A/N: I know there's a change in tone at the end but it's because I wanted a happy ending.
2001
January, 2001. It has been two years and seven months since Fred died.
"This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you know best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on." It's a quote that appears in the Prophet on New Year's, probably because New Year's is when everyone jumps off bridges and offs themselves. And for the first time, it's easier for George to find a new routine rather than follow his old schedule of considering just that, liquid courage in a flask in one hand. He cuts the quote out and tapes it to his door, so he'll always see it before heading downstairs to work.
George still writes to her. He tells her he is sober now, that he's free from the burden of his sorrows. He says that maybe, when she comes back, he'll be a thousand days clean, and he'll still be waiting for her at the store. Waiting for a miracle, for Fred's resurrection, for irrefutable truth.
Verity only replies once, and she tells him she loves him enough to let him go. She says she's happy where she is, with her feet moving from Argentina now to a remote village in Guatemala. She's met a missionary and found her true calling in helping the less fortunate. It takes George time, but he finds that he loves her enough to let go, too. But he'll never be able to do that with Fred. He's too selfish, too demanding, yearning for another day with his brother.
Ron needs his family as much as he does oxygen. He sometimes sees Hermione crying, and sometimes he does himself, but in private where she can't see. He needs to stay strong for her, even though it's been seven months since the Healer told them the news. Ron barely stays afloat, bobbing on the waves. Seeing a baby in a park is enough to make him clench his fists, his hands tight with the knowledge of a life he could've been living.
February, 2001. Ron officially resigns. He dreams that he's drowning in a vast expanse of sand, the Sahara swallowing him whole. In his dream he sinks to the very bottom of the desert, the bedrock opening up to an enormous cavern. He falls into a giant clear pool of water, and when he looks over, it's an enormous Pensieve. Then Harry as a giant comes, and he stirs the vat with his wand. Ron wakes up sweating, uncertain of what the dream could mean, if anything at all.
Hermione's still asleep, undisturbed. She looks so peaceful, and Ron wonders how this could be the woman he's married to. In her waking hours she's depressed and angry at fate.
"I love you," he whispers, but he knows she can't hear him. He sighs. In the space of nearly three years, his life has changed so much. Fred is dead. He's married now. He's already lost a child, quit his job, bought a house.
He's far too young to get gray hairs-only twenty-one. Yet there one is. He sighs.
He grew up too fast.
March, 2001. It's been two years and nine months. Work around the shop has gotten easier with Ron working, although George is still on less than perfect terms with him. They'd both said and done things to each other but they don't bring them up. It would be sin to push someone down after you just helped him up.
"So," Oliver muses one day, "I think it's quite time to get George a woman. What do you think, Lee?"
George shook his head as Lee answered, "I couldn't agree more."
"I'm good," George says levelly as he straightens a shelf.
"You can't be serious. All of your mates are already married."
"I'm celibate," he says with a grin, and Ron snorts.
It feels good to joke, to laugh, to smile. He hasn't done much of it since Fred had died, and even less still since Verity left. But as soon as the conversation ceases George feels the day hanging on him like a dead weight.
He wonders if Fred knows he's alive and struggling, but then he realizes Fred can't exist beyond his memory. He's not religious. He's not anything, really.
When the shop closes for the evening George heads down to the Leaky Cauldron and sits at the bar. He only orders a butterbeer this time as the rest tempt him. Tom must have hired more work, because a blonde witch gives him his drink with a flirty smile.
"Thanks," he says, giving a reserved nod. She gets the hint and leaves him alone. He wonders what Lee and Ron and Oliver would do, given their earlier conversation, but then he decides he doesn't care much.
The next night he visits Mum. She's a wreck when he arrives and starts crying. "George!" she says tearfully, hugging him. It makes him wish he hadn't came, but he gives a grudging smile and lets her cook him dinner.
"You've gotten so much older since I last saw you," Mum says.
"Don't remind me," he says sharply, but he smiles. Mum smiles too, and he's glad she doesn't ask him anything about Verity. Ron surely told her. He gives her a kiss before he goes and says hello to his father. He sees something else in Arthur's eyes. Pain. He tries to hides it with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
April, 2001. Ron has lunch with Harry one day.
"How's work?" Ron asks as they eat.
"It's doing well. I'm on a solo case."
"That's exciting."
"Yeah. New Aurors came in, too. They're cocky and full of themselves."
"Like us?" Ron asks smartly.
"We fought a war," Harry retorts. "We had reason to. They haven't done anything but training. How's your work going?"
"It's alright." He lowers his voice. "George is still depressed."
"He should see someone."
"We're trying to get him to, but no luck."
"Is he going to the memorial?"
"I doubt it."
"Ask him."
"He'll say no."
Even so, Ron debates asking him because George needs to Fred's grave. Maybe he'll be better after that, and maybe it'll chase the ghosts out of his head. He knows about the break up and how all of it's hurt him.
May, 2001. Three years. It has been three years since Fred died.
George succumbs to the temptations and drinks a bottle of firewhiskey. He's going mad. He's hollow inside and filling up with booze and sorrow. He spends the next day drying out and staring at old pictures of him and Fred. Fred winks up at him from a photo and it makes George want to die.
Ron comes by. "You missed the memorial service," he says, but he trails off at the sight in front of him. George dying. George barely holding on.
"Can we go?" he barely chokes out.
Ron knows better than anyone else. Ron understands. They travel by Floo to Hogwarts the next morning. Professor McGonagall welcomes them with a nod, her face devoid of all emotion but grief. She looks tired and somber and no doubt the memorial service yesterday, on the anniversary, took something out of her.
"You know the way," she says to Ron.
He leads George down a path by the lake to where a large obelisk had been erected. He stares at it, hands shaking. Ron helps him down.
"Are you okay?" Ron asks urgently.
George nods, his throat tightening. He gazes down to the monument, the names inscribed black as obsidian against brilliant snow. He stumbles down the path until he stands a foot from it. Trembling, he finds him. He finds his brother.
Fred Weasley
Tears stream down his face and he allows himself to emit a sob. He covers his mouth. "Merlin. Oh God, oh God." The words are barely decipherable, scarcely audible from his crying. "Oh God."
Ron touches his shoulder, and he's grateful. He needs him, he needs him and Ginny and Percy and Bill and Charlie and Mum and Dad more than anything. He sits down unsteadily beside the monument, tears spilling down cheeks and through his hands. The air feels like Inferno, a frozen ice hell in the beginning of summer, and there is nothing he feels but a numbness that somehow hurts more than anything else.
"He's dead," he weeps.
"Come on, George," Ron says, supporting him. "Come on, let's go home."
He's still a mess, nothing more than a puddle, really. He allows Ron to help him back to the castle. Students peer at him with shadowed eyes, uncertain. Hagrid stands in the entrance with Professor McGonagall, openly crying.
"Come on, George," Ron says gently. He opens the door to the room they had come through. "Come on, sit down. We're just going to use Floo to get back to the Burrow."
He's sober today. He wipes his face and holds his breath as they jump through the fireplace to the Burrow.
He's home. He's finally home. And when he finally stops crying, he feels nothing but a peace, a serenity, a calm inside.
2003
George is pacing.
"You'll be fine," Ron says, but George pays no mind.
"It's easy," Ron says. "All you've got to do is repeat the priest."
"I'm not ready to get married! I've gone mad!" George exclaims.
"No, you haven't. And don't you dare get cold feet out there," Ron adds. "You've both been through enough to know this is right."
"You're right," George says, taking a deep breath. Then he shakes his head. "Great Merlin, this is mad."
"It's fine." Ron laughs. He's never seen George like this before.
"You have the rings?"
"I do. I'm supposed to give them to you at the altar, when the priest starts talking about them."
George takes a deep breath. He's gone through so much worse, hasn't he? He'd survived Quidditch matches, survived a war, outlived alcoholism. Getting married should be a cinch, right?
The song begins playing. "I can't do it!" George hisses.
"Go," Ron says. "You can do this. You love her."
"I love her," George repeats under his breath. He pushes open the swinging door and walks down the aisle, Ron following. Ron stands behind him at the altar, and then they wait for his bride. George pauses for a heartbeat and glances back at Ron. "Thanks," he mutters.
The Wedding March begins, and Ron knows there's no time to answer verbally. He just nods, smiling.
Ron counts his losses. This time, he comes up with zero.