I woke up to a dimly lit room and the sounds of Ginny's heavy breathing, groaned quietly and buried my head under pillow. It was the start of a brand new, couple filled day. Since the Final Battle and my return to the Burrow, I was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably aware of the blossoming relationships that surrounded me. Harry had Ginny of course, and Ron ... well, Ron was Ron and had skated over the issue of our heated kiss in favour of dating Lavender Brown again. No surprises there. I'm only his best friend, after all. Why should I matter? Bill was married and expecting his first child, and Charlie had announced he had a girlfriend at last night's Sunday dinner. In fact, I thought as I lay in bed, the only single person I could think of was George Weasley, and even he was part of a pair really, albeit not in a romantic sense. What was George without Fred after all?
With a sick jolt to my stomach, I pulled the pillow from my face and sat up. Fred was gone. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. The tears started to come at that thought, pouring down my face, hot and silent. And lonely. I clutched the pillow to my chest, eyes streaming and buried my face in it, the soft fabric soaking up my tears. Unwillingly, my mind strayed back to its previous question: what was George without Fred? Not the same, that was for sure. He seemed almost broken these days, as though he was missing half of sparkle in his eyes was almost gone, and I could tell that he only went through the motions of day to day acttivities to stop Mrs Weasley from worrying. Even in his grief he was considerate, I thought to myself. Thinking of him, my tears only increased and I pulled herself out of bed and headed for the stairs. I was determined not to wake Ginny with my crying, and I was feeling maudlin enough that my crying might last a while.
Tea, I thought. When in doubt, a cup of tea always helps. As I walked into the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of a red-headed man hunched over the table. George's eyes met mine as he glanced toward the sound of door opening and I jumped, startled. The burrow was a busy place, sure enough, but I hadn't thought to run into anyone at this time in the morning.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled thickly, shocked at the sound of my own voice, "I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't realise anyone else would be up. I was just going to ... I'll go. Sorry." I turned around, ready to head back up to Ginny's room when a small, empty voice stopped me.
"You're not. Disturbing me, I mean. I couldn't sleep that's all," George said. He looked at me again and his expression changed, softened. "Are you crying Granger?" he asked gently. "Has my git of a brother done something?"
I turned back, giving half a laugh at his assumption, and then caught myself. I wasn't supposed to be laughing yet. Especially not with George. George who was still hurting and didn't need my problems added to his own. Even if they were the same. I straightened a little, wiped my eyes and put on a fake smile. "No, course not. Well, yes, I was crying but not because of Ron. We're not really a couple any more, so if he's being a git I just tell him to his face now. I had a nightmare, but I'll be alright in a minute. A cup of tea is all it'll take and I'll be right as rain."
George looked at me, disbelief strong in his eyes. Despite this, he didn't probe further. Instead, he pushed his mug across the table toward me and spoke. "Have mine, I don't really fancy it now anyway." I hesitated, still stood in the doorway. "Seriously, have it. And sit, will you. I'm not going to bite you know. And I'm not about to fall apart any time soon, so there's no need for you to look so worried.. Just sit down and drink the bloody tea."
I continued to look at him, scanning his face for signs that he had only asked me to stay out of politeness. Finding none, I sat, my mind buzzing. What do I say? I thought. He's lost his brother, his twin, his second half. And here I am sat with him at two in the morning, saying nothing. I never have nothing to say. He must think I'm a complete idiot. But I've got to say something. Anything. Think brain, think!
"Are you alright?" I blurted out, kicking myself internally even as I said it. Alright? Alright? What was I thinking? I was still crying over Fred's death myself, and I wasn't his twin brother.
"No, Hermione, I'm not. Not really. I've been sat at this table all night thinking about him. About what I should have said to him before the battle. About everything he'll miss. About all the things he told me, all the good times we shared. About what he would have said if he was here now. He'd kick my sorry arse up and down this kitchen for being so lifeless. Tell me to pull a prank or two. Or twelve. Tell me to help mum, and Ginny. And I know if he were here he would've told me to help you. Don't cry over things you can't change, Hermione. Nightmares or otherwise. Life's too short for that"
I pushed the untouched cup of tea absentmindedly around the table, my cheeks still burning with the stupidity of my question. At his last words I flushed again. Looking at George's face I caught a knowing look, and knew that I'd been spotted telling a lie. George wasn't talking about a made up nightmare. He was trying to help me with the real one that we were both struggling with.
"Come on," he said, pushing back his chair from the table and holding out a hand to me. "I'll walk you back up to your room. Its still early, we can both get a couple of hours sleep in before breakfast tomorrow."
"Alright," was my inspired response. I quirked my lips up in half a smile and grabbed his outstretched hand. I felt terrible for him. For all of us. But at his touch I felt a rush of warmth spread though me, and with it came a sense of hope. I would help George out of his grief as he was already helping me. And maybe, in the new found sensation of my hand in his, there would come a light at the end of the dark tunnel we were in.