CHAPTER FOUR – DIZZY AND TIRED AND SAD
"Are you sure it's safe to go in there?"
"It's nothing to be afraid of, George."
"Well, have you been here before?"
"Once. What is with you, anyway? You don't hesitate to fight against Death Eaters but you're scared of this?"
They were standing in front of a night club. George had a doubtful expression on his face as he watched some dolled-up girls going inside, giggling and taking pictures of themselves with their phone, and Hermione could tell he didn't like the music coming out of it.
"And you like coming here?" he asked.
"Not particularly," Hermione admitted. "It is a bit crowded and loud and it's difficult to have a conversation."
He looked at her. "Then why are we here?"
She tilted her head and looked at him reproachfully. "I believe your exact words were: 'Come on, Hermione, let's go someplace exciting where we would never usually go!'" She mocked his voice. "Why do you have that sudden fascination with going to muggle-places, anyway?"
"The croissants," he said. "I've never tasted anything like them." He took one more step toward the building. "Alright then, let's go," he said, suddenly more poised. "I better have some stories to tell when I get back other than, 'We ate French croissants and it was great.'"
After going inside, George looked around in amazement. "Wow!" he yelled at Hermione over the loud music. "Look at all the lights! How did they do that without magic?"
"It's called electronics!" Hermione yelled back.
"Cool!" George said and they made their way through the crowd.
"Muggles are really awful at dancing," George said. "Hey, do you want to dance?"
"You go ahead," said Hermione, who felt smothered in the midst of all the sweaty people, jumping from one foot to another and thinking they looked cool. "Do you want me to get you something to drink?"
"Muggle-drinks? With alcohol?" he asked and Hermione nodded hesitantly, not sure what would happen to George if he were to drink something, since he was already acting silly when he was sober.
Against her better judgement, Hermione ordered something for her and George. When she got back, she saw George was dancing in the middle of the crowd, constantly turning around looking for a dance partner. When he eyed Hermione on the side of the dance floor, he made his way to her.
"I like it here," he said excitedly. "I don't completely understand the concept of this place, but… I like it."
Hermione gave him half a smile and they clinked glasses. She was glad George seemed to be enjoying himself, but she just wanted to leave.
"Hey, what's wrong?" George said, noticing her expression. "My, you really don't like it here, do you? Doesn't surprise me. All these people having fun, no one sitting in a corner with their nose in a book…"
Hermione was about to say something back, when George squinched up his face. "This is disgusting, by the way." He handed her his half-empty glass. "I suddenly don't feel so good," he said. "Is it hot in here?"
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, worried. Then she looked at his glass and realized what was wrong. "Oh God… George, you don't react well to alcohol, do you?"
"Well," he said, "I wouldn't put it that way, I mean… Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. It depends on the alcohol, I think."
"I never should have taken you here," Hermione said and she took his arm and led him out of the club. When they reached the exit door, George took in a deep breath of fresh air and sat down on the dirty ground. "Oh boy," he said. "Muggles aren't good at making drinks. I'll have to remember that."
"It's not the muggles, it's you," Hermione said and she sat down on the floor next to him. "You shouldn't have made me get those drinks, you should've told me."
"You know, I just get really dizzy and tired and… and sad sometimes afterwards, really quickly," he told her. He suddenly seemed worn out. "But I never accepted that, you know, because of Fred." He snuffled and wiped the nose with his sleeve. "He never got dizzy and tired and sad. He got even happier, you know, it was like he'd just had Felix Felicis. Not that he had a lot of luck afterwards, but his state of mind was like he, you know, like he'd just had some." He started playing with a twig. "And so I just thought, since we're like the same person, I just – You know, Hermione." He turned to look at her. "I've never told anyone this before. And I've never thought this until after he was gone, but… I sometimes wonder who I am without him. You know, all the pranks we did and all that, it was mostly his ideas. It was always him. I sometimes wonder how things would've been if one of us hadn't been born. Fred would've still been Fred without me. He'd have been exactly the way we knew him. But I don't know who I would've been. I don't even pull pranks anymore now, not really. I just don't know what to do anymore, I… It's just that every morning, when I woke up, Fred was there. Fred was always there, and it was never, 'Fred did this' or 'George did this', it was always 'Fred and George' and now what?" He broke the twig he'd been holding. His thoughts came out unsorted; sometimes he was mumbling, sometimes shouting. He buried his face in his hands. "It's like losing half of yourself, Hermione, I'm telling you," he said and his voice was trembling.
Hermione took his hands away from his face. He looked up and she saw a tear running down his cheek. "I'm so sorry, George," she said. "I wish there was something I could do –"
He shook his head. "Sometimes I just refuse to believe it. I just think to myself, 'Fred's away in Africa or something and when he gets home, he'll bring back a flying elephant.' But see, he's not in Africa. And there's no flying elephant. He's just gone."
"Have you talked to him?" Hermione asked.
"What?"
"To Fred. In a picture."
He nodded. "Yes. A couple of times." He actually smiled a bit now. "It helps, but on the other hand, it doesn't, you know?"
"Well, I don't know if this is going to make you feel better," she said. "But you are still someone without Fred. If you would've been the prankster we know if he hadn't been there, who knows. But you still would have been the guy we love, George." He looked up. "You still would have been brave and kind and caring. And you would have been funny. But, see… Fred was there. And I'm sure you've been happier for it. And he's been happier with you than he would have been if you hadn't been there. And you must have all these great memories with him that you wouldn't have had otherwise. And maybe it's harder to move on this way, but… It's better to have had Fred and lost him than to never have had Fred at all."
George furrowed his brow. "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all," he said. "That's how that saying actually goes."
Hermione smiled. "I think it works both ways."
He nodded, and then suddenly broke out into a brief burst of laughter. "You always make things better," he said.
She squeezed his hand and got up. "Do you want to go home?"
He nodded. He got up off the floor and wiped the leaves off his trousers. He gave her a hug from the side and said: "Ron's a lucky guy."
And they walked back to Hermione's apartment in silence.