George had managed to slip away undetected while everyone was preoccupied with what seemed to have become the interrogation of his younger brother. He had discretely muttered in Ron's ear telling him to make sure that he kept the rest of the family occupied and received a minute nod in response. Knowing that he and Ron seemed to be on the same page, he quietly went out the back door and took a minute to look around for any signs that could possibly indicate where Harry had got off to. Feeling his heart rate pick up in concern when he saw nothing, he set off in a random direction hoping that Harry hadn't gone too far and that he would actually be welcome when he found him.

He got a sinking feeling in is stomach every time Harry wouldn't meet his gaze and mutter a short response whenever he attempted to speak to him. He attempted to convince himself that he was only imagining it, but the feeling only got worse when it seemed that Harry would purposefully avoid him at times. He had no idea what he had done wrong, but perhaps he could begin to fix it if he could help Harry with whatever had just happened. He only hoped that no one else came out in search of him as well because he knew that Harry wasn't exactly one for audiences and wouldn't be too keen on explaining himself if everyone was there. His eyebrows furrowing, George paused as he looked around their yard wondering where Harry could have gotten to so quickly.

He didn't put it past Harry to venture out into the trees that surrounded their house and garden, forming a sort of miniature forest around the property. George was beginning to wonder if he should go and ask someone else for help in searching the thicket of trees when he saw a flicker of movement in the shed on the far end of the yard. He hesitated for just a moment before heading off in that direction at a brisk pace, really hoping that he wasn't blindly walking into some sort of danger. His fingers automatically wound around his wand that he kept in his pocket as he approached the small, rickety shed. He slowly peeked around the door, fully prepared to fire off a warning spell if it was an intruder. He only saw all of the Muggle things his father had obsessively collected over the years and started to believe that he had only imagined to movement he had spotted earlier. He turned away to set off for the trees but stopped in his tracks when he heard a rustling from within the shed.

Quietly creeping back to the doorway, he peered around the corner once more and then saw what he had missed the first time: a huddled form, leaning against one of the shelves in the far end of the room. Swallowing, suddenly feeling anxious for he really didn't know what he had been planning on doing once he found the kid, he slowly made his way into the dusty, old shed. He felt tingling in his chest as he approached the crouched form, wondering if his presence would be welcomed or not. He hesitated for a split second, still afraid that Harry was angry at him, before steeling his nerves and speaking quietly.

"Hey," he said gently, failing at not startling the boy for he watched him jump about a mile into the air. Harry stood and whipped around, looking at him with slightly widened eyes as George held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Just came to talk."

Harry seemed to be trembling and fighting to control his breath as he turned slightly away from George, as if embarrassed. He shook his head shortly, keeping his gaze lowered as George slowly came closer, concern on his face.

"'M fine," Harry said in a croaky voice that showed he was anything but. His eyes flicked up at him nervously, watching as the red head approached cautiously.

"Then why are you out here?" George asked honestly, tilting his head in question, simply wanting to understand. He watched Harry tense as he seemed to realize he didn't have a proper explanation for that, and he stepped a bit closer to him.

"Harry," he spoke quietly, feeling his throat tighten a bit, "It's alright. I saw…" Harry's eyes snapped up to meet his once the words had passed his lips. Harry had brought a hand up to press against his chest and began to shake his head tightly.

"I don't know what – I –" Harry's voice came out sounding tight and forced as he shut his eyes and shook his head, clearly unable to get a full sentence out. "I – I just wanted some…air, I –" He broke off with a choked noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan, his hand now pressing on his chest with full force. George's concern was rising rapidly as he watched Harry double over slightly, his eyes now screwed tightly shut.

"Harry?" he inquired, coming forward quickly, grasping him by the shoulders. Harry jumped and jerked out of his reach, his breath now coming in quick gasps as he looked at George with definite fear in his eyes.

"What's the matter?!" he asked, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. Harry attempted to speak, but it appeared to be futile for he merely shook his head in silent defeat. He gasped once more, still clutching at his chest as he sunk to the floor. Now properly frightened, George knelt in front of Harry as he watched him with widened eyes.

"Harry!" he could barely recognize his own voice, "D – d'you want me to go get Ron or –?" But he was cut off by Harry's vehement head shaking and choked out "No!" George was feeling utterly shaken at the sight of Harry slumped on the floor with an apparent inability to catch his breath.

"What's wrong, Harry?!" he asked, hearing the franticness in his tone, as he came closer to him. Harry attempted to explain once more, but his voice seemed to have left him for the time being. He shook his head helplessly as George watched his eyes gloss over slightly while his breath only sped up.

"O – Okay, Harry, listen," George tried to speak slowly and calmly, despite the utter alarm he was feeling at the moment, "I think you're having some sort of err…panic fit." This knowledge did little to soothe Harry's panic. George let out a small sigh, knowing he should've realized that would be of little help in the situation. Harry's breathing was getting more erratic with each passing second and George knew he had to do something before Harry fainted.

"Um…okay, it – it's alright, Harry," George began to simply say whatever he deemed calming as he held Harry steady by the shoulders, "Everything's gonna be alright." It seemed, however, that Harry believed the complete opposite for he shook his head violently and suddenly clutched at George's arm.

"N – I c-can't breathe!" Harry wheezed, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of George's forearm. The older boy felt his panic shoot up at the manner in which Harry's voice came out sounding strangled and frantic, so unlike what it was at any other time. He racked his brain for any sort of spell or charm that could restore the ability to breathe but came up with nothing in the heat of moment.

"Oh, Merlin…o-okay, Harry, just hang on all right?" George stammered as he began to rise from his crouched position, "I'm gonna go get Mum, okay?" He knew he had to go and get help for whatever this was because he clearly had no idea what to do to help Harry. Apparently, that was the wrong course of action, though, because Harry's hand flew from George's arm to his collar, grasping blindly as he shook his head wildly. George was nearly pulled off balance at the sudden pull, gasping in shock and fright that he would tumble on top of Harry.

"Wh – Harry. You need help and I don't know what to do!" he spoke, attempting to get Harry to see reason, but knowing his judgment was most likely impaired at this moment. Harry seemed to be quite clear on that subject, however, for he shook his head vehemently giving him a pleading look, tears of panic beginning to well up in his eyes. George was beginning to feel helpless, for he couldn't go get help and he didn't know what to do to help Harry from this gripping panic.

"Then what do you need, Harry? How can I help?!" he asked, desperate to get some sort of decipherable answer from the younger boy. Harry's chest heaved greatly as he merely grasped at the fabric of George's shirt, holding it as if it were his lifeline.

"M… Don't know!" Harry gasped, every sound he uttered seeming to be a great feat, "My – heart!" And that's when George realized how Harry had been clutching at his chest since he had first arrived at the shed. He wasn't sure if he was crossing boundaries, but he figured that Harry wasn't going to mind as much as he usually would so George slowly reached out and placed his hand over his chest. Harry stilled and George feared he was going to react violently, but he merely looked back at him with wildly panicking eyes. George focused on the feeling beneath Harry's thin, heaving chest and felt his heart jackhammering erratically. He sighed quietly to himself… It's no wonder why he's panicking so much. His heart must feel like it's about to explode. George thought as he shook his head slowly, wondering what in the hell he could possibly do to help and why exactly Harry didn't want anyone else to come help.

"Um, okay I think what you need to focus on right now is just try to control your breathing, alright?" he spoke gently, trying not to wince because Harry had now shifted his death grip from George's shirt to his arm once more. It took several moments for his words to process in Harry's addled mind, but he finally gave a tiny nod as he continued to gasp and struggle. George felt terrible as he merely sat on and watched as Harry suffered in his own body. Many minutes passed by and Harry didn't appear to be getting any better, if anything he seemed to be slipping further and further into his hysteria. George was now getting desperate and was honestly considering just sending his Patronus over to the house to ask for his mother, no matter how much Harry protested.

"Harry. Please tell me what you need," he spoke carefully, wishing Harry could communicate what would help him. Harry started to look painfully resigned as he gasped continually and let his head fall forward, unintentionally resting it on George's chest.

"Don't…know," Harry managed to choke out, but George had froze when he felt Harry's forehead come into contact with his sternum. He realized Harry was too out of it to realize George was slightly uneasy because of this so he was prepared to simply allow it when he suddenly got an idea.

"Alright, Harry," he spoke gently, holding him by the arms, "I'm gonna turn you around, okay?" He thought it best to not ask Harry for permission, otherwise he would simply be shut down and they would remain this way forever. George knew that couldn't be the case for he was honestly fearing for Harry's health for if he carried on in this distress for an extended period of time, there could be drastic consequences. When he began to turn Harry around, he tensed at first but quickly became pliant as he appeared to also be desperate for this to stop. George carefully rested Harry's back against his chest and held him steady by the top of his arms.

"Okay, now I want you to just feel my breaths alright?" he said, trying to sound confident that this would help in any way because he was honestly just making it up as he went along. "Once you can focus on them, I want you to try and match them okay?" He had never done anything like this before so he hoped it sounded credible. Apparently it did, for Harry nodded shakily. George was glad that he was actually doing something in an effort to help this kid who had done so much for him and his family, instead of sitting by and watching him suffer. He hated seeing Harry like this when he knew how much he had done for the whole world and how little he was truly appreciated for it. He felt that Harry carried much more guilt than he needed to. George wished he could take it all from him just so he could experience being a normal boy with no worries whatsoever.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," he whispered quietly as he took deep measured breaths for Harry to attempt to match, "I wish…I could do something." Harry seemed to struggle against him as if he wanted to say something but was too preoccupied with attempting to catch his ever-elusive breath. He felt chagrin for speaking his thoughts aloud when Harry couldn't respond, merely focusing on keeping his breath steady for his sake. After what seemed like years of hyperventilating and death grips on George's arms, Harry's breath finally seemed to come a bit easier. His entire body seemed to ease from the taut way in which it was seized and he relaxed a bit against George, heaving in great breaths into his oxygen deprived lungs.

"There you go…" George said gently, "That's it. Nice and easy…slow, deep breaths, Harry." He reminded him, not wanting to make this progress and then have Harry faint from getting too much oxygen all at once. Harry was still holding on to George as if he were his one and only tie to the Earth and if he let go for even a second, he'd slip off into oblivion. Finally, after a few minutes, Harry seemed to regain the ability to take in a proper, full breath and calmed considerably. He was still breathing quite hard when he slumped back against George, all the tenseness he carried only moments before was now nowhere to be seen.

"Hey?" George inquired carefully, "Alright?" He tried peering around the messy mop of jet black hair to see Harry's face, but he didn't move to look up. It took Harry a long moment to respond, in which George felt literal pain while waiting anxiously. He felt friction against his shoulder and realized Harry was nodding tightly, still breathing as if he was coming down from the exertion of a run. George felt immense relief flood through his whole system when Harry was no longer on the verge of heart failure or complete loss of consciousness.

He breathed out a soft sigh of relief, making Harry's hair flutter a bit and he then began to wonder how long they had been out there for. And how long would Harry need or want to stay like this until he began to grow uncomfortable or embarrassed? George simply pushed those thoughts away and let the both of them be for the moment. Though, as if Harry had somehow sensed his thoughts and wanted to give him a nonverbal answer, he slowly turned until he was leaning sideways against him with his eyes closed and his head resting in the crook of George's neck. The red head had to stop himself from tensing instinctively, reminding himself that Harry had just been through something very taxing and exhausting and was most likely simply relieved that he had made it through. He very carefully brought his arms up and held Harry loosely, just in case he changed his mind and didn't like their new position.

But the Boy Who Lived seemed quite alright with it, for he said nothing and merely continued to take in those wonderful breaths that everyone always took for granted. George himself was content with whatever Harry wanted, simply relieved that he was better now. He wondered if what he had seen was the cause of this whole episode in the first place… But was this really the best time to bring it up? What the hell? He thought, knowing that if he didn't say anything now, he would never work up the nerve to do so again.

"Harry…" he began in a voice just above a whisper, "I think I know what upset you…back at the table. I don't think anyone else did, but…I saw. And if this is because of what happened…then I want you to know that…it's okay. It's alright, Harry." He waited tensely for a few moments, wondering how the teen would react to his words or if he would even react at all. Harry said nothing. After a minute or so, he glanced down and realized that the poor boy had fallen asleep against his chest and his heart melted even further for Harry James Potter.

A/N – Quite a bit longer than the others. What do you think of Harry and George in this chapter? Let me know your thoughts on everything so far in the reviews. Those are always appreciated.