A/N: Hi friends, sorry for this late chapter. Real-life has been hectic. Forgive the lack of D/H in this one, I'll make it up to you in the next chapter, which I am planning to have out next weekend. I truly appreciate all your kind words of encouragement so please review!

November 16th, 1999 - Tuesday

George Weasley has spent the better part of two years watching as his youngest brother has tried valiantly to stitch him back together where the war had torn him apart. Despite being lost in a haze of grief, it hasn't escaped George's notice that Ron has rallied around him in the face of Fred's death. Ron's decision to quit Auror training had been met with far less resistance than expected; the family had nearly breathed a sigh of relief when Ron had stepped in to fill Fred's shoes.

George can be honest with himself — he had been grateful. He is still grateful for Ron's actions the past year; he's watched his youngest brother take on all the responsibilities of a shop owner, while also mourning Fred.

George has awoken far too often to the sound of Ron entering the small apartment above the shop; the smell of bleach and clanking of empty bottles being taken out nearly accusatory in the silence. The sight of a breakfast George could only half-heartedly eat.

In all that time, George has never seen Ron anything less than forcefully cheery, which is why it's so surprising that his youngest brother enters the shop not only ten minutes late for work but also wearing an expression as though someone has died.

"Ickle Ronnikins, why the long face?"

Ron half-heartedly rolls his eyes at his brother's words, "Neville brought Hannah home last night. She couldn't even stand — apparently she'd shown up drunk at his doorstep."

"Oh, that's shite, mate," George says, misery etched through his words. He knows this story. He's been this story. "Does she remember any of it?"

"No," Ron says, "Or maybe. I don't know. I didn't ask her. I put her to bed and then talked to Neville for a bit. He doesn't know what to do about it either. Apparently, it's not even the first time she's shown up at his place."

"It's gotta be hard for him, to see her like that?"

"It definitely is," Ron agrees, setting down a paper coffee cup on their counter. "Turns out he is living with Pansy Parkinson. Or Pansy Longbottom now. They got married at the Ministry right near the beginning and kept it hush-hush."

"She must be a living nightmare." George snickers, imagining waking up to Pansy Parkinson's sneer and shrill voice.

Ron shrugs, "I mean, he said nothing bad about her, so I wasn't about to offend the man's new wife. Even if she is a Slytherin."

"Even though your new wife is in love with him?"

Ron half-laughs and George winces. It hadn't really been a joke.

"Even then, I suppose." Ron sighs, "On top of all this, Hannah and I have been talking about starting a family. With the WPG, the whole point is kind of to pop out a few kids. We both want a family, so it seems natural to just go for it at this point. I just... never imagined starting my family like this."

George stares at his brother — in moments like this, he could not be more like Arthur. Their father's gentleness and compassion shine out of him like a light. Of all the Weasley children, it has always been obvious that Ron would be the one to follow in his father's footsteps and have a large family. Charlie and Percy had been eager to escape the Weasley family home the moment they could to seek their independence. Even Bill had married Fleur and declared immediately that two children would be plenty, thank you. Of all of them, Ron has always been the most eager to go home. He's never missed a holiday or Christmas — with the exception of the war, which everyone had missed.

George had always imagined himself having a family at the same time as Fred. Children to prank and teach mischief to. Now — well, now he doesn't know. There just isn't much of him left to offer a family. Not much to offer a wife.

He winces, thinking of Parvati. She'd gone to visit Padma the night before, helping her prepare for her upcoming wedding to Blaise in only three day's time.

The silence has been disquieting — George has become accustomed to the sounds and sights of another person living in his space. Parvati is tidy and gentle, and she knows to stay out of George's way when he's in a mood. She had transfigured the couch into a little bed and put a screen all around it, nary a word about sharing or intimacy passing her lips. All in all, she's easy to live with.

The exception being the rare moments he finds her lost in a vision. Usually, he doesn't even notice it — she sees things that don't exist to him constantly, and it hardly trips her up. The first time he had found her shaking on their kitchen floor, he had reverted straight to the war; half crouching over her prone body with his wand out, healing diagnostic shining in the air.

It had been nearly four minutes before she would respond to him, and when she was finally sensate she had marched into his bedroom with a desperation he'd never seen Parvati wear, and incinerated anything remotely resembling the colour blue in his wardrobe. Not even purples nor shades of green had been spared her destructive wrath.

She hadn't spoken a word about it since, but George remembers the warning she had delivered — his hands covered in blood as he screams, the dread of death in the air.

It's hardly a chore to avoid a single colour of clothing.

"Hannah is... kind," Ron says slowly, snapping George out of his thoughts.

George sighs, "I'm sure she is."

"I like her," Ron shrugs, meeting George's eyes. "I mean it. I'd probably like her a lot more if she wasn't drinking herself to death, of course, but she's always been kind to me. She's got a good laugh."

"Marriages aren't made on kindness and laughing." George bites the words out; he hadn't intended to be so harsh. It's not Ron he's angry with — it's this fucking world. It's the fact that his beloved brother is consoling himself with kindness instead of love.

Ron sighs, "They've been built on worse, George. I just… I feel for her. Her entire future she planned for years has changed practically overnight. She's in love with Neville. I just don't know what to do to make it better for her."

George heaves a breath, "I cannot believe I'm about to say this little brother, but... I think you should just keep being yourself. You keep saying she's kind? Well, so are you. If I have learned anything, it's that you're good at taking care of people. The people you take care of… well, they might not notice you right away. But I promise… one day they look up and they see you've been there all along."

Ron freezes minutely, and George sniffs and turns away. He watches out of the corner of his eye as he busies himself at the till. Ron sips slowly at his coffee, and George is struck once again by how grown up he is.

"I s'pose you're right Georgie," Ron mutters, red staining his freckled cheeks. He's got a half-smile on that reminds George so much of Fred it hurts. "Thanks."

"Yeah, well," George scoffs, "No one will believe I said it if you tell."

"Your secret is safe with me," Ron laughs, "Now get out of here. I was late today, I'll take over so you can go have lunch."

"Oi, since when do I take extended lunches—"

The bell above the door cuts off his protests, and in the fading light of the afternoon, he sees Parvati, her dark hair gleaming in the sun.

"Hello," she greets, "I was hoping you would take me to lunch, George."

Ron covers a laugh with his fist, and George throws him a dark look. He spins to face Parvati and bows low at her.

"Conveniently, my employee has agreed to cover my lunch," George announces, "And whatever my wife wishes, I shall endeavour to do."

Parvati rolls her eyes at his words, though she loops her arm around his. George throws a wink at Ron over his shoulder and is rewarded by the sound of a genuine laugh.

George relays the entire story to Parvati as they snack on sandwiches from Fortescue's. They're on a picnic bench at a park a few blocks away, out of sight from the media. George isn't famous the same way Ron, Hermione and Harry are by any means, but any matches from the WPG that haven't yet been announced publicly are fair game to the Prophet. Poor Michael Corner and Mariette Edgecomb had found that out only a few days prior; Skeeter had ambushed them when buying a new couch for the house they now unwillingly shared.

"So, what do you see?" George asks, impatient.

Parvati scowls at him, "You know that's not how this works! I see nothing. Just you, and blue, and blood. I see it all the time now. It doesn't seem to matter what I do, or try to change."

George breathes deeply, drawing on patience that doesn't come naturally to his Gryffindor heart. "Okay. Okay. Do you see anything else at all? Besides the blue thing."

Parvati frowns, "I see nothing about Hannah. I'm not very close to her, so it's no surprise that it's hidden from me even as I'm looking. I still see Malfoy and the champagne, so obviously, your clumsy attempts at trying to convince him not to drink champagne were in vain."

George protests, "Well, I couldn't very well tell him outright that my wife had seen him drink champagne and then lay in a grave where we then buried his wife with him! I had to try something."

Parvati sighs, "I know. You're right."

"I am?" George asks. The worst part about marrying a Seer is that he's never right.

"Yeah," Parvati nods decisively, "You did change something, though. I still see Malfoy drink the champagne, and he's still angry, but now Hermione is the one burying him in a mountain of tiny stones afterward. She's crying. I can tell she's desperate to bury him."

George's temper ignites, "Do you think she's going to kill him?"

Parvati hums thoughtfully, and he watches her dark eyes go unfocused for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

"Should she?" He snarls. It's irrelevant suddenly that he had seen Draco Malfoy at his wedding only a few days prior and he had looked harmless. If anything, he had looked smitten with Hermione. He hadn't heard from Hermione since then, but Ron had mentioned nothing amiss. She'd still been going to work at the Ministry; if she hadn't George would have heard about it, because Harry would have already stormed the cottage to find out why.

Parvati's hand is suddenly gripping his arm tightly. "George."

It sounds as though she's been repeating his name. She's pale despite her darker complexion, and George briefly wonders how long he has been lost in murderous thoughts.

"Sorry."

Parvati clears her throat, "I swear to you, if I saw anything else or anything bad about Hermione, I would tell you. And I would see it, George. I love Hermione — we've known each other for years. I don't think Draco Malfoy will hurt her. Not in any possible future I can see."

George feels tension uncoil from his spine he wasn't even aware he was carrying. It wasn't as though he was afraid for Hermione — she was an incredible witch, and it was a testament to her strength and formidability that George had assumed Parvati's vision meant she was intending to kill Draco to protect herself.

Hermione, despite the trauma that has since encased her in tremors and exhaustion, is ruthless. George is not so far removed from the war that he doesn't remember the tenacity with which she can pursue something. If Harry had fallen to Voldemort's wand, he is confident that Hermione would have found another way.

Her current fragility will not last forever. He had seen it the night the letters for the WPG had come. There is no doubt in his mind that if Draco Malfoy wished her harm, she would neutralize the threat.

"On a slightly happier note," Parvati says, pulling her hand back into her lap along with his attention. "I have also been seeing stars."

"Stars?"

Parvati half-smiles at his nonplussed expression. "Yes. Stars. Thousands of them all lit up in a clear night sky. It's incredibly bright. Green eyes are watching the stars — I can see how green they are from the moonlight. Two stars fall at the exact same time, and they land in the green eyes. No idea what it means."

"Green eyes like Harry's?" George asks.

Parvati shrugs delicately. "Could be. Either way, it doesn't feel bad. It actually feels... well, like nothing I've ever felt before. Happy. Incandescent. Life-changing."

"Well, that's a delightful change," George complains.

Parvati sticks out her tongue at his words, and George bites into his sandwich to ignore her sass. She looks lovely in her orange dress, and it isn't the first time he has noticed how beautiful his wife is.

Parvati stops chewing abruptly and swallows hard. He's unprepared for the moment that she turns and pins him with furious eyes. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" George is genuinely baffled.

"George, stop." Her voice is like ice, and he has never heard her so commanding before. "You're changing things. Stop. Please."

"What could I possibly be changing right now?" He demands, gesturing at his half-eaten sandwich. "We're eating lunch!"

Parvati stares at him for a long moment. He's not hiding anything.

He can't hide anything.

"It's nothing." She finally says. "It's fine."

She finishes the last bite of her sandwich; George sips at his coffee. The silence is deafening; so many unspoken questions, so many secrets. They both carry ghosts around them; the invisibility only makes it more real.

"Look, let's just make sure Ron and Hannah are okay. I think you're right to tell him to be patient with her." Parvati's serious face turns mischievous, "I know that if my husband were kind and patient and giving, I would also appreciate it."

"Hey!" George protests naturally, "I am a paragon of patience and kindness."

Parvati's face cracks into a smile, and George can't help the fondness that sweeps into him. Perhaps Ron wasn't completely wrong — kindness isn't nothing.

"You're something, alright." Parvati agrees easily. "Though somehow patient wasn't exactly the word I had in mind."

George half-heartedly scowls at her, "It should be! You're dragging me to another wedding in three days, and once again I will be sober."

Parvati's expression turns soft. "You will. I don't even have to see it to know. Thanks, George."

He tosses his napkin at her and is rewarded with another laugh.