A Place To Belong
Sorry that I didn't update earlier-my internet connection was awful all day today.
Please remember to review-they brighten my day (even the reviews that say what a terrible story I'm writing, mainly because I can improve)!
In my Chinese class the other day, our entire class broke out into a discussion about Hogwarts, mainly what it would be like if we went there. Everyone agreed that I'd be a Slytherin (if you knew me, you'd understand). My friend Sam asked what house she'd be in, and I said that she'd be a Hufflepuff. Sam likes HP, but she doesn't know the story very well, so she asked what the qualities of a Hufflepuff are. My friend Kara answered, "Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders." My other friend, Aryon, turned around and asked, "What the hell is a Hufflepuff?"
If you understand that reference, PM me. I'd like to congragulate you on your awesomeness.
To Sam, for eternally being a good finder.
To Properly Grieve
Hermione, George, and Teddy arrived home. Hermione placed Teddy in his crib and started to pull out the couch when George said, "You know, you should just come to my bed." Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. "I mean, I haven't gotten a chance to head to the Ministry and apply for a warrant yet, and it'll take awhile for the grant to get through. Meanwhile, if we're just doing this same thing every night, then I imagine we could just skip the whole part where I have to walk all the way down the hall," he said, as if it were some large chore.
Hermione smiled, "Sure."
"Why don't you get ready for bed?" George suggested. Hermione pulled pajamas out of her trunk and went into the bathroom to change. When she returned, her trunk and Teddy were gone.
Hermione crept down the hall and slowly opened George's door. George was putting Teddy in a crib next to the bed. The bed was king-sized with a gold comforter. The walls were red with gold paint specks on it. Two of the walls of the room were just like the living room with glass walls.
Hermione noticed nothing about his room, though. Her eyes were fixed on George's bare chest. He looked up, just noticing that Hermione had entered, and smiled at her, motioning that she come towards the bed.
He climbed in and held the covers for her. She closed the door and went for the bed, feeling cold. George pulled Hermione close into his arms and sighed, feeling content.
They laid in silence before Hermione asked, "You haven't been smiling."
"I'm sorry?"
"You don't smile like you used to. Before the battle, you and Fred would crack jokes and your smiles would be huge. Now, you don't smile at all. Ever. I miss it."
"You miss my smile?"
"Yes, I do," she said, looking up at him. She hesitated before saying, "I think that it's best if you go through Fred's things. It might help you… it will sink in, and you can properly grieve."
"Properly grieve?"
"What we've been doing these past few days—that isn't grieving. That's not deep to the core. When I went through all of the stuff at my parents' house, I properly grieved, and I felt better after."
There was a long silence, and Hermione though that George was mad at her for suggesting the idea. "I think that it's a really good idea," George said.
"Would you like me to help you?"
"No, I think it's something that I need to do on my own," George replied with a low voice.
Hermione woke up, noticing that it was the first night since the battle that she didn't wake up. Feeling a new energy, she hopped out of bed and started her day.
When she came out of the bathroom, she noticed George getting up and asked, "What do you think?" She was wearing a beige pencil skirt, crème shirt, and a nice jacket that matched her skirt. Her hair was pulled into a bun.
George stalked over to her and stood inches away. He reached around her and pulled out the hairband, letting her silky hair fall around her shoulders. She stared at George in shock as he ruffled her locks and looked at her, lovingly.
"There. Perfect," he said as Hermione blushed. "Where are you going?"
"Ministry. I'm taking Teddy to the hospital. He's going to spend the day with Lavender and Ron. Do you need anything?"
"No, I think that I'm going to prep the store for re-opening."
"Good idea," Hermione said, slipping out of the room, desperate to get away from his perfect body that was clad in only sleep pants.
"Are you ready?" Kingsley asked.
"As always, Minister Shacklebolt," Hermione answered.
"Hermione, I think that we're past formalities. Just call me 'Kingsley'."
"Thank you, Kingsley," Hermione said, smiling as she entered the room. Inside was a conference table full of the heads of all departments. Kingsley took his seat as Hermione started. "I would like to discuss the topic of werewolves."
George watched as Hermione and Teddy exited the flat from the fireplace. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Hermione had previously stood for a few minutes as he decided what to do.
It was the day. It was the day to go through Fred's things. Hermione was right—it would help him properly grieve.
To properly start the day, George whipped up some quick breakfast before getting dressed and prepping himself.
He walked down the hall and stood in front of Fred's door. It seemed as if hours had passed, but it was mere seconds. George's hand hovered near the knob. He finally pulled himself together and opened the door. Fred's bedroom was the exact same as George's, except it was flipped (being on the opposite side of the hall).
George looked around at the pictures on the walls. There were lots of the two of them; some with their friends Oliver, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Lee; many with their family; and even one with Hermione.
Curious as ever, George neared the picture of Fred, himself, and Hermione. He remembered that Christmas—it was the first one where Hermione got a Weasley sweater. It was Christmas tradition for Fred and George to switch their letters. That particular year had an odd twist.
They were all celebrating not only Christmas, but Arthur's return from St. Mungo's. Hermione sat between Fred and George, smiling and laughing while Molly tried to figure out which gift went to whom, not wanting to mix up her sons. She finally sighed and gave up, shoving the wrapped sweaters towards them. They ripped them open and smiled, laughing about the letters.
Hermione smiled politely as she saw everyone putting on their sweaters. That was when Molly approached her. "Here you are, dear," Molly said, handing her a gift.
"Oh, Mrs. Weasley, you didn't have to—"
"Nonsense! You're family! Go on, then. What are you waiting for? Open it!"
Hermione, instead of tearing up the paper like everyone else, slowly opened it by moving the tape away from the places it was attached. They all tried not to laugh at the fact that it was a perfectly Hermione thing to do.
As she opened it, she gasped, loving the color. "It's wonderful, Mrs. Weasley! Thank you!" She ran over and hugged the woman before holding up the lavender sweater to her chest.
"Mum, Hermione can't wear that," Fred said, shocking them all.
Hermione looked hurt and the rest of the family had wide open mouths. Deciding that Hermione might hurt his twin (plus, he hated seeing Hermione sad), he decided to explain. "There's no 'H' on it."
Hermione's face broke out into a grin. George ran over and slid the sweater with the large 'G' on it over her head before giving hers to Fred and putting on Fred's. Ginny ran to get the camera.
"Thanks, guys. You always know how to brighten the mood," Hermione said, smiling up at them.
Looking at it, George noticed the way that Fred looked down at Hermione as she smiled. They all looked so happy, so content. George laughed at the way the lavender sweater looked on his body just two years prior. It was too short and the sleeves came just past his elbows.
He remembered the day. It was so happy, but it was so long ago. It was before the war had truly broken out. It was back in the days where he and Fred would prank Umbridge as often as possible, back when Hermione would scold them for testing on 1st years and try and confiscate their products, back when everything was easier, back when Fred was alive.
George had picked up the frame while looking at it, but he put it back down. He surveyed the rest of the room and decided the best place to start was the closet. It was probably full (their method of cleaning was shoving things into their closets and under their beds).
He opened the doors and was immediately attacked by a pile of clothes. He ended up cleaning every article and folded them up, placing them in boxes. He found a scrapbook at the back of the closet.
When their family first got to see the shop, Ginny had brought scrapbooks that she'd made for both Fred and himself. They each got their own. George's was in one of his drawers (though he hadn't gone through it since the day he got it), and he was curious, seeing as he'd never actually gone through Fred's.
Surprisingly, it wasn't an exact duplicate. Most pictures were different, but it was (essentially) the same as his own in the way that it detailed their lives.
In the early years, there were pictures of Fred and himself with their godfathers/namesakes, Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Looking at their uncles now, George noticed that Gideon and Fabian were almost identical to him and Fred.
He looked at the pictures of a pregnant Lily Potter (nee Evans) playing with Charlie, and wondered how well his parents knew the Potters. They were in the Order together, but he wasn't sure of their relationship.
There were pictures of the day that Ron was born. Fred and George would look down at their baby brother with smirks. Even at such a young age, they were mischievous.
When Ginny was born, they were extremely protective over their sister. There were many pictures detailing the fact that they wouldn't let their baby sister be touched by any other male but themselves.
There was a picture of their family on the day that Voldemort was killed for the first time. It was Halloween and everyone seemed joyous, but Molly was faking a smile. Deeply, she was sad for the loss of Lily and James.
The years that they grew up were fun ones, and there were pictures of when they learned to fly, their first Quidditch game, and many birthdays. Joint birthdays.
There was a picture of them on Platform 9 ¾ on their first day of school, and many pictures of them with Oliver, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and Lee in the years afterwards.
There were pictures of the Yule Ball, some of the Quidditch World Cup, and the shop.
The best ones were the simple ones, though. Little snippets of their lives. Such as the picture of Fred and Hermione in the common room, or the Christmas they spent with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
He never realized what good of friends Hermione and Fred were until he looked through the pictures. He wished that he'd payed more attention. He wished that he and Hermione were better friends throughout school, mainly because he realized what a wonderful person she was during her time at his flat. He wondered what would have been different if he had payed more attention.
George came to the last page, and there was a picture of himself and Fred on the opening day of 3W. They looked so happy with their arms thrown around each other, both of them smiling and laughing.
He missed it. He missed Fred so much that it hurt. He felt a terrible pain in his chest, and recognized the pain as his heart aching.
He felt the tears streaming down his face. How can I live without him? He's my life? He took part of me when he died! How can I do this without him? We're partners in this business. I can't do this without his help—I can't think up all of these things when I've got such a large hole in my heart, he thought. Trying to cheer himself up, he thought, But I've got Hermione. She can help me. She has helped me. I can do this. I'm strong. I—I can't do it.
Feeling his internal battle, he let his subconscious take over.
"George? Are you home?" Hermione called, stepping into the flat. Hearing no response, she shrugged and decided to get some dinner together.
She was about to start when she realized that it would be a good idea to change out of her nice clothes. She walked down the hallway and noticed that Fred's door was slightly open.
Curious as ever, Hermione poked her head in. She looked around and noticed that it was covered in boxes. There was an open scrapbook on the bed.
Hermione smiled, glad that George had decided to properly grieve. She walked down to George's room. She grabbed some comfortable clothes and went into the bathroom to change.
She opened the door and screamed.
