When it was all over—the war, the attacks, the constant fear—there were two distinct responses: the first, most obvious and expected, was joyous and celebrant, and there was rejoicing throughout every segment of wizarding society; the second, for those of us who were affected differently, more directly, more personally, it was like walking out of a pub into the early morning sunlight and wondering exactly what had happened the night before. Everywhere was noise and light and people, and a solemn few of us wandered through the crowds, through the jubilation, both seeking a way to join in and knowing we wouldn't find one.

Business boomed for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, immediately and overwhelmingly. Laughter had been gone for so long that the general population had gone into withdrawal, and they were so eager to get it back into their lives that we could not keep our shelves stocked. And of course, working in a joke shop you're expected to be animated and lively, so I was forced to go along with the conviviality, to play out the farce, for endless hours in the face of the public, and by the end of each day I was completely drained. What's more, I was more than a little disappointed in myself for not joining in their good spirits, for not finding a way to be happy with them. But the fear and the pain and the loss were still too present, and I could not escape.

Fred once again took up his efforts to make me socialise, this time thinking there was no reason for me to object and simply dragging me along wherever he went. I didn't resist. I wanted to be a part of it all, wanted to feel the elation the rest of them felt. It just wasn't there.

So when I saw Alicia smiling with some bloke I'd never met one evening while Fred and I were out... well, I couldn't blame her. She was actually smiling a real, full smile, not the half-hearted gestures I'd seen over the past months. I didn't let her see me then, just made some excuse to Fred and left. She would know that I was faking my cheerfulness the instant she saw me, and I didn't want to remind her of what that meant, of all the bad that had happened and that I was still feeling. I wasn't ready to face her, and she didn't need me bringing her down when she had so recently made it up. That was the least I could give her, and the most, letting her have her joy, letting her smile.

Eventually Fred started dragging me along less and less, spending even more time exclusively with Angelina, and that just added to it, heightened my already depressed state. And now there was no Lee to keep me company, no Alicia to keep me... whatever it was that she kept me, and going home to the Burrow was more than I could bear.

Frankly, I think Fred sort of gave up on me, and I couldn't really hold it against him. Enthusiastic as he is, he doesn't have the energy to be happy enough for the both of us, and though he gave it a valiant effort, eventually he realised that he had to be happy for himself. It was probably better for both of us that way.

Of course, he'd still ask if I wanted to go out sometimes, tell me about all the fun he'd had and places I should have been, and proclaim that I needed everything from a good shock to a trip to St Mungos to a girlfriend. One evening while he was off on that last tangent he said he'd seen Alicia, and that she'd asked after me.

"You should go see her. Now that things are better you might be able to make something of it."

"I told you a long time ago," I said, "I can't stay with her now. Besides, she's probably got some other bloke by now."

"Well, she was alone when I saw her. She'd want you over anyone else anyway. Go see her."

I shook my head and walked away from him. "I can't. I don't want to bring her down anymore. She's better off without me. I want to at least give her a chance to be happy."

"Don't you think you should tell her that, then?" When I didn't respond, he followed me across the room and said, "Look, if you don't want to be with her, then don't be with her. But she obviously cares about you enough to want to know that you're okay. Go see her. Tell her you're peachy and everything's grand if you like, but go see her."

Half an hour found me knocking on her door.

It took her so long to answer that I was about to leave. She gasped when she saw me. "George, what are you doing here?"

"Fred mentioned you were wondering where I'd got off to. I was in the area, so I thought I'd let you know."

"Oh," she said, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door most of the way closed behind her. "Yeah, I was. Good. Thanks. So... you're okay, then?"

I almost told her the truth. I almost blurted out that she should grasp at any happiness she could find and forget about me, because I would never be able to give her what she needed, what she deserved. I almost brought her down with me.

But right then a voice—a male voice—called out from inside her flat, saying, "Alicia, who's at the door?"

She blushed and bit her lip, dropping her eyes to the floor, and pulled her door shut.

I thought better of my intended words. Instead, I gave her a tight smile and said, "I'm peachy. Everything's grand. And you're doing well too, I see. Or hear, rather."

"I am doing quite well, thank you, but you are a terrible liar."

"Well, I suppose there should be one thing I'm bad at. It's only fair." She rolled her eyes at me and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "No, don't. You should go be happy," I said, pointing at the door.

"So should you."