It had been an exceptionally long week and George was exhausted. All he wanted was to head back to his flat and go to bed. He was finally back in the shop full time. Everyone had insisted that he take some time after the final battle. In his opinion time was the last thing that he needed. Resting up wasn't going to make him forget that Fred was dead; however he didn't have the heart to argue this one with his mother. He knew she was worried about him, they all were. George understood why they were worried, the problem was that he couldn't seem to muster up the energy to do or say anything to make it better. He woke up every morning in a flat he'd never intended to live in by himself and went to a job that was built on a dream he couldn't have had alone. Every time he looked at one of his family members he couldn't tell who they were seeing and he hated it, there was no way to tell whether the look of sadness in their eyes was for him or the brother whose face he wore. He pulled the door closed behind him running directly into someone who was standing in front of the shop.

"Sorry George. I didn't expect you to come out the door right then." George bit off the angry retort he'd been preparing and stared at the young woman standing in front of him. Luna Lovegood stood about a head shorter than him and gazed calmly up at him as if waiting for him to speak.

"No problem. I was just heading home. Did you need something?" George asked gesturing to the dark shop behind him.

"Oh no. I was on my way home and I wanted to look at the window display."

"Oh, yeah…it's not…it needs some work still." The window behind George displayed various Wheezes products. It was organized and precise and looked fantastic; it also looked nothing like their old displays which had usually included periodic explosions, flashes of light and charmed merchandise which would jump around as if trying to escape the window. "Percy was nice enough to take care of it." George explained.

Luna nodded, "yes, Fred liked to do the window didn't he? Well it still looks lovely. I'll see you later then." With that Luna turned and headed down the street leaving George staring after her eyes wide at the fact that he had heard his brother's name mentioned in passing conversation for the first time in months.


Sundays were rapidly becoming George's least favorite day of the week. He loved his family and he understood why his mother wanted her children around her, but as far as George was concerned there was nothing relaxing about sitting around at the Burrow. There were too many memories and too many subjects to be avoided. George was sitting at one of the picnic tables in the backyard sipping his firewhiskey laced tea and trying to determine how much longer before he could go home when he heard the back door open. He turned and watched as his father made his way across the yard and sat down next to him.

Surprisingly his father was now one of the easiest members of his family for George to spend time with. George suspected that it had something to do with the fact that they had similar coping methods. They were hurting but neither of them talked about it much. With his father George knew he wasn't expected to say anything or feel a certain way. His father let him be and there was something unexplainably wonderful in that.

Each member of the Weasley clan was coping in their own way and had been ever since the battle. Bill was running himself ragged trying to be the perfect son and perfect husband as if he could make everything better by never making a mistake again. At first George had been annoyed at Fleur and the way she seemed to let Bill wait on her hand and foot but recently George was starting to suspect that his sister-in-law knew Bill better than any of them gave her credit for. Bill had been in a constant state of motion since the final battle and right now he needed to keep moving. Fleur seemed willing to let him do that but George also had no doubt that she would be the one Bill turned to when he was finally unable to keep running. Charlie had returned to Romania shortly after the funerals and thrown himself back into work. Ginny was focusing on taking care of Harry and rebuilding their relationship. Ron spent most of his time with Hermione and Harry. George still didn't know everything that his younger brother had been through during the previous year but he knew Ron well enough to know that it had been bad. Occasionally Ron would get a strange look in his eyes and George knew he was remembering something. Whatever they had been through the trio seemed to have allowed Ginny into their circle and then closed ranks around each other. They all seemed to take care of each other and George figured that they more than anyone deserved some happiness given everything they had been through over the last year.

Percy was the hardest to be around. He didn't seem to know how to act around the family he had abandoned. Some Sundays he would sit quietly seemingly afraid to say anything and other weeks he went out of his way to be engaging, making time to talk to everyone, trying to be helpful as if he felt he needed to earn his place back in the family. Percy had offered to take care of the shops accounts and since Ron had cut his hours back and started Auror training it had made sense. George was grateful for the help but he still avoided time alone with Percy.

"How's business going?" Arthur asked breaking into George's train of thought.

"Not too bad. It's been busier since Ron is working less but nothing I can't handle." George said taking another gulp of his drink. Arthur glanced at the cup in George's hands but didn't say anything. "I saw Luna Lovegood the other day." George said still staring out across the yard.

"How is she? She's running The Quibbler now isn't she? I think Ginny mentioned something..." Arthur said.

"I think so; I'm not really sure what she's doing. She mentioned Fred though" George paused for a moment but continued when his father didn't say anything "it was nice. To hear him mentioned I mean, just casual like. We don't do that."

"No, I supposed we don't. It's hard for your mother" Arthur started.

"It's hard for all of us." said George cutting him off.

"You know what I mean. She wants to make sure you are all ok."

"Not mentioning Fred doesn't make us ok! He's still gone, all we're doing now is pretending he wasn't ever here. How does that make anything better?" George stood as he felt his control slipping. He could hear his voice rising but he couldn't seem to make himself speak any quieter. He stared down at his father, his chest tight with the effort of controlling his breathing. Arthur studied him for a moment looking directly into his eyes. When he spoke his voice was low and firm.

"We all miss your brother George. Do you imagine that you loved him more than the rest of us? That you are hurting more than anyone else right now? Has it occurred to you that your family cares about you and doesn't want to upset you by talking about Fred all the time? We all handle things differently but don't you dare accuse any of us of trying to pretend your brother was never here." Arthur leaned back wearily and George turned to go.

"Tell Mum I said good night." George said as he walked towards the garden gate.


George sat on the floor of his flat leaning against his couch and staring at the fire in the grate through a now half empty bottle of firewhiskey. He shouldn't have mentioned Fred tonight. Every time he spoke his name it was like something inside him snapped. He was drunk and he had to open the shop in about six hours. He knew he should go to bed but he couldn't imagine sleeping tonight, he knew exactly what would happen if he tried. Ever since the final battle he'd had nightmares. Sometimes he saw scenes from the final battle, playing back over and over in his mind like a film. Mostly he saw Fred. Fred lying dead under rubble, Fred laughing at something he'd said, Fred talking about their brilliant future now that the joke shop was taking off, Fred covered in blood. No matter how the dream started it always ended the same way, Fred staring at him with cold and lifeless eyes and asking why George hadn't saved him. Given the options George preferred to face a morning made fuzzy by a night of alcohol. A hangover was infinitely better than waking to the sound of your dead brothers screams only to realize that they were actually coming from you.