~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 4th June, 1998 (Thursday) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral had ended hours ago, and twilight had begun its slow crawl across the sky, yet two figures remained at the freshly turned grave.
George, for his part, was still struggling to reconcile that his twin, the counterpart he had never been truly separated from, was now lying cold and stiff and silent. The thoughts seem to circle round and round without ceasing. Never going to say the words I could never find...never going to crack another joke...never going to man the shop again...never going to ask that pretty bird out…On and on the never's seemed to go, try as George might to stop himself, and often accompanied by silent tears he no longer had shame for.
Hermione on the other hand, appeared a stone statue for all the sound or movement she made. The past weeks had been a rush, full of running from here to there trying to salvage battle scenes after the War. Mostly, she'd been running from the upcoming funeral and the grief sloshing around inside of her like unexpected tidal waves. It was horrible, all the deaths, but in her heart Hermione felt shame for grieving for Fred harder than anyone else. To see him dead in the Great Hall had been worse than being tortured by Bellatrix by far. But she'd never admit it. And who could know anyways? He was dead and she was alone and left with feelings that made Cho's behaviour back in fourth year make a lot more sense.
"You don't need to stay you know, Granger." George croaked eventually, mouth hoarse from racking sobs and misuse.
"I know that," she replied softly, "but I will. For you, and for him. I was too harsh on you two all those years you know, with the testing and whatnot. You are-or were," she corrected herself quickly, "quite brilliant inventors. The theory and magic behind it is truly phenomenal."
George smiled morosely and shifted to give her a hug.
"Thank you, Hermione. For everything"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 12th June, 1998 (Friday)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione heaved a sigh and collapsed onto her couch. Work was long and arduous, and seemed to require a lot of standing and running. What she wanted more than anything was to sit and rest, and maybe eat pickles slathered in chocolate.
Hermione opened her eyes in horror. Pickles and chocolate were disgusting. She rolled her eyes. Maybe grief gave people strange appetites, who knew? That might explain the weight gains recently. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough that Hermione didn't particularly enjoy seeing the bathroom scale in the mornings.
Putting discomfort aside, Hermione dragged her calendar out of the beaded purse at hand and began leafing through it for the upcoming weekend. Ginny was talking about going out and Harry and Ron wanted to meet for drinks along with about a hundred other people begging her attention for this or that Important Thing.
"Lunch...shopping...dinner and drinks…" she murmured to herself, glancing at the pages where bright red ink seemed to jump out at her.
A nasty feeling settled low in Hermione's gut at the words, she slowly looking down to her stomach and calculating. She was overdue for her period. Which might have been expected with the war and being on the run and not eating if not for the fact that she'd somehow stayed regular the entire bloody year. And if she could be on time right down to the very day despite nigh on starving whilst using too much magic and fighting evil wizard armies, then five days late suddenly seemed rather significant.
Signs began to clamour at her. The weight gain, the pickles and chocolate which really did speak for themselves, the emotions all over the place, the puking that morning which she had studiously refused to think about…
But if she were pregnant, then the father- no. Hermione cut the thought off and jolted up. If the calendar were to be believed, she'd be six weeks along. With a flick she summoned her coat and scarf, apparating to the nearest corner store alleyway.
Ten minutes later Hermione returned to her flat, arms full of pregnancy tests of all variations, only to see George casually sitting on her couch flicking through her Modern Magic and Theories Behind the Veil books. The boxes fell to the floor, her wand pointed in him and body in fighting stance.
"George (if you're George) you have fifteen seconds to tell me what you're doing before I start hexing."
George stood up hastily, putting the books away and holding his hands up in surrender.
"Hello to you too Granger." he smiled slightly, if sadly, shoving his hands in his pockets when she didn't move to hex him. "I'm here to ask why you stayed, at the funeral. Because I think there's something you didn't tell me, and he's my brother. I deserve to know."
Hermione nodded, her hands twisting. After a moment, she sighed and gestured vaguely at the boxes on the floor.
"Why don't you get comfortable again because I'm not quite sure how much there is to tell."
Hermione had left him in the sitting room reading after explaining that she had a couple of muggle tests she needed to take and that they could talk after. But at the rate things were going, Hermione wanted nothing more than to run away to Australia with her parents. Seven had come out positive, three were still debating on whether or not to ruin her life. Oh, no, wait, they were positive too.
Hermione slid down the wall of her bathroom and began to cry. How could this happen? How could she be so irresponsible, stuck with a life she didn't know or want while he was dead?
"Granger? Hermione?" George's voice floated through the door, concern laced with worry.
"I'm-I'm fine," she choked out. "One moment please, if you don't mind."
When she emerged a moment later with the tests in had, he had returned to the sitting room. George twisted around as he heard her enter.
Hermione hesitated, then pushed forward. 'Best do it all in a rush if nervous', she whispered.
Even so, she sat down across from him, thinking quietly for a moment before looking George in the eye.
"I'm pregnant. With Fred's baby."
George's eyes widened in surprise, slowly filling with tears. He tensed for a moment then moved to kneel in front of Hermione, hugging her. After a moment he pulled away.
"Want to tell me the rest? Or, most of it anyways? I think I can work out how exactly you got pregnant," he added with a wink.
Hermione sniffled. It was clear George felt awful but she appreciated his trying to cheer her up.
"I-well, I grew fonder of you two especially in the later years. Probably around fifth year what with Umbridge and the DA going on. But Fred...he was different. I mean of course he was. You two are identical in looks but you're seperate people."
"Were. We were identical," George corrected distantly.
Hermione nodded sadly.
"Right. Sorry, George."
He waved it away and she continued.
"There were moments where I could have sworn he began to see me as a proper person and not just Ronald's friend but it never went anywhere. Sixth year came about, and seventh year we were on the run, so I hardly saw you two again. But we listened to Potterwatch and that didn't help. It felt as if I was getting to know Fred more because obviously we recognised your voices and I'm quite sure he was rodent, or rapier afterwards I guess. Then the battle of Hogwarts came. Everyone had their jobs given to them in the Room of Requirement and left and we ended up alone. Things happened, the wall fell later, he died, and I'm still unsure if he ever truly cared or if I was a pick-me-up before going off to battle."
Quiet fell again as she finished. Neither had a dry face and after a few moments of gulping and sniffling, George looked back at Hermione.
"We always saw you as your own person, don't forget that. Fred too. He was a player, we both were, but he wouldn't sleep with you as a pick-me-up before going off to do battle I know that for a fact."
"Thank you," said Hermione quietly. "I'd offer you a glass of wine but it seems I shan't be drinking for a while."
George chuckled and ran his thumb in circles over her hand.
"I'm quite fine without wine thank you very much." He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair before continuing. "Listen, I'm here, alright? For anything. Come into the shop any time, tell me when you go for checkups, whatever. Because if you'll let me, I'd like to help. To be involved. Fred would have, and he'd want me to, and that's the child of my twin you're carrying."
Hermione stared at him for a moment, then flew forward and hugged him.
"Thank you. For that. I'll need it I think."
He just laughed and held her, thinking of the small life she now carried and what it meant.
A/N: I'm still not sure if this will be a one shot or if I'll continue it. Any preferences?