This story idea of mine has been floating around in my brain all day at work for the last week and I have to start writing it down while it's fresh!

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Hermione Granger stood outside the newly attached door of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, staring up at the sky between the buildings as she steeled herself for what she was about to do...she was terrified, the knowledge she had gained was causing so much turmoil inside her that she could barely think straight and that was why she was here. George was the only person who would understand; who wouldn't judge her.

She had ignored all the little hints for two months now, chalking up the fatigue and the nausea and the first missed period to stress resulting from the battle and the losses of friends and family. But the second missed period had finally signaled something much more specific was going on..and the test she ran not more than an hour ago had confirmed it.

With a steadying inhale, she knocked on the door and waited. Time passed and there was no answer, so she knocked again much more loudly. George was here, she knew he was because he rarely ever left these days. Sure enough, after a moment or two more of waiting, the sound of the locks on the door clicking reached her ears and her heart lept into her throat from the fear of having to explain herself for showing up on his doorstep in the middle of his grieving. However, the sight that greeted her when the door opened momentarily drove out all of her own worries for a moment...

George Weasley looked a sight! She had never before seen him looking like this and it shocked her so much, and her concern for him was so great, that she very nearly forgot her own problems for a moment. He hadn't opened the door all the way and had merely peeked through the crack for a moment, but she could already tell he was an absolute mess. His hair was wild and unkempt, pieces hung into his eyes and over his ear, his eyes were half closed and void of emotion, heavy lidded and weary. His lips tilted into a deep frown for a moment before he sighed heavily and spoke through the opening in the doorway.

"What do you want?"

It was so unlike him that it threw her off completely and she stammered out her response brokenly.

"I...I was- well I h-have something I need to talk to you about...it's, er, important."

"Mum send you?"

Oh...so he thought she was here to drag him back into the land of the living? It made sense, she supposed, for Molly to send someone unexpected to try and reason with him and get him back to the Burrow. Hermione remembered the day he'd walked out...two days after the Battle, they'd buried Fred on a hill beyond the Weasley family home and George had stood there during the ceremony with dry eyes and no expression and then he'd packed up his old Hogwarts trunk with as much as he could fit in it and had left without a word to anyone. Ron had apparated to the Shop a few days later and found out that George had decided to remain in his and Fred's flat above the shop instead of with the family back home.

"No," she finally replied, "I'm here with...a rather personal matter. I'm afraid it really has nothing to do with you, I just needed someone to talk to about it."

This seemed to be the right thing to say, because the door closed and the sound of chain locks being undone sounded before it opened again and he motioned her inside.

"It's a damn mess in here so don't plan on getting comfortable," he muttered as she entered the shop.

And a mess it was. The shelves which had once been filled with the twins' wares were nearly empty from looting and just utter destruction, glass shards covered the floor, banners and posters hung in shreds on the wall, fluttering in the breeze from the broken shop windows like battle flags in the wake of a defeated army. The Death Eaters had really taken out their anger on the place and it made her throat clench tightly to see such a bright and happy place turned into just another shambles of a building. But the worst part was George himself, she realized; he looked even worse now that she could see him properly.

He looked as if he'd lost weight, his cheeks appearing thinner and his eyes a bit sunken and rimmed with dark circles denoting lack of sleep, he was wearing faded black sleep pants and a plain grey t-shirt which were rumpled and dirty, his hair hadn't been cut in the two months since the battle and, judging by the scent of him, he hadn't showered in some time either, his face was half covered with patchy ginger scruff that looked as if he had tried to shave off recently but given up partway through and left to grow in awkward patches. She would not be able to tell him anything if he was going to be standing there looking like this because her motherly instincts were screaming at her to help.

"George Weasley, you look like the wreck of the Hesperus!" she said gently, reaching out to give his dirty shirt a tug as if emphasizing it.

"You had something to discuss?" he dismissed her observation quickly and turned away to kick a smashed box of Fever Fudge out of the walking area.

"Not until you've got yourself cleaned up!" Hermione demanded, suddenly knowing she wouldn't even be able to say her part until she'd convinced him to take even a tiny bit care of himself, "Come on, George, seriously..."

He huffed and moved off across the room immediately, making for the stairs that led up to the flat, leaving her to follow if she chose but not bothering to invite her to follow. She hesitated for a moment before following his retreating figure upstairs and into the flat. She sighed when she saw the state of his living room...it hadn't been destroyed like the shop, but it hadn't been cleaned either and she could see a layer of dust on all the wood surfaces and many dirty dishes scattered around. It was like an animal was living here, and the indention on the couch cushions where there was no dust informed her he'd been sleeping out here the whole time. His packed trunk from the Burrow was against the far wall, wide open with it's contents spilled out around it and hanging over the sides. His wand lay unused and dusty on the side table by the couch...and knowing he hadn't used any magic since his apparation from the Burrow two months ago; that scared her the most.

"You go shower and get yourself cleaned up, for Merlin's sake, and I'll tidy up a bit," Hermione urged him in the direction of the bathroom with a shove of her palm against the small of his back and she pulled out her wand to begin cleaning. At first it seemed as if he wanted to argue, but he just sighed and nodded in acceptance before grabbing clothes from the half unpacked trunk and walking off to the bathroom. When she heard the water in the shower running, Hermione let out a relieved little sigh...he would feel a bit better after a hot shower and coming out to a clean apartment and it gave her some time to think about how she was going to tell him her news.

A flick of her wand and a muttered "scourgify" and the dust covering the nearby bookshelf began to lift and disappear and she started talking out loud to herself quietly, planning out her speech as she moved around the room and magicked things back into order. The main room took very little time so she also organized the contents of his trunk and returned them to it in neat folds. By this point, the shower was no longer running but she heard the tell-tale hum of an electric razor and she figured she had a bit more time to spare so she began to magick the dishes into the sink and the scrub pad beside it to move on it's own to wash the dishes. While they washed, she pulled down two mugs from the cupboards and filled the kettle with water to boil it for tea.

She returned to the living room with the two cups full of steaming English Breakfast when the bathroom door opened and revealed a much more George-looking George. Clean shaven again, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with a band's name on it that she didn't recognize, barefoot and with his hair towel touseled and several shades darker due to being wet. But the blank look was still there, his lips tight in a constant small frown, no emotions in those pretty brown eyes that she had grown so used to seeing filled with laughter and joy.

"Tea?" she offered gently as he sat down on the couch next to her.

"Thanks," he responded simply, taking the offered mug. He held in between his hands as if he was drawing some sort of comfort from the warmth of it and they both fell into a heavy silence as each waited for the other to speak. Eventually, he sighed and took a sip before glancing over at her with barely vailed annoyance in his features, "You said you wanted to tell me something?"

And then it all came rushing back on Hermione, the weight of her news threatening to crush her and she found herself unable to speak right away so she nodded and raised her hand to clue him in that she needed to organize her thoughts. He waited patiently, she had to give him credit, and she ran over the situation in her head for a bit before finally nodding and leaning over with her arms wrapped around her knees to stabilize herself. It would be best, she finally decided, to just spit it out...like ripping off a Band-Aid, quick and sudden.

"I'm pregnant."

She wasn't sure what she expected, but she was a bit surprised how unaffected he was to the news; he simply nodded and took another sip of tea before turning his head to give her atiny hint of an attempt at a smile. She would rather he not smile at all than that...

"Congratulations. Didn't think Ron would ever make a move."

She couldn't help it...the parallel was too much and her stressed out brain found his statement so ironically funny that she actually began to laugh, a tight and slightly crazy laugh, but a laugh none the less.

"Funny...that's exactly what Fred thought too."

At the mention of Fred, George's head tilted to look at her closely and she took a quick breath before spilling everything she had kept hidden inside for the last couple of months, her secret that she never dreamed would have become such a drastic problem.

"That's...how I got to this point," she admitted with a sigh, "It was...before the battle...Fred and I went to check the secret passage by the witch statue to make sure it had defensive charms on it...we were terrified, nervous, and we started joking to ease the tension. I mentioned how terrible it would be if I died a virgin."

She took a breath at thie point because she saw George's eyes close and his head nod slightly in understanding, knowing his brother as well as he did, it was no surprise to him what the next inevitable part of her story would be.

"He told me it most certainly would...and...I don't know, I was scared and I honestly believed I would die that day...Ron was with Harry downstairs and Fred was right there...and we both just..."

"Yeah, I get it," George halted her stammering with his unexpected statement and she fell silent. "So...that baby...?"

"It's his. Fred's."

It was like a blanket had fallen over them, the silence was stifling and it hung in the air like poisonous gas that was pulling the air from their lungs. But if Hermione had taken a moment to look at George, she would have seen a tiny bit of life flit back into him at the newfound knowledge.

"So...does Ron know?" came the expected question and Hermione shook her head hard.

"No. Of course not...you know how jealous he gets...could you even imagine how hurt he would be? Not only did I give myself away fro the first time with someone else but...his own brother..."

"Give him some credit, 'Mione," George cut her off, "Ron's an arse, but he would..."

"No, George, I can't tell him. I can't hurt him like this."

A huff of bitter amusement sounded from George's nose and he chuckled grimly.

"Well, sorry, but you'll either have to tell him now or he'll start to get the picture later on when you start looking like you swallowed a football..."

"I don't..."

"Those are your only options."

For a moment, she almost agreed...and then it hit her.

"No..." she whispered slowly, more to herself than anything as an idea came into her mind. It was terrible, unthinkable, but it was the answer. "No, there's another option. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I can go to St. Mungo's...I can get rid of it...Ron will never have to know..."

And she stood, her feet moving so quickly that she was halfway across the room before she even realized she'd risen from the couch and she reached for her purse, pulling out her idenification and assuring herself she had everything she would need for the Healers. She didn't even think about George until she heard his footsteps approaching quickly from behind and she was literally halfway out the door, one foot set on the stairway, when she felt a vice-like grip close on her upper arm and her progress was halted.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw George standing right behind her, his long fingers of his left hand curled tightly around her arm as he stared at her with an expression that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle with alarm. Gone was the blank, emotionless look he'd been sprorting for months; it had been replaced with a look of pure fury.

"Let go of me." she demanded, attempting to pull herself free.

"I can't."

"George..." but she was cut off by the sudden sensation of her back pressing up against the kitchen wall and she found herself caged on either side by his long arms, his body blocked her foreward escape. She had never felt afraid of George Weasley before, NEVER...but the way he was looking at her now frightened her almost as much as facing that snake at the battle...

"I won't let you!" he growled, low and threatening. For a long moment, the two of them locked eyes and neither budged an inch...but then, unexpectedly, George's head hung shamefully and his eyes closed tight and she realized his arms on either side of her head were shaking. In fact, his entire frame was shaking and...

"George..." Hermione spoke softly as she watched the glint of a tear slide down the length of his nose and drip down to the floor; she could hear his breathing coming out in small, shuddering huffs and she tentatively attempted to slip out from unde his left arm, surprised when he made no move to stop her. "I'm sorry...I have to go..."

And she had closed her hand on the doorknob, about to turn it and make a break for it, when she heard it: a heartbreaking sob that tore from her friend's throat. He pushed himself away from the wall where he'd still been supporting his weight against the wall on his palms and he made no move to stop her, he just slowly raised his eyes to look at her. Tears were dripping steadily down his cheeks, leaving streaks on his skin, his eyes were shining with more unshead ones and his lower lip was trembling from effort of holding back more of those cries he'd let out a moment ago.

Hermione found herself rooted in place, unable or unwilling to move, and she found her determination wavering.

"George...I have to g-"

"Please." It was whispered, but the word reached Hermione's ears like a thunderclap that shattered the last bit of resolution she had. "Hermione...please...that baby..."

"I know. It's..."

"It's all that's left of him."

And there was no way she could follow through, no way in any world could she be so selfish. With a sigh, she released the doorhandle and closed the gap between them, throwing her arms around George Weasley's trembling shoulders to hold him in reassurance.

"I'm scared..." she whispered in his good ear as they hugged tightly, almost too tightly. She felt him nod against her cheek and he let out a long, relieved sigh.

"I'm right here if you need me, 'Mione. I promise. And Hermione..."

He pushed her back enough to look at her and when she saw the spark of life that was obvious in the depths of his brown eyes, she knew she had made the right choice. If this was the way to bring George Weasley back to the world, she would follow through.

"Thank you." His whispered gratitude was followed by an honest-to-God smile.