Disclaimer: These characters are not my original creation, and no copyright infringement is intended by utilizing them in this little story.
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Chapter 10
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George woke with a headache, a feeling of disorientation. He had only vague memories of returning to the flat, but remembered Lee being with him, with a sinking feeling. Hermione wasn't in bed, but the depression in the pillow beside him seemed to indicate that she had slept there; that was somewhat reassuring. If he'd been wholly inappropriate, she would probably have slept in her own bedroom.
Before he could get out of bed or even ascertain what time it was – the light streaming through the window indicated later than his normal rising – Hermione was there, a cup of tea steaming in her right hand and a welcome blue bottle of potion in her left. George sat up, scooted over a bit as she set both items on the nightstand and perched on the bed. She didn't look angry, anyway, but George couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd done something he oughtn't to have done.
Hermione brushed his hair away from eyes gently. "How're you feeling then?" she asked in a kind voice.
His throat was dry. "A bit like I was hit with a strong stunner. Which from the bits I remember is probably better than I ought to be feeling right now. Did you give me a hangover potion last night?"
"Yes, Lee brought one over. There's the rest, he said you'd probably need some this morning. And some tea, though water might serve you better."
"Tea's lovely, thank you," he said, reaching for the potion and quickly swallowing some, sighing in relief as his headache receded and the lethargic feeling faded. He then took up the tea, blowing on it to cool it and to buy some time to remember any more from the previous night. Hermione watched him complacently, and he finally gave up the futile effort. "Right, I don't remember much. I sort of remember Lee bringing me home, and I remember having far too much to drink. That's about it."
"Mmm, yes. Lee said that Angelina was there and that she seemed to have a deleterious effect on you," Hermione said.
"Too early and too little time into the potion to use such big words, Hermione my sweet. I get the gist though. Yeah, 's fair to say being around her isn't good for me at present." George winced at the memory of her practically pawing him. "So Lee brought me back then? Good mate."
Hermione studied him and nodded. "He is a good mate to you. He agreed to keep mum about our current arrangement, at least until we figure things out."
George closed his eyes, and let his head fall back against the wall. "I let something slip? Fuck, I'm sorry Hermione."
"No, I don't think you said anything generally, but Lee rather got the idea when you starting groping me and talking about taking me to bed. I would be angry, but really, I think it was good for me to talk to someone. Confession cleansing the soul and all that." Hermione smiled, though her eyes looked a little sad.
George opened his eyes and really looked at Hermione, as he hadn't done in awhile. She was still thin, too thin, really, a carryover from their days on the run. There was a weariness in the droop of her shoulders, and shadows under her eyes that he realized had been there a lot of late. She was smiling at him, but it didn't reach her eyes, and his heart clinched to think he had caused or contributed to this tired pain.
"Hermione, is there something you could say to him that you can't say to me? I would hope you could tell me anything." George reached out to touch her hand, but saw that she closed her eyes when he did.
"I don't know, George," she sighed. "I suppose there are many things that I'd like to say to you, but I don't know how to say them. I don't know if the timing is the best."
"Hermione?" George asked, feeling an upwelling of concern, even panic as he looked at the witch in front of him, whom he'd come to rely on.
"Oh, please, George, don't look so worried. I'm not going anywhere, yeah? It's just that it was good to talk to someone else for a change, someone who knows you so well and cares about your well-being. So I'm not upset about Lee knowing, but I do think you ought to be careful of how much you drink if you're going to be bringing people round the flat. I don't fancy having that awkward conversation again." Her tone was prissy at the end, but there was a look in her eyes he couldn't quite place.
"Are you happy here?" he asked her abruptly, vaguely surprised at the question himself. It just seemed, suddenly, to be very important. "I mean to say, I'm very glad you are here. I want you to be here, but if you're unhappy . . ." his voice trailed off, unable to say aloud the words that could release her.
Hermione blinked for a moment, then leaned forward to take the cup from his hands and set it aside. That done, she wriggled herself into a position so that she was straddling George's lap. She ran her fingers through his long hair, before cradling his head in her hands and drawing his face to hers for a languid, long kiss. George returned the kiss, but took her face in his hands when they broke off and raised an eyebrow at her.
"That's not an answer to my question, delightful though it may be," he said, in a voice as serious as she had ever heard him use.
"Yes, George. Yes I'm happy here. No I don't want to be anywhere else or with anyone else," she finally said, looking as if he had forced her to speak.
"Then why are you so sad, Hermione? I see it. I notice it, maybe not as often as I should, but I do," he said softly.
"Why are you?" she countered. "I miss him too, not the same way you do, of course not. But I miss him. And the person you used to be. I miss the person I used to be, and Harry and Ron and everyone. In some ways, we're better people or we will be. But there are things I miss, George. I miss my parents. I miss having a family and a history and someone to love me and be proud of me."
"Hermione, I love you," he said softly, tucking a curl behind her ear, only to have his hand shoved away, to find her pushing angrily off of him. "Wait, Hermione!" He was still untangling himself from the bedclothes as she was halfway to the door. At his command, she whirled around, eyes flashing, her body visibly shaking.
"No!" she hissed. "Do not say that to me, George. Don't. Not now. Not like that. You don't love me, and certainly not in the way my parents did. Don't try to soothe me."
"What the hell, Hermione? I don't understand," he said, feeling a rising anger, but anger that was held in check by confusion.
"Don't use my parents that way. Don't use me that way," she said, her voice sharp.
"Use you what way?" George asked, his face bewildered.
"Use my affection. Don't tell me you love me when you don't mean it. It's not fair to me, George," she said, her voice cracking and tears welling up in her eyes.
He stepped closer to her. "What makes you think I don't mean it?"
"You don't know what you feel for me. Maybe you do love me, but you don't know what it is or what it means. I don't know either. This thing between us, it's not normal. We can't go on just using each other."
George looked as if she'd smacked him. "You think I'm just using you?"
"I think you care for me, but yes, I think you are using me as a distraction. As a way to cope with Fred dying, as a way to fill your loneliness. And I do it too, George. But it can't go on forever this way. It's not healthy for either of us. And we are keeping secrets. Lee knows now, and Harry's not far behind. Other people will start to suspect something too, and what are we going to say?"
"How long has this been bothering you?" he asked quietly, folding his arms over his chest, looking a little defensive.
Hermione sighed. "I don't know."
"This is what you discussed with Lee?" he asked, his mouth set.
"Partly," she admitted. The anger was seeping out of her, but she had the feeling that George was only just beginning to get angry.
"Did it ever occur to you to talk to me about this? To ask me how I felt?" he asked quietly, but with a dangerous edge to his voice.
"No. How could I? I see how hard it is for you every day, George. What am I supposed to say? By the way, when you were fucking me and talking about seeing your brother's dead body for the first time, I felt a bit disturbed?"
"So now I'm too fragile to hold a bloody conversation? Really, Hermione, I thought you were one of the few people to understand that I'm not fragile, I'm not bloody breaking down," he said, sounding hurt, and angry.
"You're not that far from it though, George!" Hermione cried out, throwing her hands in the air. "Look at last night. I understand how uncomfortable it must be to be around Angelina, the way she treats you like a replacement for her ex-boyfriend. But you could just tell her you aren't interested. Or move away from her. Or not see her to begin with. Instead, you drink yourself stupid."
"I can't do that, it's not that simple, Hermione," George said wearily. "And I'm not trying to use you. I'm more sorry than I can say if I have made you feel that way for an instant. It's just not always easy to talk about him. Even to you." He ran a hand over his face, through his hair, a distracted gesture he never noticed that Hermione had picked up on.
That gesture deflated her. "I just don't understand us, George. It scares me. It frightens me how much you struggle. You do so well, you are coping better than I could imagine, but I'm afraid I'm just a replacement for him, the way Angelina wants you to be. You told me last night you can't be Fred, and George, neither can I."
"I don't want you to be him," George said fiercely.
"What do you want for me to be?" she asked wearily. "I'm afraid I can't live up to what you need."
"I don't want you to be anything but what you are. Who you are. The person who sees me for who I am, as George. Not as the remaining half of Fred-and-George."
"But what are we? What are we doing?" she whispered. "Friends and flatmates don't do what we're doing. What are we? Are we lovers? Are we just shagging? Are we in a relationship? I don't know, George. And it matters. What kind of love exists in this mess matters. Don't you see why you can't say that to me right now?"
George released a long sigh. "Yes, all right. But what does a label do for you, Hermione? What does it mean? Can't it just be enough that we're here together, trying to support each other?"
She shook her head, making her curls bounce. "I don't know. It frightens me. I'm already too deep into this, George. I don't know what I feel, but it's well beyond friendship, and I'm not sure I see any good ending to this. I'm afraid."
George made a noise of impatience. "Stop looking ahead. You don't even go in for divination. The problem with labels, Hermione, is that they are limiting. We're a bit past dating, don't you think?"
Hermione half-chuckled, despite herself. "Yes, probably jumped right over that."
"So what is the point of trying to define it then? To make you feel like you can plot the course of the relationship? If I call you my girlfriend, what changes?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe I'd feel more secure."
"It just gives you a false sense of security. There are never guarantees when you're dealing with another person. Say we married each other tonight. That's no promise that I would continue to feel strongly and caringly about your or vice versa. I could promise you I'd be faithful, but there is nothing stopping me from cheating on you, not really. You just want to imagine that there is." George sighed and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "I'm not like that, Hermione, that's not what I do. If all you're doing is trying to determine where we'll end up by sticking a name on this, you're setting up for failure. What you call a relationship is far less important than how you exist in it, Hermione."
"But do you see where I'm coming from?" she implored.
"Merlin, yes! Of course I do! You think I'm not terrified too? You think I don't look at you hard at work and pray you won't leave me to manage this on my own? You think I don't hold you and wonder how Ron could be so stupid as to let you go? You think I don't worry every day that you'll decide today's the day you've had enough of me and walk out?"
"Really, George? You feel that way?" Hermione looked at him searchingly, as if to determine whether or not he was placating her.
"Of course I do. What is it you are scared of?" he asked with a gentle, understanding tone.
"That you'll leave me, and I'll be completely alone again. That I'll fall in love with you and you'll get stronger and better and resent me for knowing how bad it was for you. That I'm only a habit you've acquired, that you'll not need me anymore. A million things." She wiped her treacherous eyes, willing her tongue to cease before all her deepest fears were spilled out to him.
Gently, George closed the distance that had been between them, and wrapped himself around her, rocking her slowly. "What a pair we make," he mused. "You are more important to me than I can put into words, Hermione. You have no idea how much I need you. Can't this be enough for now? Can't we just keep being here for each other and work on figuring it out later?"
Hermione simply nodded, feeling wrung out, overly tired, not wishing to fight it any longer. It went against her nature, like every other bloody aspect of this relationship had done, but what George said made sense to her. She had said to Lee the night before she saw no way that this could work, and it was true enough if they forced it into some sort of definition, which came complete with expectations. Day by day was perhaps the only way they would have a chance to make this work. She didn't like it, but for the moment, knowing what she knew now, knowing that George had some investment in her other than as a warm body, she could live with it.
"On one condition," she said firmly.
"What's that?" asked the prankster and former Hogwarts bookie.
"You don't tell me you love me until you can explain exactly how you mean it. I can't handle that."
"Right. No declarations of love and adoration. Noted. And you can talk to Lee if you need to, but please talk to me too." He felt her nod against his chest. They stood there, holding each other for some time, until George finally pulled back and kissed her forehead. "Much as I hate to be prosaic, I really need to eat something."
"Right. Of course. I'll just get breakfast ready. You should probably take a shower," she said, wiping her eyes, and giving him a watery smile. He kissed her forehead again, and she slipped from the room.
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Things were awkward between them for a short time, but truthfully, with the first of August a mere handful of days away there wasn't time for it. They were back in their comfortable pattern quickly enough, the buffer of work easing the tension and strain brought about by the events following that evening. Not all was negative though; Hermione found herself feeling more certain and secure than she had done before. George seemed to make a greater effort with her to show more affection, to be more present and less distracted. Hermione noted the ways in which he was considerate of her, how he 'took care of her,' as Lee had put it.
And there again, something had changed for the better. Lee owled daily, a note for both George and Hermione. True to his words, most of his notes were lewd jokes, which made her smile, grateful for the gesture. She sent him a brief note, outlining the discussion she and George had had the morning following, and was relieved to receive a serious response from Lee. Simply having an option to talk with someone seemed to lift a weight from her, which is probably why she accepted Lee's invitation to lunch.
They were still working hard, but the store looked much as it had before the war and the stockroom; if not at full capacity, it was certainly at a point that would see them through the first few weeks. George was still driven to make things as close to perfect as possible in the three days they had left, and with a quiet passion that Hermione felt was probably due to his mixed feelings about reopening without his brother. She had hesitated when Lee appeared insisting on a lunch partner, but Lee announced he wasn't going alone so they'd better decide which of them it was to be, and George pushed Hermione towards Lee gently and smiled a genuine smile and she shrugged her shoulders in acceptance.
"Right, that's settled, where to, Hermione? And did you want us to bring you something back, lovely?" Lee asked with a flirtatious wink at his best mate.
George simply rolled his eyes. "Flattered, mate, really, but taken at present. And yes, if you don't mind, Hermione, whatever you get will be fine. There's galleons in the till if you need them."
"You'll have to give me about five minutes, Lee. I need to wash up and change. Promise I won't be long, and as for where, I've no preference whatsoever. Whatever you're in the mood for, this is your grand idea, after all." Hermione disappeared quickly up the stairs.
Lee leaned back against her work table, and crossed his arms as he regarded George. "So how've you been, mate?"
"How much as Hermione told you?" he asked wryly.
"Eh, 's not like that, we don't send gossipy letters back and forth discussing your mental state. She's very loyal to you, doesn't share a great deal of information. Just mentions a few things to me. Said you lot had quite the discussion after our little night out last week."
George sagged a bit. "Yeah, I s'pose so. She told you what's going on with us?" Lee nodded, but didn't speak. "It's just. . . I dunno," he sighed.
"Complicated?" Lee prompted, and George nodded his agreement. "Well, I can see that, certainly. Are you interested in her? Or just shagging her?"
"It started off as shagging. Now, it's something else entirely. Interest isn't the right word, it's more than just a passing fancy. I want her in my life, simple as that."
"As what?"
"That's the complicated part then, innit?" George asked, an eyebrow raised, lips twitching into a smile despite himself. "As something much more than a friend," he added more seriously.
"Right. Seems you've still got some figuring out to do, haven't you? You will have to do that some time, you know," Lee said cheerfully. George was prevented from responding by Hermione's reappearance. She'd changed from her frayed old clothes she wore for potion brewing into something more flattering, and took her hair from a messy ponytail into a neat chignon. Both men eyed her appreciatively, making her blush.
"Shall we be off then?" she asked, turning towards Lee.
"Just a mo' Hermione," George said, tugging her over to him, and pulling her in for a hug. With a wink at her, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, instead of his usual kiss to the forehead. She looked flustered, but allowed it, and with a ruffle of his hair, she walked quickly out of the workroom, Lee trailing with an amused look on his face.
"Well, if you don't mind a spot of apparition, Hogsmeade is probably less crowded than Diagon. And we've a few options there, depending on your preference," Lee stated.
A mischievous look crossed Hermione's face. "Oh, a nice spot of tea and sandwiches sounds lovely, Lee! Clever of you to think of Madame Puddifoot's."
He visibly grimaced. "I was thinking more along the lines of the Three Broomsticks, but if you prefer -"
"Do I look like the type to enjoy Madame Puddifoot's? I was having you on, the Three Broomsticks is fine," Hermione said.
Lee grunted. "I fear George may be having a bad effect on you, Granger. Meet you out front?" She nodded and in moments, they were in Scotland, outside the pub. Lee opened the door and gave a mocking little bow and Hermione entered.
Rosmerta greeted them cheerfully, and ushered them to a booth, rattling off her daily specials between inquiries into their well-being and conversation with other patrons. Lee's perpetual air of amusement helped keep Hermione from being flustered by the attention and noise and it wasn't long before Rosmerta deposited their tankards of her oak-matured mead and promised their meals would be out soon.
"Guess I've spent too much time alone with George, because this sort of crowed actually intimidates me some," Hermione said mildly.
"Don't you go over to the Weasley's fairly often though?" Lee asked, sounding puzzled.
"Yes, but since the battle, it's never as full or as yet quite as loud and disorganized as it used to be. Getting more like it was before, but I don't think it'll ever really be the same. If nothing else, Bill is married, Charlie's off in Romania, Harry and Ron are living elsewhere, and the twins . . ." Hermione's voice faded out and she gave a little half-shrug and Lee nodded.
"Right, of course. You don't spend much time there, though, do you?"
She shook her head. "Not really, no. I mean, we go at least once a week for dinner, and George will pop by a bit more often to see his mum for a bit. But we've been fairly busy, you know."
"Between the stock and the shagging, I wonder when you manage your sleep," he said dryly, making her choke a bit on her mouthful of mead and look around furtively. "Oh, honestly, Granger, do you think we'll be overheard? Who would care?"
"I don't know, but it's not something I particularly want broadcast about, if that's not a problem for you," she said shortly.
"Why is that? Why do you need to keep it such a secret? I find it hard to believe I'm the only one who has figured something out, and I was wondering before George blabbered on about you and felt you up in front of me, for the record," Lee said sternly.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. It's just that people knowing makes things more complicated, more . . . more . . ."
"Real?" Lee supplied.
"Yes, that's it, I suppose. We don't know what we're doing, not really. Just taking it a day at a time. If other people know, it confuses things more," Hermione said uncomfortably.
"Tell other people to bugger off," Lee offered.
"That might work for you, but there will be questions. And concern about whether this is a good idea, given, well, everything."
Lee took a big swig from his tankard, then shook his head. "I don't see that. I think you've helped George. And if you are making him happy and are happy together, I don't see the problem."
Hermione slumped a bit, sighing. "I know you think that, but not everyone will. I'm not sure I think that. George isn't himself right now, he's very vulnerable. Starting a relationship now isn't going to be universally approved."
"Granger, if you're holding out for universal approval, you'll be waiting a very long time. It seems to me that you haven't figured this out for yourself and you're just telling me again what you are afraid of. And I'm not the one you need to tell, love."
Hermione fiddled with her fork. "I know, Lee. It's just that I can't talk to him about this, he doesn't understand. His family is all I've got left. I'm afraid to lose them."
Lee frowned. "I don't understand. Why would you?"
"I don't know. It's going to sound stupid, I'm sure. But everyone thought Ron and I would be together, and I don't know how they'll react to me being with George. I know Molly will be upset that we are living together without some sort of commitment. I am afraid that someone will think I'm taking advantage of him. And once they know, well, it opens it up to judgment and everyone will have an opinion If we don't work out, I don't know what happens."
"Have you considered stopping things? Backing off?" Lee asked.
"Yes, but I never go through with it," she said softly.
"Then I think you understand the important bit, Granger. Now then, we've thoroughly exceeded my limits for serious conversation. Best to get onto something entirely inappropriate before my reputation is forever ruined," he said with a wink.
"Of course, can't have that," Hermione said, a little relieved to change the subject. "How're you getting on with WWN then?"
"Brilliantly, of course. I'm happy enough with the Quidditch sideline reports, but I'd like to move up to commentary. A sight more interesting, that," Lee responded with a shrug.
"Seeing anyone?" Hermione asked, feeling a little self-conscious for not knowing.
Lee's flashed a wide grin and wink at her. "Getting bored, are you? I've gone out a time or two with a delectable shop assistant from Gladrags, but nothing serious. Still working on getting Millthwap from the Harpies to go out with me. Now there is a witch who can handle a broomstick."
"Quite," Hermione said quellingly, to Lee's laughter.
"Speaking of delectable shop assistants, is Verity coming back? I took her out once, she was a lark. Likes a laugh, she does."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, she'll be round tomorrow to help finish pricing all the merchandise. Just part-time at first though, until George has a sense of how sales will go. She seems nice enough."
"She can be a bit chatty, but I expect you'll largely be in the back. Does she know about you and George?"
"No. I'm not sure she even knows I live above the shop," Hermione commented idly, pushing the remains of her food about on the plate.
"Well, you watch yourself with George around her. As I said, she's quite chatty. Not one to keep secrets, like," Lee said seriously.
"Thanks for the warning. Shall we order something for George then? I think I'm ready to get back, and there is plenty to be done."
"Oi, you can't be tired of me already, Granger! What a blow to my ego!" he said.
"It's so overly inflated I think it could weather that and more," Hermione said dryly. Then she shyly reached across the table and squeezed Lee's hand. "Thank you, Lee. For everything. It helps."
He returned the gesture and said in a kind voice, "Anytime, Hermione."
-o0o-
George was not much for thinking. Certainly moreso than Fred had been, but that wasn't saying much. They were good planners and excellent inventors and shrewd businessmen, but simply sitting down and reflecting was not in their nature. George was fast on his feet, quickly analyzing a situation before him and reacting to it. When it came to the store and their plans and their inventions, they bounced off of each other, throwing out idea after idea to see what might stick or be improved on. Thinking didn't you get very far, in George's opinion. He did try not to be too rash, often holding back Fred for a few seconds to better assess a situation, but thinking only slowed you down, ate away at your nerve. Thinking only made you imagine problems that didn't have to be there or could be dealt with later. In short, to George, thinking equaled worrying, which led to brooding.
In school, he'd felt his view was pretty well held up by watching his younger brother and his friends. Ron was a good strategist, but when he started thinking too much, he became moody and jealous and lashed out at his friends. Harry was always thinking and always brooding about something or other. Right, to be fair, he'd had something worth worrying over, George reckoned wryly, but still, he'd been that way long before the prophecy came to light. And Hermione, well, she'd been a right bundle of nerves all throughout, and all she ever did was think or revise. Thinking paralyzed her, made her over-consider, made her try to find an answer for every possible problem in advance, lest she have to think on her feet and be caught standing still. Oh, she'd loosened up some over the year they'd spent away, she'd had to with nothing to guide them and logic getting them nowhere. She was clever, and it had helped, and she'd learned the hard way that books and knowledge only take you so far in life.
Nevertheless, she was doing it again in regards to their relationship. George supposed it was her nature, which was simply fundamentally different from his own. Nothing wrong with that, so long as they could manage a balance without constant harping or rowing, as she and Ron had been unable to do. Still, she'd been more than accommodating of his desire to avoid pinning down their relationship to something formal. Maybe he was rubbing off on her.
Or maybe the opposite was true, because since their discussion the morning after that disastrous night, George had caught himself thinking. Not that he'd reached any real conclusion; he couldn't find fault with his logic. Hermione was right that on paper, as written, there wasn't much to recommend this relationship or that would make someone think it had a shot at long-term prospects. The pair of them were an unlikely match, because of the differences in their nature. The truth was that they had been brought together by an odd set of circumstances. They hadn't fancied each other, they hadn't carefully cataloged the others good qualities or weighed out the balance of a relationship. They had fallen into bed together, and were both lonely. Not the most promising of beginnings, George would admit it.
But there had been a change, a gradual one. The fear of being alone had changed into a fear of not being with Hermione. The pleasure of being able to talk about Fred freely had morphed into a desire to share him with her, the secrets that had existed only between the two of them, the relationship they'd shared. The gratitude for quality help in the shop had turned into a real appreciation of her brilliance, which he knew was mutual. Somewhere in there he'd actually begun to really know Hermione, and he was fascinated by her. George wanted to know about her, about what she thought and felt, how she saw the world. He wanted to share his meals with her, and his bed. He wanted to make her laugh and make her blush and make her gasp with pleasure.
George sat at his work table, at Fred's work table after Lee left with Hermione and thought. Remembering the last time, he carefully warded the workroom to give him ample warning of anyone approaching, and rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands and thought, out loud.
"Does it mean I love her, Fred? I don't know. I can't say that, not the way she wants me to. I can say I care about her more than just about anything and I can say I want her in my life. But love means demands. It means a future. I can't see that, not yet."
George stared unseeingly before him. "It's not that I don't want to be with her, I can't imagine life without her at this point. It's that I still can't imagine life without you, Fred. I'm living it, every day. And it hurts every damned day. I can't see much farther than opening the store. That's been the goal, the focus that helps me get out of bed. Once that's done, I don't know what happens."
George paused again, and sighed. "I just don't know what I'm doing or what I'll be. I'm half-afraid I'll go crazy again, she was right about that. I just can't tell what will happen next, always been rubbish at that anyway. Probably not fair to her, I know, but it's true enough, Fred. Putting some words on it and calling it something doesn't change the fact that either one of us can simply walk out. Doesn't make it less likely or any less painful if it happens." He fell quiet for a bit, frowning, thinking.
"D'you think I'm being a coward? D'you think I'm afraid to commit to her? Maybe that's the problem. Oh, I'm not stupid, I don't think loving her means she'll be taken away too. I do love her, I just don't know how I love her, how far that extends. And she's right that saying it without knowing what it means isn't fair to her. None of this is, is it? But Freddy, I want her here with me so badly it's painful. Is it wrong to keep this going without promises? Wouldn't it be more wrong to make promises I don't know I can keep?"
George ran a tired hand over his face and laid his forehead on the worktop, resting where Fred's hands had rested before, slipping into a quiet misery that even Hermione rarely saw. The constant raw edges of his soul, where it felt Fred had been cut out of him felt opened again, consuming him. It didn't hurt like this all the time, as it had at first. But all these weeks later this pain still caught him short, took his breath away, made him struggle to conceive of how long he could on without Fred there, made him wonder how he'd gone on this long. A ragged, dry sob clawed its way through his chest, a keening sound of pain that hurt George's own ear to hear. Wetness on his face, George gave in to the grief he often tried to ignore.
Half an hour later, he felt spent, but purged. Tension had been building for some time as they pushed closer to August. He didn't know what would happen after, other than the certain knowledge Fred would still be gone. That pressure, as well as the feelings of remembrance and sorrow that were raised by the inevitable comparisons to the first time they'd opened. George wiped his eyes, and wished Hermione were here. Her quiet presence and sympathy at times like this, not pushing him to talk or to behave in a certain way, just simply offering silent support was healing for him. For a moment, George wondered if this relationship were entirely one-sided, and resolved to try harder to ensure that was not the case.
He looked around him. For the moment, things were paused. There was still plenty to do, and would be even after they opened, he acknowledged. At some point, he'd get back to inventing even, he supposed. But they'd worked very hard. Perhaps it was time to take a break, to do something nice for her. He couldn't tell her that he loved her, for her reasons and his own, but he could show her how he cared for her, how he wanted her to be with him, to be happy, happy with him.
-o0o-
A/N: Well, they're finally opening their eyes a bit, aren't they? Going on forever without acknowledging what was happening was never going to last forever, and even this may prove to be too much for Hermione. This has never been a romance, so I am not going to promise they are going to live happily ever after. I'm rooting for them though. Hope you enjoy, I'm already hard at work on chap 11. Cheers, all.