A/N: Okay so here's another one! But before that, here are my Thank yous to everybody who has reviewed; you make this story possible!

Chapter was betaed by Bad Mum and Kerichi – thanks for that!

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December 27th, 1999

George had never felt more nervous when entering his parents' house, not even that day when he and Fred had come home after they had quit school. When he opened the back door, George found his mother busy in the kitchen, probably cooking lunch. At least that was what it smelled like.

The strong odours made George's already queasy stomach churn even more.

"Hi Mum," he said without looking at her.

Molly, who had been too busy to notice her son entering, turned around. Her face lit up. "George! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Charlie. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Last time I saw him he was in the lounge, reading one of those Quidditch magazines. Why?"

"I'll explain later."

He was halfway out of the kitchen when Molly called after him, "Are you staying for lunch, dear?"

George, who had no intention of staying any longer than he had to, ignored his mother's question and went to find his older brother. Charlie looked up from his magazine when George entered the lounge, but only for a second. "What do you want?"

George sighed. He hated to have to ask for help and after the argument they had had just before Christmas this wasn't going to be easy. "I need your help, Charlie."

"My help?" Charlie closed the magazine and put it aside, giving his younger brother a sceptical glance. "You know, four days ago I offered you my help. In fact I actually begged you to accept my help, remember?"

"I know," said George. "And I'm sorry. I changed my mind."

Charlie drew his eyebrows together and regarded his brother thoughtfully. "Honestly? All of a sudden you just change your mind?"

"I realised something this Christmas, Charlie. I realised that I have to stop –" he trailed away, looking at the floor.

"You realised that you have to quit taking –"

"Shht!" hissed George angrily, "Not so loud. Mum and Dad don't know anything about it."

"Thank Godric for that," said Charlie in a lower voice. "It would kill them to know what you're doing to yourself."

"That's why I need your help to stop doing that."

"And you really mean it?"

George nodded determinedly.

For a very long moment Charlie didn't say anything. He was looking at George, chewing on his bottom lip – a sure sign that he was thinking – then he finally said, "Okay, I will help you. What can I do?"

"Just keep me from taking it, that's about all you can do," said George, who was relieved to have Charlie convinced. "You might even have to use a body-bind curse on me if it gets really bad. I'll have to go through withdrawel."

"Don't you think we should get you some professional help?" Charlie suggested, worriedly. "I won't know what to do if you pass out or anything"

"No," George interrupted him, "we can't."

"Why not? I'm pretty sure they have specialists for this sort of thing at St. Mungo's –"

"I said no, and I meant no, damn it!"

"But what the hell is the problem?" Charlie asked, but then it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh, I see – it's because of –"

"Katie, yeah", George confirmed. "She works at St. Mungo's. There's no way I can get myself treated there without her finding out."

"But if she finds out she wouldn't tell anybody else, would she?"

"I don't care," said George. "I don't want her to know and that's that. Besides, all you have to do is keep me from taking this potion."

"But what if you're getting physically ill?"

The thought made George's stomach churn even more, even although he had thought about it before. Yet, hearing it from Charlie and seeing his bother's concerned expression made the possibility even more real. But there was no going back. Unlike Fred, who would change his mind in a matter of two minutes if things didn't work out like he had planned, George had always been the stubborn one. When he had set his mind on something he went all the way, no matter how difficult it might seem. (He was sure that if it had been up to Fred all by himself, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would have never existed.) But there was no way he was going to get through withdrawel all by himself.

"I think, I will just have to bear it," he said, unable to keep his voice from shaking a bit.

Before he knew what was going on, Charlie had wrapped his arm around him, patting his back. "I'm proud of you," he said gently.

"For what?" asked George doubtfully.

"For finally seeing sense."

"Better late than never, right?" George smiled sourly. "I can count on you then?"

"Of course you can count on me – that's what brothers are for, right?" said Charlie, shaking George lightly. "Now, don't you have to go back to the shop?"

"Yeah – I'd better – I left Ron in charge."

Charlie grinned. "Oh dear," he commented. "When do you think the potion's effects will start wear off?"

"Not until later this afternoon I reckon."

"Are you scared?"

George nodded. "Yeah, a bit." That's the understatement of the year, he thought but Charlie didn't need to know. He put up a determined face. "But I have to beat this. I want to beat this. And not just for my own sake. I need to stop hurting the people around me. You. Mum and Dad. Ginny. Ron – everyone." He hesitated before adding, "Alicia."

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "I don't think you should worry about the others right now. If you want to do this you have to do it for yourself."

"I am, believe me, Charlie. But I've hurt so many people, and it's not as if I can't see it. It's just that I couldn't help it."

"I am sure you will be able to make it up to them," said Charlie confidently. "Jut don't worry about them right now. And now get going before Ron blows up the shop or something. Want me to come with you?"

George nodded. "If you would."

"Of course I will."

When they arrived at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes they found their youngest brother busy trying to serve three customers at the same time. "Bloody hell, it's about time you came back," he shouted at George the moment he entered the shop.

George ignored the comment. He was going to tell Ron off for using that language in front of customers but not now. "You can wait upstairs in the flat if you want to," he told Charlie. "Make yourself at home."

"I could help you in the shop," suggested his brother, "maybe restock some shelves."

"If you want to. Ron can you show Charlie where the storage is?"

"Sure. If you carry on here."

Ron didn't ask about Charlie's unexpected presence at the shop and George guessed that it was because after working together for one and a half year, Ron had learned to not ask his older brother too many questions. Usually he didn't get an answer, anyway.

For the rest of the day George was happy to be busy with helping customers, so he didn't have to think about what was to come. Or think about Alicia.

He had no idea where it suddenly had come from. Maybe it was because he had seen Harry and Ginny together, in a moment when the effects of Lethe had been starting to wear off, leaving him in vulnerable state. It had made him think about what he had used to have with Alicia. Even after another dose of Lethe he hadn't been able to shake the thought.

He wanted to feel it again – to love someone and be loved. To know how it felt to miss somebody when they were not around.

He just wanted to feel things again.

It was about half an hour before closing time when George noticed that the effects of his last dose of Lethe were starting to wear off. It wasn't a new sensation for him; it always started with a light ache in his stomach, followed by a feeling of weakness, as if he was going to pass out. When he had reached that state, it was usually the moment when he went to get another dose.

Not today.

"George?" Ron's loud voice shouting into his good ear made him wince.

"Yeah – what the hell are you shouting for?"

"I've been calling your name for the last five minutes but you ignored me."

George sighed, slightly annoyed. Whenever the he was in this state he had very little patience. "What is it?"

"I got a customer who asked for you, she –" Ron interrupted himself when his eyes found George's and his expression became concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"You're looking sort of pale."

"Just feeling a little under the weather, that's all," said George turning away to pretend to be busy tidying up a shelf. He could feel Ron still staring at him. "What about your customer?"

"Oh, er, nothing," said Ron. "I'll tell her to come back another time."

"Okay." George nodded gratefully. His brother was on the back to his customers when George held him back, "Listen Ron, d'you think you can manage alone until we close? I really am feeling a bit under the weather and I'd rather try and rest a bit."

"Of course I can," said Ron confidently.

"Good."

On his way up to the flat George caught sight of the customer in question; it was Linda Abbott. Now George was even more grateful that he had got away. He couldn't deal with Linda's advances right now. They had spent a couple of nights together – the last time being on Christmas Eve – but George had soon realised that it was a mistake getting involved with her. So he had told her that it was over. It seemed, however, that Linda did not understand the meaning of no.

When he closed the flat's door behind him George found that Charlie was already there, making tea. He looked at George and asked, "Has it started?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," said George with a sigh. His stomach ache was getting worse.

"Want some tea?"

"Yes, please."

After Charlie had handed him a mug of hot tea, the two brothers sat on the sofa in an uncomfortable silence for a while.

Charlie was the first to speak again. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," said George, who had closed his eyes for the room seemed to be moving around him.

"Any pains?"

"Stomache ache."

"So you probably won't want any dinner?"

"No, but there isn't any food here, anyway."

"I noticed that," said Charlie. "Although I did find a piece of old bread and some butter. But they both look as though they've seen better days."

George managed a half-hearted grin. "I usually eat out," he explained unnecessarily.

"Obviously."

Charlie got up from the couch. "How about I get us something from the Leaky?"

"I'm really not hungry, thanks, but you go ahead."

Charlie was almost out the door when he turned back. "I can't go. What if you, well – if you take something while I'm away?"

"Use a body-bind curse," George suggested.

Charlie shook his head. "No. I can't do that."

"Sooner or later you will have to."

"I'd rather not."

"What if I get violent?"

"Well –" Charlie grinned, but it didn't look genuine. "I think I'll manage with you."

George was about to answer, when the pain in his midsection became stronger. He couldn't help letting out a moan, causing Charlie to rush to his side.

"George? What's going on?" He tried to grab his younger brother's arm but George pushed him away.

"Don't," he gasped.

"Sorry, I was just trying to – Hell, I don't know what I was trying to do."

George was only listening half-heartedly, while he was moving around on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position that would maybe ease the pain a bit. But it didn't work. Instead it only got worse and he let out another moan.

Charlie watched him, looking helpless.

It was that moment when a knock on the door made George wince. It was Ron.

"Oi! I closed up shop and I'm off now!" he shouted.

"Okay," Charlie called back.

George was relieved when he heard Ron descending the stairs noisily without asking any further questions or demanding to be let into the flat. The pain was still getting worse and now George was starting to feel sick. It was as if all the pain the Lethe had suppressed was coming back at once. He was sweating, shaking and he knew that he was going to throw up.

"Get a bucket," he told Charlie.

"Where from?"

"You're a wizard, Charlie!" George felt his insides contracting painfully and he clutched his stomach and bit his lip to stop himself from crying out.

Charlie transformed a candle that was on the table into a bucket just in time before his brother started retching.

After he had thrown up George thought he would feel better, but he didn't; along with the increasing pain he felt a sudden hot anger coming over him. He couldn't even explain who or what he was angry at – Fred, for not being there, Charlie, for being there and regarding him with that pitying expression, himself, for being so stupid – but all of a sudden he felt as though he was going to explode with fury.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He needed another dose.

He pushed himself up from the sofa, growling, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can", said Charlie, gripping his brother's arm tightly.

Charlie usually was the stronger one of the two but fury gave George an unknown strength and even although it took a moment of struggling he managed to free himself from his brother's tight grip. Soon they were fighting properly.

Charlie ended the fight by using his wand, shouting, "Petrificus Totalus!"

George felt the invisible binds and a second later he fell to the ground. Being completely immobilised he felt as though pain, anger and despair were tearing him to pieces. He saw Charlie staring down at him, a mixture horror and pity showing on his face.

"I'm sorry, Georgie," he whispered, and then, for first time in more than a decade, George saw his big brother crying. "I'm so sorry," he repeated over and over again, until the pain got too much to bear, and the world around George went black.

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