Angelina woke to the sound of sobbing. She instinctually turned to her husband and held him close. She could tell by the way he did not respond that he was still deep asleep.
Indistinct words were mixed with the sobs. She thought she heard him say Dad and call out the name of his sister and youngest brother. One name was crystal clear though, Fred.
To be woken at night was nothing new. Lord knows she had her share of nightmares from the war. It had been nightmares that had brought George and her together.
Around the first year anniversary of the battle she had lost the fight to sleep at night. The most she could get was an hour or two. When she did sleep the faces of all those they had lost played in her dreams like a sad muggle slide show, the kind played at muggle funerals or memorials.
At first she tried drinking herself into a stupor. But that did not keep the dreams away. Lately she had found that a cup of hot coco at the leaky cauldron would allow her an hour or so of uninterrupted sleep when she returned to her flat.
One night she found George sitting by himself nursing a butterbeer. They had not spoken since that horrible memorial service at Hogwarts, when all those who had died were buried. He looked like hell.
With a little hesitation she picked up her mug and sat down across from him. "Hello George. Not out pub crawling with Lee?"
George tried to smile, but it came across as a grimace. "I'm afraid my pub crawling days are past. I can't keep up with the crowd and still operate a business. What are you doing drinking coco alone?"
Now it was Angelina's turn to look uncomfortable. "I find it helps me sleep, at least for an hour or so."
A look of understanding passed over George's face. "I still have nights like that too. But lately it's been easier to sleep."
"So what's your secret?"
George fingered the handle of his mug. "I'm not as afraid of the dreams anymore."
Angelina was astounded. If she was still traumatized by Fred's death how had George, his twin come to accept the dreams that survivor's guilt brings?
Reading the question in her eyes, George reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. "You see sometimes when I dream he's still alive."