{| GEORGExOC: George isn't mine, Grey is. :3 Prepare for mush. |}


Grey sighed as she looked at the frowning redhead sitting on her couch. The redhead was George Weasley, and he was in his usual stance; his back was hunched over and his hands were clasped together in front of his face while he stared blankly into space. No surprise. He's been like that since Fred passed in the war some weeks ago, she'd heard.

He was staying at her house for a few weeks at his mother's request. She had insisted that he should stay with her in the Muggle world to get away from it all, but it seemed to Grey that the farther he got from the situation, the harder it pulled him back to remember.

"How long has he been like this?" Grey worriedly asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Weeks. He just can't stop wallowing. He won't even go to work," she explained in a frazzled tone.

"You really think him staying with me for a while will help him?" Grey asked.

"Of course, dear. He loves you after all. I'm sure you'll find a way," Mrs. Weasley said, a weak but confident smile on her face. Grey tried mimicking it, but failed and just smiled weakly.

Grey put down her book, not so comfortable with the silence. "Hey George, are you still there?" she asked from her place by the windowsill. Her tone suggested that she was trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work though, the tension was still present in the air.

"Huh?" he said, not taking his eyes away from whatever he was looking at.

"Hurm, nothing," Grey said, a bit spitefully. George didn't seem to notice though.

She grabbed her book and walked out of the living room into the kitchen.

Why is he still so down? It's already been weeks since the war, she wondered. He'd arrived at her house two days ago, and since then she would always try to make him smile any time she had the chance, which would be every waking second. Still, nothing worked. No pranks or lame jokes were rewarded with at least a minute half-smile. It frustrated her.

She looked at George again. He was exactly the way she left him, staring at nothing.

It's like I don't even know you anymore, she thought, her heart sinking. She knew she couldn't give up on him though. She couldn't even squeeze a 'yet' in that statement. She owed him too much.

This was George Weasley, the man who helped her move on after being rejected by Oliver Wood in 4th year. The man who helped her cope with the death of Cedric Diggory, who had practically been like an older brother to her, in 6th year. The man who made her smile throughout the whole dreadful 7th year, or at least before he left to open a joke shop with Fred. She owed him a lot.

When she snapped out of her thinking trance, her eyes held a new spark in them. Determination, some people would call it. She walked out of the kitchen and grabbed her coat.

"Hey George, I'll just run a few errands for my mom at the market, would you mind staying here by yourself for a while?" she asked him, putting her coat on by the door.

He turned around to look her straight in the eye for the first time that day and nodded. That's when she saw just how exhausted he was. She wondered if he even gets any sleep at night.

Don't worry George, I'll fix you, she promised in her head. Then, she stepped out the door.


"It's still not good enough!" Grey exclaimed aloud, clearly frustrated. This was probably her fifth try at making icing for the cupcakes already. It wasn't sweet enough the first time, it had a sickly pink color the second time, it was way too runny the third time, it was way too thick the fourth time, and now it was back to not being sweet enough again.

About two hours ago, she had come back home from the market where she "had to run a few errands." Lie, of course. The real reason she went to market was to buy supplies for the surprise she was planning for George, but so far it wasn't going the way she planned. The cupcakes were doing fine in the oven and were almost done, sure, but she just couldn't get the icing right.

Grey closed her eyes and sighed. Everything had to be perfect. Or at least, the icing had to. If the icing tastes horrible, then the whole cupcake falls apart. That's what her mother told her before.

Suddenly, her head shot up and she frantically scanned the kitchen counter. Then, she groaned. Just as she thought, she'd used up all the ingredients for the icing already.

Well, I guess the last batch I made isn't that bad, she thought. She reluctantly reached for a pastry bag and started filling it with the pink icing. When she was through doing that, the oven let out a 'ding!' and the cupcakes were finished. She just had to decorate them and they were ready.

Her eyes began to droop while she was decorating. She stifled a yawn and tried hard to force back the sleepiness. I have to finish this, she thought. She only had one cupcake left to decorate. She could do this. She reached for the last cupcake, but then her sleepiness overcame her. She let out a big yawn and rested her head on her folded arms on the table.

I can rest my head for a couple of minutes, then I'll get back to that, she thought as she slowly closed her eyes. It's the last cupcake anyway. Then, she drifted off to sleep.


"Grey?" George said aloud. "You home yet?" He walked down the stairs and looked around. She wasn't in her room, she wasn't in the living room, nor was she in the house's library. He walked across the living room towards the kitchen to check there. The first thing he saw was Grey, fast asleep on the counter. The next thing he saw was the mess on the table. Then, the cupcakes.

She made cupcakes? he asked himself. What for? He read what the letters on the cupcakes spelled out, and then he did something that he hadn't done in weeks. He smiled.

The cupcakes weren't showy. They only had simple lettering in pink frosting on them. It didn't matter to him if the lettering was fancy or not, it was what the letters spelled out: Smile for me?

He looked over at the sleeping girl, his smile never leaving his face as he ran his hands through her hair. She's too cute when she sleeps, he thought. She stirred a bit while he was stroking her hair. He was about to carry her up to her room, but then he noticed a bare cupcake beside her.

Fell asleep while working? Doesn't sound like the Grey I know, he thought, smirking a bit. He carefully took Grey's hand, silently praying not to wake her, and used it to get the pastry bag nearby. Then, he slowly maneuvered her hand to draw a nice and neat smiley face on the cupcake with the icing. When he was through, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'll smile for you when you wake up," he said.