Title: A Lid For Every Pot, George Weasley

Author: BooksVCigarettes

Summary: Set a couple of years post-war. Still struggling with the absence of his twin, George Weasley needs some time away from the world he grew up in to heal. Alice Clark wants a flat mate who doesn't want to kill and eat her. It was perfect... Except not really. George/OC Ron/Hermione Harry/Ginny

Chapter Two - Distraction

"Hello Alice,

I know it's been a long time since we spoke properly - I wasn't particularly good at keeping in touch with people from Primary School. I hope you are well? I can see from your profile that you're a lecturer now - that must be so interesting.

I saw today that you're currently looking for a flatmate. If you haven't already found somebody, I was wondering if you would consider my fiancé's brother George? He's looking to move to the area and I think he would be a very considerate lodger.

Best Wishes

Hermione"

Hermione paused, hovering the cursor over the 'Send' button.

Was she getting too involved here? Had George really meant what he'd said at the engagement party?

She was worried about him; they all were. Although the days of unsolicited enraged outbursts seemed to be (fingers crossed) behind them, the remaining Weasley twin could under no circumstances be considered to be grieving healthily. Following the second war, he had been inconsolable in his sadness, sometimes failing to speak for days and on others flying into a temper over nothing. Being the gentler of the twins, this had terrified his already bereft mother and in the end, Bill had had to have a quiet word. No one knew exactly what he had said, but following the conversation George had made a concerted effort to keep his emotions under control.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes continued to run under the management of Lee Jordan, but no one could remember the last time George had set foot in the store. Instead, George worked from his father's old shed at The Burrow, concocting new recipes and sending them to Lee via Owl. He would work through the night and rarely slept. The summer after the second war he had, for a brief time and on the insistence of Molly, gone to stay with Charlie in Romania for an enforced period of rest. This had lasted approximately ninety-three hours before he apparated back into his parent's kitchen and stomped off to the shed muttering something about Pikey-Drifts.

The trouble was, Hermione mused sadly, was that each of them was broken in some way by the chaos left by Lord Voldemort, and while that lent a level of comfort of knowing you would never have to explain why for example, finding three meticulously hidden sets of extendable ears hanging inside the Burrow's kitchen fireplace was enough to make Ginny burst into tears, it didn't make any of them the kind of stable supporting influence George needed. Yes, their grief united them, but in some ways it also made them islands, flung far apart in a tumultuous sea. Occasionally Ron would say he thought George was being selfish, treating his pain as though it were worse than everyone else's. Hermione knew that George didn't think his grief was any bigger than the rest of theirs and would never for a moment believe that his pain was more important.

Hermione turned her attention back to the screen, on her message to a girl whom at the age of eight, she had sworn to be best friends with forever. Alice Clark had been as shy as she was when they had met on the first day of school. Hermione had been enthralled by her quiet but assured observation that the hymns their Roman Catholic primary school forced them to sing looked like the rain.

Alice had stood up for her when the other children made fun of her bushy hair and Hermione had comforted Alice when she had been scolded by her mother for "drawing attention" to her condition. When Hermione got her letter for Hogwarts she prayed that Alice had gotten one too, prayed that they could be witches together. She had been warned that she wasn't allowed to tell any friends who didn't get letters and when she found out that Alice wouldn't be going to Hogwarts as well she had cried into her pillow, not knowing how she would cope with moving to a brand new school without her best friend next to her. And then she had met Harry and Ron and the little fair-haired girl gradually became a part of her past.

Sighing, Hermione read through the message again and wondered how crazy it was to get in touch with someone she hadn't seen in over ten years because her brother-in-law to be had decided he wanted to give up magic. She thought about what George had told her at her engagement party a few weeks before.

'I'm just... Not sure I can keep doing this anymore.'

He looked exhausted. Hermione supposed he still wasn't sleeping. She cocked her head at him. 'Keep doing what?'

All around them, the party was in full swing. The Weasleys had once against set up the gigantic tent in their garden in order to celebrate the engagement of their youngest son. Above them, a gigantic banner spelt out the words "HAPPY ENGAGEMENT RON+HERMIONE!". Across the room, she could see her parents, their memories newly restored to them, politely explaining to Arthur Weasley the function of a muggle coffee machine.

George ran a hand through his hair. 'This world. I'm not sure I want to live in the wizarding world anymore.'

'You mean you want to give up magic?' She asked him.

It was an unusual wish, although it had become more common in the days following the second war. Many witches and wizards who couldn't bear the thought of raising their children in a world where such atrocities had happened so recently had applied to the ministry asking to be relocated into the muggle world and given new identities. They were having to draw up paperwork that ensured any future Hogwarts letters pertaining to their children be withheld. Hermione was part of the task force to determine which applicants were credible and which were Lord Voldemort's followers looking for an escape route.

George smiled sadly. He had grown into such a handsome young man. Even the loss of his left ear had done nothing to diminish his charming visage - he was still, by most standards, pretty dishy.

'I can't handle being reminded every day. I wanted so much to make Fred proud by keeping the shop going but I can hardly stand to walk in there. Living at the Burrow doesn't help either. I don't want to feel like this anymore. Maybe if I get away, I won't.'

Hermione felt her heart crack a little. There was a desperate edge to George's voice. 'George, have you thought about this? I mean really thought about it. If you apply to be relocated, you would never see your family again. What do you think that would do to them? It's so drastic.' An idea struck her. 'What about a break?'

A shadow passed over George's face. He thought she wasn't taking him seriously. 'I don't think a holiday is really what I need right now, Hermione-'

-'No, I mean a break. Six months, a year. Go travelling. Rent a flat in London. Take a break from the shop." She reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder "It might help to get some distance. And if you decide that it works for you, you can apply for relocation then.'

George didn't look convinced. Hermione tried again. 'George, applying for relocation is something you can't take back. Not to mention the fact that your mum would murder me if I passed your application.'

George smiled wryly. He knew she was right. 'I don't know anything about living in the muggle world though. Is it hard?'

And that was it. George had asked her to help him and that was what she was going to do. She had been checking out single occupancy flats for him for a couple of weeks now, but they were mostly completely unsuitable. And if she were honest, Hermione wasn't sure that George would do so well by himself after a lifetime of living in a crowd. And this way, they would have a shared acquaintance - not that Hermione was planning on keeping an eye on George or anything. She took a deep breath and hit "Send".

X x X

Alice grimaced at her reflection. The shower, although admittedly refreshing, had done nothing to diminish the bags under her eyes or make her clothes any less tight. But perhaps she had been asking too much. At least now her hair didn't smell of stale tears and Chinese food.

She had agreed to meet Hermione at a coffee shop in Leicester Square which was usually one of her favourite haunts, but today Alice felt nervous at the prospect of leaving the house after being cooped up for so long. Sometimes, after a long period of minimal stimuli, her synesthesia would be difficult to manage. Stress or excitement seemed to make it more intense as well. For what felt like the hundredth time, she checked her handbag for her headphones and dark glasses before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the world.

The early September air was a little stiff around the edges and felt pleasing on her skin. The sun was watery but had the sky to itself. The leaves on the trees were only just beginning to show signs of old age and in spite of herself, Alice smiled. Autumn was the best time of year. She checked her watch. Nearly school kicking-out time, and she was coming to a busy main road where music tended to blast out of open car windows and send her on an unsolicited trip much like the ones she imagined LSD users chased after. Dipping her hand into her bag for her headphones, Alice sometimes found it easier if she could control what auditory stimuli she was getting. She steeled herself and pressed play on her 'Bland' playlist.

She spotted Hermione a mile off; the slightly mousy girl whose hip Alice had been joined to as a child had turned into an impossibly pretty young woman. She hadn't posted a profile picture on Facebook and Alice had been slightly worried that she wouldn't be able to pick her out in a crowd. Her hair, which had always seemed untameable, had somehow relaxed into wavy curls which she had fixed in a neat ponytail. She was dressed for the office, which made Alice suddenly conscious of her leggings and twelve year old sweater. She wondered if Hermione would be able to tell her from the profile picture she had posted, back when she and Pete had been together and she had been two dress sizes smaller and her eyes weren't like two pinholes in the snow.

X x X

'So tell me about this George Weasley guy?' Alice rattled the spoon against her coffee cup and wished it was late enough for wine.

Hermione sighed a little sadly. 'George is Ron's older brother-'

'-Ron is your fiancé?'

Hermione nodded, smiling bashfully and Alice tried to ignore the knife that was twisting in her gut. "We were at school together. George was two years ahead of us along with his twin, Fred."

Alice watched Hermione's eyes tear a little and passed her a tissue. 'What happened?'

Hermione dabbed at her eyes and gave Alice a wobbly smile. 'They were in the army. Fred was killed in an explosion a few years ago. Ever since, George has been a different person. He was living at home with Ron and their sister to make sure their mum and dad were OK, but since Ron and Ginny have moved out, I think it's been even harder for him to be alone without his brothers and sister in the place where he spent so much time with Fred.'

'That's terrible; I'm so sorry Hermione.' Alice meant it. She sipped her coffee and wondered slightly guiltily whether this had been a good idea after all. What if this George turned out to be a battle-hardened, mentally unstable PTSD sufferer? 'What does he do now? For a living, I mean.'

'He and Fred had a business. It's still doing well, but I think he's planning to take some time away from it.'

'What sort of business?'

Hermione glanced away briefly, reddening slightly. 'It's a joke shop.'

Alice raised her eyebrows. That was unexpected. 'You don't hear of many veterans doing that.'

'It was their childhood dream.' Hermione offered by way of explanation and Alice was vaguely suspicious that an effort to change the subject was on its way. She made a mental note to revisit this subject in more detail before committing her guest room to a stranger. Hermione sipped her own coffee. 'Anyway, that enough about me - tell me about yourself.'

Alice shrugged. 'Not a lot to tell. After school I went to university and pretty much never left. I finished my PhD last year and now I'm lecturing in Psychology. I consult with the police sometimes. Oh, and I sing with a band occasionally.' And up until two weeks ago I didn't know my boyfriend was having an affair with my sister and I was much, much happier.

Hermione smiled warmly. 'That's wonderful Alice; what an achievement.'

Alice smiled back in spite of herself. 'And you? What amazing thing have you committed your extreme talents to?'

Hermione blushed. 'Government employee - Office work mostly. I'm responsible for relocating those affected by the war.' She glanced fondly at her ring finger. 'And there's the wedding of course. Ron's hopeless at planning but luckily his mother isn't.'

Alice tried to hide her trembling lip behind a huge smile. 'You must be so excited.'

Hermione grinned. They chatted idly for another half an hour before Hermione looked at her watch. 'I really should be going, but it was so nice to catch up with you, Alice. Do you think you might consider George as a lodger? He really is such a good person, and I think he'd be a great flatmate.'

'I have a few people coming to see the flat this week,' Alice lied smoothly. 'But you putting in a good word does mean a lot. Do you have a mobile number I can contact him on?'

'George doesn't own a mobile I'm afraid. He's ah - a bit hopeless with technology.' Did Hermione seem vaguely flustered at this question? And how could an ex-soldier be hopeless with technology? 'Would you meet him in person? I'd be happy to introduce you.'

Alice couldn't tell if she was curious to meet this technologically challenged ex-combatant with a joke shop because she thought he might make a good flatmate (on the one hand, Hermione had never steered her wrong, but on the other hand the last time she had even had a chance to do so they had been ten years old), or if she was simply curious to meet him in order to see if such a person did indeed exist. As Alice watched Hermione disappear into the crowds on Leicester Square, she realised that today had been the first day in weeks that her thoughts hadn't been totally monopolised with her own heartbreak.

'That's one point in your favour, George Weasley.' She murmured to herself, before turning toward Charing Cross Road and home, making her way through the commuters and schoolchildren, thinking meditatively on a man who up until that day, she hadn't known existed.