When Ron got to the shop the next morning, he was white and quiet. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to talk to George, and his older brother was more than happy to accommodate him. He was perfectly willing to ignore whatever was obviously bothering Ron and pretend that nothing was amiss. He felt selfish when he realized this, but he was getting exhausted by having these emotional conversations all the time. Neither of them said anything at all, but when they'd been together in silence for more than an hour, George realized that wasn't going to work either.
There was a lull in business, no customers in the shop, when George said brightly, "So Mum's invited me for dinner tonight. Just me. Wonder what I've done wrong this time to get this honour."
Ron was frozen in place. He couldn't bring himself to look into George's face, and now George's smile faltered.
"What is it?" he asked, trying to keep the note of cheer in his voice, but it faltered noticeably. Ron finally forced himself to look at his brother, and then neither of them needed to say anything more. George managed a small "oh," and then he turned and busied himself with the shelf of Extendable Ears. The conversation was effectively at an end.
George arrived at the Burrow at 6pm, the time his mother had specified, and he felt his stomach drop when he found his father alone in the living room, his eyes half-closed.
"Dad?" he whispered nervously, and Arthur jolted awake. For a moment, he stared at George as if he weren't quite sure at whom he was looking, and George found that he was holding his breath, praying with all of his might that his father would know who he was… would know that he was not… but his fears were calmed when Arthur smiled.
"Welcome, George," he said. His voice was much weaker than George was used to hearing it, and he swallowed hard even as he forced a smile, himself.
He settled himself in the armchair that Arthur had long since abandoned for the longer couch, and he immediately felt the strangeness of sitting in his father's chair. But he said, "I left Ron in charge of the shop when I left to come here. I think – I hope it's still standing tomorrow morning."
Arthur laughed weakly even as he shook his head slightly.
"You have to be nicer to your brother," he said, but the humor in his voice let George know that he was joking. George smiled.
"Come on, Dad. If I were nicer, then Ron wouldn't know it was me."
Arthur laughed again, but it turned into a cough, and then his hand went to his head as he winced horribly.
George started out of his chair, but Arthur couldn't seem to stop coughing, and George yelled, "Mum!"
The note of panic in his voice brought Molly running from the kitchen, and she stopped short when she took in the sight. She recovered quickly, though, and rushed to her husband's side, ordering George to join her, to help her raise Arthur higher on his pillows, and then to go fetch a glass of water.
Once the coughing fit subsided, Arthur seemed exhausted. Molly sat beside him, and as George watched, she took his hand in hers and leaned over to whisper something. George shifted uncomfortably on the edge of his seat. He had the distinct impression that he was waiting for something – something he would very much rather avoid.
When Arthur sat up a little straighter and fixed George with a serious look, he knew he was right.
"George," he began, and his voice was gentle. George suddenly found his eyes stinging, and he stared at the wall behind his father, but Arthur knew he was listening. He continued.
"I have to be honest," he said softly. "If I'd ever imagined having this conversation with you at all, I never would have thought you'd be sitting here by yourself."
Molly's grip on Arthur's hand tightened, and he looked at her then. Her eyes were full, but she shook her head slightly and gestured to George then. He took one look at his son and realized just how hard this was for him, and he'd hardly said any of what he needed to. He took a deep breath.
"George, I'm so proud of you," he said bluntly. Now George did look at him, and Arthur knew that his own eyes were too bright. He forged ahead anyway. "You are so much stronger than anyone could have ever given you credit for when you were growing up. But since we lost Fred, I've seen the way you've not only managed to survive but to also have the life that he'd have wanted you to live. And I know that if you survived that, you'll survive anything. I know you'll miss me, George, but I know you'll be ok, and I know you'll help everyone else be ok too."
George couldn't look at his father anymore, but he had nowhere else to go. He covered his face with his hands and just sat, his body very still. Arthur and Molly looked at each other then, and he nodded for her to go to their son.
She put a hand on George's shoulder, expecting just to give it a quick squeeze. She did not expect him to suddenly wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face in the front of her apron. His shoulders started shaking then, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. None of them spoke, and the only sound in the room was of George's choked sobs. She smoothed his hair even as she stared at Arthur. He stared back at her, his expression unreadable.
When George finally got his tears under control, he slowly released his grip on his mother. He pulled back and dragged his hand across his eyes.
He turned to his father then, to apologize, but he was surprised to see the expression on his face.
"Dad?" he asked hesitantly, but when Arthur turned to him, his eyes were strangely vacant, and somehow, George knew, with a pit of dread in his stomach, just what was coming next.
And when Arthur smiled and said, "How's Hogwarts, Fred? Are you home for the break?," George bolted. He wished he didn't have to. He wished he could be stronger. He wished he could stay and help his mother. But he couldn't. It just hurt too much.
He apparated back to the cobblestones in front of the shop and was relieved to discover that Ron had closed up and was gone for the day. He didn't feel like facing him just now. He was about to unlock the door when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around to find Katie Bell standing behind him with a grin that faded the instant she saw his face.
"George!" she'd started to exclaim, but the enthusiasm died before it even fully left her mouth, and her brown eyes softened in concern.
He tried to smile at her, but it didn't work, and she took his arm and pulled him into the shop without another word. She closed the door behind them, and he let her guide him up the stairs to his flat. He didn't know why he wasn't speaking or trying harder to entertain her, but he suddenly felt numb, and he didn't know if he'd have been able to do any of these things if she hadn't been there. It wasn't until he was sitting on the couch, and she was approaching him with a cup of tea, that he finally forced his voice to work for the first time.
"Thanks, Katie," he said. His voice was rough, but she hardly seemed to notice. He cleared his throat. "What are you – what are you doing around here tonight anyway?"
She looked at him for a moment and then said, "I was just doing some shopping and figured I'd drop by to see you. It's been a while…"
She trailed off, but the two of them looked at one another, and George couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. He wondered, once again, how their relationship had ever managed to fizzle out as much as it had. For a long time after Fred's death, she was the only one he could talk to, and then one day, he just couldn't. He hurt her, and he knew it, but he didn't even know why. It hurt him, too, but he didn't know how to fix it. That was three months ago already. But now here she was, sitting before him. He tried to smile, and once again, he failed spectacularly. He shifted his gaze to his tea. If she looked at him, she could read him. He didn't want to be read right now.
But Katie said softly, "I – I was in St. Mungo's the other day. My aunt is sick. And – well – I saw your mum there. George, she – she told me what's happening with your dad. I – I am so sorry. I really am."
It was the last thing he expected her to say. He stared at her, and his mouth was dry.
"Thanks," he managed to whisper, and then he had to look away. Because for some inexplicable reason, his eyes were burning, and that was the last thing he wanted her to see.
After a few minutes of silence where Katie watched the back of George's head, and he sat with his hands clenched in his lap, she whispered, "George?"
He didn't look up. He couldn't. He hadn't seen her in months, and now here she was, and he was on the verge of tears? No. It just wasn't fair. But she didn't give up.
"George?" she asked again, and this time, she shifted down the couch so she was sitting beside him. And the moment her arm grazed his, the tears started to roll down his cheeks. He covered his face, trying not to let her see, but it was too late. Silently, she put her arm around his shoulders, and he fell into her then, his arms going around her almost instinctively. He clung to her then, his tears soaking into her shoulder.
After a few minutes, she murmured, "I'm sorry."
It was a long time before he could speak, but when he could, he mumbled, "So am I."
He pulled back from her then, and they looked at one another. He knew why she was sorry – it was Arthur. She felt bad. She wished he weren't sick. But he wasn't just sorry about that. He was also sorry that they'd gotten to this point, that things weren't better between them. But he didn't have the time or the energy to talk about that now.
"Thanks," he added, and she nodded. She took his hand then and squeezed it tightly. His spirits lifted slightly. Maybe she understood anyway. Maybe – maybe he wouldn't have to do this by himself…
A/N: Well, I couldn't leave Katie out any longer. The reference to their past relationship refers to my other story Still Left Behind. I'm trying to make them line up a little. Now I MUST go to bed, but please read and review. This was definitely one of the more difficult ones to write.