- What's it like?
- It's like being dead.
- And how would you know what that's like?
- I know.
- Why do it then? You're not dead.
- I don't want to talk about it.
- You look like a horntail shat you out.
- Super.
- You look like you've taken the scenic route through the guts of a dragon, like you got lost, stopped for directions, found a room and stayed a while.
- I heard you the first time.
- You should stop; go to one of those meetings you were telling me about.
- Right.
- I miss you.
- Me, too. Me, too.
- You miss me or you miss you?
- It's the same thing, innit?
- Yeah.

It was a beautiful Sunday. The kind of day that encourages everyone, witch, wizard, muggle to remark "This is why we live in Kensington and Chelsea, Hammersmith and Fulham, Wandsworth, Godric's Hollow, Southwark, Tower Hamlets, Little Whinging, Hackney, Islington, Camden, Brent, Ealing..."

The cool and drizzly morning had broken wide open as the sun rose, drying the damp dew, heating the air and exploding bright sunshine into the day. Ginny and Harry had set dinner at an outside table that stretched across the cobbled backyard patio; mismatched chairs and benches, mismatched china and crockery, and jars of flowers, creating a welcoming vignette.

Hermione and Ron, Harry and Ginny, were standing in one corner of the yard watching the younger children play. The older children were, of course, at Hogwarts leaving a distinct sound of absence and the melody of laughter was a new one. Their parental ears were adjusting.

The four of them were quietly discussing George.

"Something to ask me?" Hermione was still puzzling it out. "That scares me, you know."

Ron was nodding and Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "Why, though? Why would that frighten you?"

"Over the years, the things he has asked me about...A few years ago he asked me if I could distill the essence of a ghost so that...it could be moved..." She broke off as George appeared in the back doorway of the cottage.

He waved a hand at them dismissively. "Never mind me. Carry on as though it's still behind my back." And he turned quickly and made a mad dash for Lily and Hugo who squealed delighted and a game of tag began.

Ginny sighed, the sound trembling out of her. "Oh, Georgie," she whispered and Harry slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him for a reassuring hug.

Inside the house, an audible pop sounded and Ginny's face brightened. "That'll be mum and dad then!" She walked hurriedly away from the group.

On the lawn, George had given up after a valiant effort and threw himself onto his back. Lily and Hugo were tumbling around him like puppies. He was smiling brightly and laughing loudly; tickling children until finally he pulled his wand out of his jeans pocket, rolled onto his stomach, children on his back and transformed a potted begonia into a hedgehog wearing a tutu. The creature began to do somersaults and the children climbed off George's back and hunkered down on their haunches to watch and clap.

George slowly climbed to his feet, brushing at his pants and his elbows, whispered something regarding the hedgehog to Hugo who nodded solemnly and then walked over to where the adults were standing.

"George!" Molly exclaimed and rushed him. She folded him to her. Arthur stepped towards them and patted his son on the shoulder.

"How are you, son? How are you?"

George nodded.

"Dinner is ready everyone!" Ginny called from the doorway and in a noisy few minutes people arranged themselves around the table.

Eating and drinking, laughter and light conversation. Table manners deplored and taught. Food refused and food devoured. Finally, plates scraped clean, children excused, the adults pushed themselves back to a comfortable distance, sipping at drinks.

"How's the shop, Ron?" George asked.

"Well. Alright. But we really need to talk about new product. Can you meet with Angelina and me to do that?"

"When?"

"Like yesterday! Angelina is just a whiz, the mail-order idea took off like a snitch and we could hire twenty free elves and still not fill all the orders."

George nodded thoughtfully. "Okay then. You set up a meeting, owl me and I'll be there."

"We'd really like you to come back to work, though." Ron's voice was low, his face turned away.

"When he's ready, Ronald, when he's ready." Molly said and stood to begin clearing plates.

"Mum, I'll do that. Leave it. Sit," Ginny said firmly.

"Nonsense. I know these dishes will do themselves, but let's get them started."

The three women rose and began carrying crockery into the house.

"I can't, Ron." George turned his gaze on his father. "I just can't do it, Dad."

Both men nodded.

"I tried. For nearly twenty years, I tried. It's no good."

"What do you want to do?" Harry asked.

"I've got ideas."

Ron looked doubtful, casting a sidelong glance at Arthur who briefly closed his eyes. The women had returned and reseated themselves. All eyes were on George.

"We can help if you let us, George." Molly's voice was overflowing with concern.

"I know that. You think I don't know that? I know that. I just...need to work out some details first."

"I'd say," said Ron, his words edged with bitterness.

Hermione hushed him.

"You're right, Ron, I'm a tosser."

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't need to. It's written all over your face." George's eyes went distant and then lit up. "Ginny! Write this down, quick – the "Written on Your Face Sucker" a lolly charmed to reveal what someone's really saying by spelling out the words on their forehead...I'll work on that one." He turned back to Ron then swept his gaze up and down the table. "I know I'm falling apart. Back that up, I know I feel apart a few years back. You're not keeping any secrets with that one. But I want to go to Hogwarts. I want to teach charms."

Hermione gasped loud enough for both children to look over quickly. She covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, George. It's just...well...I don't think..."

His eyes were hard and behind him the hedgehog froze mid-somersault and reverted back to its potted begonia self. The pot landed on its side and broke. Rose began to cry and George quickly grabbed his wand from beside his plate and recast the hedgehog charm, the hedgehog looked decidedly put out. He turned back to the table. "You don't think what?"

"You never actually passed your exams." Harry's voice was soft, apologetic.

George stood. "This is how you're going to help me? You think I don't know that?"

"George."

"Fred is there. Are you not getting that? Fred is at Hogwarts. I want to be there. Live in the castle. I'm good at charms. I would be a good teacher. Hermione, you can tutor me so I can sit the exams. If the brightest witch of our generation can't help me pass...then there's no way I could on my own."

Now Ron was standing. "How can you be a good teacher when your life is a shambles? Hermione is going to tutor you? And then what? You haven't worked in two years time. George, for Merlin's sake, you're squatting in a shooting gallery off Diagon Alley above a pub."

Hermione stood quickly, a hand on Ron's elbow. She cast a quick silencing charm over the table, waving the children back to their play. "That's enough. Why are you so angry at him? This isn't doing anyone any good."

Ginny's voice cut like a whip. "Stop it! This is my house and if you can't be civil you need to go. All of you."

"Ginerva!"

"You, too, Mum. I can't deal with this right now." She looked at her brother who had sat heavily back down, staring into his lap. "George, I love you. We all love you. We miss you and we're worried about you. If you want to teach Charms at Hogwarts then we're all going to work together to make that happen. But you've got to promise us that you're going to put yourself back in order."

Arthur cleared his throat and the sound stilled everyone. Those standing sat back down. "Ginny, we appreciate that this is your home and we certainly don't want any shouting at this lovely meal you've prepared. But there are still very hard questions that need to be asked and perhaps sharp points that need to be made." He turned to George. "You say you want to teach. At Hogwarts." He shook his head slowly. "Your infamous leaving of that institution is still talked about today."

Ron interrupted, "Toasted every weekend in every pub this side of Dover is more like it."

Arthur held up a hand and the laughter quieted. "Be that as it may. The boys left Hogwarts, OWLS were not sat, and although I certainly acknowledge that young boys grow up into wiser men, they displayed a distinct lack of respect for organized education of any kind at that time and I fear that may still be the case."

George bolted back to his feet. "Not all young boys get to grow into wise wizards, Dad. Fred is at Hogwarts and although that may seem like the ultimate punch line to a very bad joke, it's the truth. Fred is there. And I am not. You're right; we blew it all off when we were seventeen, tossed the lot of it into the bin. At least I got to grow up and I don't know if I'm a single bit wiser but I do know what I want. I want to be where Fred is. I live the life of the dead now, the perpetual stagnation of being a ghost. My life stopped nineteen years ago. And I'm sorry to say that to you, all of you who fought that war to insure that life keep going on. But it's true. It's killing me," he looked around the table, "I mean this literally. It's killing me to not be with him.

"You mean you're killing yourself." Harry's voice was low.

"I'd be a stupid git if I killed myself anywhere but that castle, wouldn't I, Potter?"

Hermione's voice was shaking, "Are you saying you want to go to Hogwarts and kill yourself there?"

Molly began to cry. "Please, George, please no."

Ginny spoke, her voice soft. "He goes to Hogwarts all the time."

"And he hasn't offed himself yet," said Ron.

"We all go to Hogwarts to see Fred, love. The boys' birthday, around Christmastime." Molly asked, wiping a napkin under her eyes.

Ginny answered. "No, mum. George goes to Hogwarts all of the time. Alot."

"What's this?" Arthur asked.

George shrugged, looking down at the table, picking up a butter knife and making an elaborate pattern in his roast gravy. "Yeah. As often as they'll let me. But when term is in, I can't go as easily. Weekends sometimes." His voice cracked and he turned wet eyes on each witch and wizard, his look long and deep. "Fred is there."

Molly shoved her chair back quickly and rushed around the table to her son. She pulled out the empty chair beside him, and pulling him into her arms, she sat heavily and the tall man went down on his knees beside her, his face buried into her breasts. She began to rock him against her.