat there until Luna stood up to leave.
"Your pygmy puff," George he spoke softly and gestured to the cage of a few small creatures he had put aside from purchase for her to choose, "you should pick one before you leave."
"Thank you, but I've already chosen mine."
George looked skeptically at her. The same three pygmy puffs were in the cage that he had set aside nearly 24 hours earlier.
Luna picked her stool up and moved it next to the shelf that she had been staring at for part of their conversation. She climbed up, moved a single box aside, and reached into the deep shelf. She had in her hand a scruffy green pygmy puff and gently jumped from the stool. George gave a small laugh, "I've been looking for him for weeks."
"Yes, I think he's prepared for an adventure," She smiled at the little ruffian.
"Goodbye," she continued to walk out of the room. George felt some need to thank her or to ask her to say something about what she had said earlier. She didn't speak, Luna and her small rogue pygmy puff walked out of the shop. George, however, didn't feel like that was the last of Luna Lovegood's work in the shop.
One week later...
Angelina had arrived home to find that seemingly everything and nothing at all had changed. Nothing looked different; the shop was being watched by Lee, while George was in the workroom. There had been a very large package at the front of the shop, which Angelina levitated through the shop on her way to greet George. She saw him before he saw her. Many people had varying opinions on their relationship. Some had thought it was perverse for her to date George, since she had once liked Fred and even went to a dance with him. But, it didn't matter what they thought. She loved George; she had never loved Fred and only had wished he was alive, because none of her friends deserved to die that day. Because, George always second guessed himself without Fred. She knew that George loved her and didn't date her out of guilt, but sometimes she felt like he held himself back from moving on in their relationship.
She cleared her throat and made her presence known. George turned to face her. She was somewhat surprised; he hadn't been working on a product he had just been sitting there staring at the shelf.
"You alright?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yeah, just distracted," he dismissed her worry, and then saw the large package, "What's that?"
"Oh, it was propped up on the front window," she looked at the floating package.
She set it down gently against the work table, "should we open it?"
George grunted in approval and waved his wand. The packaging paper loosely fell away.
Angelina was shocked at what she saw. It was a painting of Fred. It looked just like him; he looked young compared to George, who now had a few years on him. She looked to gauge George's reaction. She was shocked at this too. He was smiling, although a bit shocked. Her eyes snapped back to the painting, 'had he ordered this?' she thought. Why would he order a muggle style painting of Fred? George picked up a packed slip of paper that had fallen to the floor.
She saw that the paper only had one word written on it, which George read, pointed his wand at the painting, and whispered. Angelina heard the crack in his voice. A light rippled throughout the material of the canvas and the Fred's portrait blinked and looked at George. Angelina stood back still too shocked to ask George what this was all about.
At that moment the painted figure spoke, "George, you old man, now you've got a ghastly amount of freckles, you're lacking the normal amount of ears, and you're getting crinkles."
George replied, "Yet the girls go crazy for it."
He smiled wider than she thought he had in months. Fred's painted eyes darted to Angelina and a sly grin transformed his face. "George, you're dating Angie! I raised you so well," Fred chuckled, "Angie, tell me; does he still use the pathetic ear joke?"
"No, you may have raised him, but I've done quite a bit of retraining"
Angelina and Fred laughed at George's expense; it's lucky for them that George was able to laugh at his own expense easily as well.
The three of them spent nearly two hours talking. In those two hours George talked more about Fred than in the years since his death. They had decided to hang the frame in the front of the shop behind the counter and hang other paintings around the rest of the shop so Fred could move around. They probably would've talked more, but Angelina decided to go clean up and then make George take her out for Ice cream at Fortescue's, since all the randy kids were back at school.
Nearly the second she had walked out of the room Fred turned on George, "I'm really proud of you kid!"
"You realize I'm older than you now, right?
"Call me baby brother one time and I will end you," Fred scowled, but the effect was ruined by the goofy grin that attacked his face.
"What will you do? Spy on me from your frame? Where did you come from anyway?"
"Crikey, George, why do you want to talk about mum and dad's se-?"
"Not you, you prat, painting you," George scolded, but ended up smiling too. He missed this.
"Oh, Luna Lovegood. Odd bird, but she's nice. She even gave me a portal to go to other portraits. She told me a bit about what's happened since, well, anyway, she said that you weren't doing so hot without me. Do you really not talk about me?"
George was a bit embarrassed, how could he admit to Fred that he didn't have anything of him in the shop? That he never spoke about him?
"I get it, George. But, you don't have to be alone, you've got Angie and you've still got me, just a different me," Fred sincere voice nearly convinced George, "and besides, you may be the older twin now, but I'm now without a doubt the better looking."
Both laughed at their very odd life. Angelina called down and said that she would be ready in a few minutes.
"Say, who's the headmaster of Hogwarts now?" Fred asked.
"McGonagall," George answered.
"Minnie, no kidding?" Fred's eyes got that cloudy look that they always used to get when he was plotting someone's figurative demise, "I think I should pop in and pay her my respects, completely without warning and as spontaneously as possible. It would only be right."
Both twin grinned dynamically. Angelina popped in to say goodbye to Fred and let George know that she was ready. George told her that he'd be right there and she told him that she would wait out front.
"Bye, mate," George gave Fred his farewell, reassuring himself that he had Fred back, somewhat, and that he would never go back to a Fred-less world.
"See you round, old chap," Fred waved opening a door in his own painting.
Both turned away.
"By the way," Fred called back to George and he turned around. Both twins now had one foot out of their respective doors.
"Luna told me to tell you that it's very irresponsible to carry around such an expensive engagement ring in one's pockets. You should probably let Angelina keep it in safekeeping for the next 50-75 years," Fred quipped and exited stage portal.
George reached into his right pocket and mused to him and the absent Fred, "Yeah, I might just do that. A proposal in a magical ice cream shop, who wouldn't love that?"
6 months later...
Angelina was a most radiant bride, George an absolute goofball, everyone cried - Molly Weasley most of all-, and the wizarding community heard their first best-man's speech delivered by a portrait. George and Angelina had promised, "Until death do us part," and made their grandmothers and great aunts tut at how long they had kissed.
At the reception, George met and re-met many people. He bumped into Luna and abruptly hugged her.
"Hello, George, happy wedding," She responded, her voice slightly muted by his tight hug.
"Thank you so much, Luna, for everything," He smiled brightly at her.
"You're very welcome George. Fred seems to like his portrait. Professor McGonagall has been looking at me more austerely than usual. I wonder why?"
"Oh, yes, I think that she had grown used to a prank free Hogwarts," he shrugged.
"It's better for her to re-acclimate herself sooner rather than later, she has a whole generation of Weasleys and company coming to her door," normally dreamy unchanging eyes had a new light in them.
"Yes, I do believe so. How was your adventure?"
"We've found many new species. I'm still writing you a list."
At this a rugged blond man, who wore a green felt hat, appeared at Luna's side. He was nearly as tall as George, which made Luna seem especially pixie sized.
"This is Rolf," Luna introduced and the man confidently shook George's hand.
At that moment, George didn't think she would even have noticed if he had left, she seem solely fixed on the man. George saw it now, Luna wasn't just on an adventure, searching for magical creatures and plants; she was very much in love, in love with Rolf Scamander.
They talked for a bit, until Rolf declare, "Ah, you're the breeder of the daring little Pygmy Puff, which Luna brought with her. The magical tribes in India absolutely adored Simeon's singing with the local Garunda populations."
A small, yet thoroughly unkempt green Pygmy Puff, revealed himself from beneath Rolf's collar. Luna made her excuses to leave and ask Fred if he liked the length of his hair or if he wanted some new paint while she was in town. There was a large commotion after Fred told Luna that he liked his hair, but wouldn't mind a tattoo. Mrs. Weasley was furious at his suggested placement and took out her disapproval on an unsuspecting Charlie, who was the obvious source of blame as he was the only one of her sons that had tattoos that she knew of.
George and Rolf talked for some time about magical properties of the ingredients used in the joke shop and what might be a more effective or less expensive substitute. Rolf spoke so highly of Luna that George had no doubt that the future Burrow dinners that Luna attended would be with a new, even stranger last name.
George looked around at the many blessings in his life. His beautiful wife blushing at great aunt Muriel's comments. 'Was that woman ever going to die'? Great Aunt Muriel that is, not Angelina. His family as whole as it was ever like to be. A whole generation of Weasley kids and their fellow marauders quickly acknowledging Fred as their new favorite uncle. McGonagall blanching at the idea of Weasley Twin certified miscreants, but even she could be found happy at Fred's reintroduction into the world. Even if it meant the occasion of a surprise visit now and then. Luna had become an unexpected friend.