Chapter 2

Sunlight disrupts the otherwise pleasant morning in the Gryffindor common room. I groan, covering my eyes in an attempt to block out that damned sun. I hate mornings. Usually I can sleep through anything, but today I seem to be the unlucky one in that sense.

Scratch that. I am very lucky at the moment.

I look down to see the head of an unconscious Hermione Granger, her gorgeous hair splayed out on my lap. Although I hate to disturb her, she would be miffed if she realized that we had slept together out in a public room like this. She would be completely mad if she also felt what was starting to stir between my legs. I'm a disgusting git. How this is even happening given the circumstances… I definitely need to get out of here.

'Aunt Muriel,' I think to myself. 'In a bathing suit.' I notice that Neville is still sleeping in the chair next to us, and I'll have to apologize to him later. Right. 'Snogging with Neville. And his grandma.' The first issue finally dies down, and now I can focus on getting out from underneath her without waking her. I elevate her head, enjoying the opportunity of feeling her hair without the awkwardness that would accompany it, and slide onto my stiff legs. Hermione mews a little in her sleep, but snuggles back into the seat of the couch. I gaze down at her for a second before grabbing a blanket to cover her with.

Now, it is my stomach that arouses my attention. I hadn't eaten much the night before. I didn't feel like eating. I didn't feel anything yesterday, really. Nothing but uselessness and emptiness. Everyone insists that it wasn't my fault, Fred dying. But even if it isn't, it doesn't take back the fact that he is gone. And I'm still not convinced that I couldn't have done something to prevent it. Regardless, my stomach reminds me that, useless or not, it's empty.

I walk down to the Great hall, and find that most of the dead bodies had been transported over night. I know that Mum had taken Fred back home, and told the lot of us to stay here to finish helping. Now, it's just a matter of dealing with the survivors, and repairing the destroyed parts of the castle. Although I don't like the idea of doing anything but sleeping, going home with Mum in her state makes sticking around to help seem like a walk in the park.

I see Harry and the rest of my family at a make-shift table of blankets. I sit next to Harry, and try to ignore the satisfied smile on my sister's face. And how Harry and Ginny's hands are intertwined. That could only mean one thing at a time like this. Although I trust Harry completely, and have recently realized that Ginny is capable of taking care of herself after all she managed to do with Neville this year, I don't need the image of them shagging in my head. The idea is disgusting, but what I am seeing outside of my head isn't much better either. Usually we Weasley's are known for being loud, especially when we are eating, but everything is subdued. Bill and Fleur talk quietly, every now and then glancing at George, who is providing one word answers to questions from Charlie. Percy is making a list of the things that need to be done. The scratching of his quill against the parchment is just about the loudest sound in our area.

I grab a couple of sausages from the plate in the middle of the blanket, and shove a few of them down before I bother saying anything. After I am sure that I will not die from hunger, I turn to Harry and loudly say, "So, please don't tell me that you and my sister shagged last night."

The statement has the effect I had hoped. Fleur and Percy look shocked. Bill looks murderous. Charlie manages a laugh. Only George remains stoic, barely looking up from his food. I know Harry will get me for this later, but it's the only way I could think of to get things less tense.

Ginny chooses to get back at me now. "Not that it's any of your business, but you would have known that we didn't had you actually come to bed. Where were you all last night, huh? I wouldn't put it past you to be doing the very thing you're suggesting with Hermione!" She's grinning.

She's completely evil.

Multiple things are said at once.

Bill remains focused on the initial issue, as any sane brother would be. "You two were together last night?" he angrily asks Harry, who only can look down awkwardly at his food. Fleur puts a hand on Bill's arm, as if to calm him down. I recognize the gesture from when Hermione sometimes does it with me, and it usually works. Charlie laughs a little more genuinely at Ginny's retort.

Percy, who I still don't know if I can trust as far as I can throw him, puts down his quill and looks at us with surprise. Apparently, he's still a bit out of the loop. "Wait, why would Ginny be doing that with anyone? Scratch that - why would Ron being doing that with anyone, much less Hermione?" I glare at the git from across the make-shift table, stuffing some toast into my mouth.

"Harry and I have been dating since last year," Ginny informs our estranged brother, rolling her eyes. "And since Voldemort is dead, we are able to start back where we left off. But really, I'm glad that I had to inform the whole family of this. Thanks, Ron."

"Yeah, really, mate, you did us all a big favor. I'll be sure to return it when you finally man up and do what has been a long time coming," Harry adds on, knocking me on the arm.

"Any time, sis. And I have no idea what you're talking about, Harry," I grin at them, although it feels forced. I eat some more, for although I am no longer hungry, I feel like it could fill the ache in my chest. Apparently the others feel similarly, for the rest of breakfast is continued in a silence not quite as heavy as it had been before. Before everything is finished, I wrap some sausages and toast up in a napkin for Hermione, knowing that she will probably be hungry when she wakes up.

0000

Days have passed, and we are still at the slowly recovering school. Harry has been answering questions, being surprisingly patient with the help of Ginny by his side. Hermione, brilliant as she is, has been Madame Pomfrey's chief help with healing the injured. I am helping to repair the doorway of the castle. Although I'm shite when it comes to most mending spells, I manage to make myself useful and distract myself from thinking too much. There's a lot to think about, even if I don't want to admit it. On one hand, there is the bad. My brother is dead. George lost his other half. Mum's a wreck. The family is barely holding together. Tomorrow, we will be returning home to send Fred off properly. But on the other hand, there's life. There's possibility. Voldemort is dead, and suddenly I have a future that I actually need to start planning for. A future that may even involve the woman of my dreams, if that mind-boggling snog with Hermione was not a result of her thinking she was going to die. I'm still not so sure, but my blood races at the thought of it all the same - only to feel guilty, shamed, when I remember that I should be mourning for Fred. Obviously, it's better not to think at a time like this.

George approaches me so silently that I jump when he taps me on the shoulder.

"Bloody wanker, you scared the shite out of me!" Between being lost in my thoughts, and a year on the road teaching me that to be unaware is to be captured, it is my initial reaction to be afraid. I feel bad that I had yelled at George, but I am surprised when I see him smile for the first time in days.

"You know, little brother, as easily as you scare, you are the first person to talk to me like I'm a normal human being since it happened." George looks like something Crookshanks would leave at my doorstep, to be honest. He looks like he has turned double his age in the past two days, and between the missing left ear and the obvious lack of hygiene, I wouldn't be surprised if he actually had scared someone that hadn't just fought the bloody battle.

"Well, maybe if you actually bothered to take a shower, people wouldn't be looking at you funny," I retort, falling back into the banter that we had enjoyed prior to the war. Before everything became hard. Scary. Deadly.

Thankfully, George seems to appreciate the return to our old behavior. He smiles a little more. "And that's exactly why I'm going to ask you this." His smile fades, turning his demeanor uncharacteristically serious. "Charlie was harassing me about it at breakfast. You know Charlie - only he could be adventurous enough to work with dragons, yet still need to have a formulated plan. Just as bad as Percy, that one, but he got me around to thinking. Now that Fred is… gone, I need someone to help me with the joke shop. I know that you had been interested in it before, if only for free swag. But what do you say? You could forget finishing your last year at this bloody school and come work with me. I didn't do it, and look how I turned out."

Admittedly, I often admired Fred and George for quitting school to start a joke shop, especially when it became wildly successful. I personally had no serious aspiration in life, aside from becoming the Keeper of the Chudley Cannons, and I somehow doubt that a stint as "the King" on the Gryffindor Quidditch team would make up for my lack of incredible talent in that department. I am also interested in being an Auror, but after fighting for my life for the past year, it doesn't seem like a desirable option to go back to school and take my N.E.W.T.S. in order to apply. At least, not any time soon. George's offer is appealing, but I do want to think it over first.

"Thanks for the offer, George. It means a lot. Can I get back to you, though? It's a lot to wrap my head around," I say after a brief moment, running a hand through my hair awkwardly. It's unusual for any of my brothers to rely on me, but this is as close as George could get to saying that he valued my input in his business. I don't really know how to take that.

George offers me a small smile. "Well, we wouldn't want ickle Ronniekins to get his brain sore from all that bending." The smile widens a little more, and I am relieved that he is joking again, even if it's at my expense. "But seriously, take your time. I know it's a lot to spring on you, especially now that you've got that ol' ball and chain to consider. Don't think I missed what Ginny said earlier."

I feel my face heat up despite myself. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Ginny is full of shite most of the time," I say, almost too quickly. Unfortunately, my statement isn't covering up truth. With everything that had to get done, I barely had any time to see Hermione alone since the first night after Voldemort's death. Any time that wasn't spent working was spent as a group, and even then we were usually too exhausted to talk about much. I can only imagine what is going on in that brilliant head of hers, but I hope that she isn't regretting what I've been reliving almost every hour since it happened.

"Indeed, little brother, indeed. But don't think I have missed those longing, enchanted gazes you guys exchange every time you see each other. Or over the past four years, for that matter." As glad as I am to have George starting to get back to his old self, the humiliating insight is one thing I could've done without. I cast another mending spell at the hopelessly open doorway, avoiding his gaze.

"Bugger off, won't you?" My ears burn with regret the moment it comes out of my mouth. Leave it to me to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

George lets out a humorless laugh. "Trust me when I say that it's better to not leave things unsaid. You never know when someone's day may be their last."

I feel chills at that morbid piece of advice. He lends a hand, and casts a considerably stronger spell. With all the experiments he and Fred conducted for the joke shop, they often had to repair parts of the wall when something exploded, either in a formula went awry or a successful one that worked exactly as intended. We work side by side until the hole no longer exists, all in silence. He drops the subject, and loses himself in his miserable thoughts, and suddenly I don't mind when he teases me.