It had been eight months since he lost his partner in crime, or approximately 5,840 hours give or take an hour or two. Whenever he calculated the months into smaller units of time such as days, hours, or even seconds, it overwhelmed him how large the number was. One hour without his twin was bearable now, but looking at how many hours in total he had been without Fred was unbearable. That large of a number made his chest heave and made it difficult for him to breathe normally. George Weasley was merely existing nowadays. He wasn't thriving or even truly living, but he was existing and going through the motions of everyday.
Eight months ago George had lost his soul mate. It was hard to explain to an outsider exactly what he lost that day in the final battle. Everyone had experienced loss whether it be a loved one or someone they had known. The Browns experienced the loss of their daughter, Lavender. Teddy Lupin experienced the loss of both of his parents, Remus and Tonks, deeming him an orphan as a mere baby. The entire Weasley family lost their beloved Frederic Weasley. Molly and Arthur lost a son, Charlie, Bill, Percy, Ron, and Ginny lost a brother, but George lost his twin.
Growing up, Molly had referred to them as one unit, as one wizard even, "the twins". One was never without the other. Their minds were scarily similar, almost telepathic, to the extent that they knew what the other was thinking with merely a look. The two had been partners in crime growing up, roommates, best friends, and business partners in their successful joke shop. The absence in his life could not be described with mere words when Fred died in the war. George lost his shadow, his muse, his best friend. George was Fred's soul mate in every meaning of the word (not romantically of course).
Initially, it didn't hit him. He went through the weeks following the war without any emotion, almost feeling numb. He attended his own twin's funeral and did not even cry, he was shut down completely. He felt as it he were in a dream, as if none of this could possibly be real. He attended other funerals for other victims in the war. He wore black robes as was expected, stood there quietly, and listened as his peers professed their love and sorrow for those lost in the war. It was not until all was calm and quiet, almost normal again, that it hit him.
The funerals had come to an end, Hogwarts was slowly being cleaned and repaired by volunteers and students, and everyone was returning back to work. George found himself home one day at the Burrow approximately three weeks after Fred had died. He was sitting in their old bedroom with the door closed, sitting at the edge of his bed staring into space. He tended to do that a lot recently - stare into space and think of literally nothing. His mind was blank - he was neither here nor there. A fleeting thought crossed his mind regarding a conversation he had with Fred and Lee Jordan when they had been broadcasting their radio station, hoping to reach out to the Golden Trio. They had been discussing the possibility of Harry, Hermione, and Ron not coming home.
The three of them had disappeared after Bill and Fleur's wedding, much to the dismay of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Molly would sit in the living room and stare at the clock, hoping, silently praying that Ron's hand would move to "home". Dishes went undone, meals went uncooked, and laundry went unwashed during that time. Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ginny had silently stepped up while Molly sat staring at the clock for hours on end. Molly never asked how all the chores had been done, nor did they ever tell her how much they had stepped in.
It was Fred who had asked, "What happens if Ron doesn't come back?" George and Lee had just stared back, neither wanting to answer that question. "Ron has Hermione to protect him, she could outsmart any attacker," Lee offered in a pathetic attempt to both answer Fred's question as well as dodge the possibility of Ron never coming home again. In that moment,
George hadn't offered any insight or commentary as he had been thinking the same thing. He just couldn't ask the question aloud. He was worried not only for his younger brother, but for his younger brother's best friends. He nodded, "Hermione will wind up saving the day," he had mumbled in response. George did not like thinking of the different outcomes that the war could have.
Back in his quiet room in the Burrow, George was remembering that exact conversation. He could remember every word, every feeling, every thought that passed through his mind. "We were so worried about Ron not coming home, I never thought you would be the one not coming home," he mumbled. He looked to his right at Fred's empty bed. His heart felt like it was in the back of his throat as he finally acknowledged the empty bed. He had never thought he would have to live without Fred. The two had future plans, they had business plans, and general plans. George's plans always included Fred and Fred's plans always included George.
It was in that room three weeks after Fred died that George's world finally stopped. The joke shop remained closed for several months, George did not shower for days at a time, and he did not speak unless directly spoken to. He became a shell of the person he once was. Molly began leaving food outside of his door instead of pestering him to come down, Arthur began leaving muggle self-help book outside of his room every evening when he came home from work. Each brother, plus Ginny, would leave different items outside of George's locked door. No sound came from the bedroom, nor did they ever see George actually open the door to retrieve the books. Miraculously though, Molly would find empty dinner plates outside of his room the morning after. Arthur would find the pile of books gone the following morning as well. The items never stayed outside of his door, but no one actually witnessed George opening the door to reach the items.
Days turned into weeks which turned into months. It was through the items that the Weasleys left outside of George's door that George survived. Once a week he would apparate himself into the bathroom to shower, then apparate himself back into the room. No one dared to knock on the door, or to force interaction with him. "When he is ready," Molly would say at every meal when George would not join them. "He needs time to heal on his own," she would respond whenever someone asked how George was doing.
It was Hermione Granger who refused to walk around egg shells when George was involved. She had lost both parents during the war and had taken several months to herself, leaving the wizarding world behind to "seek her inner healing" as Ron and Harry put it. When she returned, she was invited back with open arms. When she asked where George was her first evening back at the Burrow after months, Molly gave her typical answer of, "He needs time to heal on his own, when he is ready he will join us." Hermione raised an eyebrow, "It's been almost eight months, Molly," she said slowly.
Molly nodded, "He needs time," she repeated. Hermione didn't press the matter any further at dinner. When dinner was over, Hermione quietly disappeared up the stairs. She saw the untouched plate of food Molly had brought up for George sitting outside his bedroom door. There was also a book entitled "How to be Happy Again," next to the plate of food. Hermione rolled her eyes and knocked rather loudly at the door.
From inside the room, George froze. He had been reading one of the many books his dad left daily outside his door. No one had knocked in the past few months, since he closed the door to lock the world out. It was silent for several seconds, maybe he was hearing things. The second knock made him stand up and walk towards the door. Maybe it was his mother finally demanding that he join them for dinner, maybe it would be Ginny wanting to personally hand
him her wedding invitation. He reached for the knob before deciding that he did not want to be bothered. He locked himself in his room for a reason and when he wanted to join the land of the living that's when he would do so. Turning away from the door, he returned back to his seat and glanced back at the book.
The knocking ceased and light footsteps retreated from his bedroom door. He let out a deep breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding in. Whoever it was wasn't going to press the matter any further for which he was relieved for. He wasn't ready to talk to others yet and to deal with their pitying eyes.
He settled back into his seat, rereading the same sentence he had been trying to dissect before the knock had disturbed him.
BAM!
He jolted out of his seat in shock as the door swung open with a loud bang, a force he hadn't thought capable of someone in his family. There, standing in the doorway with her wild curls and narrow brown eyes was Hermione Granger, wand ready, eyes scanning the room. Her deep brown eyes finally settled on him. He expected to see pity and sympathy, but her eyes were harsh with anger and annoyance. For once in his life, George was at a loss of words.