Remembrance
Prompt: Tree house
Quote: "That's my foot,"
Theme: Fred and George Weasley's Birthday, April 1st.
AN: Hey, this is written for the March Challenge on Twin Exchange. I hope you like it!
It was weird to write a George/Hermione fic... but i think it turned out pretty good.
Enjoy!
Thank you to Emma for beta-ing!
It was April first. Which meant, April Fools Day.
Normally this was a happy time, but now as Hermione looked back she saw the pain embedded into it. It was Fred and George's birthday today. Well... now, it was only George's, she assumed. She didn't really know how they would celebrate this year.
There would be no pranks this day, and no laughs. They would remember Fred for the jokester he was, and that he never deserved to die. She hadn't bought George a present; she didn't know what to give. What could one give to a grieving brother, a grieving twin who had lost their other half? He was not the same person she had known in school, he was distant and gone. He still hadn't gotten over Fred's death. And it would be long before he would. George had gotten drunk most nights and never went down to his store, so she had taken over.
She decided that it was all she could do for them. She didn't have anywhere to go. Her parent's memories were destroyed, and she couldn't even track them down. She didn't have much left. Ron had left her; well they left each other, after deciding that they were only friends. And Harry and Ginny were off in their own world full of sunshine and weightless thoughts. They had barely noticed her once they were back together. Hermione felt like she had no one to trust anymore. She went over to the Weasley's house for dinner many times, and would help prepare. She still viewed Mrs. Weasley as a mother figure in her life, and even more now that that her parents were gone.
As she had worked in the shop, she had eventually moved upstairs, dealing with George mourning was just another thing that became a daily event. Only once had she snapped at him about not getting over Fred, and she had hurt him a bit. But maybe it had knocked some sense into him, because he had started to not mope around as much. He was even making progress, coming down to the store, but only going to the backroom to sit for a few hours, and come back up and claim that he couldn't think of anything.
She had taken care of George for months now, and certain affection had grown, she wasn't sure what it was yet, but it was something.
And now as she washed the dishes, she thought about this. Washing the dishes was calming and soothing to Hermione. A time to think, and only think, nothing more, nothing less.
She sighed. George had disappeared this morning, and hadn't shown up since. She wondered where he was, and was worried for him. She hoped he wouldn't do anything drastic.
She was at the burrow now, waiting. It wasn't even dark yet. She had come over not knowing where to go, or where George was. She needed to find him before something happened.
So she dried her hands off on a dishtowel and walked out, it was just getting dark and in the early April, it was breezy. She had no idea where to look first, she had only gotten to know George better after Fred died, and had no idea where to go. So she stood there, for around ten minutes she didn't do anything, and by that time it had gotten considerably darker.
But as the last rays of sunlight silhouetted the trees she saw a box like shape up in the trees. So she waked over to it, she had never seen this before and she was lucky to have noticed it. Completely forgetting about George for a few seconds she walked on over.
It was silent as she found the tree house, and it was growing darker by the second. She spotted a ladder, just a few wooden planks nailed to the trunk of the tree. She could tell the tree house was old, and the tree even older. The tree house sat majestically up high in the branches of an elm tree.
She climbed up the ladder, and was surprised that it could hold her weight. It was dim out and she couldn't even see in the tree house.
Hemrione shrieked, she had stepped on something, and it had moved.
"That's my foot," a voice said, in a monotonous tone, as if the speaker didn't care about anything. But she could hear the pain laced into the voice she knew too well.
"George, what are you doing up here?" she asked softly.
"Sitting."
"George," her voice grew sharper.
"Me and Fred built this okay? What else would you like to hear, Hermione? Because right now, I just want to get drunk." The next thing that came out of Hermione's mouth shocked George.
"Okay," she said. "I'll join you." George had expected her to say no, and to get up. "Let me clarify; I will not get drunk, I will toast to Fred."
"Sure, Hermione," he responded, a slight smirk on his face. He popped open the bottle of firewhiskey, and raised it in the air. "To Fred" he yelled out.
"To Fred," she echoed. He took a gulp of firewhiskey and then passed it over to her.
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