Dear George,

I cannot even tell you how sorry I am. I feel horrible about what happened last week...last month...last year...two years ago...all those years ago. That's how they all began. Most of the letters were unfinished and they generally said the same thing. The last was the longest--Hermione had had five years to dwell on it. She had asked about the shop, apologized several times, rambled about what she had been doing, and apologized again. George didn't feel this made up for what she had done. He figured nothing ever would. It wasn't as if he had only been close to one woman--he had had girlfriends before Hermione and a few after. But none of them had made him particularly happy.

He packed the letters in a drawer and crawled into bed. He didn't bother changing into his pyjamas. After all, he was just going to have to change back in the morning. He closed his eyes and attempted to fall asleep, something that gradually reached him.

Ron poured the tea into his cup and added both sugar and milk. He was still gloomy about Hermione's rejection a few nights ago, but was looking forward to another day of Auror training. He looked up as Fred came down the stairs, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He yawned and asked tiredly, "Where's Mum?" He sat down at the table. "Where's breakfast?"

"Mum's out," Ron answered, not looking up from the Daily Prophet he was reading. "And breakfast is whatever you can find."

"Mum's out?" Fred repeated. "She never goes out."

"Well, she's out," Ron said again, anger in his tone.

Fred frowned. "Looks like somebody rolled off the wrong side of the bed this morning." Ron ignored him. "What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"Nothing," Ron replied.

"Oh, wait. Let me guess." Fred spooned some sugar into his tea. "This has something to do with Hermione, doesn't it? I figured her showing up would throw off the Weasley harmony we had. What happened?" Ron continued to stare at the newspaper until Fred snatched it away. "Tell me, Ron. I'm your brother--I'm supposed to do this kind of stuff."

Ron rolled his eyes, sighing. "Then why don't you leave me alone?"

"Sorry, not until you tell me what's going on." Fred took a sip of his tea, waiting.

"Hermione said 'no' again." Fred looked confused, so he elaborated, "When she came for supper, I asked if we could date again. She said it wasn't a good time, that she was too busy with work."

Fred clasped his hands together, leaning on the table. "Y'see, Ron, Hermione...well, Hermione's a confused girl. I don't think she really knows what she wants." He tousled his younger brother's flaming-red hair. "You'll find other girls, Ron, even if this one doesn't work out."

"There won't be any other girls," Ron insisted. "Not as long as I love her."

There was a crashing noise and they both whirled around. George was sprawled out at the bottom of the stair, his legs halfway to the second storey. He quickly picked himself up and checked his nose for blood.

"Quite a fall you took," Fred said, a small smile on his face. Ron, however, wore nothing but a frown.

"I have to wake myself up somehow," George replied, rubbing his arm.

"Are you all right?" Fred asked rather unconcernedly. "You didn't hit your head too hard, did you?"

"'Course not," George answered. "Erm...what were you...what were you talking about?" Ron glared at him briefly and walked away.

George turned to his twin, who waited until Ron was out of sight to say, "Very graceful, though you should have used Extendable Ears. That might have prevented the...fall."

"How did you know?" George questioned, grabbing a piece of toast.

"You even have to ask?" Fred smirked. He watched his brother slowly chew on his toast and drink from his glass of orange juice.

George stopped and said, "Wha'?"

"You said you were done with her--that there wasn't a hint of a feeling for her." Fred crossed his arms. "You've been depressed for too long, George, and I was just getting used to your cheerful self again."

"I don't feel anything for her!" George protested.

"Oh, my mistake, perhaps I imagined you tumbling down three flights of stairs," Fred said.

George laughed a little, and then said, "No, I was just startled, that's all. It's not every day your brother says he loves someone."

"Yes, but, Ron's been saying that since he met her," Fred retorted. George said nothing. "You're not doing yourself or Hermione any good. She's moved on and so should you."

George looked up at him. "How would you know anything about her feelings toward me?"

Worry flashed across Fred's face for a moment. He brought his empty cup to the sink, something he normally did with his wand. "I could tell, of course. Couldn't you?"

"You've been seeing her...behind my back," George said forcefully. "And you never told me."

"She wanted to talk, so, I--erm--lent a friendly ear," Fred explained a little weakly.

"So, she talked to you about all of her feelings, then, did she?" George said nastily. "And I suppose you were a nice shoulder to cry on too?" He threw on his cloak. "Don't bother coming into the shop today. I can manage it myself, seeing as I don't have any distractions like weepy girls." The stunned look on his brother's face made George regret what he had said almost instantly. However, he had Apparated and reappeared outside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes before he could redeem himself.

He grabbed the large brass key from his pocket and unlocked the door. With a few flicks of his wand, the candles were lit and he could see the many rows of pranks and all kinds of risky, somewhat dangerous foods (all of which he and Fred had created themselves). He remembered that without Harry, none of this would have been possible.

Business was definitely lagging, he found as he glanced over the month's financial records. The Hogwarts students (their biggest customers) were all at school and the twins had no real direct link to the school anymore. Order forms and such were, of course, available by Owl Post, but what they needed was advertising. They had so far gotten an advert in the Daily Prophet, but it wasn't doing as much as they had hoped. "Zonko's," he muttered. That's it, he thought, Zonko's! "Whatever they don't have, we do."

At that moment, the chime on the door rang and George looked up. "Hello, welcome to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. How can I help--oh, it's you."

"Well, you don't sound very happy to see me," Angelina Johnson said, lowering her hood.

"There's a simple explanation for that," George said, smiling insincerely.

She held up a hand. "Don't say it." She glanced around the shop. "Where's your better half?"

"Fred?" he smirked. "Oh, we had a blazing row earlier and I ended up blowing him to bits. I'm going to start selling the pieces, if you're interested."

"Ha, ha," Angelina replied, ignoring George's childish grin. She stared at him, waiting. "Well?"

"He's not here," he answered simply.

"Is he going to be here anytime today?" she asked impatiently. George shook his head. In a frustrated tone of voice, she said, "He was supposed to be here." At George's questioning look, she went on, "We were going to go shopping to get him some new dress robes--one that won't completely clash with my dress."

Not knowing how else to respond, he asked, "Why?"

"We're going dancing," she replied, smiling. "If he does come in, George, tell him we'll go tomorrow, and that if he doesn't show up, I'll fry his brain." With a quick wave, she was out the door.

George had just gone back to the records again when the door was flung open and Angelina was back. "I meant to tell you--I ran into Hermione on my way here."

"Did you?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"I haven't seen her in ages," Angelina continued. "She looked really well, a little pale, perhaps. I expect that's from all the raids on Muggles. They're getting worse, you know."

George nodded. "My father, remember, he works there as well."

"Right, well, that's all I wanted to say." She started out the door again.

"Angelina," he called after her. She turned, smiling. "Did you speak with her?"

"Briefly," she replied. Angelina crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know if she was all right," George said. "We spoke earlier and she didn't seem herself."

"Well, I hardly recognized her without a book in her hand," she said, laughing a bit. "I'll see you later."

Slowly, he rose and tiptoed to the window. He had no idea why as he was perfectly alone. He peered down the alley and discovered that Angelina was gone. Assuming she had Apparated, he slipped out the door. What are you doing? he asked himself. She's not here for you, and even if she was, you shouldn't care. Hermione doesn't matter anymore. Nevertheless, he quickly locked the door and walked casually out into the street. He didn't see her anywhere--had Angelina been playing some kind of joke on him to see what he would do? She had never said when she had seen Hermione. Sighing, he sat down near the fountain of Sloggard the Slovenly and watched the door of his shop. It looked cheery enough, though no one was trying to enter it.

Quietly, a girl sat down beside him. George refrained from looking at her. He noticed she took out a large book and he stole a glance at her. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a small face, with a delicate chin and pouty red lips. George nearly fell backwards into the fountain.

He was just able to turn away when she dropped her book and asked worriedly, "Are you all right?" He nodded emphatically, trying to keep out of sight. "Are you sure? I'm sorry if I startled you; I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

He waved his hand, trying to communicate that he wasn't holding a grudge. He lowered his voice and put on a sort of Cockney accent, saying, "Oh no, not at all." George got up quickly and started to walk away, back towards his shop. When he was a safe distance from her, he glanced back. However, she was gone.

"George," said a voice on his right. He jumped. "I knew it was you."

"Hermione," he began nervously, "what are you doing here?"

"I was trying to enjoy my day off," she said pointedly. "Business poor?" Hermione glanced inside the empty shop. He shrugged. "So, are you going to stand there looking baffled or are you going to explain why you're avoiding me?"

"Avoiding you? Me?" He tried to sound aghast. "Why would you say that?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Don't be daft, George." She paused and a hesitant look came to her face. "Can we talk?"

George nodded and led her into the joke shop. He produced a few chairs and they sat down. They were silent for a few awkward moments, and then George said quietly, "I've been thinking about what I said the other day..."

"You read my letters, then," Hermione replied softly. "So that's why you're being so nice all of the sudden." He gave a small nod. "I'm so sorry, George. Leaving you was one of the most heartless things I've ever done."

"I haven't been angry with you, Hermione," he said. "At first I was...I've mostly been trying to forget about you entirely, trying to forget we'd ever had anything...together." She bit her lip. "And then you show up on my doorstep. I couldn't help it--I just exploded."

She nodded, trying to remain composed. "I understand." She was silent for a long while, while George got some tea for them both.

"So," he began carefully, "you taken the day off? I thought it was so busy there."

She shook her head. "I resigned." George gaped at her. "Apparently helping Muggles with bewitched kitchen supplies isn't my true calling. I'm surprised I didn't get sacked, I was doing such poor work." George continued to stare at her, mouth open. "Of course your father wouldn't say anything to me."

"Hermione," George interrupted, "Dad has nothing but compliments for you."

She looked uncomfortable. "Well, there was one time I turned in a report a day late. I could see the disappointment on his face. He wanted to sack me right then and there."

"No, he didn't," George stated. "You imagined it."

"I did not," she protested. "You should have seen his eyes!"

"Well, I have seen my father's eyes when he's disappointed," George replied. "More than once, if you can believe it." Hermione laughed and George smiled crookedly. "I never thought I'd hear that sound again."

"What?" she asked. "Me laughing?" He nodded. "Well, that's what friends do."

"I'll have to get used to that." After George spoke, there was an awkward silence. "Er...I suppose I should get to work. I have to fill a few orders."

"Oh." Hermione stood up quickly, setting the teacup down on the counter. "It was nice talking to you. I'm glad we can again." She walked to the door and slung her satchel over her shoulder. "I've missed you...and the others."

"Me too," George said, approaching her. "Erm, do friends kiss each other good-bye?"

"Sure." Instead of kissing each other's cheeks, their lips met briefly. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. 'Bye." He stood by the window, staring after her. She was smiling, actually smiling. Because of him? He stopped. No, he wasn't going to fall for her again. He watched her disappearing figure. He couldn't quite forgive her...not yet. Some things, however, were a little too irresistible.