This is for the Fanfiction Championship- Euro 2012 style challenge. Prompts I used were a closed door, flames, and falling apart.

The funeral was finally over. George didn't remember any of it. He tried to sleep and forget this horrible day had even happened at all but the only thing he could see when he closed his eyes was the look on people's faces when they spoke to him and he didn't think he could take it anymore. He was used to pity. He was used to losing people that he loved. But it didn't make it any easier. That's why he was sitting alone in the dark Weasley kitchen. He sat at the table that was covered in dirty dishes and crumbs because Molly hadn't cleaned in days. She simply did not have time or energy and just like him, she didn't care anymore. He didn't mind.

He heard the door behind him close but he didn't look up to see who it was.

Blue flames suddenly illuminated the darkness and Hermione sat a jar full of them on the table. Then she pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from somewhere, poured them both a glass, and sat down across from him. She didn't say a word which he was grateful for. She just sat there and kept him company. That was the great thing about Hermione, he thought. She always knew when to keep her mouth shut.

He didn't know how long they sat like that. It may have only been a few minutes. It may have been hours. George cleared his throat and finally broke the silence causing Hermione to start.

"I wish Fred was here," he said hoarsely. This thought had been floating around his head for days. If he could handle Fred's death he could handle anything. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

Hermione nodded. "Me too."

"When everything was falling apart, he was able to make it better."

"And when everything wasn't falling apart, he would blow something up," Hermione replied. "Because life would be boring if something wasn't falling apart."

George grinned in spite of himself and stared into his glass. "True."

Hermione took a sip of her whiskey and hesitated, not sure if she should ask the question that they were both thinking. He met her eyes and she knew if she asked he wouldn't be mad.

"Will you be okay? With…with Roxanne, I mean…"

George nodded and tried to choke back a sob, but was unsuccessful. Hermione wanted to get up, to comfort him, to put her arm around him, but that wouldn't do any good. Because that was the kind of thing Angelina would do and she wasn't here anymore. So Hermione sat there feeling horrible too. And maybe that was all that George needed right now; a drink and someone to feel horrible with him.

When he caught his breath, he reached for her hand across the table. "I'll be fine. Roxanne will be fine. I have mum."

Hermione squeezed his hand and then finished her drink. She got up to go back to bed and stopped by his chair. "You have me too. And Ron."

George nodded and gave her a weary smile. "Thanks."

Hermione motioned to his untouched firewhiskey on the table. "You should drink that. There's a dreamless sleeping potion in it." With that she left him alone in the kitchen to shed a few more tears, but these were from relief. When he was done he chugged his drink, took the jar full of blue flames with him to his old room where he set it by his bed and stared at it until the sleeping potion took effect.

Tomorrow he would wake up to his little girl. Tomorrow he would take her back home and sort through Angelina's things. Tomorrow would be another day that many people would call the first day of the rest of his life. He seemed to have a lot of days like that. But that would be tomorrow.

For now he would sleep.

I know this probably makes me a horrible person but in my head canon, Angelina dies due to some kind disease leaving George to raise Roxanne by himself. I can't just give the poor guy a break. Review please!