AN: I am particularly proud of this story! It was a totally random idea but I think it turned out well. The ending may be a little weak but it fits well. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter books than the plot to this story wouldn't make sense cuz I wouldn't kill a certain character!!!!! GRRR! No I do not own it!
Dedication: All my fanfiction buddies out there. Sorry I don't feel like listing the usernames. Michelle, Ali, Liana, Kristina, Jackie, and Rebecca.
Hermione's POV
I walk. I stop. I listen.
I walk. I stop. I listen.
I walk.
CREAK
Stop. Skip over loose floor board and continue.
Ice cream. That is all I want. So here I am at 2:37 AM tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen. There are so many people in the Weasley household so I must be quiet. The war ended a month ago and I have yet to go find my parents. Ron and I are going out as are Harry and Ginny. It is what everyone expected but I always felt there should be something more.
It has been considerably quiet here, even though there is a surplus of people in the burrow. No one really talks. Everyone is secluded. I thought the ending of such a horror like the war would be happy and celebrated but the mourning and grieving over lost ones is too strong right now. The loss of Fred caused a huge impact on all of the Weasleys, especially George.
That chocolate orange ice cream better be worth twenty minutes of holding my breath and creeping down to the kitchen. I let out a sigh of relief as I shuffle my foot off the last stair. I wipe away a tear that started to form after thinking about the war.
I hear a noise in the kitchen. The sound of clanging silverware and sobs meets my ears. I'm curious. Anyone would be. Slowly I walk toward the kitchen and peak my head in. George. It is the first time I have seen him since the funeral. He keeps himself locked up in his room and doesn't make a noise. He only talks to Mrs. And Mr. Weasley and sometimes Ginny.
That's when I spot it. My favorite ice cream is sitting on the table in front of George. I can't help but notice how skinny and weak George looks. So vulnerable. I can't imagine what he is going through. It's like losing half of you. Should I go in? Maybe I should leave him alone. But he's always alone. I doubt he wants to be secluded and distraught the rest of his life. I sigh as I try to decide.
Suddenly, George's head snaps up and he looks alert. My sigh must have been louder than I thought. His eyes are red and swollen and his face is as pale as a ghost. I'm not sure if I am seeing a living breathing person or a corpse. He looks like a shell.
I shudder at the emptiness in his eyes. We stare.
I tear my eyes away and focus on his bony hand gesturing for me to enter. I walk hesitantly as I hold my breath. I don't know why I am holding my breath; it just feels as if I should. I stand unsure in front of the table and he makes another gesture at the chair in front of him. The pounding silence beats in my ear as I sit across from the red head. His hair looks dull and greasy. I don't know how it could be both; perhaps it is the aura of sadness surrounding him that makes it seem so.
He points toward the ice cream as he hands me a spoon from the drawer behind him. My hand creeps toward the container; metal clenched tightly. Before the spoon can scoop some of the melting dessert, George mumbles three words that make my heart ache.
"I miss him." His eyes are pained and tears well up.
I nod. There is nothing I can say. I try to hold back the soon to come tears but I feel them overflowing my eyes and streaming down my face.
"He was my best friend. We were the same person. I don't understand how only half could die. Every night I dream of holding his head in my lap and stroking the replica of my hair. My twin. I feel like my life was taken from me. I no longer have a soul and I just wish I were with him." Tears are streaming down his face and I nod again. It is best to let him continue.
"I know the real me is still here somewhere. I just feel like I should not and cannot be him unless Fred is here. I wonder if I will ever be the same. If I will ever be complete again. Sometimes I feel like smiling or coming out of our, … my room. Something holds me back. I don't want to betray him and leave him behind. I am experiencing for the first time what it is like to be alone. One day I will be myself again. I know I can go back. I just need time." George chokes out and sobs. He looks confident and so sure of his last few statements.
I stand up and walk around the table. I bend down and give him a comforting and friendly hug.
"I'm looking forward to that day." I whisper and he cries more. His crying subsides and I sit in my seat. We eat the ice cream in an uncomfortable silence. Five minutes pass.
"How is Ron treating you?' George asks suddenly. I'm glad for the change of topic but the new one he chose is still uncomfortable.
"Fine. We spend some time together but not a lot. Everybody has been isolated." I say and regret it. I didn't mean to bring the subject back to the war.
"Thanks." He murmurs.
"For what?" I question.
"For listening before. I needed someone to talk to who wouldn't start sobbing and screaming or ignore the pain or continuously question how I was. I need someone to listen and that is what you did." George states and looks down.
I nod in reply and we just sit in a more comfortable silence. I daydream and set down my spoon. I notice it still has a glob of ice cream on it but I ignore the useless fact. Three minutes pass and my hand slips from its position of holding up my head. It hits the edge of the spoon and the force makes the melted liquid fly across the table. With a splat it hits George's cheek.
I want to laugh but I restrain myself. I'm not sure if I can. A foreign sound greets me. Laughter. Someone else's laughter. George is laughing a true laugh and it surprises me. It is the first laugh besides my own I have heard in months. The only reason I heard my laugh was because I made myself to see if I still could.
I feel a force creep up my throat from my stomach. It bursts out my mouth. A true belly aching laugh. Nothing forced, it is real and it puts a smile on my face. My cheeks strain from the sudden movement of muscles. I haven't even smiled lately. We laugh until it hurts and when it finally stops we still smile.
Without thinking I reach over and wipe the trail of brown and orange liquid off his cheek. We become serious and my hand lingers. Slowly our faces inch closer. My breath is baited and my heart is pounding in my ears. I feel his breath on my lips and just before our lips can meet he turns his head.
My lips press against his cheek and I am thankful. We were caught up in the moment and thankfully he was pulled out. I move back embarrassed and he just looks at me. His eyes say what he feels. I'm glad he stopped something I would regret.
"Thanks." I whisper and stand up to leave.
His eyes bore into mine. He knows what I mean. I shuffle up the stairs and I am sorry I ruined such a happy moment. I know the memory will stay with me forever. Just George and I with chocolate orange ice cream. Even for a moment I caught a glimpse of the real George Weasley. I hope the rest of the world will see him soon.
AN: Hope you liked it!!!!! Review please. No flames!!!! If you review I will give you virtual left over birthday cake… cuz yesterday was my birthday!!!! YAY!