Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
George was in the shop when Ron got there, and he was predictably going through the inventory. It was late, and the shop had been closed for hours, but this had become an unofficial tradition for George as he stalled going up to his flat alone for as long as possible. Tonight was no exception until Ron appeared before him.
The two looked at each other for a moment before George closed the book with a sigh.
"Tired?" he asked. He was happy that his voice was neutral because he'd been fighting flutterings of panic ever since he'd left Lee and realized he'd committed himself to the impossible.
Ron nodded. The thought of sleeping in Fred's bed had rendered him mute. He was afraid of how his own voice would sound if he tried to speak right then.
He followed his older brother up the stairs to the room he had once shared with his twin, and as George opened the door and Ron caught his first glimpse inside, he felt himself reeling. He hadn't been in here since the first time they'd all come back to the shop just days after the funeral to clean up a little before reopening. No one had. Any time any of their family had come to the shop, they'd firmly stayed there.
Ron's head spun as he stared around and realized that nothing had changed since that day. Most notably… Fred's bed was exactly as he had left it a year ago. For a moment, a desperate thought raced through his mind. Maybe George knew something none of the rest of them did. Maybe Fred hadn't died. Maybe he was still sleeping here at night, but he was in hiding because he didn't like the rest of his family. But just as quickly as it was born, the hope died, and Ron found the room blurring as he realized that what he was seeing wasn't Fred's return. It was George's grief.
It took George a minute to realize what had happened to Ron. He'd gone into the room ahead of him, sat down on his own bed, and was untying his shoelaces when he realized that Ron wasn't in the room yet. He looked up and saw where he was staring and, for one of the very rare times in his life, was at a loss for words. It had never occurred to him that this might be considered strange, but now he saw the room as Ron did, and he felt himself flushing.
Neither of them spoke for a minute, and Ron continued standing there, trying to look anywhere but at George, so his brother wouldn't see the tears that were now dangerously close to the surface. But George did see them, and he realized that he had to do something.
"Come on in," he said evenly. When Ron didn't move, he got up and walked over to him.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," George went on, "but don't tell Mum or Dad about this. You know they would worry, and there's no reason..."
Ron snapped. He didn't know how or why, but he suddenly found himself shouting at George for the first time in a year.
"No reason?! Look at this, George! This isn't what your life is like anymore! This can't be … it can't be normal and it certainly isn't healthy! Fred is … well, he's not living in this room with you, and for you to pretend he is… maybe I should tell Mum! Somebody has to know what you're doing to yourself!"
George had been staring at his younger brother, but as his words hit their mark, he dropped his gaze to the floorboards. Ron's shouting ceased almost as quickly as it started, and he stood there breathing heavily, completely unaware of the tears running down his face.
There was more silence, and then George choked out, "I can't get rid of him, Ron. I need him… I need him to still be here."
He turned away from Ron and stumbled back to his bed. He sat with his back to the door, and he wouldn't turn around even when he knew Ron was sitting beside him.
"Go away," he mumbled. This was ridiculous. Why had he even invited him to stay? No one had gotten him this upset in a year, and he was most certainly not going to make nice with the one person who'd suddenly managed to make him feel again.
Ron didn't answer. He didn't even move. After a few moments of sitting in silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry, but I … I can't take it back, George. I'm worried about you. Everyone is, and they haven't even seen this."
George shook his head. He still didn't turn around. Ron didn't speak. After a minute, George mumbled, "None of us is dealing with this the right way. Is there a right way? But I asked you to sleep in … in that bed tonight. And I'll have you know that I decided to talk at Hogwarts next week. You can't say I'm denying it if I'm going to stand up and say something, can you?" He winced as he heard himself trying to explain things to Ron. Why did he even care if Ron understood? Nobody understood. He was used to that. And yet... somehow it suddenly seemed important that somebody did... even if that somebody were his git of a younger brother.
Ron was silent for a minute. The thought of George giving Fred's eulogy rushed through his mind as a counter argument, but he decided against using it. He didn't want to fight. That wasn't the point.
"That is good," he conceded quietly. Neither of them said anything, and then Ron swallowed hard.
"Can I still stay?" he asked.
Without turning around, George nodded, and Ron got up and moved to the bed across the room. He stared at it for a moment before sitting on it gingerly. He shoved off his shoes and slid under the covers. After a moment, he rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow, unconsciously trying to see if it still smelled like his brother. All it smelled like was the room in which it lay, and Ron felt disappointment like a physical blow.
George had turned to watch him, and now he muttered, "I could have told you it doesn't smell like him anymore. It stopped after a few days."
A heavy silence descended on the room, and George got into his own bed, waving his wand to turn out the lights. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and then Ron said quietly, "Have you decided what you're going to say?"
George didn't need to ask him what he was referring to. He was just happy his voice was his own again when he answered. "No. Lee just asked me tonight if I were going to do it, and I don't even know why I said yes. Mum asked me about it weeks ago, and I couldn't give her an answer. So … no. I have no idea what to say."
Ron stared up at the ceiling. "Well… I don't know either, but if you want, maybe Hermione could help…" he trailed off when George snorted.
"No offense," his older brother added quickly. "You know I love your girlfriend. But she's your girlfriend. I couldn't ask her to help me with this."
Ron was slightly mollified, and he turned on his side to face George. "Well… won't you be able to think of this on your own? I know you did it for the eulogy."
George sighed. "Yeah. I did. But … that was different."
He didn't explain. He didn't need to. Ron well remembered the numbness of that week, and he had no desire to discuss it. Suddenly, inspiration hit him.
"I know," he said slowly, feeling the first real relief he'd felt in days. "Ginny's coming home in a couple of days. Harry told me."
George suddenly found himself smiling. "She is?" he asked, his happiness evident in his voice. But his happiness suddenly faded when he realized why she was coming back.
"That's … that's great," he concluded lamely.
"No, listen," Ron said urgently, knowing why George's mood had changed. "She can help you."
It seemed so simple to him, and George didn't want to make an unexpectedly hard night even worse.
"Yeah, great," he said, trying to shove some enthusiasm into his voice. It was enough to fool Ron, who faded off to sleep quickly.
George lay awake for hours. He would be happy to see his little sister. He couldn't deny that. But to ask for her help with something like this? She was his little sister. He couldn't do that. He had to be strong for her… not let her be strong for him.
A/N: Well, this turned out differently than I expected it to. But I'm sure you can see where Ginny's role will come in… even if George can't. Let me know what you think. (And this is the longest of the three chapters, as promised.)
