Chapter one:
Hermione absently sipped her glass of butterbeer, listening as the Weasley's and Harry conversed lowly, but not without an air of contentment. A year after the Second Wizarding War, they had all gathered today for the traditional Christmas Dinner –now on the dessert course. It was a nice gathering, but still not as merry as these dinners used to be, as one of the nine Weasley's was conspicuously absent, and the rest were trying their best to cope with the loss and not put their grief on show.
A year after Fred Weasley's passing, and his loss felt as acute as it had on that day at Hogwarts. They tried not to show it, but they all felt it; especially evident in the way that Molly Weasley's eyes sometimes got misty after seeing George, a reminder of the son she had lost.
Hermione's eyes cast downwards towards her half-finished pudding. He had to be the one feeling it the most; George. The twins had always been together, best friends and fellow pranksters. If Fred's death had saddened Hermione immensely, and she couldn't begin to imagine how his twin felt. He sat directly across from her, chatting with Percy, a seemingly cheerful smile etched on his face, but if one looked closely –and she was looking closely—they would notice how the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and the tightness at the corners of his mouth.
A dull pain throbbed at Hermione's chest at seeing the once jovial and mischievous twin so far from his former state, and without someone who was no doubt of the utmost importance to him. She was on the verge of letting out a sigh when his eyes met with hers, fixing her with an unreadable look. Her face flushing, she quickly looked away and focused on her food, the redness not quite leaving her cheeks.
"Hermione, are you ill? You look red," Ginny asked concernedly from beside her, serving only to increase her flush.
"I'm fine, it must just be the butterbeer," she answered in what she hoped was a convincing tone. It seemed to satisfy Ginny as she offered Hermione a smile and turned back around to chat with Harry.
She was on the last vestiges of her pudding when George spoke out, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.
"Well, I'm full. Amazing food as always, mum. I'm just going to step outside for a bit, get some fresh air."
No one protested at this, and George's charming smile fooled nobody. He left, and Mr. Weasley let out a pained sigh, but said nothing. The earlier content atmosphere disappeared and in its place, a heavy silence descended as everybody finished up, and Ginny and Hermione did the dishes, urging Molly to get some rest.
Hermione scrubbed the dishes the Muggle way, hoping that the action would take her mind off of thoughts like what the red-headed man outside was up to, but she kept glancing out the window into the moonlit milieu. The moonlight helped her make out botched trees and bushes, but no George Weasley.
"We're all worried about him," Ginny's statement was sudden, and Hermione almost dropped her dish into the soapy water in the sink.
"We all mourn Fred," she continued, her breath hitching lightly at her deceased older brother's name, "But George is surely taking it the worse. He doesn't speak to anybody about it; doesn't let them comfort him, and we're all at a loss at what to do."
Hermione was quiet, and for a few minutes, the only sounds heard were the squeaks of dishes being wiped and quiet chatter in the living room.
"Have you tried speaking with him?"
"We've tried, but he doesn't listen. Keeps insisting he's fine when he's obviously not. I reckon the only thing that keeps him sane is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."
They did the rest of the dishes with no more talk between them, but the look Ginny gave her as she bade her goodnight made her intentions clear to Hermione. She wiped her hands on a napkin and leaned against the kitchen table, thoughts flickering and dimming like the flame of a candle. She peaked in the living room to see that George was indeed not back yet, and made up her mind.
Grabbing a cloak, she draped it across her shoulders and set out through the back door. A cold breeze nipped at her skin and the moon must have hidden behind some clouds because she could see nothing in the dark. Uttering a quick "lumos", she held her wand in front of her as she walked, the steady stream of light illuminating a gravelly path, glass flanking it on either side.
Stone crunched under the soles of her sneakers, and Hermione willed herself not to look anywhere but directly in front of her, lest she got spooked by some mouse running across the ground.
"George?" she called out tentatively. "Are you there?" She had a crazy notion that he might jump out of the dark to scare her, but then she realized he probably wouldn't do that anymore.
"Hermione?" his voice called from above and puzzled, Hermione raised her wand upwards, revealing the branches of a tree, and George Weasley sitting on one, staring down at her in surprise.
He dropped down with a loud thud, unsurprisingly landing on his feet a few ways away from Hermione, a very perplexed expression plastered on his face.
"It's dark out, what're you doing here?"
"I was looking for you," this was uttered in a very Hermione-like, matter of fact manner.
"Er, well, why?" this was very different from the George Weasley she had known from Hogwarts, who was never flustered, and always had a joke ready for the occasion. It made her sad to realize how much deep loss could change a person.
Hermione's mind whirred in an attempt to find a proper reason and was quick to notice that he was only clad in a thin shirt and trousers.
"It's a cold night, and I thought you might want this," she held out the heavy cloak, which he accepted with thanks after a few seconds of awkwardly staring at the dark material. He fastened the cloak over his person, grateful for the warmth it provided.
"You aren't going to ask me to come back inside?"
Hermione shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to fight the chill, now that she no longer had the cloak.
"You seem like you need some time to yourself. But remember, George, you aren't alone in this. I'll see you in the morning." With that, she turned on her heel and was walking back to The Burrow, following the small trail of light from her wand, and leaving a very bewildered George in her wake.
So. Yeah, this is the first chapter of my "Christmas" ficlet, and I still have no idea how long it will be, but I hope you guys enjoyed this, and will stick with me c: It's also my first time trying this pairing, and I hope I'm doing it justice. As for my reasons, well, I've been indulging in a two day long cry fest about Fred and George, and I figured I might as well get everything out by writing. My mind has literally being going "George, George, Fred, FREDDIE, food, George, Fred, Fred, George, George, food, Fred" for the past two days so yeah ^^"
Please review! They make me happy and I'd love to know what you guys think!