Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights are reserved to the lovely J.K. Rowling.

Edit: Uploaded updated version with less errors. Thank you to the wonderful Solas_Divided for her help beta-ing with this first chapter.

The Molly Weasley family brunch was an informal occasion that was held every Sunday at precisely 8 o'clock. Molly Weasley would slave away in the kitchen from 4 to 7 in the morning, allowing the others plenty of time to arrive. Though attendance was not strictly mandatory, all invited were expected to come. This included the Weasley ramble- of course, as well as Harry Potter, and the recently arrived Hermione Granger.

Hermione herself had recently returned from Australia where she and Auror Andrew McCain, who had gone with her under strict orders of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic. She had gone to find her parents in hopes of restoring their memories. They had succeeded in the former, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan had built a comfortable life as chiropractors, the only ones in a few miles north of Sydney. Really all it had taken was an advanced positioning charm to locate them. Finding them had been easy, reversing her memory charm on the other hand... The damage done to their minds was similar to that of Gilderoy Lockheart after second year, or the Longbottoms after Bellatrix, complete and seemingly irreversible. McCain said not to lose faith, the Obliviate had merely lodged the memories deep underground, and there was still hope they might retrieve them.

The more time passed, the more she wished she hadn't erased herself so thoroughly from their lives. There were no pictures, no birthday cards, report cards, letters, presents… Nothing to help jog their memories, nothing to really show she even existed. In the muggle world she might as well have been invisible, nonexistent, never born.

It had gotten to the point that it hurt to think about it or them. To think that her parents who used to hold her so dearly and tell her everything was all right when she was sad, who did everything to make her feel wanted and loved no matter what, even when Dumbledore died, they still wanted her to feel safe, never even giving a thought to themselves and their safety, never realizing just how grave things had become. For them to look on her with such blankness and stark confusion, with such unfamiliarity, had been too much, so she'd left them and returned, knowing she had to get on with life eventually.

If one more year passed and they still didn't remember knowing her, she would leave them alone, let them live their new and happy lives with the guilt of knowing it was all her fault alone and that nothing could be done to change it.

It had been nearly one year since the Final Battle at Hogwarts and not much had changed. Harry was an Auror while Ron was happily playing for and with the Chuddly Canons. Ginny was in her last year of Hogwarts, studying for Newts and eager for the summer where she hoped to finally get to marry Harry. The boy wonder had been insistent not to make any such decisions before she'd graduated, much to the youngest Weasley's chagrin, though Hermione understood Harry's reluctance. After the Final Battle, Ron had had similar ideas, which was another reason Hermione had been happy to escape. It wasn't that she didn't love Ronald- she did, it was just not the way he wanted her to. There had been her years when all she thought was that they were going to be together, that somewhere deep down there was a spark, but all it had taken was a month after the war to make her realize the error of her ways. Harry and Ron were her brothers, and much as it might have peeved Ron to realize, they just wouldn't work out, they tried, or certainly, and she tried too, but she just couldn't force herself to feel something that wasn't there.

So far since she had gotten back, she'd managed to see her two friends, Harry on her way to the ministry. She had taken a position in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. It might not have been the most glamorous job but it was the most practical, and would prove a good challenge for her while she was still trying to figure out what to do with her life.

She wouldn't be starting until the week after though, as Kingsley would be giving her time to settle in, plus this week was particularly pressing as it was only a few days until the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat, something everyone was preparing to celebrate.

Ronald had been in Diagon Alley where she'd just been on her way to lunch, which is where he'd decided to give her the invitation of Sunday Brunch. Something which she looked upon with both excitement and the smallest hint of dread. She wasn't sure what she would see, having been so busy the past few months and trying to write, but everytime failing. There had been a letter here and there, but what could she say: Hey, hope you're well, my parents still don't remember me, probably never will, McCain keeps telling me not to give up, but deep down he's as tired of waiting as I am, please tell everyone hello for me.

No, she couldn't. And so with the Gryffindor courage she mustered up, she knocked on the door, opening it and letting out a simple greeting in hopes of gathering their attention, though it soon proved to be unnecessary as everyone stood to meet her with the upmost enthusiasm.

She greeted and hugged them all eagerly, even Bill who though he deemed it unnecessary, and had blushed quite a bit warmed up considerably. It reminded her so much of Remus back at Grimmauld place she couldn't help but smile. Throughout the greetings and updates, she couldn't help but feel someone was missing, someone in particular who she should have noticed immediately. By the time all of the Weasleys were seated, curiosity had won out. "Where's George?"

In that moment everything went silent. Not a breath could be heard.

Arthur Weasley let out a sigh. "Hermione, right now might not be the best time to…"

Molly interrupted. "It's alright dear. She doesn't know."

Know what? Hermione wondered silently.

Charlie took over, seeing the obvious restraint of tears on his mother's face at the mention of the last remaining Weasley twin. "George hasn't been here in a while."

Bill took over. "You see after the war, after Fred…" He continued. "George wasn't quite himself."

"We were all crushed when Fred died. But George took it more strongly than the others."

"We tried. Really we did," added Harry. "We talked to him, we offered to take over the shop for him while he was in recovery at St. Mungos, offered to talk to some specialists in trauma, but he just… Didn't seem to care."

"Mum's been sending him food and such," Bill continued.

"We each try to visit him when we can but for the most part…"

"He's been… Unresponsive."

"Where is he now?" Hermione asked, not wanting to break the flow.

"He's still living above the shop," Ron looked embarrassed to admit it, no doubt thinking of the time she'd asked after it, and him distracting her with books instead.

"I thought you said he wasn't…"

"Varity's been looking after it. She's been doing her best to keep up with orders and the like, though business hasn't been exactly booming as you can imagine. He still brews in the lab occasionally. Looking more like Snape these days though. Ow!" This comment earned a kick from Ginny who looked entirely unapologetic.

"Well he is! Barely goes out anymore. Though Angelina- you know Johnson- her brother- he's on the team too you know, fresh this year- told me he goes down to have lunch with her some Sundays…" He smartly shut up after that but the damage was done.

"Lovely girl she is," Molly said, her voice breaking slightly.

"Alright, that's enough then boys." Arthur cut in, "Let's eat before your food gets cold." This was of course a redundant statement since Molly's plates were especially charmed to resist losing heat, though Hermione understood from the sullen look in Molly's eyes it was necessary all the same.

Hermione didn't even bother to ask about it to Percy. She had seen him her first day back in London, at the Ministry . He'd been hard at work while alone was not unusual given his job as secretary. But there had been something in the way he'd looked, the way he seemed only vaguely aware of the world. Hermione knew that after the war, the Weasley's had been able to slowly rift back together the relations with the third eldest Weasley who despite all carried a deep sorrow within him. From the mere mention of the brunch it was easy to see the guilt he still carried over Fred's death. While she wasn't sure how exactly he'd dealt with the pain; she doubted he even did.

Instead of dwelling on this however, she focused back on her meal, trying unsuccessfully to block out her thought to the missing Weasleys, doing her best of avoid questions over her parents, pretending everything was fine and as it should be. She managed this- for the most part- at least for the rest of brunch.

Later that evening, after Harry and Ron had gone home after finally seeing her apartment, sharing a drink with her for old time sake as they joked about school days, she couldn't help but curl up in bed with thoughts of Weasley twins on her mind.

Later that evening though, after Harry and Ron had gone home after finally seeing her apartment, sharing a drink with her for old time sake as they joked about the golden days, she couldn't help but curl up in bed with thoughts of the Weasley twins on her mind.

She had always secretly harbored a crush on the Weasley twins, since the summer before fourth year at the Triwizard Tournament. It was part of the reason she'd been so hard on them. Certainly part of it might have been their growth spurt, the sudden notice of their features and slightly toned figures, but it was more than that. She was unable to help but begin to notice just how clever they were, and despite all her acts and seeming disdain towards them, she couldn't stop herself from being impressed and touched at their wonderful creations.

That had been nothing compared to the wonders they brought about next year. As a Prefect they had been an absolute nuisance, and pest, but the way they had stood up to Umbridge, that loathsome creature, had won her instant respect. It had made her more curious of them, and however much she would deny it to anyone who dared ask, both Fred and George knew that every Hogsmead trip the following year she had been one of their most frequent customers. Part of it was to see what trouble they'd gotten up to, another was to marvel in their genius and in part prepare for the oncoming battle. It would have been foolish not to see the usefulness of their creations in the upcoming war. Yet all this while, a stronger, more curious side had wanted to see how they were, and for whatever reason wanted to get to know them better.

Fred had always been the more lighthearted of the two, the wittiest, the one who could pull out a joke within a moment's thought. He was charming yet puzzling in a sort of boyish way. George on the other hand had always just a bit more mature of the two, not so much an instigator but definitely not a mere follower. He was fierce and sly, but terribly serious at times, which had made it all the easier for him to become grave.

She knew not exactly what had happened on that field. She had been fighting with Fenrir at the time when she'd heard the explosion that shook the field- and her- to its core.

She had hoped by now George would have recovered at least slightly, but how could he? How could she or anyone else expect him to be fine. She should know better than anyone, just how much lose could affect you and that it never, not for one moment left your mind.

She decided in that she had to do something. Molly, Harry, Ron, everyone may have given up on George, may have been content to let him lose himself in misery, but she wouldn't. She couldn't, and she would prove that first thing in the morning.

Her dreams were those of a night she had hoped to forget.

Walking through Hogsmead that day was virtually uneventful, the passersby seemed so lost in their own thoughts, no one took notice of Hermione Granger, war heroine, First Class Order of Merlin, recently returned from a mysterious absence to which numerous rumors had been created in order to explain, she was sure.

Everything looked the same, she couldn't help but think. Everything of course, except the jokeshop, if one could call it that anymore. The large wizard overhead had long since lost it's smile, the hat stuck in place over the rabbit who's ear had fallen and now sat planted at the magician's neck. Inside was no better. It was as though the shop had lost all color, all life, merchandise sat, simply, organized but without a sparkle of magic or animation to bring attention to it. The shelves were only half stalked, with many vacancies in between, and Variety stood behind the counter, seeming to count the minutes away. She smiled and greeted Hermione openly, her surprise showing at her request to visit George. Verity walked with her to the door at the end of the counter, whispering a password into the dragon headed knob's ear before hearing it unlock and open, revealing a flight of stairs over top.

"He could do with some cheering," she added, nodding for her to go ahead.

With that Hermione did, finding herself at yet another door which this time appeared unlocked. She quickly opened her bag, tapping at a small square package twice with her wand before it enlarged to reveal a steaming plate of pumpkin cream soup. With that she summoned the courage to rap her fingers upon the wood, waiting for a moment before opening the door, hoping for an answer. "Hello?" She called out into the seemingly empty room.

A rough voice sighed from the darkness. "Verity, I told you, no visitors…" The voice look up and turned, to see her, standing there, steaming pot in hand, as Hermione looked on in shock. "Hermione? When did you get back?"

Words failed her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what to say to the stranger in front of her. This man who's hair was longer than his shoulder, who's deep beautiful blue eyes had rings around their rims, who's face had whiskers and who looked only half dressed, almost cave-like, but with a voice that was all but too familiar. Could this be George? That sweet, lovable George who she have to tell to stop laughing in the library when he and Fred decided it would be fun to tease her, the George who never lost his smile, who even in the face of war still managed to crack jokes over the radio in the middle of a war, the one who seemingly had not one serious bone in his body, had become silent. The Weasley twins had been silenced.

Then again, that was the problem wasn't it, he wasn't a Wealsey twin any longer. There was no Fred and George. No terrible twosome to wreak havoc. He was just George.

Finally she spoke, "About a week ago. I… I just got back from Australia."

"You're parents."

"Yes."

"Ron told me about it a few months ago… How'd it go?" He asked, waving a hand to a chair which popped up. "Please, sit."

She sat hesitantly. "Not that successful, unfortunately.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly.

What she wouldn't give for him to crack a smile.

"I saw Variety downstairs… She's the one who let me in." She explained. "She said you wouldn't mind… She thought a friendly face might help."

He said nothing, merely standing to inspect the soup. Hermione frowned, realizing this would be harder than she first thought.

"Never pictured you trying to be the cooking type."

She smiled at that. "Yes, well I never imagined you to be a hermit."

The silence seemed to drag on forever this time. "I thought I'd see you at the brunch but Ron told me you go to Angelina's sometimes instead…"

"A few times a month," he supplied, "we changed next week though…" He didn't have to explain why. He looked a bit uncomfortable then. "You don't have to stay."

She smiled gently at that, walking over to him. "I could join you if you'd like. I uh thought we could maybe catch up. What have you been up to lately? Ron told me you've been brewing. Anything interesting?" She took a breath, waiting.

He shrugged.

She cleared her throat. "I'm starting at the ministry next week, in the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Sounded like a good fit, plus I always did like a challenge..." She frowned at the silence. "Are you going to the ball?"

He seemed to stiffen at that. "Why are you here?" He deadpanned, voice stronger than it had been since she'd been there.

Hermione's brow furrowed, as she wondered at his sudden change in pace and tone. "To help you."

"Help me, is that it? You think this helps?" He growled, shoving the soup bowl to one side, making it almost tip. "You think this is what I need?"

Hermione felt herself redden. "I just thought you could use the company."

"Well you thought wrong. I don't need company. I've done well enough without it."

She gulped. "Harry said…"

"Look, thanks for the soup. You've done your good deed for the day. Now please go."

Sighing she turned towards the door, looking back at the last moment. "Tell then tell me what you need. Tell me and I'll bring it."

"Hermione leave."

"Clothes, food, toothbrushes, soap, ingredients, psychiatrists…." It sounded stupid, even to her, but she had to say something. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand not doing something, no matter how many of her instincts told her to take his advice and leave.

He laughed, darkly, standing at the one. "A psychiatrist? Really? You really want someone to know what's going on in my head?" He paused a moment. "Why not a fuck Hermione, would you give me that?" Before she could respond, he continued. "No, you wouldn't. Always were such a little bookwormish prude… Fred was the one who liked library types. He was the one who enjoyed getting caught. Meeting face to face with Mcgonagall just didn't do it for me. No one does. It's funny, I hadn't realized just how many people find one eared men repulsive…." He grumbled. "They're just looking for a hero to tell the tale later. They think having sex with me is some kind of favor. I'm just a charity case. The Weasley Twin that lived. Someone they can help and feel better about. It's the same for everyone. Every single person. Even you…"

"George, it's not like that."

"You know it's my fault he's dead?" He gulped. "We should have gone together. Kingsley put us in charge of defending the entrances… He went with Percy and I stayed behind with Lee. He wanted to stay, but Percy thought he'd be too distracted with Lee if he stayed, and that I was weaker so I should stay because of my fucking ear. My ear… Like the fact that I was deaf would help me keep out of danger when we're surrounded by Death Eaters. By the time he'd gotten to the wall… I just remember hearing a command from that bastard and then boom. He was just gone. It was my fault. It was all my fault," he fell down onto his knees at that, holding his head in hands, showing the first sign of real emotion since she'd entered the apartment.

Hermione knelt down next to him, touching his back, fighting every instinct now to take him in her arms and comfort him. "George. It's not your fault. It was Augustus Rookwood. He caused the explosion. He made that wall fall down. But he was punished, along with everyone else. It was a war George, it's… Over now."

He flinched from her hands, standing once again, the deadpanned look returning to his face. "Over. Yes. It does seem that way doesn't it…"

She sighed, meeting his gaze. "George, you know I don't mean it like that…"

"Hermione, I don't need anything from you. Nothing you could give me, nothing you or anyone else could give me. "

"George… We're trying our best to..." She was shoved up against the wall, looking into frenzied eyes no longer clouded in suspicion but pure rage.

"Can you give me my brother back? Can you? Can any of you? No? Because if you can't then you can go ahead and piss off!"

Hermione sighed. "George… I understand, we all lost good friends…. Fred wouldn't want this for you." She gasped as she felt herself being shaken, his fingers digging painfully into her shoulders which were sure to leave marks.

"Don't tell me what Fred would have wanted! You don't know. You don't understand. NO ONE understands! If you did none of you would try to make me forget, you would understand it's impossible to forget, it's impossible to just 'get over it'. None of you know what it feels like to have a whole half of you ripped away and turned to shreds right before your eyes. None of you understand anything!"

"George please. Just tell me what you need. All we want is the old George back. You shouldn't be alone, especially not now. Please, let me help you…" She was struck back by the force of his next words.

"There is no old George! This is me now. That person you knew, is dead. He died with my brother, my brother the only person I ever gave a damn about and who gave a damn about me, and he not coming back. Now leave! Stay out of my life, and go before I do something I regret…" He snarled as she just stood there, unmoving. "Just go Hermione!"

And so she did.

Currently I am working sans an official beta, but I hope you enjoy in the meanwhile. Any and all reviews are welcomed. Thank you for reading! :)