Author's Note: It's been a very long time since I've written anything. All I've been doing is reading other people's work. I'm not that good of a writer since I suck at putting my thoughts into words whether on paper or speaking. But I've just watched the Deathly Hallows movie recently (in which I was very disappointed in) and it renewed my interest in Harry Potter fics. And after seeing a story about Hermione comforting George, I wanted to try my hand on writing one of my own. Maybe it'll get me into writing again.

Pairing: Hermione x George, Hermione x Fred (If you squint really, really, really hard or it can all be in your imagination.) Molly x George (mother x son)

April Fools

DESPITE THE feeling of wanting to escape, George could not find himself moving from the Burrow's kitchen. Resentment turned to anger which turned to rage which simmered down to sadness and loneliness. It was his birthday. It was their birthday.

The first one I've spent without him, he thought to himself.

He kept the myriad of emotions carefully hidden from his family, in-laws, and the many friends that came to eat his mother's cooking. Such feelings told him of how messed up he still was from the death of his twin. Many people thought that he wasn't depressed anymore since he kept such a cheery disposition. Well… he wouldn't call it depression. If it was he'd have probably killed himself a long time ago instead of standing around bubbling in his own cauldron of… whatever he was feeling at the moment and currently he was feeling a lot of different things right now. He sighed.

George stood in silence nearby the window somewhat apart from the others despite it being his party. The argument about whether the Chudley Cannons or the Puddlemere United would win this year's British and Irish Quidditch League had been going on for quite some time now. It was energetic and vehement, but friendly in the only way people who have known each other for quite some time could make it. As much as George loves the game, quidditch brought up unwanted thoughts and feelings that he was already having because of this blasted party about his partner so he was not inclined to join in on the conversation.

"Ronald! Stop talking with your mouth full. Seriously, did I not teach you any manners before you went off to Hogwarts?"

That was Mrs. Weasley, the matriarch of the Weasley Clan, their hostess here at the Burrow. Out of all the members of his family that were affected by his death, Molly Weasley was the one he felt most connected to. Probably because he came out of her womb and children and their mothers always had a special connection to each other. Still with that gentle smile, still with that energetic urge to look after her growing family, Mrs. Weasley had moved on from her bout with depression and self-inflicted guilt in order to look after her children and those little ones who would come after. But if one looked closely one would see that there were subtle differences. No longer a spring in her step, no longer a hardened look in her eyes, these past years aged her quite a bit. Sometimes a faraway look would be on her face when she thought no one was looking. But those who know her well knew that thoughts of her lost son filled her head. George felt that the one who understood him most was his mother, but not quite. Their feelings of lost were very different from each others. One was the lost of a son, the other, a twin. Those feelings were a burden they would always have to bear separately.

IT WAS hours later in the quiet afternoon when most of the guests had left that George was able to find a chance to spend some time alone. He walked along a familiar path, one that he had walked on once before yet was not intimate with. That would have to be his brother's, it was his path, his special clearing. The place where he was going was a little ways ahead. It was a small clearing with a big oak tree and a stream running west to join the River Otter. [1] Rays of light shot through the leaves to create a beautiful painting of the perfectness of nature… of course, that is for the people who are sentimental. To George, it was a painful place. Whenever his brother wanted to be alone, he would always walk along this path and take a nap or just doze under the oak tree. It would've been their special place, but they decided that they should each have their own. To them, even though they were identical and acted alike, they were still two separate people. It was important for them to understand that they were both individuals, only then could they be considerate of one another. George's place was on top of the attic roof. It was a place where one could gaze at the stars freely. But that's irrelevant to this story.

"Well, how are you up there bro?" George asked. Only the sounds of chirping and running water reached his ear.

Lying down under the oak tree, he began to doze into the realm of dreams. The natural sounds of the clearing acting as a lullaby. Before falling asleep completely he had this particular feeling of being watched. War can do that to you, paranoia as well. Snapping his eyes open he saw a pair of chocolate brown eyes staring down at him.

"So this was where you were." Hermione said.

Hermione Granger, a lovely and brilliant witch. She went back to take her N.E.W.T.s after the war and will be graduating this year. Professor McGonagall had allowed her and Ginny to come to the Burrow today to celebrate his birthday since it was a Saturday. During Christmas break she went to spend time with her parents after she found them and lifted the enchantment. She was always beautiful even though people thought she looked plain. Her hair which was always bushy turned into soft ringlets (Thank Merlin, even though she has always been a pretty little thing, her bushy hair was getting a bit ridiculous, George thought.) before returning to Hogwarts. Surprisingly, when she came back from break, her hair, her beautiful hair that she finally tamed into ringlets, were chopped off. Chopped off! But instead of looking awkward on her, it gave her a classy look and dare he say it, very sophisticated. The look on Malfoy when he passed by her in Hogsmeade was so hilarious. Probably never thought the "mudblood" could actually look pretty, beautiful even, thought George.

"How did you find me here? George asked.

"I stumbled upon this place once a few years ago along with your brother. We had a nice long conversation." She replied.

"Whatever did you talk about?" He smirked and wiggled his eyes suggestively.

"It was a lovely conversation that has nothing to do with you. And stop smirking." She smacked his arm.

"You hit like a girl."

"I am a girl."

"Yes… I've noticed."

SMACK!

"Okay now that one hurt. I think it's going to bruise."

"Oh man up."

They fell into a comfortable silence as they sat next to each other.

"It's still painful isn't it?" Hermione said, breaking the silence.

"Very." George whispered.

"I won't say it's going to be okay. Because truthfully, nothing is ok and it probably won't be for a very long time. But what comes next is up to you. Whether you move forward, or stop in you track, that is for you to decide."

"You know something? I was actually waiting for someone to say that. Everyone kept saying it's going to be alright but it… it just isn't." George gave a bitter smile. "Never thought you were one for sentimentality, you were always the logical one."

"I'm a girl."

Another silence came upon them.

"I never even said goodbye to him. Maybe it's for the best. I hate goodbyes." George said.

"Don't be dismayed at goodbyes. Farewells are necessary before we can meet again. And meeting, after moments or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends." Hermione said.

"Is that a quote?"

"Richard Bach."

"Don't know him."

"I know."

"It's nice though."

"That's why I said it.

"What do you think I'll choose?

"Knowing you, you would probably choose to move forward. Choose to live. Live freely. Live on so that you can live your life as you please. Doing the things you wish to do. Doing the things you want to do. You'll live so that one day you'll find the happiness that belongs only to you because happiness isn't something that is given to you by others, it's in that which we choose for ourselves that makes us happy. No matter how hard it gets. No matter how painful it gets and it'll probably never fade away, but you'll live. That is true determination."

They fell into a comfortable silence, sitting like that until night fell. The others were probably getting worried. And by the looks of it, it'll probably start to rain soon. But that was alright for them. And for one George Weasley, there will be more sunny days to enjoy. And for one Fred Weasley, well… guess George will probably have to live for the guy, too.

The End

[1] I wanted to be accurate as possible so I looked up some stuff. Rowling based Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon is based on the real village in Devon called Ottery St. Mary that has a real local river called River Otter because there are lots of otters living there.