Author's Note: No matter how hard I try, I shall never be J.K. Rowling. There are a few lines that I lifted from Rowling, which will be cited in the form of having an asterisk at the beginning and end of the conversation. (I substituted Hermione for Ginny in the lines).
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Hermione stared at the place where George had just been. She felt the anger drain out of her as it was quickly replaced by sadness and hurt. She sank to the floor, thinking about all he had said, all he had yelled at her, and she began to sob, not knowing why it hurt so much, not knowing why she cared so much, simply knowing that his words had wounded her.
…
A crack! rang out, and a figure moved in the falling darkness. George walked slowly between the headstones until he reached one topped with a bust of a familiar face. He looked sadly at his brother's face, forever immortalized in granite, and looked down at the writing on the headstone.
Fred Gideon Weasley
April1, 1978 – May 2, 1998
Give not over thy soul to sorrow; and afflict not thyself in thy own counsel. Gladness of heart is the life of man and the joyfulness of man is length of days.
He sat down in front of the grave and said aloud, "Gred, I miss you. Why did you have to leave? Why could I have been the one to die instead?"
A voice in his head rang out, 'I miss you too, Forge. And don't you go moping about and being suicidal. I was killed by a bloody wall for God's sake! I didn't even have time to fight that bastard Rookwood. At least you're still here."
"Yea, and that's a consolation."
'Yea, it is, mate. You get a second chance. And you're wasting it completely.'
"I am not wasting –"
'Yes you are! You fought same as me, and yet you can't carry on Weasley Twin pride and tradition. You sicken me.'
"I most certainly can –"
'Then bloody well get a move on! You've got a successful joke shop, a family that loves you, and a pretty girl to marry. I don't see why you're being such a bloody sad sack!'
"I just – you think Hermione is pretty?"
'No, mate, I don't. You do. This is ridiculous – I'm dead and I'm still your matchmaker. So stop waffling about and do something!'
"Do what?"
'Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out? Get back to work, try actually talking to the family, and stop being such a wanker to Granger! It's not that bleedin' difficult!'
"That's easy for you to say. You're dead."
'Yes, I am. But you're not. So stop acting like it.'
…
George stared at his brother's face, and thought about the conversation he, well…they, had had. He was right, Hermione was right, they were all right. He had just been hurting himself more by shutting himself away. He couldn't invent anymore because that joie de vivre he had once had had vanished. He needed to get back to how he used to be. Fred would have wanted him to carry on their joyful spirit and share it with others. First things first, he had to figure out how. Maybe Hermione could help him. 'Hermione,' thought George guiltily. "I was so terrible to her. I need to fix this, all of this. I guess that's where I start.' And with a crack!, he was gone.
…
He had apperated slightly off course, and landed in the middle of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He looked around the dark store and felt a tinge of sadness.
"Lumos," he muttered as he began to walk around the shop. There were the Skiving Snackboxes that they had completed in their seventh year, just in time to drive Umbridge out of her mind. He remembered how he and Fred had worked so hard on them, especially on deciding which symptoms were best.
"Okay, so we've got nose bleeds and vomiting," said George, staring at their copious notes. "What else?"
"What about vertigo?" asked Lee Jordan, thinking aloud as he bounced a ball on the wall and caught it repeatedly.
"Nah, people will just think you're confunded," replied Fred, leaning his chair back on two legs with his hands behind his head. "We need things that really make you seem ill. Things that mums worry about."
"Like a cold?" asked Lee.
"Like a fever!" said George.
"Brill," said Fred excitedly. "What about fainting?"
"If you're unconscious, how can you take the other part?" asked a confused Lee.
"Details, my good man, simply details," said Fred pompously as his chair slammed down to earth. "Let's get started."
He passed the Extendable Ears, and smiled as he remembered the day they started working on those. Fred had gotten the idea from unsuccessfully trying to overhear Order members' conversations.
"Extendable Ears! Wicked, right?" said Fred excitedly.
"In theory, but what would they be?" asked George.
"Isn't it obvious? Like long ear-like things that you put near other people's conversations and you can overhear it stealthily."
So they had worked and worked on them. They had even made it so the ears could creep towards the intended conversation, increasing the stealth factor. Their only problem is that they could not figure out how to fix the charm so the range of hearing extended from one end of the long fleshy string to the other while being loud enough. Plus, the ears had started to make a contented humming noise after the first few seconds. The twins had no idea what to do, when Hermione walked in on them planning.
"Hey guys. What are you doing?"
"Trying to figure out how to fix a new product," said George absent-mindedly, thinking it was Ginny and not Hermione who had walked in.
"You wanna help, Gin?" said Fred, also not paying much attention.
"Depends. What am I helping with?" said Hermione, not bothering to correct them.
"Extendable Ears. Magical eavesdropping. They aren't loud enough and won't stop humming."
"Well, that's easy enough. I'll help," said Hermione, bending down to take a closer look at the strings.
"Thanks a bun- HERMIONE!" shouted a startled George, who had turned his head to the side and seen a long brown plait rather than the expected curtain of red hair.
"Yes?" said Hermione, a smile playing across her face.
"Why do you, of all people, want to help us with a prank?" asked a suspicious Fred.
"Because I want to know what's going on just as badly as you too."
George smiled as he looked at the boxes, remembering how Hermione had helped them, and how they had become a staple that summer as Order members rushed in and out of the house, relaying news in whispers. He kept walking around and saw the infamous love potions, the bottles decorated in a shade of violent pink. He remembered Hermione and his sister scoffing at the potions.
*Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Do they work?" she asked.
"Certainly they work!" said Fred. "For up to 24 hours at a time, depending on the weight of the boy in question."
"And the attractiveness of the girl," said George, reappearing suddenly at their side.*
Hermione looked at the crowd of giggling girls surrounding the Wonder Witch products table.
"I really think those could go wrong," she said. "They could turn out to be quite dangerous." And with a meaningful look at the twins, she left to look at another product.
What she had said had bothered George all afternoon. That night, as he was staring blankly at the magazine in his hands, Fred shouted, "OI! George!"
George snapped out of his reverie. "What?" he asked confusedly.
"I've been calling your name for the past five minutes. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Yea, mate, of course. Nothing's wrong, you've just been staring at an ad for a dress shop. Looking for your newest drag outfit?" Fred said with an evil glint in his eyes.
"Naff off."
"Seriously, what's bothering you?"
"I can't understand why Hermione said those love potions could be dangerous. How can it be dangerous?"
"Let it go, mate. Why do you care so much about what Miss Prefect thinks?"
"Honestly, I don't know. It's just been bothering me all day."
"Awww, does Georgie have a crush on Little Miss Rules?" Fred said with an evil grin spreading across his face.
"No I do not!" said George, a bit too quickly.
"Then why are you blushing?" asked a smirking Fred.
"You git! You know I always blush if someone says I'm blushing!"
"Or is it because you're in luuuuurrrrvvveeeee?" sang Fred, sounding annoyingly like Peeves.
"Sod off!"
"Whatever you say!" said Fred, sauntering off humming something that sounded suspiciously like the childhood song "k-i-s-s-i-n-g."
He chuckled as he remembered hearing about its strengthened effects on his prat brother. 'I guess Hermione was right after all,' he thought with a smile. He walked out of the store the back way and walked quietly up the stairs to the apartment. He opened the door silently and heard sniffling. He looked over to the living room and saw the profile of Hermione, pale and puffy-eyed, her hair everywhere. She had been crying, for hours it looked like, and it was all his fault. He felt terrible at knowing he had made her feel this way. He walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. Her head snapped up, not having known he was back. She stared at him, hurt and curiosity battling for dominance in her very red eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. You were right. About everything." He wrapped his arms around her, and he pulled her close, feeling her occasional shudder as she tried to restrain tears. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying both to soothe her and himself. They stayed like that until they drifted off to sleep, still in each others' arms.
