It was April 1st and George Weasley was crying. It was April Fool's Day, yet there wasn't a smile to be seen among the Weasley clan and those they had chosen to spend today with. Professor McGonagall had given Hermione and Ginny leave for the day, and Harry had taken the day off. Everyone else had sent their condolences, had asked if they wanted them to come by, but the family had respectfully declined. Ron had not shown, despite the owls Molly and Arthur had sent. Today was their birthday, and George hadn't wanted any presents this first year, hadn't wanted to sit on the couch in the Burrow, in his childhood home brimming with love and happy memories, and know that Fred wasn't sitting beside him, wasn't there to laugh over presents and open cards from various extended relatives and equate how much they liked them with how much money they gave them. All done in jest and in the name of good fun, of course. No, there would be none of that this year.
Fred hadn't wanted to be buried, but cremated, so they'd set up a small memorial just by the lake where the two of them had liked to play as children, had watched fireworks -and set them off- by the hill and race their brooms around. It was there that George stood, dressed in a suit of dark blue -not black, never black for Fred, who had been so full of life and colour- looking out over the hillside and the land surrounding it, not even feeling the wind kick up and set the grass at his feet swaying, stinging the salt of his tears to his cheeks.
"I forgot how beautiful this place is" Harry said quietly, coming to stand beside him, but still giving him his space.
"Yeah, it is. The quiet's nice."
"It's funny; I used to love the quiet, especially when I was at the Dursley's: it meant they weren't home. Sometimes, I'd just listen to the emptiness of the house, and it felt like the only peace I'd ever know. Now, now I don't like quiet, the way it seems to seep into your head, twist your thoughts."
George gave him a long look. "I know what you mean."
"I thought you might. He was such a great person. And not just because he was funny, or that some of the pranks the two of you pulled were so clever you couldn't help but marvel at them. It was the little moments, helping students find their courage, handing out smiles as if they didn't cost him anything. And you're like that, too. It's an admirable quality to have, one that's not around a lot anymore." Behind his glasses, Harry's green eyes clouded with tears, and George knew he was thinking of his godfather Sirius, who had always been up for a laugh and who had spent evenings with the twins going over pranks during their time at Grimmauld Place, who when surrounded by the darkest of evils had always looked to the light.
He was trying to do the same, but some days it was harder than others, especially today.
"Look, I know I haven't been around a lot," Harry confessed, hands balled into the pockets of his coat, "but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me. I may not have known him as well as you, but I'm always here to listen, or to just have a drink and celebrate this amazing person who isn't in our lives anymore but still in our hearts."
George blinked back tears. "Since when did you become such a wise old sap?"
"I had a panic attack, a few months back. The Aurora training...it brought back memories. Kingsley came to talk to me, and he suggested a councilor. I went a few times, and it really helped. Helped me to but things into perspective, about what I've been through, and the kind of person I want to be now. It's what I wish I could have done for Ron, but I guess things just didn't work out that way," Harry said sadly, gazing off into the distance.
"Have you talked to him at all?" George asked.
Harry shook his head, something like grief flashing across his face. Most people might think that strange, for Ron was still alive. But George understood: he was grieving their friendship, the life they'd shared together. What those two had been through...it bonded you, brought you closer, which was why it was all the more painful when you broke apart. "No, he hasn't responded to any of my messages. I think it's too hard. Which is why I'm quitting Auror training."
George couldn't keep the surprise from his face, or his voice. "You are?"
"I am," his friend said with a bright smile. "It's not right for me, George. I wanted to do good, desperately, wanted to help people and keep bad people from the world, but there are other ways to help, other ways that don't include such darkness. It's an important job, and I'm glad that I've got this training, but it's not what's right for me."
"What are you going to do then?"
"Go home, of course. Back to Hogwarts. I here there's a Defense Against the Dark Arts position opening soon, once I've fully trained and got all my teaching qualifications. I want to teach kids how to be brave, how to protect themselves, but also not to be scared, that as long as there's bad, there's always going to be good right alongside it."
George pulled the younger man into a fierce hug, pride washing through him at the amazing wizard he had always been and would continue to be. "Freddie would be so proud of you," he murmured.
Harry hugged him right back. "I know. I know he'd be proud of you, too. But don't tell anyone else just yet: only Ginny knows so far. I want to be the one to tell everyone, but not today. Today, today's about Fred, and about family, about love and being together."
"And Mum's apple pie," George said with a wink.
Harry laughed. "Yeah, that too."
You never really notice the stars unless you're in pain, Hermione thought to herself. Sitting in the grass of the Burrow's front garden, Hermione looked up at the stars shining high above through the clouds and couldn't hold back the tide of loneliness and regret that hit her, right in the heart.
Three days. Three days, and then she'd be leaving for London, away from Hogwarts. Away from Draco. After that, she knew there would be no repairing their relationship, no way back to how things had once been between them, the time and the distance too insurmountable. But nothing lasts forever, especially if you never truly had it in the first place.
"Ginny told me you were out here," George said by way of greeting, sitting down beside her, palms resting on the grass behind him, supporting his weight as he threw a smile at her. "I didn't take you as the brooding type."
"I'm not usually," she told him quietly, gaze still resting above her head.
"She also told me," George began slowly, as if trying to tame a wild cat, "that you've been having some trouble with...Draco," he said, and she knew he'd almost said Malfoy instead of his first name, a habit formed from years passed.
And it was because of that that the witch asked, "What do you care? You don't like him anyway," but there was no heat to her words, only a puzzled and hurt curiosity, as if she was expecting something she knew she wouldn't want to hear.
"I like you, though," he replied easily. "You're like family, Hermione. You are family. Even if you and Draco get married and have twenty five kids, you'd still be part of our family. You're a Weasley for life," he declared, punching her lightly in the arm.
"I tried to do the right thing, but I've only ended up hurting him, and now we're going to leave and he's going to hate me forever and I'll die alone surrounded by cats and fuzzy jumpers and dusty books, crying because I gave up my one chance at love just because I was scared and I didn't want him to get hurt."
"Why would he get hurt?" George asked, genuinely confused. At her silence, he let out a long breath that seemed to hang in the air. "There's trouble again, isn't there?"
Hermione mustered up a weak nod.
"It's about him, isn't it?"
Another nod.
"And you tried to be the noble Gryffindor and protect him, didn't you?"
At that, she burst into tears. Likely startled, George put his arm around her as she buried her head in his chest, unable to stop the tears now that they'd started.
"Sshhh, it's okay," George murmured as he held her. "Oh, bookworm, don't cry. I wouldn't expect anything else from you." He drew away from her, brushing her hair out of her eyes in a brotherly gesture. Hermione had grown up as an only child, but in that moment she was so incredibly glad that she had a brother like George, even if it wasn't blood that flowed between them, yet something just as powerful: a love they'd chosen.
"You're gonna fix this," he promised her, eyes intent in a way she didn't often see, unless he was working on a joke or a new product for the shop. "It will be okay."
"How can you be sure?" Hermione questioned, brushing her tears from his jumper.
"Because if you care this much about him, he probably feels the same way," George reasoned logically. "You've always had this electric chemistry between you, and I think he waited a long time to be with you, and Draco's not one to give up, I'll give him that."
"But it's too dangerous!" Hermione protested, rising to her feet, pacing back and forth. "He'll get hurt!"
George rose with her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's a little danger in the face of love?" he asked her. Then, he frowned, as if waging some internal battle. "Do you want to know a secret? A secret about Fred?"
She was unsure, but nodded regardless. "Fred liked you," George confessed, face solemn in the moonlight. "He did for years, but he never told you. I think he was going to ask you to the Yule Ball, but you were going with Viktor Krum so he didn't. And he always regretted it, not taking that chance. Ron knew, and he got really jealous: it was one of the few things they ever thought about. That, and our spider prank when he was three. Don't be like that," he pleaded, "don't wait until it's too late. We all fought in the War for a reason, all made sacrifices, you more than most. So don't let the shot at happiness slip away, Hermione. Don't live with regret, otherwise it's all you're ever gonna live with. Promise me?"
Hermione smiled. "I promise I'll try."
George returned her smile. "Good. Want to raid the kitchen with me? I think I saw some Sherbet Imps at the back of the cupboard."
"Lead the way."
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm sorry this is so short, but it needs to be because the next chapter is going to be a BIG one. THE big one. Tissues at the ready, it's about to get emotionally dramatic...but who would have it any other way. I hope you liked my commemoration of Fred, and YAY, Teacher Harry! As it should have always been. Hey, has anyone had 404: File Not Found come up when they've done the select category bit when you're posting a new story? I really want to fix it so I can post all the new stuff I've got lying around!
Until next time.
All my love, Temperance Cain.
