Silence. That was George's main aspect of life now. Since Luna had returned to Hogwarts, he barely spoke. On the occasions he did use his voice, George found it almost surprising to hear it and it was hoarse and dry. But from the sound of Molly and Arthurs' 'private' conversations – which were about George ninety nine percent of the time (made totally public with the help of an extendable ear) – they were happier with this new George. But they didn't know what he was really like. He didn't sleep, having become so used to the presence of Luna in his own bed whilst he slept in Fred's, George was unsure where to sleep and usually ended up dragging the beds together or falling asleep perched on the windowsill. And even then he couldn't sleep; nobody to help him calm down if he got in any kind of state, or cried. Without Luna he was trapped in the freakish world that was his nightmares and George was reverting to coffee and other sources of caffeine to escape sleep. Whilst shut in his room, George would spend hours working on products and posters from the shop; his heart wasn't really in them and without Fred his sense of humour didn't really exist – how could a double act like that suddenly go single? – But it distracted himself from having to think about Luna. Missing her and trying to work out why his badly worded letters never got any replies. Would she really mind if the ink was smudged and he couldn't spell fairly well? She didn't seem that kind of a person.

Ginny and George were still in contact, George not mentioning Luna in his letters to her because he didn't want to bug Luna. If she didn't want to write... well, that was his problem. Looking down at his hand one autumn evening, he noticed the note that he'd scribbled down earlier – the fact that the next Hogsmeade weekend was tomorrow. He'd vaguely suggested the possibility of seeing Ginny, to fill up the blank parchment in the previous letter, but had thrown off the idea. However, the date stood out on his hand and George's thoughts could only be pulled to Luna. Would she be there?

Almost as if someone had read his thoughts, an owl landed on George's windowsill, flying in through the open window. A small roll of parchment was attached to its leg. He untied the letter with shaking hands, which were not trembling because of the breeze entering the window. He never got post, except the official owls which were sent to the shop. And the owl wasn't Pig, who Ginny always sent letters with.

If you want to see me tomorrow, meet me outside Zonko's at 10:30am.

Luna x.

George read the letter several times over, tracing Luna's neat writing with his finger. However brief the note seemed, she hadn't forgotten. And she had put a kiss, something that, according to Hermione's rather amusing lectures about romance to Ron, actually implied something. But he'd put a kiss on his sneaky notes to her. Not that she knew they were his.

Pulling out a quill and some parchment, he lay on Fred's bed and tried to think, but words failed him for a long time. It was almost midnight by the time George had actually managed to write something decent and legible, but everyone was still up; including Angelina. That bugged George; she would never replace Luna, so why even bother trying. He read the note one last time:

Luna,

Of course I want to come... Why didn't you reply to my letters? – sure, that was a little pushy, but he knew for a fact Charlie's letters got replies – I don't know how long I'll manage, everything brings back memories of Fred, but we can try and meet up for a butterbeer or something. Tell Ginny I say hi and I'll see her the Hogsmeade weekend after. I hope you're getting on ok at Hogwarts.

George. X

It was a rubbish letter considering the amount of time, but if that was a brief note, a heartfelt, meaningful letter would drain him totally. Not bothering to change out of the jeans and t-shirt he'd been wearing for however long, George tied the note to the owl and climbed into bed. Little did he know Angelina was outside, and having shot the owl down with magic, had hold of George's letter, ripping up the parchment and burning it.

George woke from the light streaming in his open window on Saturday morning, his face on the pillow and blankets all over the place. Looking at the watch that was still on his wrist, he swore aloud, noting it was quarter past ten.

It took him five minutes to throw on a cloak, flatten his hair, wash his face and explain to his parents where he was going. After that George apparated to Hogsmeade and ploughed through the crowds to Zonko's, keeping his head down so as not to be seen or have to look at anything that brought back memories. But Zonko's did just that. Fred and George used to spend hours in the shop; buying, planning, designing and pranking. A small pair of brothers dashed past George's ankles and he bit his lip, holding back tears. Why couldn't that be him and Fred again?

The time ticked on, George scanning the crowds for Luna every minute or so, but with no luck. It was twenty to eleven when he gave up, trying to work out why Luna didn't come. He started to walk further into the countryside, looking for a place to sit down and rest. George hadn't eaten, or slept particularly well for a long while.

'George!'

There had been several other shouts of his name earlier, which George had almost automatically ignored, but the sound of Luna's voice caused him to whip around, taking in her long hair and neat clothes. They didn't match her tired, strained face and the bloodshot eyes. She'd lost a lot of weight too. He started walking towards her, pushing through the clumps of people. Was it really her? And why had he made her wait? But she was here now and that was what mattered.

'I thought you decided to l-to ditch me,' he swallowed, realising Fred and he had once pulled a brilliant prank on Percy right by the spot where they were standing. How long could he keep the tears in?

'I'm sorry. I got distracted in the Post Office.' She said, looking as though she wanted to add something, but didn't

George frowned. The Post Office? How believable was that? But there wasn't time to argue, so he just nodded slowly, wishing he and Luna could be somewhere he didn't have to think about the battle, or Hogwarts or Fred.

'It's a little chilly. Shall we go onto the Three Broomsticks for a drink?'

He stared at the students as Luna spoke. A boy walked past and his eyes locked onto George's; it was a boy – presumably under-age who had sneakily stayed behind and fought alongside George. He had been there as George rushed into the great hall...

'Sure,' he shrugged, tearing both eyes away from the boy and walking towards the pub. He was determined for Luna not to see the tears that were blurring his vision and running ice-cold onto his cheeks. Luna went to find the table whilst George ordered the drinks.

'Two butterbeers please.'

'It's George, isn't it?' Madam Rosemerta scanned his face and stared at the missing ear. That woman knew everyone, 'and that's four sickles.'

George nodded and handed over the money. He didn't like her staring; her gaping at his appearance change and even when George turned her could feel her round hazel eyes on the back of his neck. This was a mistake, coming here to see Luna. George knew far too many people to feel safe or comfortable. He walked quickly over to the table, staring at the ground before placing down the drinks and sitting opposite her.

'So I'm thinking of buying myself an owl at Christmas,' Luna raised her voice above the buzzing pub to attempt the kind of conversation George had no energy or concentration for.

'That's nice,' he said, staring at the table. It was almost second nature to reply like that.

'Do you have any suggestions about buying owls?' Luna ploughed on, apparently not picking up George's signs of wanting to talk properly. She was the only person he could say a lot of things to.

'Not really,' he frowned at the table. Of all things, owls? They could have discussed how Luna was, or George's progress or what George really wanted to talk about (not that it would ever happen) but she turned the subject to birds.

Finally fed up of the table, he looked up at Luna and reached out a shaky hand and caressed the side of her smooth, warm skin. He waited for her to respond in some way, but she stayed still. He couldn't look at her as he pulled his hand away, so it was only him that felt like this about Luna. Not vice-versa. Feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach several times, George spoke to her softly.

'I'm sorry. I can't do this.'

And he really couldn't, he couldn't pretend he was ok, or be in the place that he and Fred had spent so much time, or look up at the castle they had lived in for years and he couldn't feel the way he did about Luna if she didn't feel if back. As he walked out of the pub and strode through the crowds, hot tears fell on his cheeks. The occasional witch or wizard stopped and tried to speak to him; it wasn't every day you saw a fully grown man walking down the street sobbing. But he kept on walking until reaching a point and realising he had to apparate somewhere. So George went home.

Over the next few days, or however long it was, George ate and slept even less, just enough to keep him from collapsing all the time from exhaustion or being sent to Mungo's. He threw himself into work for the shop, making far too many posters and filling out endless piles of paperwork. It was getting close to Christmas when George braved a mirror and realised quite how much weight he'd lost from barely eating. He looked like a zombie on a diet. One snowy day, quite fed up from the lack of seeing his little brother, Bill barged into George's bedroom, where George sat on the floor gazing at the swirling snow, which was almost hypnotic.

'Can I come in?'

'Why even ask? You've already barged in,' George sniffed, grabbing a tissue. The weather had brought cold after cold.

Bill shrugged off the comment and sat opposite George, gaping slightly. He probably looked a right mess and didn't smell great either. From the look of things, it hurt Bill a lot seeing George like this.

'You should ask Mum for something to take for that cold,' he nodded, looking at the stack of tissues that was once the wastepaper bin.

'Later,' George nodded. He didn't like seeing his Mum much; she had enough to worry about anyway without his health on top of that.

They sat in silence for a second as George aimed the tissue at the bin, which Bill then cleared with a flick of his wand.

'You all set for Christmas then?' Bill began, taking a shot at conversation.

Christmas... Thanks to everything, he'd totally forgotten about his first Christmas without Fred. Was he expected to be festive and happy? Because that wouldn't happen without a LOT of alcohol...

'Not really,' he frowned, looking up at his older brother, 'do I have to join in?'

'Luna might be coming,' Bill avoided the question.

'Hmm.' George mumbled in reply.

'What's Luna done?' Bill said kindly.

'She's not bothered with me anymore,' George swallowed, remembering the fact she seemed to get no pleasure out of meeting him and that she had no feelings for him whatsoever.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Bill almost laughed, 'you mean a lot to Luna.'

Then why had Luna never replied to his letters? She wasn't mentioned in Ginny's either. It was obvious Ginny had picked up the hints that Luna didn't care about him anymore and left it for George to figure out.

'No she doesn't. I'm just a patient of hers who she has to look after. I don't really matter,' he stared at the carpet.

'George, you're being stupid. Luna loves you a lot more than you think.

'Don't, Bill,' George scowled, 'she never replied to my letters, she doesn't love me and she finds it tedious and annoying to see me.' He blinked back tears, 'I'm going.'

He made his way to the bathroom, somewhere that Bill couldn't get in easily, but his older brother followed and his strong arm kept the door open.

'Listen, if Luna comes home for Christmas, it'll prove everything.'

George looked away and shut the door. It wasn't likely, but a tiny ray of hope had been let into him.

It didn't feel like Christmastime as far as George was concerned; The Burrow no longer had any festive spirit and it took a lot of persuasion from Ginny and Ron – who were both enforcing the 'back to normal as possible' approach to things, to get the Christmas tree up. George awoke early on the actual day, looking out the window to find several inches of fresh snow and more flakes still falling. It was early, nobody in the house would be awake, but George wanted to attempt the trip he had been building himself up to for a while now.

It took two minutes for George to pull on an old, warm jumper and his best pair of jeans – it was Christmas, after all. As he turned around he spotted the pair of Santa hats he and Fred always wore on the day itself, lying in the bottom of the wardrobe almost as if Fred had been watching them and thrown them down. Grabbing the pair of hats, George put one on his head and stored the other one in his coat pocket. He'd need to keep as warm as possible, outside in the graveyard. Where he was going to see Fred. But first he had business to attend.

George looped his finger through the brand new cage he had purchased only days ago, praying the handsome snowy owl inside stayed quiet and didn't screech. This present was for Luna, but from who she knew only as the mysterious stranger who gave her food and cleaned her home. Luna had been talking of getting an owl, but there was nobody left in her family to buy her one and George knew for a fact that none of the Weasleys would buy her one either.

With the knowledge she'd never had an owl, he also picked up some supplies, only then realising the fact that the owl would probably end up eating more than he did. Even if she didn't eat either, Luna would be bound to take good care of the owl like he did for the three remaining pygmy puffs that had managed to survive everything.

He apparated to Luna's house with slight difficulty; the cage was large and bulky and he didn't want to hurt the owl or wake Luna up by appearing in her house with a loud noise. She didn't yet need to know it was him who did this. Part of the reason he managed to keep up with doing it was because it was secret from her.

He placed the owl on the table and used a couple of spells to clear away some dust for good measure. It was Christmas, after all. Pulling out a quill, George scribbled a note in the handwriting Luna had still failed to match up with his own:

Merry Christmas Luna. She's all yours. X

He hoped she hadn't forgotten about his little notes, but it was unlikely. George hadn't forgotten her help and she was probably curious to find out who was doing this. And that was George's intention.

One apparation later he was in the graveyard – or more of a field – where George's twin lay. It was deserted; nobody else came to visit dead relatives at five on Christmas morning.

'Fred,' he whispered hoarsely, walking over to the gravestone that was Fred's. The message on it was snowed over and with a cold hand he brushed away the snow to read the message the Weasleys had spent weeks over.

Fred Weasley, loving twin, brother, son and friend. Mischief Managed.

'Fred, I miss you,' he could barely speak and tears were already welling in George's eyes, but he had to say happy Christmas to his own twin. Pulling out the Santa hat and laying it on the grave so Fred could reach out and wear it anytime, George whispered a Merry Christmas, for the first time ever he wouldn't get one in return. Having said the words , he pulled out a short silver knife that Molly had been fretting over losing for weeks, and carved his message and the date into the stone, an impossible feat without the help of magic.

'George!'

George almost jumped out of his skin as he whipped around to see Percy standing there awkwardly.

'What are you doing here?' George asked Percy, standing defensively in front of the grave.

'Seeing if you're alright.'

'How did you know I'd be here.'

Percy made a haughty cough and George moved away from the gravestone, knowing not to ask anymore.

'You ready to go?' He asked his little brother softly.

George shot one last look at the grave, promised Fred he'd be back later and nodded, looking like the most unfestive person ever, despite the Santa hat still on his head. Percy grabbed his arm and apparated them both back to The Burrow, neither saying anything as they walked through the garden and into the kitchen.

'Merry Christmas, George,' Percy said, awkwardly hugging George, who didn't flinch – a hug from Percy was a very rare thing, but showed he obviously cared. They exchanged presents quietly, George handing his older brother several large writing quills and some of Percy's favourite ink. It was a boring present, but the kind of thing he wouldn't have to pretend to like.

'Bit of a change, isn't it?' George said, examining the present that wasn't a book.

'What use would it be giving you a book?' Percy shrugged. George hardly ever read.

In the gift was a large set of inks and quills too, but not the kind George had given Percy; they were greens and oranges and every shade of purple. Every colour of the rainbow. It might have seemed a weird gift, but he had been running low, and the colourful inks would be wonderful for the shop. There were even ones which changed colour or sparkled.

'Thanks, Perce,' George smiled genuinely, looking at the box and ideas already springing in his mind for the use of the different colours.

'It's nothing,' Percy replied, but smiled proudly. He looked at his watch, 'Angelina and Luna will be here soon.'

Angelina? Didn't she have her own family to spend Christmas with. She was getting annoying and on the verge of clingy in George's opinion. And Luna; Bill said he'd prove Luna loved him, but he couldn't stop the doubts. Not that she knew, but George had already given Luna one of her presents, a handsome owl. But she still thought the owl was from the stranger who had looked after her. Would Luna ever know that was George?

It was only an hour or so later when the Weasleys first started arriving downstairs, hugging each other and passing presents around the room. George curled up in a chair being as festive as possible and waiting for Luna.

'Merry Christmas, Georgie,' Mrs Weasley yawned, arriving downstairs to receive several hugs and about six cups of tea. She broke through her family and hugged him as he smiled as much as possible.

'Merry Christmas Mum.'

If he had to choose who in the room would find the day hardest after him, it would be Molly; she'd coped with a lot in such a short space and could be almost as bad as George at times. Smiling, she handed out the usual jumpers, passing George an extra large parcel.

'Mum...' he whispered so only she could hear as he looked at the two jumpers in his arms; neither had a letter on but they were identical.

'I- I couldn't make only one,' she looked at her sons trembling face, 'I'm sorry George.'

'No, Mum,' he said, putting on both jumpers and still looking a lot more skinny than he used to be, 'I'll wear it for Fred, I will.'

Molly's next comment was drowned out by the sound of Angelina's arrival. She walked into the living room, accepting gifts and making a beeline for George.

'George!' She grinned, kissing him on the cheek. It felt awkward, but was probably only friendly, 'I've got a gift for you!'

'Luna!' George smiled, looking behind Angelina to see Luna Lovegood walking in. Luna had obviously put a lot of effort into how she looked for them all today. She reminded George of a snowflake that had fallen from the sky but had then been transformed into a human being. She was as pale as the snow outside but she glittered in the firelight. She was so painstakingly beautiful that it made George's heart ache. Why couldn' t she love him? He would treat her like a queen if she only gave him the chance. George stared at her for a moment, transfixed by her beauty before he started noticing all the tiny things that weren't quite right. He saw the purple-ish bruises due to lack of sleep through her make-up and how thin she was. In fact George guessed that she was almost as thin as him, if not the same which was definitely not a good thing. And then there was her eyes… there was something wrong about them. They didn't sparkle like the rest of her. They were dead inside, just like he felt. And then the moment was over and Luna started handing out presents. Leaping up and missing Angelina's scowling face, he put Luna's gift to the side of her main pile and before springing back to watch her open the rest, hoping she hadn't noticed he'd moved.

She recieved a pretty good haul, but the Weasleys were her closest thing to family now anyway. George himself had recieved the jumpers and some extra things for the shop from his parents, a razor from Bill and Fleur like the one Harry had been given for his seventeenth birthday (and probably as a hint for him to shave), a massive box of explosives from Charlie (to be hidden from Molly's sight), the inks from Charlie, a vast amount of chocolate frogs – George's favourite – from Ron and Hermione and a new beater's bat from Ginny and Harry in case he ever felt like playing Quidditch or just generally whacking something.

When Luna had opened everything except the final – George's – present, he watched closely as she shakily unwrapped the golden paper, as if expecting knives to leap out at her. She opened her mouth slightly – supposedly in amazement – as she examined the wooden box he had crafted. It was wooden, with paintings of the stars and moon on. In the moon George had carved her name, after being taught by Percy that the name itself meant moon. She opened the box and peered inside, and George bit his lip. What if she didn't like it? Or it wasn't good enough? He still had her own present to him to open. She lifted his handkerchief that had travelled between the two for a long while and gasped loudly.

'George, it's beautiful!'

'It was nothing,' he said quietly, not looking at her but feeling the tension leave his stomach.

'Oh, for goodness' sake,' Ginny scowled, grabbing both their wrists and dragging them up several flights of stairs. She threw them both into a cupboard that towels were usually kept in and grabbed their wands before shutting the door.

'GINNY, LET US OUT,' he yelled, punching the door. He couldn't be with Luna and hear she didn't love him again.

'Not until you talk things over and work out that you both love each other,' she called back.

Luna looked at George blankly and he tried not to do anything mad. He loved Luna but she didn't feel the same. He knew he couldn't cope with it, but he didn't want to hear it either.

'George...'

George stopped her talking by placing a finger on her lips; he couldn't face it.

'Don't. Please. Just don't say anything. I can't handle the rejection,' he couldn't look at her properly.

'I wasn't going to reject you,' she pushed a strand of ginger hair from his head.

'You weren't?'

'No. I love you George and I have for a while.'

If George had ever been happy since Fred's death, it was right now; locked in a cupboard on Christmas day with Luna Lovegood.

'Luna I-.'

Words failed George and he reached out to Luna, kissing her like he had wanted to for months, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her so close they could be one person, smelling her hair and feeling her soft lips on his own as she ran her hands through his hair.

'Oh my Godric.'

Ginny had wrenched the door open and was staring in disbelief at the pair, Angelina and Charlie at her heels. They sprang apart almost automatically and everyone exchanged awkward glances for a whole thirty seconds.

'Uh, Luna, my mum wanted a quick word with you in the kitchen,' Charlie trailed off, turning tomato coloured.

Luna smiled at George and he let her climb out of the cupboard, following her downstairs but turning off into the living room.

Luna loved him.

Luna had kissed him.

He wanted to cry and scream and laugh and kiss her more – all for good reasons. Staring out of the window so nobody could see the smile he waited for Luna to finish talking to Molly.

'George.'

Angelina, by the sound of things. But she could go away and stop disturbing his thoughts.

'George!'

He ignored the call.

'George! Listen to me!'

The only reason he turned round was because the talking in the kitchen had stopped and Luna was returning by the sound of things.

'OUCH!' George gasped; for Angelina had slapped him hard on the face. 'What the HELL are you doing?'

She had dragged him over to the mistletoe before he could even retaliate, and her mouth was on his within seconds, kissing him hungrily. George wrestled with her, trying to stop her from grabbing his face in some sick parallel of passion, but Angelina's strong arms and her preparation for this kiss got him nowhere, and whenever George wrestled, she moved with him, making the kiss only look more passionate. He wanted to spit at her, or kick her, or knee her in the stomach, but she was being too forceful for him to move. And that was when Luna walked in.