Ch 86: Navigating Grief

The following week, Hermione went to pick Hugo up after school, and he came out proudly displaying a blue ribbon attached to his giant diorama. His Battle of Hastings project had blown away the competition, including an elaborate War of the Roses project that included a lot of real roses. After the necessary hugs and high fives, they headed home so Hugo could floo to the shop to show Ron and George his prize.

Ron was in his office balancing the accounts when he heard George knock on his doorframe.

"Ronniekins, I found this little hooligan messing about the shop. I think I'll leave him here for you to handle," George grinned as he headed back out to the front of the shop.

He looked up to see a grinning Hugo. "I won the history project contest!" he beamed. "I got first place and a blue ribbon!"

"Fantastic!" cheered Ron as he stood up and picked up a beaming Hugo in a massive embrace. "Way to go, Hugo. You worked so hard on that. I am so proud of you!"

"I couldn't wait 'til dinner to show you," he said, handing the ribbon over to Ron for closer inspection.

"Wow. That is so great. I am so glad you brought it now."

"Yeah. I knew you'd want to know."

"Absolutely!"

"Are you going to be here late tonight?"

"Shouldn't be too late. I have another thirty minutes or so."

"Anything I can do to be helpful?"

"'Fraid the book balancing is sort of a one person job. But, I bet George would appreciate your help in the stock room."

"Cool. I'll go find him. But come get me when you're done and we'll go home together."

"Will do," smiled Ron.

Hugo wandered back out to the shop to find George, and Verity directed him back to the storage room at the end of the hall. Hugo headed back, knocked gently on the scuffed and scratched door and headed inside.

"George? Dad said you could maybe use my help for a bit."

"Well, if you're volunteering that would be brilliant."

"Sure. Dad said bookkeeping is a one man job so I have about thirty minutes or so to kill until he's done. Might as well be useful."

"I'd rather do this kinda thing than balance books any day," said George rolling his eyes. "Mind numbing in my opinion. Here – all I need to do is pack these up – twenty in each box. Then each box gets taped up and stacked right there. "

Hugo shrugged as I started to pack the boxes. "I rather like maths actually."

"Don't get me wrong, it's dead useful and really critical to understand. But, my skills as a businessman have come more on the charms, potions and invention side more than the business management side. When we started it all, that was Fred's skill set. Was hard to keep it going without him, but your dad helped a lot and saved my arse. Without him, I would have never been able to stay afloat after the war."

"I can't even imagine Diagon Alley without Weasley Wizarding Wheezes."

"Well, now I am so glad, of course. But back then I couldn't picture Wheezes without Fred."

Hugo was quiet for a moment as he counted out the inventory. Finally, he said, "How long did it take?"

"Did what take?"

"How long did it take for you to picture Wheezes without Fred?"

"Huh," said George stopping for a minute to consider his answer. "You know – that is a great question. But I am not sure it has an answer. Back then I couldn't imagine coming in here and working without him at my side. And I couldn't imagine me being creative and inventive without him to bounce the ideas off of. He knew me better than I knew myself. We finished each other's sentences. I'd never had a single night of my life without him sleeping on the other side of the room," sighed George wistfully. "And, I don't know how it's been for you, but for me it sort of eventually shifted from missing his physical presence to incorporating what I knew he would want or say or do in a situation. So – in many ways Wheezes still wouldn't exist today without his imprint. And, in that sense, I guess I still can't picture Wheezes without him. It just isn't him here physically."

"How do you mean?"

"Um, take these things for instance," said George reaching into the box he had just packed. "This potion is stored individually. But, they go into a group of things I sell as a set – each piece includes different items that help you fake being sick. I had long ago invented the puking pastels, the fever fudge and the roaring rash rock candy. But as I was sitting looking at them one day I somehow just KNEW that Fred would suggest I package them as a set. Kinda even heard it in my head the cruse way he would have phrased it too. Then I wouldn't just sell one or two items, I would sell three each time. So, we were so close and he had such an influence on me that I can't help but hear him in my head and feel what he would suggest I do or say in a situation. How about you? Do you still hear your Mummy or Daddy or grandparents in your head suggesting something?"

"Yeah," admitted Hugo softly.

"Isn't that a good thing?" George asked gently.

"Well," sniffed Hugo as he rubbed his wet eyes with the back of his hand. "At first it made me miss them more – like it reminded me that I wouldn't ever get to actually hear them again, or feel their hugs and whatnot. But I do think that I am sort of where you said – kinda shifting from it being hard to it being a good thing."

"You know Hugo, I'm not going to feed you a bunch of bollocks. Living with such grief is complete shite. There are days when I still can't breathe for the weight of it all. But it has gotten so much easier with time. At first I was hardly even conscious of the world around me. And your parents would be furious at me for saying this, but you know grief better than anyone, so you deserve nothing but the real thing. For a while I thought about joining Fred – thought about how much easier it would be to not do any of this. In that time I didn't eat, I didn't sleep. I just couldn't – well – I couldn't breathe and live without him. And I couldn't picture living a whole unknown future that way. But, thankfully, your dad, Angie, my friend Lee and other folks refused to let me get lost in the grief. Even when I was sure I would drown in the pain, they kept my head above water. Then it was like I went from drowning in the sea to having a life jacket and then to being in a rescue boat and then to being gasping on the beach, and then one day I realized it was more like I was totally on shore again with just a view of the water. You know there are still times it is hard, really fucking hard, and I can feel myself slipping. But now I know how to reach out for help and I get through it with help."

"And everyone tells you it's what Fred would want." Hugo said. It wasn't a question, more of a statement of assumed fact.

"Yeah," nodded George. "Used to piss me off, too. Who were they to tell me what Fred would want? I knew him better than they did. But, eventually I came to recognize they were right. Fred didn't want me to off myself. Fred didn't want our shop to go under. I didn't really want those things either, of course. I just wanted it to stop hurting."

"Did it?"

"Wish I could tell you otherwise, but it's never stopped completely. But it dimmed to a place where some days I hardly notice it at all. Not that I don't think of him every fucking day, because I absolutely do. But, it doesn't hurt every day. Some days it is still shite – like the anniversary, and often our birthday – but your parents helped with that day for sure."

"That was brilliant," grinned Hugo. "You know the anniversary of my family's accident is next week."

"I know," said George softly. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," admitted Hugo. "Well, I don't want to talk about the day of the accident. But, what have you done on those hard days over the years that made it better – or at least less awful?"

"Hmm," pondered George. "Good question. I have probably tried every possible approach – denial, drunken stupor, sleeping through the whole damn thing, traveling somewhere else, or working like it was a normal day, you name it."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Mum and Dad would look very favorably if I tried to lose myself in firewhisky, George."

"Fair point. They'd be furious at you and flat out have my guts for garters."

"Right. So what were the least bad years? What helped?"

"I guess the honest answer is that the years I was doing something that helped others it was better. Not that I am that good or self-sacrificing every year. I still hit the firewhisky some years. Ok, a lot of years. But, overall when my kids were really little and I did fun things with them - that helped. Or when I went and took some of our fun wheezes to children in St. Mungo's, or other kids really impacted by the war. Those were probably the least bad. Helping people and finding real laughter, 'cuz Freddie loved that. Merlin, he loved making people laugh. Guess that's what helps me."

"I can see that. When I've helped out Mrs. Rupesmith at the art center or organized everyone to make cards for the people at the care home – that always feel pretty good."

"Hard to feel sorry for yourself when you are helping someone else."

"I don't really feel sorry for myself, you know. I just miss them. And sometimes I feel guilty missing them – like then I am thinking I don't love Mum and Dad. But, then sometimes I am happy now and then I feel guilty like I don't love Mummy and Daddy. Makes my head spin."

"No shite. That's a lot. And I hope some grown up type figure has said you can love all four and be sad and happy at the same time."

"Grown up type figure?" Hugo laughed.

"Yeah, well, some responsible adult who doesn't curse around you and tell you shite I shouldn't be."

"Yeah – well – you actually know, don't you? Once you know this kind of thing, you can never un-know it."

"That's for damn sure. And I selfishly wish I didn't haven't this 'wisdom' to share with you, but since I am stuck with it, I might as well share what I've learned with others that could use it."

"I guess I wish I didn't need it. But since I do, I am glad you're here."

"You can thank your Dad for that. Rescued my arse more times than I care to admit – honestly probably more times than I even remember."

"He rescued me too."

George just smiled at him, but didn't say anything, sensing Hugo wasn't quite done.

"Yeah, starting that first day he was always there. He slept on the floor next to the bed for months and months because I would have nightmares. Wasn't even my room. I wanted to sleep in my parents' room because it still-"

"smelled like them," George chimed in. "I did the same. Slept in Fred's bed for years. Still have the pillows in a closet somewhere."

"Me too. Dad's idea."

"Same. Your dad is pretty great. But don't tell him I said that. He's still my little brother even if he is taller than me, the little shite."

"Your secret's safe with me," Hugo grinned.

"Good," said George smacking Hugo's head playfully with an empty box. "But you know you can come talk to me anytime, right? I may not always have an appropriate answer – but I will always be real with you."

"Thanks, George," Hugo said as he hugged him.

"Anytime," George muttered as he gripped the little boy tightly.

They were still hugging when Ron walked into the storeroom. At the noise, they pulled apart.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hey, little man. You guys good?"

"Yup, He can head up our shipping department if he agrees to keep getting paid nothing for his services," chuckled George as he got back to filling boxes.

When Ron and Hugo flooed home, Hermione had dinner ready. They all washed up and were soon sitting at the kitchen table enjoying the spaghetti she had made. Hermione had been telling them both about her day and was going into a lot deeper detail about legal things than either Hugo or Ron could follow. But, they both nodded along, grinning at each other seeing how happy Hermione was.

"Have you seen Nicola recently?" Ron asked.

"Chew and swallow. For the love of all that is holy, chew and swallow, you two! And, no, I haven't seen Nic in weeks."

Hugo swallowed audibly and then said, "I know what I want to do for the anniversary next week."

Hermione and Ron shared a quick glance, and then Hermione said, "Alright, care to share?"

"Yeah. I want us all to do some volunteer thing. Something that gives to others and makes them feel better. And then I want to have both sets of grandparents and George for dinner. A fun dinner. Not a crying dinner."

"George?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. George. He kinda gets it, you know? Well, and he can help with the fun not crying part."

Hermione nodded as she sipped her wine. Ron jumped in, commenting, "You guys seemed to be having a good talk today."

"We did. Talked about what made things better for him and maybe what I could learn from what he went through."

"That's great, Hugo," said Hermione.

"What all did he say?" asked Ron, more reserved in his enthusiastic support.

"Stuff he said he shouldn't've," admitted Hugo as Ron's eyebrow shot up. "But it's ok. I get it too, you know? But we both agreed that neither of us would have made it through without you, Dad."

Ron was taken aback at the comment and coughed a bit on his wine.

"That shouldn't be a surprise, Dad. You know it's true for both me and George."

Hermione smiled at her boys, knowing the love between them and glad Ron could get a glimpse of how much he was adored and appreciated.

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat and finally said, "I have been lucky enough to be there with people I love as they faced really, really difficult times. But you and George – you guys have done the hardest part. I've just been the one to help you keep at it."

"Dad," said Hugo sternly. "Don't try to weasel out of the compliment you big dork. You wouldn't stand for it if it were me or Mum. You've been important, and we appreciate it. Can we get back to planning how to spend the anniversary?"

Ron was dumbstruck in that moment at much Hugo reminded him of Fi when she used to get frustrated with him. It caught him so off guard that he felt his eyes tear up for a moment, but quickly shook it off as he caught his breath. Hermione, noticing this, helped him out.

"Right, so Hugo – the fun dinner part sounds pretty straight forward. But did you have anything specific in mind for the volunteer part?"

"Um, nope. I guess I'm still working on that piece."

"Well," said Hermione still realizing Ron needed a moment, "you've been great at helping at the care home and helping out at the art center. Are you thinking along those lines?"

"Not really," admitted Hugo. "Something different I think. What about with all of those refugee families you've helped, Mum? Is there a family that could use a hand? Maybe I could give some of my old toys and stuff to a family and we could cook for them and give them some things to help them out?"

Surprised, Hermione quickly nodded her head. "Yeah, there are definitely a lot of families who could use a hand. I can think of a family from last year actually. It was a young couple with a four year old little boy. He might enjoy some of your old things. The parents are both really well educated, but their credentials haven't transferred here so it has been really difficult for them to work."

"That sounds great," Hugo agreed. "I think that would be a great project, and I think it would be a fun way to honor Mummy and Daddy and my grandparents in a way they would appreciate."

"Definitely. And I am sure Grandma Jean would like to take you shopping to help pick out a few new things, too."

"Just like she did with Gran," Hugo beamed. "Can I go call her and tell her about it?"

"Definitely," Hermione smiled, and Hugo dashed off to find the phone. As soon as he had left the kitchen Hermione stretched out to take Ron's hand which was on the table. "You ok? One moment you looked fine and the next it was like you'd seen a ghost."

Ron chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Something like that. I was just overcome there for a minute. Hugo looked so damn much like Fi and sounded so damn much like Fi that it really took my breath away. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry you – what did Hugo call you? A big dork?" she said as she got up and went to sit on his lap. "I know for me the life I was living before the accident can often feel like a lifetime ago. But it wasn't even two years ago. How long were you and Fi partners?"

"More than fifteen years," Ron said with a bittersweet sigh.

"Exactly. And I think that Hugo would probably really appreciate hearing how you see her in him. He never got to know her like you did."

"You're right. Again. Do you think Hugo noticed my little moment there?"

"Nah. He was already onto other things. Amazing things, as it turns out. He really is an incredible kid. Did you know he and George were going to talk like that?"

"No. When he was at the shop earlier he offered to help, but I was working on balancing books so sent him off to see if George needed anything. When I came to find him about half an hour later the two were in the store room in a huge embrace, and it looked like they both could have been crying at some point, but they were laughing when I got there."

"I guess if anyone can understand what Hugo's experience has been like it would be George. Different circumstance and situation obviously, but having your whole world ripped out from under you is a unifying experience I guess."

"Yeah. Although I am glad Hugo was young enough that he didn't even know self-medicating the grief with firewhisky was an option. I wonder what George told him."

"You should ask one of them if it is important to you. But it sounds like they talked about how they both really depended on you in the toughest of times." Ron didn't say anything, but Hermione noticed his ears blushing, so she kept going as she lightly ran her fingers over his face. "I know you somehow don't understand it. But you are a truly remarkable man, Ronald Weasley. And I am so lucky to get to be your wife." With that she kissed him, surprising him as she deepened the kiss and ran one hand across his chest and the other raked her nails through his hair. She pulled back as she heard Hugo running back down the stairs to fill them in on his call. "Raincheck," she whispered in his ear as she hopped off of his lap and started clearing the dishes from supper.

Hugo had fully embraced the idea of throwing all of his energy into helping the refugee family. He had owled Rose straight away and asked what of her old things he could give away, and then he had gone through his own toys and clothes to find things the family could find useful. Hermione's mum had also jumped at the idea of shopping as a way to honor her late shopping buddy, and she and Hugo had once again become a force to be reckoned with. But, following Ron's caution to not go too far overboard that it would make the family uncomfortable feeling like a charity case, Hugo and Jean had focused on getting some gift cards for the local market and other stores the family would likely use. This way, it wasn't going to fill up their small flat with bags and bags of donations of stuff they might not actually want. And, Hermione had reached out to the wife in the family to help her understand why Hugo was so motivated to do this on this particular day. And, once she had understood about the anniversary of the accident, Mrs. Azir had been very emotional in her gratitude and had invited them all to stay for dinner when they came to deliver the gifts. But, Hermione had politely explained he had wanted to have a "not sad" party that night with some extended family. So, they settled on having tea and some traditional Syrian sesame and pistachio biscuits, which Ron quickly declared his new favorites.

Later that night as Ron and Hermione crawled into bed, Hermione commented on how the party had actually been fun despite the difficult anniversary.

"Well, I think Hugo was a genius in inviting George," Ron said.

"You don't think I'm fun?" teased Hermione.

"Oh, I know you're fun, but I don't necessarily need to have that kind of fun with our parents there."

She smacked him playfully on the arm.

"But seriously," he protested. "George has always been the light of the party. You should have seen what him, Fred and their friend Lee could do. But like Hugo said, he gets it. He understood – and understands – that if we didn't all focus hard on keeping it light it would be awful. So he worked hard at it. I mean, really, when was the last time you played charades at a party?"

Giggling, Hermione laughed "I still don't see how George came up with the idea of making you 'gift wrap a giraffe,' but my sides still hurt from laughing so hard."

"And I still don't see how you couldn't tell what I was doing. It was clearly climbing a ladder to wrap the neck in gift wrap."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind. But, yes, George was a brilliant addition by our brilliant son."

They both lay there quietly for a moment before Hermione said, "Can you believe that two years ago tonight you walked into my kitchen and my whole world changed?"

He sighed. "So surreal, isn't it? I mean, both of our lives have changed so dramatically. And I love it. And I still miss her so much it physically hurts, you know?"

"Yeah," she said as her voice got wobbly. "I do."

He pulled her closer to him, spooning up tightly behind her and resting his chin on her head. "Do you dream about Dennis much?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But it's changed over the two years. For a while it was me trying to get to him, to save him, or him falling off cliffs or something and throwing Hugo at me as he fell to protect him. But now the dreams are less about losing him and saving Hugo, but more about finding ways to tell him about how well Hugo is doing or remembering little details and quirks I need to remember to share with Hugo about his Dad." She was quiet a moment and then said, "And you? Do you dream about Fiona?"

"Yeah, but like you it's changed over time. When I was still working as an auror it was a lot about that damn case. She would be taunting me with a clue I couldn't figure out or I would be yelling at her to tell me things and she wouldn't speak. Drove me mad. And then it evolved more into these weird dreams where I was just failing her all of the time. I would dream about losing Hugo and having to tell her. Or I would dream that I had forgotten to do basic shite like feed him or something for weeks on end, somehow Collin popping up to photographically document my failure, and then I would have to confess to her what I'd done with Collin there showing her the pictures." Hermione laughed sadly and shook her head before he continued. "But then I guess as I got more confident in parenting, and well, you and me became – well, you and me - my dreams about Fi became more about missing my friend instead of letting her down."

They were both quiet for quite a while, and then Ron heard her sigh again.

"I know," he agreed to her sentiment. "Can't wish it didn't happen. Can't be happy it did. All we can do is live the life we have. We love Hugo. We love each other. We miss them. Happy and Sad."

She smiled in the dark, and reached her hand up to stroke his cheek. "I love you," she said sleepily.

"I love you, too," he murmured as he kissed the top of her head before he drifted off, still clutching her tightly.