Hi. I'm back. :)
Mistaken Assumptions
"Don't you think it's a little strange that he hasn't dated anyone since the War?" The bushy haired brunette who had spoken was standing beside a ladder that her tall, ginger boyfriend was currently climbing in an effort to put up stock. Though she spoke to him, her brown gaze was on his brother who stood all the way across the empty store, reading over the letter she had just delivered from their mother.
In response, Ron continued to dilligently stock the vomit-inducing candies on the shelves. As he saw it, George's life was his own and he could do whatever he wanted. He was only there to help out when George let him. He was not there to meddle with his brother's love life, which, he knew, was what Hermione and his mother were surely planning.
Beside him, Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other as a demonstration of her frustration with the situation. "I know it's been difficult for him without..." she began, her voice firm for a moment before she felt her throat constrict, causing the sentence to trail off into silence.
Of course, she should've remembered that not everyone had been able to so easily handle their post-War lives. After all, she had been with the Weasleys every single day since the fight against Voldemort had finally came to an end on the second of May earlier that year. She had witnessed first hand the misery and loss written so plainly on each of their faces when they had laid Fred to rest. She also knew exactly how his death had affected each person, from Arthur to Ginny. Out of all of the Weasleys, though, no one took it harder than George.
Still, Hermione couldn't help but think if the right woman came along... some of the life that the twins once radiated would return to George. This idea wasn't her own, but more of Molly's. She had confided her hopes into Hermione and the brunette had eagerly offered to help in anyway possible. Anything for the family.
"'Mione, I don't think it's our business."
"But it's almost Christmas, Ron. We can't just let him spend another holiday alone in that bloody flat. It's breaking your mother's heart even more."
At that, Ron stilled. Though his mother could be infuriating occasionally, he knew that George's self-inflicted solitary confinement did upset her deeply. It was the one argument Hermione had on her side.
With a sigh, he looked down at his girlfriend and decided that, though women were foolish romantics occasionally, they probably did know what was best. After all, if he had been in George's place, he was certain Hermione would've been just the miracle he needed.
"What do I do?"
Hermione smiled at Ron's response, pleased that he had finally conceded.
"Who's coming to Christmas dinner?" George asked, staring in disbelief at the fireplace in his flat.
His mother's face glared out at him from the fire. "That Lovegood girl. Hermione invited her, the poor girl. You know her father died and she has no one to take her in."
He rolled his eyes at that. Molly was a kind soul, of course, but he could just tell when she had ulterior motives and now was one of those times.
Though he was sure she did want to extend an inviation to their neighbor, the entire set up screamed 'TRAP!'
"And why exactly do I have to be there?"
Molly made a sound of aggrevation and George knew he'd struck a nerve again.
"You have to be here because you're a member of this family, George," she replied angrily, the fire around her flaring with the increased volume of her voice.
George leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "But what does me being there have to do with Lovegood being there?"
Though she tried very hard to hide it, George saw her lips quirk in the faintest of smirks before she straightened her face. "I only said you might try to be friendly to her. Ron and Hermione won't be there long and Harry and Ginny are going to be with Teddy for his first Christmas, so you could entertain her while she's with us."
He arched a brow. "She's staying for a while then?"
"Just until a portkey can be arranged to take her back to Romania," Molly explained. "It won't hurt you to be a gentleman, will it?"
"It might," George quipped. Then, before his mother could scold him, he continued. "But I'll be there regardless."
He knew that if he declined to come, his mother would finally make good on her threat to send his father, Bill and Charlie to fetch him, which was one visit he just didn't want to deal with.
"Good. I'll expect you tomorrow evening then."
George nodded and spent the next few moments exchanging long, drawn out goodbyes with her before he was finally free to turn in his chair and examine his desk. As it had been for the past few days, it was scattered with order forms, which had came flooding into his office recently. If little else could be said about the holidays, they were certainly good for business.
Though many others would complain about the late orders, George relished them. If he had more orders to fill, then he would have more excuses to give his family for why he was less prompt in returning their owls or dropping in.
Truthfully, being with his family only reminded him that their family would never be whole again and, by extension, he would never be whole again. The knowledge of that ate away at him and so he tried as much as possible to keep to himself in the little flat above his shop.
He knew that his mother was hurt by his actions, which was the only reason he had been so compliant with her wishes for Christmas. He had talked to her so infrequently in the last few months that he was sure she was worried about him, but after he had attended her meal and spent time with her, he hoped she would be content to leave him alone for another few months.
So, as he packed for his trip to the Burrow, his worry about the days to come were minimal. He would go, eat, chat, sleep and then return to the safety and solidarity of his flat.
Or, at least, that's what he thought.
The mistakes are probably numerous because it's 5AM, but I had the idea and I just had to write until I came to a good stopping point! I hope you enjoyed it so far... though nothing has happened yet.