I know, I know. I should be working on everything else. But I'm suffering some of the worst writer's block I've had in a while, and I'm going to take a break from even my addictive original story to do this. I already wrote fourteen chapters a while ago, so I decided to finally start posting. And I'm not sure if I'm ever going to finish It's and Art. So this will have to do.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters

. . .

George sat in the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and sighed. Another weekly Weasley dinner was coming around, and he wasn't sure he was up to it. For weeks, he'd been going, if only to appease his mother, but now he felt like he couldn't even leave the house. Everywhere he turned there were empty rooms. He eventually decided to go, if only to escape the overwhelming vacancy.

. . .

When George Apperated on the front lawn of the Burrow, he was already regretting the decision to come. Flowers sprung up everywhere, the sun was shining, and everything was extremely colorful. It was absolutely awful and every part of him screamed to go home.

You are home, git. He thought to himself. If you're not going to talk to anyone, the least you can do is show up.

There was a crack very close to him, and suddenly he was getting pushed out of the way. "Oof! Sorry," someone apologized. He turned and his face registered surprise for only a moment before returning to its sullen state. He knew the brown-haired girl behind him, but he hadn't seen her in a very long time.

"Can I have your autograph?" said the young second year standing before the twins.

"Why on Earth would you want our autograph?" George had asked.

"Because we're the most fabulous third years in this school, Georgie." Fred had said confidently, whipping out a quill and taking the girl's notebook. "What's your name?"

"Annabelle Lee Chittering." she said as though she'd rehearsed it many times.

"Well, Annabelle Lee Chittering," Fred said, handing off the notebook so George could sign it. "Any particular reason you've taken an interest in us?"

"Because you're funny." she'd giggled. "And you're the smartest Beaters I've ever seen. Most of them are stupid."

George chuckled. "Can't argue with that, now, can we?"

Annabelle Lee Chittering. Named so because her mother had liked Edgar Allen Poe's poem called 'Annabelle Lee'. She'd been a year younger than the twins, and had followed them like a shadow through the years. She had been deeply involved in many of their pranks, and had even caught Fred's eye.

George smirked at his twin as he stared, mouth agape, at Annabelle in her flowing lavender dress robes. "You going to dance with her, or what?" he asked, nudging him playfully.

"When did she get so damn pretty, eh? She used to be so scrawny."

"You asked her to the ball, mate. You're the one who knows that answer."

The last time George saw Annabelle Lee Chittering had been at Fred's funeral, still sporting wounds from the battle. She hadn't shown up to any Weasley dinners, despite the many invitations Mrs. Weasley had sent. Perhaps his mum had finally gotten through to her.

"Oh, hi, George." she said awkwardly. "Seems we had the same idea for where to Apperate, eh?"

He grunted in answer, then turned to enter the house.

"Right." Annabelle mumbled behind him, waiting a moment before following.

"Annabelle!" Mrs. Weasley cried, throwing her arms around the brown-haired girl. "Oh, I'm so glad you came! We haven't seen you in such a long time! I was wondering if you'd ever show up!"

"Oh, you know, I've been traveling." Annabelle said, pulling herself from the woman's grasp. George couldn't help but notice how she seemed very eager to not be touched, and how her smiles never reached her eyes. Something about that bothered him. She'd always been full of smiles, and her green eyes had always sparkled so brightly, no matter what. Now, there was none of that old energy.

At least she's pretending. Said an accusing voice in the back of his mind. For their sake.

He ignored the voice and instead, took a seat in the living room, where Ginny was amusingly trying to teach Harry how to braid hair. "Hi, George." he said pleasantly.

George simply nodded, staring into the fire. Deep down, he was glad he'd come today. Annabelle had been one of his good friends at Hogwarts. He'd thought, after Fred's funeral, that she'd be gone from his life. But now she was back, and there was an unexpected relief that came with that.

. . .

Annabelle glanced at George from across the room. It hurt a little to see someone who looked exactly like her dead boyfriend, but it hurt even more to see just how dead he was. There was no light in his face, no mischief in his eyes. He didn't even talk. She'd said hi to him for the first time in two years, and all he'd done was make some noncommittal noise. Maybe someone was hurting worse about this than she was.

She doubted it. She figured the only difference between her and George at this point was that she had learned to hide her pain better. She hadn't constantly been surrounded by friends and family who understood her aching heart. She'd been traveling, and while the people she'd been with understood that something had happened to her, they'd never asked because it had never been a problem.

"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called, setting the last dish on the table.

. . .

"Annabelle," Bill said, patting her should as she sat down beside him. "Long time no see, how have you been?"

"Okay." she said. "I visited Charlie for a while when I was in Romania. He says hi."

"Oh, really? How's he doing?"

George took his seat beside Annabelle. Now that he was so close, he could see other details he'd missed before. Her hair was darker than it used to be, though if that was because she changed it or a completely different reason, he didn't know. There were worry lines on her forehead where there should have been none, and her smiles seemed a little tight. There was a scar running down her jaw from a Death Eater kicking her in the face that was healing nicely, but no other wounds from the battle were apparent.

"Oi! George!"

He snapped out of his reverie to see Ron snapping his fingers at him across the table. "Quit ogling her beauty and pass me the stew!"

Annabelle stopped mid-sentence, turning red as George turned crimson, passing his brother the stew. Hermione hit Ron on the shoulder. "Stop embarrassing him!"

"Oh, everyone needs to be embarrassed once in a while. That is a lesson George taught me." Ron said in a matter-of-fact tone.

George didn't even bother to roll his eyes. He just returned to eating, hoping his blush was receding. At this point, it was all he could do to stay with his family and not walk out of the house and Disapperate. His empty flat was calling him, where it was quiet and he could be alone with his thoughts.

. . .

Annabelle was catching up with Harry and Ron when she saw George leaving from the corner of her eye. She hurriedly excused herself and jogged after him. "George? George!"

He paused at the edge of the yard and turned to look at her. "Hey," she said, pulling something out of her jeans pocket. "Erm, I picked up something for you while I was traveling. Here." She handed him a pendant on the end of a cord. The pendant was a turtle hand-carved from wood, and she'd picked it up while passing through India.

Then his face changed. His features hadn't changed but twice since she'd seen him today, and both times it had only been fleeting. This time, he stared at the pendant in confusion. "A turtle?" he said, holding it up. "You saw a turtle and thought of me?"

He could have found this funny, but she didn't know. "Erm... yeah. Do you not like it?"

"No, it's nice... Erm, thanks." he said, shoving it into his pocket.

He turned to leave when Annabelle hesitantly caught his shoulder. "George?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"It was really good to see you again."

He nodded, then stepped out of her grasp and Disapperated.