It was early in the morning, before dawn, and the Burrow was quiet. Eerily quiet, really. But, there were two people who were wide awake: George Weasley and Hermione Granger, but for different reasons.

Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy Manor, the deaths in the war, Harry, their futures, and her newfound relationship with Ron. She blushed, thinking of the latter. Turning to her side, she got off the bed. Making sure not to wake Ginny, who was sound asleep, she made her way to the living room of the Weasleys' home. She decided to go for a walk. She went up to the back door, and, rather unsurprisingly, found George sitting there.

He'd been moody ever since the battle. He only ever came out of his (well, previously Fred and his room) to eat, go to the loo or drink some water. He'd been emotionless at Fred's funeral, though Ron said he'd found him crying in the bathroom afterwards.

She couldn't blame him.

"Can I sit here?", she asked. They'd never been close, but friends all the same. He and Fred tried to get on her nerves as much as possible. She found herself missing that now - at least in meant that they were happy and alive.

He gave a brief nod.

"Hi", she said, when he didn't say anything.

"Hello", he said expressionlessly.

She hesitated. She had to choose her words carefully.

"George, you…you're not the only one who misses him, you know." He raised an eyebrow.

She went on: "We all do, even Harry and I."

"And what memories could you possibly have of him, may I ask?", he retorted.

"The jokes. The drama. The way you two completed each other's words…and, trust me, I know how you feel."

He scoffed.

She took a breath and continued. "You wonder why it couldn't have been you. You feel…guilty, guilty that you couldn't save them." And it was true – She, Harry and Ron had a lot of experience with that.

"But remember, the ones you love the most will always be in here", she said, motioning to her heart.

They sat silently for what felt like an eternity, listening to the chirp of the grasshoppers' mating calls. He finally spoke, but it was so quiet that she had to strain her ears to hear what he was saying.

"This is different, Hermione. This is the pain that comes with losing a twin. It…it feels like a part of me is just…gone…forever." His voice cracked at the last word, and she felt herself tearing up. She hastily wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"The best thing you can do is try and move on. You're not alone, George. You have us. We're all here for each other, and we want each other to be happy." She took a deep breath. "F-Fred wouldn't have wanted you to-to mope around here, not talking to anybody."

He looked at her, his eyes shining with a mixture of hope and grief. "You're right as always, Herms." She didn't even mind the usage of the nickname that she hated so much.

Quite unexpectedly, he threw his arms around her. She returned it tentatively.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"You're welcome, George."

She found that comforting another person helped her relax, too. Deciding she didn't need the little walk that she was planning to take any more, she went back up the stairs and crept back into bed.

The next morning at breakfast, he came down to breakfast and actually stayed a little longer, making sarcastic comments. Sure, he wasn't as jolly as he'd usually be, but it was a start. She noticed that it instantly lifted the mood of the whole house.

She didn't miss the meaningful smile he sent her way, either.

It was worth it, she thought. Definitely worth it.

Though she might have changed her mind a few months later, when she saw that her hair had changed it's colour to shocking pink.

It was safe to say that she lost her temper when he told her, quite calmly, that it would last for a whole day.