Author's Note:: Hello all! This is going to be a post DH fanfic. It is a George/OC fanfiction. This is also a continuance of my first fanfiction. Honestly, I would really encourage you to read my little one shot that inspired this entire story. (That's Ginger Ahole, To You!) It will help you understand how I perceive George, and it will help you understand how my OC was BEFORE the end of DH. Because let's face it, one does not walk away from war unchanged! I hope you'll come to adore this fanfiction as much as me, and I hope you'll like it enough to review so that I know to continue it. :) Because to be honest, even though I know how I want this to go, I'm not sure anyone will like it.

Chapter One: Coming Back Sucks::

Hogwarts. Second Year. Detention.

"GINGER! I WILL CAVE IN THAT HOLLOW MELON ON YOUR SHOULDERS YOU CALL A HEAD!" Without repentance Pen chucked the cauldron she'd been cleaning at George with all her might. George ducked in time, and although very sure he'd almost wet himself, pretended to continue to laugh at her.

"What? All I said was you missed a spot, Sandrine." She shot him another murderous glare, but his typical devious nature had him meeting her eyes, and grinning wickedly. He had no idea why her real name upset her so, but he liked ticking her off.

"You keep it up, Ginger, and the next pair of enchanted scissors will be flying your way!" Standing up, Pen replaced the freshly cleaned cauldron, and picked up another dirty one.

"That anxious to see my backside, dear?" George provoked her again, but she was silent. He knew he'd won. Though he was a tad miffed he couldn't get her to laugh. If she could pull off amazing pranks, she had to have a sense of humor! If only Fred were here, too...

Finishing off his cauldron, he stood up to find another dirty one. They'd been cleaning cauldrons for their detention for about four and a half hours, and they'd made excellent progress. In George's opinion Snape had been a little too sensitive. Pen's prank hadn't been nearly as bad as some of the things he and Fred had done to him.

"Merlin's beard!" George hissed, practically running away from the cauldron, his hands smashed over his nose. "Snape's been hiding bodies in that one! He had've with the way it smells!" He looked back at the cauldron, and then to Pen. She rolled her eyes, but continued cleaning the cauldron she had. Determined now, George rose his chin and returned to the cauldron. In torturous nostri-pain, he tried to clean it as fast as he could. The cauldron was fairly larger than all the others, and none of them smelled like this!

As George reached farther down into the cauldron, he paused as he heard a strange simmering sound. He tried to get a closer look just as a putrid-smelling, purple cloud erupted out of it onto his face.

"BWAH!" He sputtered, covering his face he stumbled back before falling over completely. "It smells like Hippogriff dung!" He heard a muffled sputter, and after removing his hands, saw Pen was covering her own face. George looked down at his fingers and saw they were purple, which meant that his entire face, even hair had to be purple!

Pen couldn't hold it in any longer, and she burst out into historical laughter. Clutching her stomach, she dropped to her knees and continued to laugh. Gasping for air, she tried to calm down. One glance at George and she fell over laughing again.

"Think this is funny, do you?" George shouted, a little embarrassed and angry. Pen's only answer was a renewed roll of laughter. A believer that laughter was contagious, George fought with all his might to keep a smile from growing on his purple face.

Snape walked in with the two Gryffindors almost rolling around on the floor with laughter.

The Burrow's Front Door. Seven Months After The War.

That was the first time George Weasley ever made me laugh, even though at that time I was still determined not to like him. He'd gotten me the worst detention in my life, and had gotten me caught no less. I'd heard of him and his brother, but who hadn't? The handsome, Weasley twins, famous for their pranks, and Quidditch skills. I wasn't in their circle, because really I hadn't been in anybody's circle. Who would have guessed the twins would turn into my very best friends?

Gripping onto my bag tighter, I plucked the courage to finally knock on the door. The Burrow had once seemed like a second home, but now I wished I was still in America. I'd packed up after the war and never looked back. So why was I back?

The very reason I was back threw open the door and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. Mrs. Weasley had been the mother I'd always dreamed of, had been the mother I'd thought every mother should be, and had been the complete opposite of my own mother. Her letters had reached me, and she'd properly guilted me, and planted seeds of worry. George wasn't doing well at all.

"Oh, Pen, sweetheart! It's so lovely to see you! Oh, look at you! So skinny! Come in! Come in! Ginny's perfectly fine with you using her room while she's at Hogwarts!" Mrs. Weasley took my bag and led me into the house. It was the same, and I loved it. I almost felt like in a few hours I could be on my way to the platform to get on the train. I smiled to Mrs. Weasley again, then I remembered my sister had also went back for her seventh year.

"Thank you for getting Cam to school. It means a lot to me. Did I send enough money for her school books?"

"Oh, don't worry about that dear! She got along perfectly fine! Come, I'll fix you some tea!"

Sitting down at the table, I watched as the dishes washed themselves. I smiled again as Mrs. Weasley brought me my cup. She returned my smile, and it was obvious to me that I was being far too polite. Things were different. "So..." I cleared my throat, and went for a slightly easier topic, "How's Percy? I heard he's still working in the Ministry, but in a new department?"

"Yes, they've made one to help the families of lost love ones, of finding people still missing, of helping with finances. Everything really for the recovery of the war. He loves it. He's actually been staying here."

"Really?" Pathetically, I could think of nothing to say, so I took a sip of tea. I shouldn't have come.

"Sandrine." I looked up again to Mrs. Weasley, and this time I was forced to meet her eyes. "He's up in his room. He never leaves until dark. Go see him. Please."

The walk up the stairs was grueling. I left the day after Voldemort's death, and now I was back just as abruptly. My best friend was the person I wanted to see most, and the person I also feared seeing the most.

I was so nervous, I was sweating. Taking the band from my wrist I pulled my blond hair back into a tight pony tail. It didn't surprise me that the door was closed, and I couldn't imagine what I'd find when I opened it. Without bother to knock, like I never had, I held my breath and pushed the door open. The only light came from the sunshine that pushed through the shut curtains. The room looked exactly the same, if not only more messier. I glanced to Fred's side, and the pain in my chest caused me to advert my gaze quickly.

He lay in his own bed, facing the wall. I could only make out a messy thatch of red hair, and barely so in the dim room. Stepping passed the threshold, my shoes clicked against the wooden floor, but he still didn't move. He was ignoring me, probably assuming I was his mother. I knew he wasn't asleep because he'd always slept on his stomach.

"George?" My voice broke the silence in the room, and he moved. Turned only slightly to prop himself up, and he looked up at me. The familiar face I expected to see, I saw, but not without realizing that it was easily a stranger's face as well. He was the same, but vastly different. I tried to swallow but the vicious knot in my throat kept me from it. Who could have known that Fred's death would hit him as hard as this? I did.

"Well, well, well," He drawled, and that was when I noticed the empty fire whiskey bottles on the night stand. "Look at what the dragon shit out."

Flustered, I shifted my weight uncomfortably onto my left foot, and still clung to the door knob with my right hand. "I...could say the same for the smelly lump in bed, couldn't I?"

He only snorted and returned to his laying position. "Go away. Again."

I did step back over the threshold, ready to go away because I wanted to. I looked back one last time at Fred's empty bed. It was made up fresh, and unslept in. His entire side of the room was tidy, and I realized George must've cleaned it up. I looked back to George, laying in his bed silent, staring at the wall. He was different, I was different. And why? Because we wanted to run away. I said the only thing I could think of.

"You're not the only one that lost him."

In a flash George sat upright in bed, his wand drawn at me. His hair was so long it grew over his eyes, and I couldn't see him. I closed my eyes when I saw the spell leave his wand, because I expected to be thrown back. No, the door slammed in my face and I practically jumped out of my skin fright. Opening my eyes angrily, I slammed a hand against the door hard. My friend was gone, but I'd be damned if I'd let him stay gone any longer.