"So much of what we learn about love is taught to us by people who never really loved us."
~r.h. Sin

Early the next morning, Felicity rose to the sounds of pots and pans being used in the kitchen downstairs.

The truth was, tired as she had been the night before, Felicity hadn't slept a wink. Maybe it was the strange house, maybe the excitement of last night that still lingered on her lips and in her heart was to blame.

The noises alerted her that it was a decent time to be awake, and that it was okay for her to walk downstairs.

Felicity was still in shock.

Never had she actually believed that someone could know all of her and still want her.

Muggles hated things that were different. Wizards hated squibs. Squibs weren't muggles. She'd been convinced that she was going to live her life pretending to be something that she wasn't for the rest of her life.

Alone.

Not belonging to either world, just sort of existing in her own in a type of perpetual limbo, letting the trauma and the pain haunt her forever.

Well, she wasn't entirely convinced that she wouldn't have to live like that. What George was dangling in front of her was just too good to be true.

And if something is too good to be true, it probably is.

That was one of the first things she'd learnt as a child. Young, naive, and painfully optimistic, she'd foolishly clung to the hope that she'd one day develop magical abilities and that her parents would love her until she reached twelve. Then she was shipped off to Saint Katherine's Academy for Young Ladies and she'd leant the hard way to accept her lack of magic.

And then she'd taken over. She might not have been a witch, but she had still been convinced that she was above muggles. Bitter, arrogant and resentful, there hadn't been a nun in that school that hadn't hated her or a student that wasn't scared of her.

Which was rather sad, now that she thought about it.

She'd been loathsome in school. She'd been even more intolerable after her father killed her first boyfriend.

Right from the start of this whole friendship with George, Felicity had been wary.

She should never have gotten smashed at the Leaky Cauldron, and she should never have hugged George when he mourned his lost brother.

But she had wanted to.

She was selfish, and had taken what she didn't deserve. It didn't matter that George didn't care about any of it.

Okay, it mattered a lot to her fluttering heart.

Regardless, it shouldn't have mattered. Had she been born a witch she'd have been rotting in a cell next to her brothers, her forearm marred with a dark, ugly scar from a dark, ugly man.

Felicity crept towards the kitchen, her internal debate still raging, however, she knew that ultimately she would do the selfish thing, and stay with George until he truly saw her for what she was.

A witch. Not the good kind like Molly Weasley or Ginny, but the muggle version of a witch. The kind that kidnaped and fattened up children only to try and eat them.

Metaphorically, of course.

"But mum, he was actually laughing!" Felicity stopped in the hallway, right next to the door that led into the kitchen when she heard Ginny's pretty voice.

"I don't know what to think of her, but she's certainly done George good." This was a male's voice. She wasn't sure if the voice belonged to Charlie or Ron, or perhaps Harry.

"I'm not entirely sure about that girl," Mrs. Weasley mused, "but I'll admit, I haven't seen him act like his old self until last night."

Felicity realized that they must be talking about George- and then by extension- her!

"Can you blame him?" Another voice chipped in. Felicity decided this was definitely Ron's lilted voice. "I mean, I know I can't look at him without seeing...Fred. We've not exactly been fair to him."

"It's because they were twins." The first male voice spoke again. "You can't look at one and not think of the other. He's a reminder to us all that Fred's gone."

"It's not fair on him though. If you think it's hard looking at George, think about he must feel!" Ginny sounded lightly ticked off.

"Hush, none of this. We all miss Fred, but we can't very well push George away now that he's made an effort." Mrs Weasley sounded so motherly. It was something Felicity was unfamiliar with.

"Well, I think it's Felicity. She'd helping him." Ginny announced, but Felicity shook her head, thankful that the family couldn't see her. There was no way that it was her dragging George out of his funk. There were too many other factors to consider.

He'd just bought Zonko's, a long-term dream of his, he'd started to re-connect with some old friend from Hogwarts, and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was doing very well. Not to mention it had been three years since Fred's passing.

Felicity was quite certain she had nothing to do with George's lifted spirits.

"It very well may be." Mrs Weasley agreed. "I'm still not sure about her though."

Smart Woman. Felicity thought to herself.

"She is a little um..." Ron trailed off.

"Posh?" Ginny finished. "Did you see what she was wearing? She looked just about ready to meet the queen."

"At a funeral," the unidentifiable voice chimed in.

"No woman that young should wear so much black." Mrs Weasley grumbled.

Felicity chewed the inside of her cheek as she backed away slowly.

George Weasley woke for the first time in three years from a dreamless sleep.

No nightmares had plagued him, he'd slept through the night, and he suspected that it was a strange combination of being so close to Fred again- or at the very least- so close to something that had been very clearly Fred's, and being in the same room as Felicity.

He sat up suddenly, though, when he noticed that Felicity's bed was empty. Not two minutes after George had opened his eyes, Felicity rushed into the room, and shut the door behind her. She didn't seem to notice George as she slid down the closed door to the floor and rested her head on her knees.

"Fel?" George asked softly. "You alright, love?"

"Never better, darling." She looked up and gave him a wry smile. "I just overheard some of your family talking."

"Oh? Were they complaining about what insufferable git Ron is again?" George asked, his expression torn between concern and a jesting smirk.

"No, they were talking about me, and you, and..." She paused, the mocking glint in her eyes fading. "Fred."

"Oh?" George arched an eyebrow. "Fel, they're my family. I know you're not used to this kind of stuff, but they're just looking out for me." George said quietly, getting up and standing before Felicity's hunched frame. He offered her a hand up. "They won't see what I see immediately, but they don't distrust you because of who you are. They're just cautious because I'm their son or brother."

Felicity stood, but let go of George's hand immediately.

"It must be nice to have someone to care for you like that." She whispered.

"Hey, Fel," George took her chin in his hands. "I care."