I just had this idea and I thought, why not? So, this is the start of a George Weasley x OC story.

Chapter is inspired by the song - Sky's Still Blue by Andrew Belle

Oh, if you're hearing this

I must have made it through

Oh, when the clouds are burned

Open up my window

I see the sky's still blue

George Weasley was in the worst place in the world, both physically and mentally. His head was aching and he knew for a fact that he hadn't slept in two days. Right now he had his back pressed against a wall in St. Mungo's, where he had been for the past two days. His mother had told him to go home, to get some rest, but he refused. How could he go home when the two people he loved the most in this world were lying in opposite wards.

He had thought the worst when he saw his twin lying deathly still in the Great Hall. His heart fell further when he saw his best friend lying next to him. At that exact moment George felt that he had the worst luck in the world. He felt that his world was collapsing around him at a rate that he couldn't comprehend. That and the fact that he was crying so much his head felt like it would explode. He remembered clutching onto Fred, bunching his tattered shirt into his fists and sobbing onto his chest. He also remembered the little thump-thump that he thought for a moment he had imagined. But he hadn't imagined it and he yelled so much for help that his voice cracked and his throat blistered. Charlie tried to tell him he had imagined it, that his emotions were clouding his judgement, that he imagined it, but George did not imagine the faint heartbeat. He pulled Charlie down, so he was also kneeling beside Fred, and told Charlie to put an ear to Fred's chest. It only took Charlie moments to begin yelling for Madam Pomfrey, and only moments more for happy tears to be streaming down the faces of every member of his family.

Fred was carted off to St. Mungo's as soon as the fighting had stopped and by the next day he had woken. George had spent the whole day by his side, talking, laughing and hugging his twin. The only reason that he was outside the ward now was because the Healers had told him that Fred needed rest.

George glanced over to the ward opposite Fred's. The door was open ajar and the faint beeping of a Muggle machine told him the steady heartbeat of his other friend. He hadn't been in to visit her yet. He knew he should have, but he was so relieved that his brother was awake that he couldn't bring himself to leave him. He felt slightly guilty, but if she was awake he knew that she wouldn't have minded. Mr and Mrs Weasley had been in to see her, though. They were told, just like in Fred's case, that they wouldn't know when she would wake up. There was even a possibility that she wouldn't. George felt his heart crack again.

Pushing himself up from the floor he crossed the hallway to the opposite ward and pushed the door open. From here he could see the Muggle machine, a "heart monitor", Hermione had called it. Green lines were flashing across the screen and small numbers were sitting in the corners of the screen. A chair was pulled up to the bed and George was sure that her sister had been visiting. Like himself, she must have been told to go home. It seemed that she had listened. George walked in and took the seat next to the bed. The young woman looked peaceful, excluding the small jagged scar line that extended down her cheek. George swallowed the lump that had built in his throat.

"Hi, Mary." He whispered, hoping that he could get a response from the sleeping witch. Hermione had told him that communication might help to get a reaction, it hadn't worked in Fred's case, he just woke up… "Hermione told me that talking might work. To wake you up, I mean."

George felt the lump in his throat rise again. "We won, Mary. We won the war, Voldemort's gone, he's dead. Harry did it, you always said he would. Didn't doubt him for a second, did you? I guess you get that Galleon from that loser Slytherin. You probably can't hear me- I hope you can- but you probably can't. I just wanted to ask when you were thinking of waking up. I told Fred about you, he's worried, too. He'd be in here but he's only just woken up." George waited and sighed, her eyes didn't even twitch. "I waited for Fred to wake up… It didn't take that long, but I waited for him. I'm going to wait for you, too. I'll wait right here. Although, bathroom breaks will be necessary. You'd have laughed at that."

George felt his slight happiness at the thought of her laugh dim. "I'll be right here," He said. "You just have to wake up."

Mary's head hurt. She tried to lift her hand to press it to her temple but she couldn't. She tried to turn her head, she tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't. It was useless; her eyelids felt like lead, her head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. What was that infernal beeping she could hear? She heard the sound of footsteps, they echoed on the floor. What's happening? Why can't I open my eyes? She thought. Her chest ached and the footsteps stopped. She heard a sigh and then somebody started speaking.

"Hi, Mary." It was a man, definitely. But she had no idea who he was talking to. Mary? Who is Mary? Is he on the phone? Why can't I open my blasted eyes? "Hermione told me that talking might work. To wake you up, I mean." Is he talking to me? Oh god, who is he? Where am I?

Mary felt her head burning. She tried to open her mouth to speak but she couldn't. She was in complete darkness with no way out. All she could hear was this man's voice, the man who was supposedly talking to her. He continued talking for a while and Mary tried to think of a logical reason why she couldn't open her eyes or speak. Kidnapped? No, he sounds too nice to be a kidnapper. Drugged? Quite possibly. Chloroform! I'm sure that knocks people out. Has he drugged me? Oh, Christ! Think, just think…

"I'll be right here. You just have to wake up."

Mary tried to scream, she tried to thrash her arms, but she was completely immobile. All she could do was stare on into the darkness that surrounded her. She waited, for how long she didn't know. She waited until she could no longer remember the man who had spoken to her; she waited until she could no longer remember what he had named her. She waited until she could remember nothing but the darkness that waited with her.

And then Mary opened her eyes.