A/N: Because I had to separate this last chapter into two parts, I've GREATLY lengthened this one, so most of it are George's flashbacks to his Yule Ball experience. Lucky you, you've got previously unplanned George Weasley memories! Show your gratitude by leaving a review? Cheers!

George purposely Apparated at the entrance of Diagon Alley. He wanted an excuse to walk the length of the chilly street before he let himself back into the flat above his shop. Unsure of exactly why the news of Oliver Wood's presence with the girls had unsettled him to the point that he left the Quidditch match, the fifth-born Weasley strode down the quaint streets of the near-deserted Alley and—for some reason inexplicable to himself—reflected on the events leading up to the night Lee had so carelessly brought up.

XxX

"Oi! Angelina!" Fred's voice rang out through the Common Room loud enough for just about any Gryffindor who cared to, to hear. George stared in disbelief as Angelina Johnson turned from where she had been sitting by the fire near Alicia. Somehow, George knew exactly what his twin was about to do, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Yes?" Angelina asked, looking severely annoyed.

"Want to go to the Ball with me?"

He had done it. George tightened his jaw as Angelina colored, glanced quickly to where Lee Jordan was chatting up a fourth-year, appraised Fred, and then nodded.

"Yes, alright then," she said, turning back to Alicia.

"And that's how it's done," Fred summed up for the supposed benefit of Harry Potter and their younger brother, Ron. The real audience for his performance, however, was sitting at a table in the corner with Ryan Carmichael and her friend Leanne. As Harry and Ron drifted away, George watched as Katie Bell made some slight excuse, stood up, and retreated to the dormitories. Her hands were clenched into fists, but he saw she was quivering slightly as she made her way up the stairs. Fred pretended not to notice, but George saw the he was tracking her from the corner of his eye.

This was one of the rare moments in which George was genuinely unhappy with Fred.

"Well that went off well!" Fred remarked brightly as he strode over to sit down at an empty table near the portrait hole.

"You're an unbelievable prat, you know that?" his twin asked disgustedly as he sat across from him.

Fred's facial expression shifted into one of disbelief. "What?" he asked, slightly affronted. "Kates and I are on a break. I'm a free agent."

"As of about three hours ago," George reminded him.

"Nevertheless," Fred broke in. "She can't expect me to just not go to the Ball. I meant what I said to the wee ones—there will be no one left for you if you drag your feet about it. I think you're just a little sore because I've negated the possibility of you outdoing me, Georgey. Admit it."

"You're my brother and my best mate," he answered him. "But that doesn't stop you from being a complete ass sometimes. I'll see you around—night."

"George!" Fred called after him, slightly angered. "George, come off it; get back here!"

George ignored him, however, and walked straight up the staircase and through a wall which inexplicably transported him to the girls' tower. He found Katie's door and knocked loudly. If Fred was going to behave like a prat, then he no longer had any qualms himself about doing the one thing he had wanted to do most since the previous June.

XxX

He hadn't done it, though, George recalled, sighing. He had now reached the shop. He let himself in, climbed up the stairs, and sat down at his kitchen table. The whole flat was quiet. It actually seemed like the whole world was that way. Deciding that what he needed at the moment was a strong drink, George retrieved a bottle of whiskey and a glass and returned to his chair. So much for never drinking alone. He downed the contents of his first glass quickly, the alcohol burning his throat. So he hadn't managed to do what he had wanted to do that night four years ago. Something had stopped him. He used to think it was decency, or respect, or some other chivalrous reason that built up his ego. In retrospect, especially tonight, it just seemed like cowardice.

Instead of following through with his resolve, George had settled for being the shoulder of comfort and offered himself as her Yule Ball date. To this, she was completely opposed and vowed she hadn't the smallest intention of attending the event. However, an owl which had arrived the morning of December 24th had accepted his invitation after all, and he had had one more chance—which was also squandered.

XxX

"So Katie decided to show up after all, then?" Fred asked his brother, who was casually adjusting his bowtie in the mirror. He was affecting carelessness, but George saw the discomfort in Fred's eyes which belied his cavalier tone of voice.

"Yep," George answered in equally unconcerned tones.

"Well," Fred said, attempting humor. "I'm glad it's you taking her, then, and not some bloke I'd have to spend half the night eying to make sure he didn't get too friendly. Eh?"

At this, George faltered, and then feigned just as insincere a grin as his brother's. "Too right," he said, attempting vainly to disguise the discomfort in his voice. Fortunately, Fred didn't seem to notice it.

"So what's going to end up happening with the girl you were supposed to go with, then?" Fred asked. "Sarah Fawcett, was it? She wasn't too bad looking, bro."

"I noticed that," George assured him. "Which is why I asked her in the first place. She seems remarkably fine with it, thoug…a little too fine, actually…said she'd probably end up going with Stebbins…"

Fred made some slight remark, and the two brothers headed down the stairs to claim their dates.

The night ended up affording George little to no pleasure, however. Katie was beautiful, but spiritless. Every time they danced, her eyes were bound to be focused on the wrong twin. Fred's antics weren't helping. He was dancing wildly with Angelina, hardly ever left the dance floor, and seemed determined not to be caught looking at his ex-girlfriend.

"Katie," George said gently, stirring her from her reverie. He had his arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding her hand. They were dancing to the last slow song of the night, and the chords emanated from the stage and flowed through the Great Hall.

She felt light in his arms, and from their proximity he could detect the faintest smell of a flowery perfume in her hair. For once not admonishing himself, George let himself appreciate the way they fit together—the smoothness of her skin, the way her cheeks flushed from dancing, and how his whisper in her ear ruffled the small pieces of hair that had escaped from the dark knot at the back of her head. Her attention was not his, however. Her bright eyes were fixed on his brother, and this realization made George feel slightly ill.

"Katie," he said again. She blinked her dark lashes twice, and then looked up at him, fixing a sad smile on her face.

"Oh hey, George," she said, attempting cheerfulness. "You're kind of a great dancer, you know. I was practically swept away for a moment there."

"Oh, I'm quite aware of the fact," he assured her, spinning her once, dipping her low, and then bringing her in even closer than before. "Although you're not too disgraceful yourself. In fact, I'm afraid most of the room is looking at you, and not at me."

She laughed slightly. "Well, thank you for that fine compliment, Mr. Weasley, I'm sure it cost you quite a bit of dignity to admit."

He simply grinned and gave her a very cavalier look.

"In fact, if I'm not mistaken, I'm quite the object of envy tonight," she continued. "Angelica Watkins has been glaring daggers at me for half the night."

"She wanted me to ask her," George admitted. "Kept bloody hinting at it for weeks."

Katie crinkled her nose in thought for a moment. "Weren't you snogging her at some point? Alicia told me you were."

George nodded his head carelessly. "Yeah, over a month ago though. Ancient history, you know."

She laughed humorlessly. "You're quite the romantic, George. Don't you fancy anyone for more than a week?"

George gave a small laugh and then looked down at her contemplatively.

"I have," he said, all traces of joking now aside. "I'm capable of it."

He caught her eye for a moment, and her smile faltered. Whether or not she fully caught his meaning, however, was unclear. She looked away.

"You know, I think Alicia really fancies you," she said idly. "And I don't think you should be afraid to do something about it."

Something in George's chest seemed to rush out of him. Before he could answer, she spoke again.

"Then at least one of the Weasley twins will have taken the chance to be honorable."

She was looking at Fred again. The song ended and he released her silently, however much he wished to continue to explore the way she felt in his arms.

"Sorry for being such a downer, George," Katie apologized suddenly as the few remaining couples began to disperse and head for the exits. "I'm really glad you asked me to come, honestly. It was really sweet of you."

Great. He was the sweet one. Exactly what he had wanted to hear tonight.

"No problem, Kay," he answered emotionlessly. "Always a pleasure."

He turned to follow her gaze to where Fred and Angelina were finally parting. While Ange was steadfastly holding to his arm, however, he saw Fred glance silently to where he and Katie were now walking. He leaned over and whispered something in Angelina's ear. She nodded, looked at him for a moment, and then departed off toward the stairs. As she passed, she touched George's elbow.

"Come on," she hissed into his ear. "Let's give them a moment."

George opened his mouth to protest, but then caught the expression in his twin brother's eye as he headed over to where Katie was now standing alone, doing her best to look stoic and failing miserably. Nodding almost to himself, he heaved one last sigh and followed the tall dark girl out the door.

"I'm going to listen just outside the door," Angelina said as they passed into the Entrance Hall. "Want to join?"

George shook his head. He wasn't exactly keen on listening to the inevitable fight and make-up that was about to take place. "Nah," he said. "I'm just going to head to bed. Have you seen Lee, by the way?"

Angelina shook her head a little too quickly. George eyed her meaningfully, and she sighed. "I think he went off about thirty minutes ago," she gave in. "After that little French minx of his went to bed early."

George nodded. "Alright, thanks, Ange. You have a good night."

"Night, George," she called as he retreated up the stairs.

The dejected Weasley eventually found himself in the Common Room where quite the ruckus of an after-party was taking place. Leading the pack, predictably, was Lee standing on a table and doing a jig with Ryan, butterbeer spilling out of both their mugs. Other Gryffindors milled about, grinning madly and laughing and chattering in significantly louder tones than usual.

"George!" Lee cried, jumping off the table and running over to join his best friend. He grabbed a mug of butterbeer on his way and shoved it into George's hands. "How was the rest of the Ball, mate? Juliet scampered off somewhere…where's Kates?"

"About to get into a massive fight with Fred and then snog half the night, I imagine," George said dully, staring down at his mug. "Honestly, Lee? You take a trip to Hogsmeade to pilfer some party treats and you leave without firewhiskey…?"

Lee grinned. "It's spiked," he answered, clearly proud of himself. "You know, I think sometimes that you 'n Fred tend to underestimate me…"

George laughed in spite of himself. "Perhaps we do," he conceded, helping himself to a drink. "So your date ditched you too, eh?"

Lee laughed humorlessly, collapsing into a chair. "I suspect she caught me staring at Ange for most of the evening," he admitted. "Didn't take too long to work out who I'd rather've been with, I imagine."

His friend nodded. "That was a rotten trick of Fred's, mate," he said bracingly. "But you know him—if there's a chance to create a little commotion, he'll take it."

"That's for damn sure," Lee agreed, taking a long swig of his butterbeer. "Aw, s'all right though. Felt worse for Kates, honestly. She looked miserable, didn't she?"

Taking this a little too personally, perhaps, George remained silent and stared, brooding, into the fire. He too took a large drink from his mug.

"Not that it was your fault, mate," Lee added quickly. "That was bloody nice of you to step in there last minute and all."

George snorted at this. Very selfless indeed.

His friend looked at him curiously. "Alright there, George?" he asked.

The redhead lifted his eyes to stare back at Lee quite seriously and then shook his head and barked out a laugh. He wasn't quite drunk enough for that, yet.

As if sensing this, Lee looked around the room and then nodded. "We've got some of the spare bottles of firewhiskey up in our room, if you want."

George considered this for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, alright."

XxX

And then George Weasley had done the unthinkable. He had let something escape his lips which had made every one of his romantic actions suspect from thereon out. Lee had been the first of only two people he had admitted that something to in his lifetime, and he had only admitted it to him that once. Nevertheless, it had unfortunately stuck in Lee's mind like glue and made George regret ever drinking straight alcohol that night. It had been before he had really been able to hold his liquor. Now, for instance, he was doing rather well with that one bottle…

XxX

"Whoa," Lee said, flabbergasted. He was lying on his bed, dress robes unbuttoned, the ends of his socks just barely hanging onto his toes. The half-empty bottle of firewhiskey lay abandoned on his night table. "I mean…whoa. You're not serious, mate?"

"Yep," George answered solemnly, tipping back his own bottle and downing more of the alcohol. He was sitting slumped in the corner and staring up at his friend, gauging his reaction. Lee sat up.

"For how long?" he asked, still in seeming disbelief.

George shrugged. "Since last summer, I suppose. She was over to stay for a couple of weeks and we were all playing Quidditch in the orchards, and old Perce—who we'd convinced to play just for another man on a team—accidentally rammed into her and knocked her off her broom. She was too busy yelling at Ron to man up that she didn't notice Percy was coming straight for her, and she fell right off and broke her arm. She was always doing stuff like that…anyway, Fred blew a gasket and started yelling at Perce, and I was the one to go get her and bring her in to Mum. She wasn't much at healing spells, but she made us swear we wouldn't get on our brooms again until she could find a real Healer. So we just went off to this lake, and floated out on a raft Fred 'n I built a couple summers back. We were just lying on that thing on our backs, and talking over nothing in particular, but I happened to look over at her and before I knew what I was doing, I was counting the freckles on her nose…"

He let out a short bark of a laugh. "It's stupid, right? But anyway, right then I knew, and at the same time I knew I'd never be able to do a single bloody thing about it because of Fred."

He sighed and looked over at Lee, whose mouth was still agape.

"You've got to tell her, mate," he said simply.

George rolled his eyes. "You're barking."

"No, I'm dead serious. What if she's with the wrong twin, and she just doesn't know it yet? You two are exactly alike."

George glared up at him.

"Well, not exactly, obviously…"

"I'm not gonna bloody hurt Fred, alright?" he interrupted. "That would kill him. You don't know him as well as I do, Lee, you can't tell…you didn't see the way he looked tonight, the way he looked at her when he wasn't messing around with Ange. I'm telling you, it would kill him."

"It's killing you," Lee pointed out in a rare moment of seriousness. "I love Fred just as much as I do you, Georgey, but everyone deserves a chance to fight for what they want."

George looked up at his best friend, calculating.

"And supposing I tell her? What happens to Fred, then?"

"You're the only person in the world he'd forgive for it," Lee said with confidence. "And I absolutely mean that."

Probably as a result of the alcohol running through his system, George suddenly felt emboldened. "You're right," he said, leaping to his feet. "I'm going to tell her. And Fred will bloody have to deal…I defer to him enough, he can do the same for me."

"Atta boy, Georgey!" Lee called, cackling as the lanky redhead clambered out the door.

George ran swiftly through the castle, leaping over several discarded butterbeer bottles and frightening couples who were ensconced in the secret passageways he knew like the back of his hand. Finally, he reached the grand staircase. He spotted her sitting at the bottom step, and quickened his pace, his heart beating rapidly. He stopped, however, within ten feet of her. Her head was in her hands, and she was crying.

George suddenly felt like the world's greatest prat. He couldn't do this to her—not now. He wouldn't. And Fred would certainly never do this to him. Almost nothing governed Fred Weasley, as his twin brother, George knew this for a fact. The one thing that did was loyalty. Perhaps Fred would forgive him, but George would never forgive himself. Later that night, as soon as she disentangled herself from the roaming hands of her Durmstrang date, he would ask out Alicia Spinnet. It was a responsible move.

Feeling the familiar sensation of energy rushing out of his body, George let out a private sigh and shook his head, steeling his resolve. He drew a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, and walked to remaining steps to where Katie Bell was curled up in a ball, her knees hugged into her chest. George dangled the handkerchief in front of her face in a decidedly playful manner.

"Hey there, Kay," he said.

Alright, Fred. I'll play this part for you one more time.

XxX

George reflected on these last few fleeting remembrances as he fingered the rim of the whiskey bottle sitting in front of him. Perhaps he'd had enough for the evening. He stood up to put it away, feeling entirely disgusted with himself and his choices in life. Maybe that night he had chosen the higher route—but the higher route had left him unhappy for almost the entirety of the remainder of his schooling days. He had never summoned the courage to share what he had wanted to share that night. One thing came after another—he was quite happy with Alicia mostly, Fred's fights with Katie became easier and easier to smooth over, they left school, he left Alicia, Bill got married, Fred and Katie made up for the final time, they were engaged…then Fred died. That final event had triggered the upheaval of everything previous. All thoughts of anything else were banished from his mind.

But lately, the old feelings had been creeping back with a vengeance. George couldn't ignore them. He couldn't ignore them, and simultaneously couldn't act on them. It was too soon, he reasoned, too soon since that one single event had stopped time for the both of them. They had learned to keep living, keep laughing. But George couldn't quite let go. And in that time he was relearning how to live, how to laugh, Oliver Wood had loomed closer and somehow had taken the place Fred had vacated. No matter how many lies he told to Lee, that fact remained. And now, Oliver was where he wanted to be—had been invited to where he wanted to be. And what chance, after all, did the weak George Weasley—living, breathing reminder of what everyone else had lost—stand to Oliver Wood?

George had just opened the cupboard to put away the whiskey, when he heard someone come through the door. Startled—as the game was most certainly not over yet—he turned around to question Lee about why he had followed him home. It wasn't Lee, however, it was Katie.

She came through the door quietly, her hand lingering on the doorknob as she closed it behind her. George turned fully to face her, setting the bottle on the counter.

"Hey," he said.

Katie looked very pretty, but she had very unmistakably just come back from a bar and her hair smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume.

"Hey," she said shortly, taking off her heels and rubbing the soles of her feet. "You got any of that left?" She gestured at the bottle.

"Er…yeah," he answered. "Want me to pour you a glass?"

"Please," she said sincerely. "I'm just going to take a quick shower and then I'll join you, okay?"

She had crossed the room to the bathroom, but stuck her head out the door in an earnest glance toward her friend. This softened the hardened state George had been in all week and he nodded, smiling.

"Sure thing," he said. "I could stand for another glass."

Within a few short minutes, Katie had emerged from the shower dressed in pajamas and shining wet hair brushed. She joined George at the counter.

"You should still be at the match," she said accusatorily, taking a sip from her glass.

"So should you," he pointed out.

She smiled. "Hard night," she admitted.

George nodded. "Me too…"

Contrary as it might seem, George was feeling slightly encouraged by this. Perhaps she wasn't quite as prone to Wood's advances as he had thought. She was here, after all, obviously without him in tow. It felt wonderful to just be talking with her again.

"So no dashing blokes to lengthen your stay, eh?" he questioned. "Not even a famous Quidditch player?"

She wrinkled her nose at him in confusion. "Er…no," she said. "Nothing of the kind. Only the usual rats there tonight."

George frowned. "Well did you…you know…recognize anyone there at least?"

Katie continued to stare at him. "No," she said. "Not a soul. Just Ange and Al. Why, George?"

He shook his head and swallowed the rest of his glass quickly. "No reason," he said. "Well, goodnight."

He left a flabbergasted Katie at the counter and crawled into his bed, shutting off the light. If she couldn't at least be honest with him, maybe they weren't as close as he had thought—and Wood perhaps not so far from his target.

XxX

Katie finished her drink quietly and then crept into bed. She was in no mood for George's ill humors that night. She thought they had been beginning to heal the breach over their behavior the past week, but perhaps she had thought wrong. No matter, however. Her head ached and she was ready to give herself up to sleep. The next time Angelina and Alicia decided it would be good for her to get out, she was suggesting coffee.

XxX

The rain pattering against the side of the large bay window of the flat stirred Katie from her sleep. Or at least, that was what she thought initially. She crinkled her nose as she recognized the feeling of someone playing with the very ends of her hair.

"Stop it, Fred," she murmured idly, batting away a hand.

He merely continued.

"Fred," she said warningly, still keeping her eyes shut. "You know I hate that."

"You're letting your hair grow," a voice observed. "I think you look more fetching when it's short."

"I don't care what you think," she retorted sleepily. "Stop playing with my hair. You know I hate it when you do that."

"But you're smiling. Which leads me to believe all this protesting is merely a farce. So you're a fraud, really."

Katie opened her eyes, a slight smirk upon her face as she discovered Fred Weasley sitting at the end of her bed and watching her sleep. His familiar freckled face showed signs of amusement, his rather long nose only a foot from her own.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," he answered her in the same tone.

They simply stared at one another for a few moments.

"I've missed seeing you at the edge of my bed," Katie murmured.

"I've missed being in your bed, Katesy," he returned devilishly. She laughed slightly and took his hand from her hair, encasing it in her own. He moved closer and began stroking her face and staring into her eyes, as if intent on memorizing every detail.

"Fred," she said softly.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the first night we spent together."

His eyebrows raised slightly, and he sat back, staring out into the dark expanses of the room as if trying to recall.

"We talked," he said finally.

"What else?" Katie prompted.

He sniggered slightly, looking back at her. "Mostly we talked," he answered. "You danced. And we ate some cornflakes, because that was all that was left in your pantry. And…when we kissed…we were shaking so much we couldn't take off our clothes."

She closed her eyes again, letting his fingers trace little patterns across her hand.

"I miss you," she said finally. He drew away his hand from hers and when he didn't answer, she opened her eyes to look for him again. He still sat on the edge of her bed, watching her closely. Slowly, he nodded his head.

"I'm pretty irreplaceable, aren't I?" he asked.

Katie nodded, and within a few seconds, he had vanished.

XxX

Katie awoke from this dream with tears in her eyes. Unlike her previous nightly flashbacks, this strange vision did not leave her screaming or tortured in memory—perhaps because it was not a memory at all. Nevertheless, tears spilled from her eyes and she clutched her blankets desperately, determined not to get up.

XxX

Across the room, George heard her cry. He didn't stir.

XxX