Hermione and Ron.
It was that simple.
Friends forever, until it became something more. They survived a war. They loved each other. Got married, had kids.
It was so easy to be with Ron. To love Ron.
Except for Fred.
"Do you think about him a lot?"
It is a warm evening. The rest of the Weasleys are in the back, only Hermione and George are on the front steps.
George doesn't repeat the question. And he doesn't have to clarify whom he's asking about.
Does she think about him a lot?
"All the time." She doesn't know how she says the words.
"Would you be with Ron if he were here?"
It breaks her heart. "No." What remains of it.
He's looking at her in a way that makes her hand twitch, itching to hold the collar of her shirt closed.
"Why…"
"Don't ask me that, George. I don't want to answer that one. I won't."
Because she always stops him when she gets to that question. If you loved him, why not me?
And she doesn't answer, not because it's complicated, but because it's so stupidly simple. With George, she could pretend. She could actually pretend he was Fred.
Not being with George, is her punishment. She does not deserve to be happy, when Fred is dead.
She does not want to be happy when she is so alone.