The inner ear is an important component of the overall balance and equilibrium for an individual. Losing a big toe, or severe damage to the ear, could make activities, once natural or easy, more difficult. At least until that balance is re-established.

George's Healer's words echoed around in his head as he fell from his broom for the third time. Laps around the Quidditch pitch were never something he had to work for, and the platitudes rushing around his head did nothing to console the fact he didn't have it anymore. He didn't have the natural balance needed to fly with his knees gripping the broom and swinging a beater's bat…he could barely fly with both hands gripping to the handle as if they'd been Spello-taped on.

Laying flat on his back in the grass, George spread his arms and legs out around him, and wished he could sink beneath the soft, spring dirt.

Returning to Hogwarts to assist in rebuilding was simultaneously the most difficult and most healing decision he'd made since the Final Battle. With everyone working as diligently as possible, current and former students alike, the walls of Hogwarts nearly healed themselves. The pitch was left to the players for repair, just as Neville and Pomona busied themselves in the greenhouses, and Hagrid re-established the treatises with the magical creatures. George couldn't wait to jump on his broom the moment the last beam was sealed in the stadium, before the House banners were replaced, but bitter disappointment was the theme of the flight.

Slight pounding filled his hearing, drowning out the bird calls rising over the walls of the stands. He ignored it, preferring to let the world stop spinning on its own.

"George!"

The echoing call through the stands reverberated off his skull like falling marbles. Grimacing in pain, he held his hand to his good ear and whispered, "I'm sorry, Lee, could you repeat that?"

Two feet plodded down next to him a few minutes later, swiftly moving in the grass in his direction. Without opening his eyes, George rolled to his stomach to defend himself from whatever was coming his way, since sitting straight up would not help his swimming head. A rush of air left his lungs as Lee straddled his back and put his hands on George's shoulders.

"Good, you're alive," Lee said. "I would ask how the flying is going, but-"

"Shut up, Lee," George grumbled beneath him.

Though George couldn't see his face, he knew Lee's grin fell to a frown by the tone of his voice. Years pulling pranks on the student body, and then the world at large, didn't add up to many moments where the Weasley was despondent, but since Fred's death there weren't many things George found worth celebrating. The weight on his lower back and pelvis shifted, and George groaned as the hands pushing on his shoulders began to knead into the knots beneath his skin.

"You're such a prat," Lee said as he continued to work out the tension around his spine.

"It's what I'm best at," George replied, though the combination of slightly drooling and his face still half planted into the dirt made it a miracle Lee could understand him.

Pausing his massage to slap him gently, Lee leaned over to envelope the taller redhead's with his own, as much as possible, shoving his hands under George's chest to hug him. "I know it's hard to fly, especially here, but I thought you looked right fit for a few minutes there."

"Which time, when I landed on that pile of brooms, or just now when I almost broke my foot?"

"George," Lee sad gently, "you're allowed to be upset. I miss him, too."

Nearly anyone else in the world telling him he could cry, that they missed Fred as much as him, would receive a cold smile with a nod of thanks, or would be ignored as politely as possible. But Lee, the boy he'd grown up with and was the closest they'd had to a triplet, dug his verbal fingers into George's soul and poked right at the problem.

Lee allowed him his cry, laying flat on the soft grass of the Quidditch pitch, and held him firmly until both the sobs and the seasickness ebbed away. When several minutes passed in silence, Lee pressed his tear stained face to the back of George's robes.

"I'll fly with you. It won't be the same, but if I fly on your right, I'll be able to catch you if you fall again."

George took a last shuddering breath, relishing in the weight of Lee on his back and the emotional and physical exhaustion that follows sobbing into the earth over the unfairness of life. Shuffling underneath Lee, the other man got the hint and moved off him, and George sat up to look into the clear blue sky, considering Lee's point. Slowly the warmth of the sun dried the last tears from his cheeks. Looking over at his dread locked friend, George managed to pull one side of his mouth into a crooked smile.

"You think you can keep up with me? You're on."

Prompt: "Could you repeat that?" | Pairing: Lee Jordan x George Weasley | Requested by henriasownbinder | Written July 2nd, 2016 on tumblr