Part 3 of 4. I'll admit the pacing is off in this chapter. Pacing is one of my weaknesses. It slows down towards the end, and the next chapter will be the very last one. I'm still debating how to go about writing it, so if you have any suggestions please tell me. Special thanks to CrowningAster, who basically came up with this story and gave me inspiration for this chapter. Please review!
2000
New Year's, 2000. Roughly a year and eight months since Fred passed on. It has been 2000 for one second, ten seconds, thirty, one minute.
George and Verity go down Diagon Alley to watch fireworks. Every New Year, save last year's, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shoots fireworks for advertising and as a celebration. Lee and Seamus, who had volunteered, handle the pyrotechnics of it this year, while everyone else go down to the Leaky Cauldron to watch. Tom, aging in his years, stands to greet everyone with a toothy grin. They stand outside for the fireworks to start, and George notices Ron and Hermione standing not ten meters away with Harry and Ginny. George tries not to look at them.
When the fireworks begin, the rockets shooting vibrant pinks and golds across the sky, Ron could have sworn he shit himself. The bangs and pops and loud booms. He flinches. "Great Merlin!" Hermione's lips press to his as the crowd cheers for the new millennium. They hold hands watching the firecrackers fizzle and then explode.
Ron sees George. There is no blood in his face, no color. He is as pale as alabaster. He stands with a woman Ron vaguely recognizes but can't put a name on.
Bang. Ron flinches. George can see it. His brother tenses up. George watches the sky light up into the Hogwarts crest, and he himself shudders as it dissolves with an incendiary boom.
Ron stares, rapt, at the sky, his legs glued to the ground. He winces. He doesn't hear Hermione until she stands and screams into his ear, "DO YOU WANT TO GO IN?" He sees concern in her eyes, and he nods feverishly before she leads Harry, Ginny, and he into the Leaky. Ron sits in a leather seat next to the window, shaking as he hears the rockets. Harry and Hermione go to get them food, and Ginny slides into the booth across from him, a sympathetic look on her face. "Are you okay?"
He shakes his head. No. No, he's not okay. Ginny opens her mouth to say something, but Hermione and Harry return with butterbeers, and Ginny decides not to speak. Her eyes bear holes into him, and instinctively he turns his gaze away from her.
He's married now. He is happy. He can let things go, right?
George watches him from outside before heading back to his flat. He's quite happy to get away from the lights and noise, and he bids Verity a farewell and Happy New Year. He takes Zoloft and drinks Draught of Peace before he goes to sleep.
February, 2000. One year and nine months. Valentine sales and chocolate boxes. Dinner at a Muggle restaurant Verity loves. Oliver and Poppy vacation in a wizard town in the Bahamas with their two children. Lee and Alicia go to Canterbury for the weekend to visit Alicia's mum.
George buries his grief for the time being in the cleft of his heart before turning to face the world, smiling like nothing had happened.
March, 2000. Ron, Farrow, and Harry are assigned a murder case of intricacies and a woven net of false evidence. The stress is almost overpowering at work. It comes as a relief when Ron goes home. He opens the door to his and Hermione's house-he still can hardly fathom he is actually married-and is met with a mix of decadent aromas. Hermione stands in the kitchen over pots and pans. She turns and smiles. "Come and help me."
His feet, which hurt like demons from the pits of hell, scream in protest, but he manages to give a tired smile. "Of course." He steps into the kitchen and kisses her before rolling up his sleeves.
"Don't forget to get an apron," she says, almost chastising, pointing to one hanging on a chair. Ron picks it up and unfolds it before stopping to stare at the green words stitched into the fabric.
Best Dad Ever.
"Oh my God." And suddenly Ron's feet don't hurt and he's no longer aware he hasn't slept in some twenty hours. "You're pregant? We're having a baby? We're having a baby!"
He spins her around, right there in the kitchen, and kisses her. He's going to be a dad. And suddenly nothing matters except for that.
April, 2000. Nearly two years have passed since Fred died. George and Verity have been dating for eight months. They get caught in a spring shower in London and take shelter underneath a bridge in a park and wait for the rain to pass. To George her kisses are a better cure than Zoloft and Draught of Peace combined.
"I love you," he says softly.
"I love you too."
He'd never told anyone he loved them before, apart from Mum, which is entirely different. Never in a million years had he thought he would say the words to Verity, but here he is. And the rain comes down as hard as ever, and it almost feels like they're in one of the Muggle romances Verity likes to watch. They kiss and George forgets his brother and the world for the first time in nearly two years.
The next day George walks with a pep in his step. Lee eyes him warily from the register. "What's with you today?"
"Nothing," George says, but he can't stop smiling.
"Quit giving me that freakish grin," Lee says. "Merlin. I haven't seen you smile in ages. Are you happy?"
"Just about," he says cheerily.
"I guess the smiles are a step up from moping around," Lee observes. George rolls his eyes, but he realizes that it's true. He hasn't felt this good since Fred was alive.
May, 2000. Baby names and pastel pinks and blues. Ron holds hands with Hermione in the waiting room at St. Mungo's. Nervous. Nervous. They haven't even been married a year. The baby will be here roughly the time of their anniversary.
Nervous. Twitchy.
When the midwitch opens the door and smiles politely and amiably, they stand up and follow her back to a room. "How far along are you?"
"Nine weeks."
The Healer nods. "I'm just going to see how healthy your baby is. This is perfectly regular." She holds out her wand and touches it to Hermione's belly. The tip of her wand turns white. The midwitch frowns. "I'll be back in just a second."
"Is there something wrong?"
"Sometimes it's hard to detect a heartbeat this early," she says reassuringly. "We just don't want it to be anything serious."
Ron holds Hermione's hand as they wait, silent. Several minutes later a different Healer comes. He performs the same test with his wand on Hermione.
"I'm sorry," he says. "This happens often with first time mothers in the first trimester-"
"What happens?" Ron interrupts.
"I'm sorry," he repeats. "You've miscarried. It's common during the first trimester. Give it a few months before you try again. I'll just leave you two here, if you need some time."
The door opens and closes, but Ron's numb. As soon as he's gone, Hermione falls in his arms, crying. Ron still feels like ice.
When they finally get home, Ron glimpses the date on the calendar. May 2. The day Fred died. How fitting. He holds Hermione as she cries, and when the situation finally dawns on him, he feels blue, a shade of midnight so dark he may just disappear into the night.
July, 2000. Two years and one month. George takes to Shakespeare. Julius Caesar, The Taming of the Shrew, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet. "You know Shakespeare was a Squib?" Verity asks. Which he hadn't known.
"My only love sprung from my only hate."
He tries not to mull over Shakespeare's words, but he ends up doing so anyway.
Ron comes in the shop at noon. His presence is enough to unbalance the facade George had built around himself in the two years since Fred's death. Oliver and Lee cast uneasy glances toward him and then George, whose fists were clenched at his side.
"Get out of my store," George says, surprised at the intensity in his own voice.
"George-"
"Get out!"
In his eyes, Ron had made a mockery of his suicide attempt. He opens wounds that were just beginning to heal today. He glares at his brother.
"You don't understand," Ron pleas, but Lee cuts him off.
"Come on, Ron. I'll go with you." And not for the first time is George thankful for Lee. Of course, if George had listened to Ron, maybe he would understand now.
Lee returns an hour later, somber. "You could give him a chance," he tells George.
August, 2000. Two years and three months ago, Fred passed away. George has to sneak out to Muggle London to refill his Zoloft prescription. He feels bad for keeping it from Verity, but what would she do if she knew? Probably have a fucking heart attack. He'd no doubt lose the best thing-the only good thing-that's happened to him since the war. So he keeps the tin of Zoloft and the corked bottle of Draught of Peace hidden in his sock drawer.
At dinner Verity mentions going to Argentina to finish her Ministry training. George stops chewing his food. "Are you sure?"
"About what?"
"About going to Argentina."
She pauses. "No," she says.
"If you want to go you should."
"Do you mean that?"
And he doesn't, he knows he doesn't. He doesn't answer.
For some reason she looks upset. "What?" he asks.
"You could say something."
"I thought I did."
"I liked you better when you told jokes," she says.
"Blimey," he says, an edge to his voice. "You love making me feel bad, don't you?"
She throws him a hard look before standing. "Forget it. I'll see you tomorrow."
September, 2000. Ron and Farrow are called to investigate a scene in which a child went missing. The case was originally reported through Muggles, but closer inspection reveals magic was involved. Ron and Farrow go to the town in Surrey. The house is empty apart from investigators. Ron and Farrow lead a crew of five other Aurors into the building, and are immediately hit with the stench of death.
"This isn't good," Farrow comments. She pushes open the heavy iron door and steps inside. "Lumos." She leads them down a hall, the carpet damp underneath their feet, the air heavy and frigid. She comes to a door ripped from its hinges. Ron feels his heart begin to beat faster against his ribcage.
Farrow steps through the door and there's the sound of breaking glass. "Great Merlin!" Ron quickly enters the room, the other Aurors behind him. The first thing he sees is Farrow staring, wide-eyed to a corner in the room. Her wand has fallen on the floor, its tip still glowing but illuminating little. Ron swings his own wand towards the corner, and he feels the others lean forward in dread and anticipation.
As soon as Ron sees it, he wishes he hadn't. He pushes his way out, through the others and down the hall without seeing where he's going. He hits his head off the wall at one point in the dark but doesn't stop until he's outside in daylight. He bends over and retches, acid and bile filling his throat.
Neville comes outside a few moments later and helps him up. "We need to go back in," he begins, but Ron shakes his head fervently. "I'm off this case as soon as we get back."
Ron takes off work the next three days before being called in to see Wren Vonner, the Head of the Auror Office. She took over after the War ended. She's a young woman, with thick black hair and dark skin, probably only a few years older than Ron himself. She sits behind her desk with the Daily Prophet in hand. Harry, who had quickly risen through the ranks to become her deputy, sits in a chair in front of her.
"Sit," Vonner says, her voice terse. When Ron glances around and realizes there are no more chairs, she gives an impatient wave of her wand and one appears. He sits down. "I suppose you know why you're here?"
"No, not exactly."
She picks up the Prophet. "You've been mentioned," she says. "'In Esher, Surrey, the bodies of five murdered Muggle children were discovered this week, as told to the press yesterday by Auror Jane Farrow, who is heading the investigation. The children seem to be aged between six years old and twelve years old, and appear to have been killed by a werewolf, perhaps by a follower of the dead Fenrir Greyback as a show of Pure-blood supremacy.'" She pauses and gives him a stern look. "Is that what you saw?" Ron nods, and she continues. "Listen closely. 'Some have expressed their worry of the rumors that Auror Ron Weasley, who received a Order of Merlin, First Class, for his work in the Second Wizarding War, had vomited upon entering the scene and has demanded that he be removed from the case. Is it wise on Vonner's part to allow Aurors as damaged from the War as Weasley certainly is to continue working in the Auror Office?'" She closes the newspaper and folds her hand. "Do you think it's wise for me to allow you on the field?" she asks.
Harry opens his mouth to defend him, but Ron stops him with a glare. Is it wise for him to be an Auror? The whole time when he walking into that house, the carpet damp with water or blood or something under his feet, he had thought of Hermione and how he hadn't told her he loved her that morning. And when he saw them... His child. His dead, unborn child.
"I want to put in my resignation."
"You can't do that!" Harry exclaims.
Even Vonner briefly looks surprised, but she quickly hides it. "I wasn't implying that," she begins, but Ron cuts her off.
"This isn't about that article," he says. "I have a family."
Harry is shaking his head, but Vonner ignores him. "I'll have the papers to you by the end of the day, if it's what you want. You'll have to work until January."
"That's fine."
Harry doesn't look at him as he leaves, but Ron knows there are more important things than this job, even if Harry doesn't understand yet.
November, 2000. It has been two years and five months since Fred died, and it's the first time George has forced himself to use the word "died" concerning his twin. Ron stopped counting the days ages ago, but George doubts he'll ever stop. Ever since he and Verity had first gone to Muggle London, George has been using antidepressants and Draught of Peace in increasing dosages. He keeps firewhiskey and mead and rum hidden in his cupboard and he drinks it when he's home by himself.
He has a diamond ring in a little black velvet box he keeps in his pocket. He has dinner reservations at Berners Tavern, one of the finest restaurants this side of London. He meets Verity there at eight o'clock.
"Hello," he says, and he kisses her. She looks stunning and his hands fidget with the box in his pocket.
"Hello," she returns, smiling, although it seems somewhat forced. A waiter comes by and takes their orders. "How are you doing?" she asks.
"Good."
They eat and drink fancy wine and George is overly-conscious of his plans for tonight. The food doesn't sit well with him and neither do the drinks.
"So," she says, "I decided to accept the commute to Buenos Aires."
George drops his fork onto his plate, and it clatters loudly. He stares at her. "You're serious?"
"I am," she says, her voice as quiet as the night.
"I love you," he says, matching her tone. "You know that." His voice grows stronger. "I love you more than anything and you're going to put me through this shit!" A Muggle at another table glances over but says nothing.
"I found it," she says hollowly.
"Found what?"
"The alcohol, the antidepressants, the potions." Her voice shakes. He turns his head away, quivering with anger.
"Weren't you ever going to tell me?" she asks, and he forces himself to look at her. She's crying. She looks small and delicate and frail and tears run down her face and he closes his eyes. His world is ending.
"I thought you were over those," she whispers. "I thought you were done with those. Why didn't you say something?"
"I-I couldn't."
"Were you just going to wait until we were married?" She sounds angry and heartbroken and he wants it to stop.
"No," he insists. "I swear I was going to tell you."
"You're lying."
"Please," he begs. "I love you."
"I've already told them," she says. "I leave in a week."
"I'll go to Argentina with you," he says desperately.
"I'm sorry, George," she says, and she's still crying. "I can't trust you anymore. You need help."
He stands quickly and leaves, knowing it's futile to stay. He feels the little black velvet box with the engagement ring in his pocket and closes his eyes.
December, 2000. Ron and Hermione celebrate their anniversary and Harry and Ginny become engaged on Christmas Eve. They stay at the Burrow for Christmas, as Molly and Arthur seem to be growing frailer after Fred's death. The day after Christmas, Ron heads to Diagon Alley with Hermione, Harry, and Ginny to visit Lee and Alicia, who had invited them over for the holidays. Oliver is there as well with his wife and two children, as well as Angelina. They all smile and eat food and talk.
At some point, Ron and Lee are the only ones in the kitchen. Lee clears his throat. "Go see George."
Remembering the disastrous events that occurred the last time he saw his brother, Ron shakes his head. "No way."
"He's got the blues," Lee says. "Honestly, it's like when Fred died."
"What happened?"
"He's drinking again."
Ron lowers his eyes. "Mum's really worried for him. She hasn't seen him in probably two years."
"He's at his flat," Lee says. "I checked on him today, poured all the gin down the drain. You've went through bad things, you can help him."
So Ron reluctantly heads down Diagon Alley to see his brother while mentally bracing himself for getting a broken nose. He hesitates for a long moment in front of George's door before knocking.
The door opens and Ron braces himself. George blinks at him. "Hello."
That's better than getting hexed. "Hi George."
"What are you here for?"
"Hermione and I were in the neighborhood." It's freezing out.
"I feel bad," George says. "What was it you came by to tell me in July? I feel awful about it, actually."
"Hermione had a miscarriage," Ron says, and his mouth is dry. "Earlier this year."
George's eyes shadow. "My girlfriend broke up with me the day I was going to propose." He laughs, but it sounds harsh. "Funny, isn't it?"
Maybe it would be funny tomorrow, but Ron doesn't say so. "We're at Lee's. You should come out."
"Yeah, I guess." He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "Look, Ron, I'm sorry about all this."
"Come on home," Ron says. "Mum and Dad have plenty of room. Ginny and Harry are engaged now, you know."
"I didn't."
"Well, now you do, so come on."
"I'll think about it." He shrugs again. "You know, I think I'm going to have to close the store. I don't have many employees around, with Oliver's career taking off and Verity leaving."
"I'll come help with it," Ron offers. "Unless you don't want me to," he adds hastily.
"Don't you have a job?"
"I resigned."
"Of course you did," George says. "I'll think about it."
"Come to Lee's with us. Ginny wants to see you."
"I'll be out in an hour or so. I need to clean up."
George stays true to his word, and while they eat he arrives, bundled up in a coat. He smiles at them and gives Ginny a hug and sits down with them. Hermione smiles at Ron from across the dinner table, and somehow he knows Fred would be here, telling jokes and being the center of it all. He wonders what Fred would say about the miscarriage, about his resignation, about George. He wonders if they would still look alike today, if they would still tease him for having Hermione when he certainly didn't deserve her.
But now Ron closes his eyes, thankful just to have them together today.