What Comes Next?
The day after the Final Battle. There was happiness, joy, relief, elation. But, this victory was tinted (or rather stained) with the sadness. The horror. Vacant faces, all with markings, which showed up and appeared during death. Of course, people began to heal. They talked and communicated their families and friends showing them comfort. After a month it was easier for everyone to talk. Except for one. One Weasley man, who suffered the loss of his twin. His family had learned to deal, and live, while still mourning his loss. He loathed them for it. He wanted to yell and scream and shout, and show them, how much he missed Fred. But he couldn't. Inside he raged, but on the outside, he held a blank expression, and his normally twinkling eyes were jaded and vacant. His parents were at a loss. His mother had come to speak with him, but he barely responded. His father hoped that silent comfort would help. It didn't. His siblings all responded differently. Bill had calmly told him, that he should try to move on with his life. Charlie had simply raged about how selfish he was being and left, after using a few choice words. Percy, had simply entered, put a hand on his shoulder, for hours, and sat with him. He left shortly after, and had yet to return. Ron, had come in, and had simply said he should take all the time he needed. Hermione had been there, yet she said nothing. Ginny had been the worst. She'd told him how much worse it could have been. The people he could've lost. George was immune to it however. He'd sat there, and gazed out the window, where the sun was shining, and birds fluttered about, singing. George felt ill, watching the world look so happy, and light, next to his loss.
"You're a grown man, George! You should be able to handle things like this. We miss you at the family dinners, it's just, not the same without you!" she cried, her eyes blazing.
"It'll never be the same without Fred, either." he stated flatly, his eyes flicking to his sister, before turning to the window. She looked startled for a moment.
"Fine! Wallow in self-pity!" She shrieked, her voice fierce, and filled with anger. Yet, George heard the tears, and heard her faint sniffle, as she struggled to stifle her cries. George had yet to see Harry. He didn't want to see him, anyway. He didn't blame Harry, not at all. It was just that, when he thought of Harry, he knew that in comparison, Harry had lost so much more. Though to George, Harry barely knew some of the people, he'd lost. Yet, he must have felt guilt over their deaths. The git in him would see it as his fault. For that first month, George, was locked in his childhood room, surrounded by old prototypes that Fred and he, had been planning to test. For that first month, he would barely stomach the food he ate. But one the second week of July, this changed. He was not alone every day. He had a visitor for every day, until he got better. This person was Angelina Johnson.
Angelina Johnson, had long since mourned the death of those she knew in the war, and she was getting back into her routine, prior to that Final Battle. She was buying groceries from her small flat, and stopped when she saw Lee Jordan. People assumed that all his flirting was his desperate attempt to go out with her, but those people were wrong. In fact, she knew that Lee had nothing but friendly feelings for her.
"Lee!" she called, waving at him, as she strode forward. Her long legs got her across the alley, quickly.
"Angelina! How are you?" he asked, his voice polite, and much mature than she'd ever heard it.
"I'm doing better, you?"
"I'm fine...but...George isn't" he said hesitantly. He knew that she had romantic feelings for George, but he didn't know that she was sure she loved him. She was startled, a bit. George wasn't quick to get over anything, but she didn't expect this. Though all things considered, it wasn't that surprising. She felt guilty about not visiting him sooner.
"Lee, where is he?" she said, not leaving him any room to argue.
"He's at the Burrow, but-"
"Thanks, Lee! Bye!" she cried, before turning on the spot, groceries, the last thing on her mind. She arrived at a gate, and looked at the house. She'd never been here, but she did know about it. She pushed open the gate and stepped on the path carefully. She didn't want any enchantments, messing with her, or cursing her. She swallowed. They might be mad, for her to drop in, and see George. She had no right, really. However, this thought was countered with another. Yes, she did. She may not be in a relationship with him, or a family member, but she was a friend of his. She approached the door, and knocked tenderly. The door opened, and she was faced with a woman who was obviously, his mother. She looked frazzled, before she regained her composure.
"Hello? Do you need to see someone, here?" she asked kindly, her tone questioning and motherly.
"I'm here to see George. Could I see him?" Angelina asked her.
"Oh! Yes, well, you have to know, that he's not quite himself. But, you're welcome dear." She said, stepping inside. Angelina saw everyone, sitting in the living room talking and playing games. She moved past them. George was her objective. She climbed the stairs, and stopped at the door, second from the top. She saw a figure moving the slightest bit, and she knocked her knuckles quiet, but strong.
Silence.
"George, its Angelina. I'm coming in." she said before opening the door. The sight that met her tore her heart in multiple directions. He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed to the right side of the room. His eyes gazed out of the window, and he made no sound or even a twitch, to show he knew she was there. She fought back tears. It was as if she'd lost both her friends.
"George, I'm not going to say I know what you're going through, but I can say this. You miss, him, we miss, you, but George, how would you feel, if this was Fred, sitting where you are, not talking to the family, he should be grateful to have, wasting it all!" she said, her tone soft, yet demanding.
"That's not it. Fred and I made a pact if we were to die. We promised not to mope if something like this happened. It's just, that I-" he cut off; his eyes squeezing shut his voice choking.
"George? What is it? If it's not about his death, what is it?" she asked her head tilting, just a little bit.
"I was glad it wasn't me. I know that if I died, no one would miss me as much they miss Fred now. I was glad, that for once, I came on top." He answered, turning to her, tears falling freely from his clear blue eyes.
"Oh, George." She said dropping to her knees, and crawling towards him, wrapping her arms around him. Angelina felt her arms tighten on him, of their own accord. She'd never thought about if George had ever felt self-conscious. Then again, they'd always been known as `Fred and George'. All these, years, he must have been waiting for that moment when he'd rise above his brother. It had come, but far too soon, and far too tragically. She sighed. It was guilt.
"No, don't start talking about, how I'm not a bad person, because I am! I'm glad that when people see me, they won't always think how I'm just like my brother, because for once, it wasn't me that was second best. I'm finally, my own person." George said bitterly. Angelina shook her head.
"I'm not about to say that. I'm just going to be here, for you to talk. I don't plan on anything now." Angelina stated her face blank, and indifferent. And so, he talked. For hours, he spilled over, how he always came out second, compared to his brother. He cried more than a few times, and Angelina held him, not saying a word.
"What's wrong with me? What kind of bastard is happy about his brother's death? I'm no better than the scum who killed him." He muttered darkly.
"I wouldn't go that far. Death Eaters, don't even feel remorse for the things they do. You do. You are better than them. When was that last time you ate?" she asked, her tone sharp, and he was reminded briefly of his mother.
"Not that long ago. Yesterday, I think." He replied, shrugging, his face nonchalant."
Angelina blanched. Where was that famous Weasley hunger, that's she'd seen all her years at Hogwarts?
"Hold on a moment. Are you hungry," she asked, her tone, reminding him, again of his mother.
"Yeah." He looked surprised, as if hunger was a new sensation.
"Alright, I'll get you something." She said, slipping out of the room. She went down the stairs, and heard the family talking.
"..Can't let him do this much longer. He's going to get sick." George's mother fretted.
"We have to give him, time. He might want to be alone." Charlie pointed out, his tone a little rigid.
"How can that be? A young woman just visited him, a few hours ago. I haven't seen her come down, yet, so maybe, she's helping him?" she asked, hopefully.
"Who was it?" Hermione asked. Angelina could hear the gears in her mind turning.
"She was about his age, tall, about his height, her hair was in braids, and she had lovely skin tone. Like chocolate." Angelina heard Mrs. Weasley, comment. She flushed. She' thought she had nice skin, too.
"That sounds like Angelina Johnson, to me." Ron said his tone thoughtful.
"Has, she left? Or is she still here?" Ginny asked.
"Still here I think." Mrs. Weasley commented.
Angelina moved the final steps, and pretended to peek into rooms, trying to `find' everyone. They heard her noise-making.
"We're in here!" Mrs. Weasley called. Angelina entered the room and saw them all giving her observing looks. She met briefly with everyone's eyes, and found that Harry's was slightly creepy. He looked like he knew exactly what she was thinking. She suppressed a shiver.
"Yes, dear, did you need something?" Mrs. Weasley was apparently the only one willing to speak.
"Well, George was hungry, and I was wondering if I could use your kitchen." Angelina said, fighting the urge, to scratch. It was an embarrassing nervous habit of hers.
"Oh, I have some soup on the stove, and some bread. Would you like me to give it to him, dear?" she asked.
"No that's fine, I'll do it. You lot can carry on, doing, er, whatever." Angelina finished lamely. They all at least had the good grace to look properly abashed.
Angelina went into the kitchen, and heard their voices again. This time, they were so soft; she couldn't hear a word they were saying. She was joined by Mrs. Weasley though, as she was heating up the soup.
"Are you alright, dear? It must be hard to see him like that." She said, nodding. Her own eyes were far away, somewhere. Angelina could only guess at her thoughts.
"Yes, but I'm trying to hold it together for him. I can hardly fall apart when I'm trying to help him. Besides, I can hardly say, I've been through as much as him. I just want to be there for him, as much as I can. It's the least I can do, since I'm his friend."
"That's very kind of you dear. Are you hungry, I could fix you a bowl?" Mrs. Weasley offered, her wand, ready to help make her food. Angelina, smiled, and shook her head.
"No, that's fine. I ate before I came." Angelina said.
Mrs. Weasley tutted, "Oh, but you're so thin, dear. Are you sure?" Mrs. Weasley pressed, stepping forward, as if to force Angelina to eat. Despite the fact that Angelina was about a foot taller than her.
"Now, now, Molly. Let her just go get this to George, and you can listen to more Celestina." Mr. Weasley said, his tone jovial, yet Angelina saw he was slightly uncomfortable.
"Oh, alright, but mind you, I'll get some meat on her bones yet. I do like the idea of listening to Celestina Warbeck. She really is a lovely singer." Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. Angelina couldn't agree with this statement; she thought Celestina was dead awful at singing of any kind.
Mrs. Weasley left the room, singing under her breath.
"So, how are you doing, Angelina?" he asked, his eyebrow lifting. Angelina was beginning to wonder if they all knew her name, she knew Charlie would, and so would Percy, Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
"I'm doing better since the war, but it's coming back to me, seeing George like that." She answered truthfully. She found that she couldn't lie to George's father. His serene face was hard to lie to.
"Are you sure you can help him then?" he asked, his eyes inquisitive. Angelina felt slightly hurt at this and stood up straighter looking Mr. Weasley straight in the eye.
"I'll be able to help him as long as he lets me." She said, before sweeping out the room swiftly. She knocked on the door before coming in and saw that George was now sitting on the bed, looking at what looked like old notes. He looked up at her, and stared blankly at the food in her arms.
"I brought you some soup. I figured you'd be hungry." She said giving him a small smile. She placed the tray across his lap, and patted his cheek, her eyes full of sorrow. He stared for a moment before he opened his mouth.
"What took you so long? Did you get lost?" he asked, though his tone held suspicion, and confusion. Angelina chuckled and shook her head.
"No, I wasn't lost. I just ran into your mum, and she kept trying to feed me. She figures I'm too thin." She murmured, her tone showing how she disagreed with the sentiment. George looked her up and down for a long moment before he tilted his head.
"Well, you have lost a lot of weight. Don't know why, though, you looked fine." He whispered.
"I didn't do it on purpose. My Healer told me that during the war, I was too stressed, and all the constant fighting, added with my depression, and well, I just lost about thirty pounds, but I've added on about ten this month. I'll be alright, as long as I keep eating red meat, and regular exercise." She explained. George's eyes were wide and they narrowed angrily at Angelina.
"You were depressed? What happened, to do that?" he asked frantically. Angelina watched him for a moment before answering.
"I fought in a war, I watched people die, and I lost family; my aunt on my mother's side. She fought at the battle, like I did, like my mum and dad. I saw her die. It was horrible, to be honest. I'm sure it was Greyback; she was m-mauled and bloody. I still have nightmares, but they're getting better." She murmured looking out of the window. George watched her before asking another question.
"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be home with your family?" he asked his tone disappointed.
Angelina snorted. "You're on to talk, being up here instead of with your family. Besides, I was shopping for groceries, for my flat when I saw Lee, and he told me that you were here, so I came." She answered her eyebrows lifting. George stared again.
"You came, because of me?" he asked.
"I thought that much was obvious. But, yes. Here, eat your soup, so I can take the dishes down." She said, spooning a bit of soup and handing him the spoon. He ate slowly and thoughtfully his eyes drifting to her every now and then. He finished finally, and she brought the tray down and went into the kitchen. She saw Harry and Ginny there, talking with Rona and Hermione, and saw that they were holding hands. She'd been waiting for Ron and Hermione, but Harry and Ginny were a surprise to her. She cleared her throat, as they were whispering and they all jumped.
"Oh! Angelina, we didn't hear you come in! How are you?" Hermione asked her voice shrill with surprise.
"Oh, I'm doing fine. Glad to see you've stopped beating around the bush." She said nodding to her and Ron's joined hands. They both looked down and flushed. Angelina waved her wand through the air, and watched as the dishes began to wash themselves. She looked at Harry and Ginny.
"Though I have to admit, this is a surprise to me." She grinned even wider and laughed at Harry's blush. Ginny smiled to herself, though she winked at Angelina. Angelina turned towards Ginny, as she leaned against, a cluttered counter.
"I heard you're a Chaser. Wanna play a game sometime? See, who's got mastery of their broom?" she challenged, knowing if she was anything like her brothers, she'd accept it. She was correct.
"I'd like that. They've told me, you were one of the best, and I have to say, that I agree." She said. Angelina shrugged.
"I'm not so sure about that. I wasn't horrible, but certainly not the best." She said shaking her head.
"That's a lie! You scored half the goals when you were on the team, Angelina." Harry spoke up his eyes translating how earnest he was. Angelina smiled at him.
"Well, I've heard Ginny's gotten to be something amazing, since I left school." Angelina shared, her heart lightening with this easy conversation.
Before Ginny could reply Hermione spoke up, her body language showing that she was unsure of whether or not she wanted to ask her question.
"Angelina, if you don't mind me asking, how did you get George to talk, and eat?" the others gave Angelina their fullest attention, and she was sure she heard movement behind her, as if others were pressing to the door.
"Well, I'm not exactly sure how I did it. I just forced my way in there, and just let him, do whatever. He opened up on his own. I expect he wanted to get it off his chest since they were younger." She murmured the last part, but apparently they heard her, as they shot her quizzical looks.
"What did he have on his chest?" Ron asked stepping forward, almost belligerently.
Angelina shook her head. "It's not my place to tell. He'll tell you all, whenever he's ready to. I just can't guarantee that you won't get mad, or disappointed in him." Angelina answered her voice rising for the members of George's family who were listening at the door.
"Why would we be disappointed?" Ginny asked her eyes narrowing.
"I already told you it's not my place to tell." She answered. Her voice was final and they accepted it. They awkwardly stood there, before Angelina made excuses to leave the room. She climbed the steps and paused at George's door, and heard him humming something to himself. She pushed the door open and paused quickly not wanting to disturb him. His humming faltered before he started again. The tune was slow and sweet. She was sure it was a lullaby, but it was one she'd never heard before. He stopped and looked at her, and smiled sadly.
"That was a lullaby that mum used to sing to me. It was the only thing that would get Fred and me to calm down long enough to fall asleep." He said. He scooted over on the bed, so that she would have space. She sat down and hugged his shoulder, pulling him to her shoulder. She noticed that he seemed reluctant to place his ruined ear hole on her shoulder.
"Doesn't my ear bother you?" he asked looking up at her.
"No. How could it? It shows that you knew what needed to be done, and you weren't afraid to do it. It shows that you're brave." She said, kissing his forehead. He sat there, in semi-shock. The fact that his mauled ear didn't bother her was enough, but he knew that it bothered his own mother; though he suspected that this was because he was her son. Angelina he discovered was humming her own song, and he knew that it wasn't something he knew. She started to sing softly and he listened in.
`Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top
When the wind blows the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall.
Down will come baby cradle and all.'
"What kind of lullaby is that? Who sings about a baby falling out of a crib?" he asked. The tone of his voice made Angelina burst into laughter. She laughed by herself for a while, but George joined in chuckling, and joining in laughing from his gut. After ten minutes, they each calmed down enough to wipe the tears from their eyes.
"It's a muggle lullaby. I haven't heard it in a long time." She murmured looking at him, her voice soft.
"Muggles are crazy. I would never sing that to my children." He said shaking his head.
"I'm sure they'll appreciate that later." She answered.
"You know my kids will be awesome, right? They'll be crazy, and brilliant. It'll be great. I'll have just two, though. I couldn't have as many as my mum and dad. Too many different ways they could turn out." He said. Angelina thought of George having crazy children and blanched, thinking of more people like him running around.
"The world doesn't have a prayer. You really shouldn't spread you genes around. The world can't take your offspring." She said nudging him playfully. He snorted.
"As if you'd be any better! You're pretty crazy yourself. I can imagine your son or daughter running around causing trouble, for us regular people." He teased. She let out a derisive laugh.
"Well I'm sure you'll understand when I say I don't believe that." She said, giving him a droll look.
"You were always a little slow on the uptake, Ange." He said, giving her a mock sympathetic look. She pushed him rolling her eyes.
"Please, I had better marks than you without trying." She boasted.
"And, here I am with my own shop, and you are a simple pawn in the Quidditch report section of the Ministry. How unfortunate." He smiled. She rolled her eyes.
"Prat. Why must you be such a prat?" she asked him, though her smile was radiant.
"Eh, it's talent. Blimey! I'm, tired. I guess I should go to sleep then." He said stretching his limbs. Angelina noticed they were smaller. He couldn't have been eating very well. She held back a sigh and hugged him.
"Sleep well then. I still have to finish my shopping, so I won't be able to come back later. I'll come back tomorrow. I work from home, so I have nothing to do most of the time." She said standing up. She noticed George look downtrodden and hugged him again, this time kissing his cheek.
"Bye, Ange." He called when she reached the other side of his room. She smiled again.
"Bye, George, try not mope in here. Go outside some. You're starting to look pale." She winked, and departed. She passed Charlie on the stairs, and he stopped her, his face bewildered and thankful.
"Um, Angelina, right?" he asked, his tone quite unsure.
"Yes, that's right."
"Well, thanks for getting him to feel better. None of us could do it, but you could, and you did, so thank you, on behalf of the family." He said grasping her hand, and shaking it.
"Oh, it's fine. I just wanted to see what I could do for him." She said. Charlie nodded and continued up the stairs and Angelina proceeded down the stairs. She called her goodbyes to the rest of the family, and she Disapparated, she arrived back on Diagon Alley and shopped for her things. After nearly an hour, she was finished and she walked to her flat, weighed down by the bags she was carrying. She put everything away in record time, and began cleaning up her room, and the rest of the flat. After everything was clean to her liking, she prepared a small pot of pasta, and ate it. After spending that small amount with George, she felt as if her flat was dull in comparison. She sighed. She looked up and stared out the window, her eyes glazing over with inattention. The sky was starting to turn a beautiful orange, and purple color. She'd always taken sunsets for granted. She got up from her chair, and approached the window. She stood there, before opening it, and gripped by that Gryffindor bravery, she pulled herself through the window, and climbed on the roof. She lay back on the roof, and watched as the sky changed into a multitude of colors. She sighed, and wondered if her efforts on George weren't wasted. She lay there for a while, and sat up and saw a speck coming towards her nerves made her think of Death Eaters, before logic made her calm down. The speck turned out to be an owl. It was light grey, and had dark eyes, so that Angelina couldn't tell the color. She was sure, she'd never seen it before. She pulled the letter from its bag, and stroked its head as a thank you. She had a particular gift with owls. It flew away, and she opened the note on the roof, not even bothering to move. There was enough light for her to see the letter and read it.
Dearest friend,
I appreciate you coming to visit me when I was locked up in my house. I can't believe that I actually thought you were crazy. (well you still might be, but nice.)
Only George Weasley would find this appropriate to put in a letter.
I also appreciate you not sharing with my family about what I told you. I felt like you wouldn't but it's nice to know that I was right. I was wondering if you would grace me with your presence on Sunday, at the Three Broomsticks. If you can't make that day, but would like to come with me, send me an owl. Hope to meet up with you.
Sincerely,
George
Angelina shook her head. Only George would ask for a date, in his time of crisis. He wasn't a player so to speak (he'd only dated two girls in his entire Hogwarts life)but he tended to go after what he wanted. She sighed. What could she say? Her answer was clear to her, but she wondered, if it was right. One date couldn't change his friendly feelings for her. In years to come, when her parents ask, how their mother and father came together, she would reply
"Well, it started over a butterbeer…"