Ginny sat on the sofa for a bit.

"What a dick."

She looked up. George, standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"He's not really," she said, "Most people don't take criticism well,"

George's lips twitched.

"How are you with criticism?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Ok, fine. Hit me."

George sighed and came to sit next to her.

"That was pretty harsh,"

Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably.

"True. But he's been annoying the crap out of everyone. Someone had to tell him."

George found her gaze and held it.

Ginny fought to stop her eyes sliding away. She had no reason to apologise for what she'd said; she was right.

"You don't think you were a touch on the vicious side?"

Ginny shrugged.

"You think he would've listened if I hadn't been?"

George leaned back into the sofa cushions.

"I think you're still pissed off with him for treating you like the little woman and going charging off on an adventure without you."

Ginny eyed him warily.

"So?"

"Yeah, you're right," said George after a moment, "I mean, I'm glad you weren't haring off all over the countryside hunting horcruxes, but that was a seriously dick move. Make him suffer."

Ginny discovered she felt a tiny bit guilty.

But he had made her feel tiny and insignificant and unloved and pathetic. He'd made her feel weak and like… well… like a stupid little girl.

Arse.

And he had been pretty unbearable lately.

"You know," said George, rubbing at his ear scar tissue idly, "I've changed my mind. I think the brutality was justified. You're brilliant. Ferocious. If I was off on a quest, I'd take you with me."

Ginny gave a startled laugh.

"Thanks George,"

"I mean it."

"Ok,"

"The minute I decide on a quest, I'll be knocking on your door."

"Great, thanks,"

"Even if it's three in the morning,"

"Right,"

"Even if it's freezing outside,"

"Ok George,"

"Even if it involves… wait, what are you scared of?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

"Seriously though," said George, "What was he thinking? You're perfect for quests!"

"Yeah I am," said Ginny, "I bloody am."

GRIMMAULD PLACE- HARRY'S ROOM

The really awful thing about dumping your girlfriend who is also your best friend's sister, Harry decided, was the fact that you couldn't complain to your best friend about how unreasonable and upsetting it was.

That, and the fact that her entire family seemed to think it was just a lovers' tiff and were being irritatingly understanding in a way that made it clear they didn't understand at all.

Also the fact that she'd said a bunch of horrible things and there was no-one around to tell you that they weren't true.

That and also the total absence of any sympathy from anyone at all.

Harry concluded that, seeing as he had always spent the summer locked in a bedroom, more or less, he might as well continue the tradition and keep well out of the way.

Besides, there was a backlog of quidditch mags to read after a year on the run.

MUNGO'S- HERMIONE'S ROOM

"George," he said, and held out a hand.

Hermione looked him over.

"You're the money in the family, I take it?"

George blinked, stunned.

"I… never thought of it that way. But yes, I suppose. I run a small business. It's doing quite well. How did you know?"

Hermione raised a slightly judgmental eyebrow at him. George winced internally. Whatever it was, it was clearly obvious.

"You're the only Weasley wearing new-ish clothing,"

"Oh,"

Yup. Obvious.

Buy everyone some new clothes, you git.

That would be super awkward though…

George winced again.

"I'm not suggesting you buy them all new wardrobes," said Hermione, "But you should know you look different."

"Right. Yeah."

George paused and studied her. She was lounging on top of the covers of the hospital bed, a large exercise book open on her lap, and an assortment of muggle pens and highlighters scattered around her. She was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and Ron's wand was twisted into her hair like a chopstick.

She looked nothing like the Hermione he remembered, all prim and proper and dressed in school robes, and a little too anxious about upsetting people.

She was like… a more relaxed, more brutal version of Hermione. A confident, no-nonsense version, with some serious memory gaps but the conviction that she was smart enough to sort it out. She seemed… George found himself starting to smile. Harry wasn't the only one with an enormous ego.

He sat down in the chair beside the bed and cracked his knuckles.

This should be interesting.

"What else can you deduce?"

Hermione tapped her pen on the back of the exercise book and regarded him thoughtfully.

"That death in the family hit you really hard."

George flinched.

"Yeah."

"Were you close?"

"Yeah. We started the business together,"

Hermione nodded.

"That can't be easy, running it without him now."

George watched her face. It was as changeable as the weather, stern and confident one moment, curious and shy the next. She was looking at him now with uncertainty, like she wanted to ask him something, like she was about to say something important.

He felt his face bend into a small smile.

"Go on," he said quietly, "Ask away."

She shook her head and frowned.

"It's fine really. I'd quite like a confidante myself these days; I promise I won't repeat anything to anyone."

She opened her mouth and shut it again.

George just looked at her.

Hermione sighed.

"Well… I just… how do you run your business alone? I've been churning through ideas about this memory stuff, and I feel like I used to have someone to bounce ideas off, and without that sounding board, I feel like I'm just going round in circles."

George paused, considering.

"They're still there you know,"

"You mean Ron and Harry?"

George nodded.

Hermione sighed.

"I honestly can't believe I could've been friends with that self-important peacock. He's just so irritating. And Ron…" she sighed again, "Ron really wants me to get my memory back, and he has this extremely flattering belief that I'll work it out and everything will be fine. And I just…" she sighed, burying her face in her hands, "I just really want him to like me,"

George quirked an eyebrow at her.

"He does like you. Last I checked he was in love with you,"

Hermione moved the exercise book and hugged her knees to her chest.

"He loves the old me. The old me was apparently unspeakably brilliant and able to solve any puzzle. The new me… well, the thing is, I don't know what I don't know. I feel like I know a hell of a lot, but what if that's not enough? The old me sounds borderline genius; what if the new me is just ordinary smart?"

The old me built a business based on being hilarious, thought George, what if the new me isn't even mildly amusing?

"Identity crisis, huh? I feel you."

Hermione looked over at him, eyebrows rising with anxiety.

"You really do, don't you?"

George nodded.

"I think… I don't know. I mean, I can't bring my brother back from the dead, so I kind of have to work out how to do the business thing without him- but you have a chance to get your memory back, so I don't know if it's really the same. You're welcome to bounce ideas though. That was kind of my role in the business- idea fixer upper. Fred was all inspiration and ideas and I was always the logic and practicality. Making the dream real, if you see what I mean,"

Hermione nodded and bit her lip.

"So… I don't quite know how to put this…" she toyed with one of the muggle highlighters, and sighed again. "I remember Hogwarts. I remember doing a lot of homework. I remember a lot of the teachers, and a lot of the content, but I don't remember…" she flipped open the exercise book and passed it to him, "These people,"

George scanned down the list.

My parents, the Weasley family, Harry Potter, McGonnagall, Snape, Colin Creevy, Moaning Myrtle, Victor Krum.

That's actually quite a short list, thought George, I wonder if she just doesn't know who else she's forgotten.

"Do you mind?" George gestured to the pages to show he wanted to keep reading.

"Go ahead. It's mostly rambling thoughts though,"

George nodded and started flipping through the pages and pages of notes, interspersed with headings, and sections highlighted in various colours.

It seemed very Hermione, and at the same time, not. He'd seen her study notes before. They were always quill and ink on parchment, wizard-style. Tightly organised and neat. Not this sprawling text, that had clearly been read and re-read and added to and crossed out…

I can't seem to remember having any friends, she'd written on one page, which would make a kind of sense because apparently I don't remember the friends that I had. But if that's true, why do I remember how lonely it was?

That felt a bit personal, so he flipped to the next page.

If I focus on Ron I can remember feelings but nothing that actually happened. At least, I think I can remember feelings. Maybe I just woke up and my hormones kicked into gear. Hmmm. No I don't really believe that. They're a good looking family, but there's just something about Ron. I feel- at this point, George decided he shouldn't keep reading, but he might as well- like I know him. Like he's always been there, like we've always been together. I suppose that's why initially I thought we must've been dating. Strange, because I when I think about Hogwarts it's an unbearable loneliness, so he can't have always been there.

George skipped on and caught sight of his own name.

George interests me. In a family of noise he seems to be the only quiet one. The feeling I remember is curiosity. I don't know why.

He turned the page.

What happened in first year?

Sorting hat. Something to do with a troll- I don't know, I was very scared. Ron says that was when we became friends, but I don't remember anything except being trapped in a bathroom while the troll smashed things. I remember things were a little better after that though. God, I was so scared I was going to be rubbish at magic.

George chuckled.

"What?"

"It's just funny that you thought you might be rubbish at magic."

"You grew up with magic all around you. I'm muggle born. Starting school I knew everyone else knew more than I did. I had a lot to catch up on."

George gazed at her a moment.

"Not so different from where you are now,"

"I suppose." She paused and then pulled the wand out of her hair and started rolling it between her fingers. "All of the things I don't remember, I have feelings about." She glanced over at him, "Do you know what I mean?"

"You don't remember the person but you do remember how you felt about them,"

"Sort of. It's like, when I see someone, I have a feeling about them. Like, I don't know why exactly, but Harry really gets on my nerves, without even really doing very much,"

George grinned.

"He's been getting on everyone's nerves lately. Ginny gave him an earfull yesterday and he's up in his room sulking. He is a good guy though."

She looked thoughtful.

"I think I'm a bit jealous of Ginny,"

"Really? Why? I mean, she's great and all, but…"

Hermione frowned.

"I think it's all that zest and vitality and charisma. Like she's just this little ball of inexhaustible energy, and she just draws people in, you know?"

"Fred was like that too. Impressive, isn't it. Part of me can't believe our family's been so poor for so long. You'd think someone would have worked out how to monetize the talent at some point,"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him.

"That would be you,"

"Well, yeah, I suppose, but…"

He trailed off in the face of her skeptical look.

Merlin's saggy- is that what I'm good at?

George tried to keep his face neutral.

"Anyway, what's this idea you're supposed to be bouncing?"

Hermione sighed again.

"I don't know? I mean it feels like it's cloaked, you know? Like there are parts of my mind where someone's drawn the curtains, and I'm in a dark room. Like the memory is there, but I can't see it. But what if it's not, what if it's more like the memory has been deleted and there's just a black absence there? What if it's worse than that, what if it's like a virus, slowly chewing it's way into my other memories too? I had a read through some of the books on obliviation and memory charm reversal and the stupid stupid thing is that they don't seem to really understand how it works. And that ought to be the cardinal rule of magic- if no-one understands how it works, you shouldn't do it."

George absentmindedly flipped the edges of the exercise book with his fingertips.

"That's sort of what I do too," he said, "In the development and testing phase of a new product. Fred would say 'what about a pair of underpants that always gives you a wedgie' and I'd go through the steps of how to build a spell that would do that exact thing and not cut you in half down the middle by accident,"

Hermione pulled a face.

"I never said the small business was highbrow," George pointed out. "But I might be able to help you test those ideas. I do think you're first guess is probably right. Trust your gut."

Hermione pulled a face.

"I don't think I'm very used to doing that,"

"No," he agreed, "Very cerebral. I think maybe I am too." He turned this idea over in his head. He realised he was thinking about it, and that it was therefore probably right. "But I guess this might be a situation for letting instinct take the lead,"

She was suddenly grinning.

"What is it?"

"Well if we're talking about instinct…"

"What?"

"Do you know the whereabouts of someone called Draco Malfoy? I have no idea why, but I'd really like to punch him in the face."

George grinned.

"I'm sure that could be arranged."