Ch 1: Time
"Time." They would all say. "All you need is time." "Give it time." "You'll feel better in time." The thing about time though, is that it is a slow thing. You don't want to wait to feel better. You want to feel better right now. You don't want to feel the grief anymore. You don't want to watch your mother burst into tears whenever she picks up a sweater or cooks a meal that reminds her of him. You don't want to see your father silently weeping while de-gnoming the yard, doing it when he's alone because he wants to appear strong for the family. You don't want to see your little sister hole up in her room for days on end, not coming out. You yourself don't want to be reminded constantly of what you have lost. You want it to go away. You want all the grief, the tears, the pain, the numbness, you want it all gone. You want to feel normal again. You want to be happy. You want to move on. You want to remember with happiness, not sadness.
It had been two years since his brother had been murdered. 2 years since the battle of Hogwarts. 2 years since his world as he had known it had fallen apart and had to be put together again, like a puzzle where the pieces didn't quite fit. Time was what everybody said George Weasley needed. Time to get over it. Time to figure things out. How to run a business that had once been run together, now had to be run by a single person. How to suddenly go from having a best friend to not having a best friend. It was like adapting to not having his other ear. It was difficult, but he'd have to get used to it. So far? No luck. He was still waiting for the moment when it would get easier. It hadn't happened yet.
George had done it all after Fred's funeral. He had helped plan the fucking affair, he had consoled Fred's girlfriend, and after everything was said and done, he put Ron in charge of the shop on a temporary basis and had traveled. Went across Europe: France, Spain, Switzerland, Germany, he even made his way to Turkey. Each country he got more and more drunk. The alcohol let him not care so much. It allowed him to take the edge off a bit. That had lasted for a little bit.
Then came the sleeping around. When he got back to England, it had been girl after girl for about a month. Nothing serious ever came out of the one night stands, but just something to help with the loneliness at night. Something to not make his thoughts the most important thing. Something to just to take his mind away from the pain, that time was supposed to heal. Time. What bullshit.
All of that had been a year and a half ago. Things had gotten minimally better. The drinking had somewhat ceased. The sleeping around had all but ended after he got a stern talking to from Ginny and now he was throwing himself into work. If he couldn't make the pain go away somehow, damn, he'd make Fred proud of him by their shop. He'd make it the best damn joke shop in all of the United Kingdom. He'd put his grief, anger, sadness, confusion, loss and everything else into this damn shop. This damn shop was all that was holding him together anymore. Just barely.
So he did. He renovated, came up with new ideas, out with new products, improved advertising, improved profit, yet, this didn't help all that much either. It made him feel a bit better, yes, but not enough to feel completely okay with his missing half.
A simple ding from the door before closing time was all it took. He was sitting over a bunch of paperwork, figuring out something or another, he was going to look up and tell them to get out of the shop and that iw as closed, could they not read? However, when he did, he couldn't. It wasn't time that would eventually help George Weasley feel better, it was a simple "Hello."