It's been two weeks since the final battle and I am still surrounded by people. I'm pretty sure they all think that if they leave me alone for a moment that I'll follow Fred through the veil. It's suffocating. I can't fucking breathe. Every time I turn around, Mum is there with a plate of food. When I sigh, Ginny runs up to ask what I need. Percy just stares, guilt swimming in his eyes. I've seen Bill and Charlie more in the past weeks than I have since they left Hogwarts. The constant stream of pity and concern is relentless. YES, I lost my twin, my constant companion since conception. As if I could forget it. What I would like to do is mourn in peace, without pity and without overbearing family members popping in. I'd like to be free to cry in a ball or scream while I throw things. But my grief is too much for everyone else to handle. Even moving back to the flat has not relieved me of the constant companionship. You'd think they'd have their own grief to occupy their time. Yet somehow they fit a "babysit George" rota into their lives.
I can't even yell at them to go away. It's not like their fears are unjustified. Half of myself is gone, and it hurts so fucking much. How do I move forward from here? How can I go downstairs and open up the shop that was our dream? I can't even look in a mirror. What am I supposed to do? Being left behind hurts. I can't fucking breathe.
Two months later and life isn't much better. At least everyone is less overbearing. Mum still floods the kitchen with food, and the "babysit George" rota is going strong. But they leave me alone at night now and are slowly easing back into their own lives. Not everyone on the rota stares at me and sees Fred dead. Hermione has taken over the day shift. She leaves me alone to wallow on the stairs while she cleans up the shop. Sometimes she breaks the silence to confirm a product's viability after being left stagnant since the shop was ransacked months ago in an attack. It's a comforting routine.
Today is different. After cleaning all day, Hermione sits beside me on the stairs. She tells me she is leaving. She keeps talking, and I hear snippets about Australia and parents between my panicked haze. All I can think is that I'm being left behind again. I'm not sure when Hermione became such a constant, critical part of my life but the idea of losing her companionship is overwhelming.
"George!" she yells, then she softly adds, "Do you want to come with me?"
What? I look up, the haze receding. Hermione repeats herself. She will only be gone a couple weeks and thinks the change in scenery might be good for me. The itinerary is thoroughly planned but I don't hear any of it. All I know is that she wants me to stay with her and I'm not being left behind. Hermione asks if I will go with her one more time. I nod. I can finally breathe.