Draco waited for the tea to cool and just stared around my house at the many lavish paintings on the walls. His eyes darted back and forth between bookcases, the walls, me. I thought he wanted to say something else but was struggling to figure out what. He then took a large sip of his tea and was silent, looking over at me tentatively. It was getting way too awkward so I drank my tea, focusing my attention on the cup.

"Er, thank you," said Draco. I looked up and his eyes were still red from crying. He closed them for a minute or so and then stood up. I followed him to the door. When we reached it and he stepped outside, he stopped and turned around.

"Listen, will you be around, if I need to talk again?" he asked. I felt my eyebrows rise in amazement.

"Sure, whatever," I said a tad carelessly. Draco stood back a bit, to his full height, the black robes he was wearing causing him to damn near disappear into the night. I started to close the door slowly.

"Wait, one more thing."

"What?"

"Can you just not tell anyone about this, that I was even here? It would seem strange," Draco confessed, nearly glaring down at me, although it felt like he was forcing himself to look mean. He sounded more hopeful than cruel.

"Okay. Whatever!"

His eyes shifted from left to right, somewhat suspiciously, as if he were watching to see if anyone was watching him.

"Bye," I said plainly, closing the door slowly until I couldn't see him anymore.

I was sitting in my dining room, thumbing through an old family album about an hour after Draco had gone, when I heard a strange crackling noise, like fire. I looked in front of me at the fireplace and the next thing I knew, George was standing there. I sat up, surprised to see him.

"George. What…what are you doing here?" I then stood up feeling a sense of alarm.

"Is everything okay?"

George smiled lightly.

"Calm down. I was just coming to see how you were doing," he said, taking a step around the coffee table.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded.

"Head's still a bit sore but I'm perfectly fine otherwise."

"Great," George said, taking a seat on the couch.

"And you haven't seen Draco around?" he asked, taking out his wand and staring at it, twirling it around in his fingers. I looked at him and knew what he was thinking about. I was just about to speak when I remembered what Draco had asked. It occurred to me that he wasn't a threat. If he'd wanted to hurt me, it would've happened earlier. I decided it wouldn't make a difference to tell George I'd seen him.

"No," I lied. "I've been in my house since I left the Burrow." George looked up at me curiously before nodding.

"Well, if you do run into him again, be sure to tell him…" George didn't finish his sentence as he stood up.

"Tell him what?" I asked.

"Er, never mind," George finished, stepping towards the fireplace again. He paused and turned around.

"Are you sure you still can't remember what exactly he did to you yesterday?" he asked. I shook my head again.

"Are your parents home?" George asked, noticing the emptiness of the house.

"No," I said, picking up my tea cup and the half empty one that Draco had left on the table. "They were called away on some business for the Ministry. I'm not entirely sure when they'll be back."

"…Are you alone?" George asked after a moment.

"Well, yes. No one else is here," I said, pausing at the doorway to the kitchen.

"That's not what I meant," said George cautiously. I thought about what he'd asked for a second before turning away shyly.

"I am," he admitted before I could walk into the other room.

"George, do you want to talk about something?" I asked comfortingly, pulling out my wand and using it to levitate the tea cups over into the sink. George sighed and looked down. He closed his eyes.

"I…I just wanted to get away from my house. Every time somebody looks at me, they look sad. I know they're thinking about Fred when they look at me. I can't stand it anymore," he explained.

"Then stay here," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked down at me. He looked horrible.

"George, you look like you haven't slept in—"

"Days. I know," he said, blinking at me in exhaustion. I guided him over to the couch where he sat down. I sat beside him.

"D'you want some tea or something?" I asked.

"No, thank you," he breathed. He looked like he was going to pass out.

"Can you just sit here, with me?" he asked quietly. I nodded and took a seat. George's eyes flitted across the photo album I had been looking at.

"May I?" he asked, before attempting to pick it up. I nodded. He flipped through it, and I saw a small smile on his face when he recognized the pictures of me as a little girl. He kept looking up at me and grinning, probably comparing me to then and now. I felt shy suddenly and almost wished he would stop looking, but I had the feeling he wanted something to distract him from his own family, the pain I knew he still felt deep down. He stopped and stared at a particular photo towards the end of the album. It was a picture of me, Harry, Fred, and George himself, all of us in Quidditch gear after winning a big game. I was sandwiched between him and Fred, and Harry was leaning down in front of me, smiling. George brushed his hand across the animated photograph, Fred repeatedly waving his fist in triumph and making funny faces. I looked at George's eyes and they watered up slightly, so he stopped looking at the photo and put the album back on the table. He sighed and turned towards me. There was this intense and strange moment, during which he stared down at me, and I stared up at him. And then George pulled his arms around me tightly. I hugged him back the same way, his head heavy on my shoulder and his breath at my neck, tickling me. We stayed like that for quite some time before George let up and looked down at me. He blinked back tears. I found my hand trailing through his hair comfortingly. He closed his eyes and held it, keeping it pressed to the side of his head. He opened his eyes again and kissed me.