Chaser 2, Holyhead Harpies

S.S. Flaming Fireworks (George Weasley/Angelina Johnson)

4. (poem) 'A Late Walk' by Robert Frost

12. (word) mist

15. (word) scarf

WC: 2206

i. Denial

They'd had plans for September 1st.

He walked the Hogwarts grounds in the dusk, watching the students clamber out of their carriages—and for the first time in his life, George could see the thestrals that pulled them—and race up the to the castle for the Welcome Feast. He and Fred had never been among the hurriers. They'd preferred to hang back and discuss their annual back-to-school prank without prying prefects overhearing.

They began small, those pranks: Dungbombs in train compartments, exploding powders in toilets, switching Chocolate Frogs for real frogs they'd charmed brown. Amateur stuff, really. It wasn't until third year that they'd progressed to switching the feast desserts with their own products. In a way, it helped them weed out those whom they could trust and those whom they couldn't. Those beginning pranks helped them learn who would rat them out and who would laugh along with them. That was how they'd befriended Angelina.

George scuffed the leaves as he walked down the path toward the lake. Hagrid was weeding his garden, and George waved at him as he walked by, giving the half-giant a cheeky grin. Hagrid glanced at him, peering into his vegetable garden as if he expected George to have thrown something amongst the leaves.

"Fred, remember—" He paused, heart wrenching in pain. For a moment, he'd forgotten that Fred was no longer with him. George stopped at the edge of the lake, tears threatening to splash into the waters below. Four months. It would be four months tomorrow.

"George?"

He swiped at his eyes, turning to see who had joined him. "Angelina. What are you doing here?"

He watched her try to smile. "I had to see it full again. With students." Angelina glanced down at her feet, fidgeting with the ends of her scarf.

"Oh."

"Why are you here?"

George shrugged. "Fred. I thought he'd stayed behind as a ghost, or something, or. . . . Well, I was wrong."

Angelina sighed, moving to stand next to her him. Laying her head on his shoulder, she wrapped her hand around his and squeezed. "Is there anything I can do?"

He wrapped his arm around her, and they stood there, watching the mist rise off the Black Lake, for so long that he lost track of time. "Just being here is enough," he said finally. She snuggled deeper into his side as the tears slipped off his cheeks.

ii. Anger

The tree.

"Fuck!"

They'd made plans under that tree—prank plans, life plans, plans for a future that one of them wouldn't get to have—and now the tree was here, a few inches taller, as if it had not noticed, as if it did not care—

"FUCK!" He kicked at the tree's trunk, trying to knock it down, trying to kill it

"George!"

He turned. He hadn't heard that voice in a year, but he still knew it.

There was a different scarf wrapped around her neck this time, and her hair was pulled into a tight bun. She was leaner, stronger, but the bags beneath her eyes were just as deep as they'd been on the last September 1st. "George, stop it."

"No!" He kicked the tree again. "Fuck!"

"George! George!" She grabbed his fists as he wound up to punch, whipping him around to stare into his eyes. "George, listen to me. Stop hitting the tree and listen."

"What, Angelina? What do you even want? Why are you here?"

She crossed her arms and frowned. "Don't take this out on me. I'm not the one you're angry with."

"Yeah, I'm angry with you!" He was breathing hard. "You're always bloody here. I'm trying to grieve my bloody brother. Alone. Why d'you think I come here in September? I can't face May 2nd. I can't take the pitying looks. But here you are anyway, with your sad doe eyes! 'Oh, look at poor, sad George Weasley, mourning for his poor dead brother. Oh, pity him, pity him!'"

"George Weasley, you be quiet!" She shoved him. "I don't pity you!"

"Yes, you—" he started, but she drew her wand and sent a Silencing spell straight into his face.

"No. It's my turn to talk. I loved Fred. You know I did. He was my best friend before I even knew what a best friend could be. I never did anything without the two of you. Don't you remember? You don't think I miss him?" She paused, her face melting into something else. It wasn't pity, and George didn't really know what it was. "You're angry. I'm angry, too. He shouldn't have died. He was reckless. You both were. We all were."

He sank to the ground, sobbing silent tears into his hands.

"I don't feel sorry for you," she said as she sat next to him. "We both lost him."

She released him from the Silencing spell, and he heard himself take a shuddery breath. "You're right, Angelina. Of course, you're right. Is there anything you don't know?"

She chuckled softly. "I wish I knew where to go from here."

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow," he said suddenly.

She glanced at him. "All right."

"You make things better. Easier. Maybe we can get through this mess the same way we always got through things at Hogwarts."

"Together?"

"Yeah. Together."

She smiled. "Sure. Why not? Together."

iii. Bargaining

"I'd give anything for one more day like that with him, you know?"

Angelina blew on her coffee and took a careful sip. "So would I."

"I wish it had been me." George swirled his cup. "I've never told anyone that."

"Don't think like that." Angie leaned forward, grabbing his hand. "Nothing we can do can bring him back."

"I know." George got up from the table, throwing some bills on the table.

Angelina slipped her hand into his as they left. "George?"

"Yeah?"

"This is our fourth September 1st."

He looked over his shoulder at the coffee house. "Yeah."

"I don't want a fifth."

He smirked. "Stop showing up at Hogwarts on September 1st, then."

"That's not what I meant." She took a deep breath. "Seeing you once a year isn't enough."

"It's a bit weird, I s'pose. But you could always stop by the joke shop. You know where it is."

She stopped walking. "Did I ever tell you why I broke up with Fred back in sixth year?"

He shook his head. "Fred said you couldn't handle his manliness, but somehow I'm not sure that's the actual reason."

She smirked. "He didn't have a mole behind his ear."

George paused. "So . . . moles turn you on, or something?"

Angelina met George's eye. "Not quite." She swallowed. "George. I'm trying to tell you something."

"You'll have to try a bit harder, then, because all I'm hearing is that you have a mole fetish."

"He didn't have that mole."

"Oh, now it's crystal clear."

"You do have that mole."

George felt his eyes widen. "You and Fred broke up because you liked me instead?"

She nodded. "I liked you instead."

George shook his head. "No. You're Fred's. You were always Fred's. It didn't matter how I felt. You were Fred's." He dropped her hand, backing away quickly.

"George. Hey. George! Wait!" Angelina ran after him, pushing people out of her way, but he turned on his heel and Apparated before she could catch up.

iv. Depression

"Angelina Floo-called for you," his mum said, peeking into the room George was sharing with Charlie. Everyone was at the Burrow for Christmas, and the small house was packed with people.

"That's nice."

"Third time this week."

"I can count."

"Don't be rude to me, George Weasley."

George rolled over to face the wall. His mum sighed and closed the door.

His depression lasted well into the next spring. Although he was surrounded by friends and family, none could get the joking George Weasley back. His presence became a rare appearance at the joke shop, and at family gatherings, he was silent and cut off, if he even showed up at all.

"I'm not sure what to do," George overheard Bill saying to Ginny in May. They both glanced over to where George sat in the corner, and then quickly look away when they noticed him glaring back. "He was doing so well."

"What's wrong with him?" George heard Ron ask. "He's been like this since September. I thought he was beginning to get past everything."

Bill sighed. "This isn't about Fred."

"It's not?"

"It's about Angelina Johnson." Ginny took a sip of her butterbeer. "He still thinks of her as Fred's girlfriend."

"Oh." Ron looked confused. "Didn't realize George was so involved in Fred's love life."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron."

v. Acceptance

The morning of September 1st dawned crisp and cool. George woke with the sun blazing into his window, but he waved his wand and shut the blinds, blocking out the light. He was just drifting off to sleep again when his door flew open, the blinds flew back, and the bedcovers were yanked off sharply.

George opened his eyes to the sight of Percy's face. "You're bloody lucky I don't sleep naked, mate."

"Get up," Percy said stiffly, but George was pleased to see his brother's face turning pink.

"What do you want, Percy?" George scrubbed at his eyes. "How'd you even get into my flat?"

"You shouldn't be here."

George sat up and quirked an eyebrow. "I live here, actually."

"It's September 1st."

"Is it? Well, that just changes everything, doesn't it? I'd better run if I'm going to catch the Hogwarts Express by eleven o'clock! Oh, wait, that's right, I'm not a bloody teenager anymore."

Percy didn't acknowledge the sarcasm. "You always go to Hogwarts on September 1st."

George laid back down. "Not this time."

"Angelina's there."

George sat up again and glared at Percy. "You know, Percy, you've got a particular talent for making people who are sad feel even sadder. Have you ever considered the possibility that there's Dementor blood in you?"

"I know she told you about her feelings last year."

"How does everyone know about that?"

"I know you return the feelings."

George sighed. "She's Fred's."

"Fred is gone, George." Percy shook his head. "And he'd want you to be with her."

George's head snapped up. "How do you know that? How could you know that?"

Percy shrugged. "He'd want you to be happy."

George closed his eyes. "I don't even know what to do."

"It's September 1st. You know what to do."

i. Love

She was waiting under the tree, watching the mist curl off the lake. The leaves above her head were brown and dry, and every so often one would drift toward the ground. He paused, looking for something to hold so she wouldn't see how badly his hands were shaking. His gaze fell upon the blue aster that dotted the ground, and he picked a sprig that didn't look too faded.

"Angelina?"

She turned, scarf knotted tightly and hands in pockets. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come."

"I wasn't going to."

"What changed your mind?"

George shrugged. "Fred."

She looked out over the lake. "So. Here we are."

George licked his lips. "I came back to Hogwarts that first September 1st to remember Fred. And after that . . . I came back to see you." He scuffed his toe on the ground, struggling to find the next words. "I really missed you this past year. I need you, Angelina. I love you."

He stopped, finally looking at her, and then thrust the flower in his hands towards her.

Blinking back tears, she slowly took it. Without a word, she threw herself into his arms. He pressed his lips to hers, grinning against them.

He was at peace.