Chapter 6

Waking several hours later, it took George several minutes to remember where he was. For a moment he imagined he was back at his Aunt Muriel's as he had been for a time during the war. Then he remembered the battle and Fred's face, cold in death and that same cold rushed over him as the familiar pain of their severed bond made itself known again.

A soft snort from his right stole his attention from his brother's memory. Hermione's mouth hung slightly open, a thin rivulet of drool dampening the pillow beneath her cheek and her hair a wild mass around her head. Amusement at the state of her relaxed him somewhat.

In school she had always been fastidious. To many she came off as uptight both in and outside of class. But knowing her as he did now—seeing her like this—the difference between the Hermione she projected to the world and the Hermione she was with him, he was thankful they had become so close. It was one of the very few good things to come from the end of the war.

Knowing they should talk and eat and probably interact somewhat with their hosts, George sat up and wiped the lingering sleep from his eyes. He got up from the bed, dressed and visited the bathroom across the hall and Hermione was still asleep when he was finished. Huffing a quiet laugh, he walked around to her side of the bed and gently shook her shoulder, mindful of her tendency to wake suddenly and with wand drawn.

"Wake up, Hermione."

Somehow not having been disturbed by him moving about the room, she jerked awake now at the sound of his voice. Looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on him, she sighed heavily and buried her face in the pillow only to sit back up in disgust at the cold slobber. She wiped her face and blinked up at him.

"Not a dream then?"

George shook his head. "Nah, sorry."

"Damn. Alright, I'll have a shower and then we can figure out what to do."

He nodded and once she was safely in the bathroom, George decided to find them something to eat. Wandering slowly through the house, taking the time to look around a bit more, he thought he could almost recall vague memories. Ghosts of himself and his brother running through the well lit halls.

The kitchen almost reminded him of the one he shared with Fred in their flat. It was small and clearly saw more of their sister's packed meals or muggle take away than any real cooking. Smiling sadly to himself at memories of better times, George picked through the small fridge and made a few sandwiches for himself and Hermione.

As he headed back up the stairs, he wondered idly where his uncles were. It was quiet in the house and that seemed off. No sooner had the thought occurred to him then the front door he was just happening to pass flew open admitting the two missing men.

"Haha! Can you believe it, Gid? Twins! And named after us, bless her."

Fabian looked jubilant, grinning from ear to ear as he threw his robes over the stand by the door. Gideon came in behind him, smiling just as wide.

"Poor woman, those two are going to be little terrors I reckon. Drive their mother spare."

"Just like their uncles did, eh?"

They laughed at the same time then as they walked further into the house. George's chest ached and his eyes burned. In that moment he could see the future all at once. Their joy at his own and his brother's birth, the shadow of the war, the few happy memories to be made yet and then their brutal death. Then he thought of the years of peace, his childhood without these two men in it. And the second war and the running and the broadcast show and Fred.

These tragedies were at once so distant and yet so immediate that George couldn't decide whether to laugh as they did, or weep for what he knew they were all going to lose.

"Cousin! Great news!" Fabian clapped him on the shoulder, any lingering suspicion seemingly forgotten.

"The very best!"

"Our sister, Molly, has just had twins!"

Gideon laughed and clapped his other shoulder. "Twin boys, and she's named them after us, the good woman. Fred Gideon and George Fabian!"

Deciding it would be best not to suddenly become emotional, George swallowed down the tightness in his throat and forced a smile. "Poor sods, have to suffer through life with names like yours…"

The older twins wore matching smirks and Fabian shook his head in amusement. "Our names, more like, eh George? What are the odds of that, I wonder?"

"Uh…" Their keen expressions made George feel like the biggest arse. How could he have bloody well forgotten something so important? He'd given Hermione a different name—her mother's—it had seemed obvious and important. If they ended up staying alive and around long enough, there couldn't very well be two Hermione Grangers. Dumbledore had overheard her call him George, so he hadn't thought to change it. Now it felt like a glaring oversight.

"Well… suppose your sister has good taste after all."

They guffawed but were interrupted from saying anything else on the matter by Hermione coming down the stairs. She was dressed again and her hair was still wet from the shower as she descended to stand beside them, a relaxed smile lighting her face.

"Something funny?"

George breathed out a sigh of relief, glad to have the attention off his conspicuous name. "Apparently my cousin's just had twins."

"Ah." She did an admirable job hiding her gut reaction to the news, plastering on a bright smile and congratulating Gideon and Fabian. "Your sister must be so happy."

"Over the moon!" Gideon glanced between her and George. "You know, twins run in the Prewettfamily. Maybe someday you'll have a set of your own!"

Hermione's eyes widened and her cheeks darkened as she briefly met George's apologetic face before laughing awkwardly. "Ya… maybe someday."

"You know what?" Fabian stepped around. Hands up as though he'd just had a brilliant idea. "We were going to take lunch over for Molly and Arthur and the boys. How'd you two like to come as well?"

Shit. George tried to think of an excuse.

"Oh… that's not … they'll not want strangers underfoot now surely?"

"Besides," Hermione cut in. "We're meant to be hiding from Death Eaters. It wouldn't be safe to bring us there would it?"

Gideon waved a hand as though it was nothing. "Nonsense. They've got the best warding we could give em. As good as ours are here. And as to strangers, well you're family aren't you? Besides, more eyes on the older boys innit? Give old Arthur a proper rest too. Say, you can play quidditch can't you George? We've been teaching the two oldest boys to play a bit. We could use a fifth."

Completely blanking on any excuse that wouldn't be suspicious, George stammered and looked to Hermione for help. She, unfortunately, seemed just as lost. So, he said the only thing he could think of. "I uh… I play ok, ya."

"Excellent!" Fabian draped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and turned for the kitchen. "Put those sandwiches away for later, cousin. There's a muggle chippy in town the boys like. We aren't the cooking talent dear sweet Molly is, but our nephews love the fried muggle stuff."

Hermione nodded slowly, as if that made perfect sense as she followed Fabian, looking back at George over her shoulder in mild panic. This was likely the very last thing they should be doing, but neither of them were prepared to dodge the situation. They were meant to be talking and planning, not having a Weasley family lunch.

Not ten minutes later, they stood on the edge of the property. The Burrow, his home for most of his life, stood looking much as it had the last time he'd seen it. Ancient looking limestone surrounded the whole thing, from the large pond behind to the woods to the South. Newer stone edged the small garden where his mother let the chickens roam—he could hear clucking even now. As Gideon and Fabian let them through the wards, George stood frozen, unable to go on.

He wasn't ready for this. He couldn't do this. His mother and father could hardly look at him and now he'd had the chance to save Fred and failed. How could he possibly face them again? The sorrow and loss he had grown used to would surely have been replaced with disappointment and contempt.

"George?" His whispered name and Hermione's hand squeezing his somehow saved him from the quiet suffocation he hadn't even noticed until it was over.

But those were ridiculous things to fear. The Molly and Arthur in that Burrow weren't his parents, not really, not yet. Their George was a helpless newborn—just hours old—and lying beside a very much alive little Fred. They would not see him and feel the crushing pain of his brother's loss. And how could they possibly know of what he had attempted to do?

As his uncles watched him curiously, he shook himself and followed Hermione up the path. It was as unchanged inside as out. The smells were the same, the furniture too if perhaps a bit less worn. Even the clock in the kitchen ticked his family's whereabouts, if a few members short.

Shouting and thunderous footsteps, as well as packages of hot food being shoved into his arms, put an end to the nostalgia as three redhead little boys came spilling down the stairs. Bill and Charlie ran and shouted with excitement to see their uncles, while a very small Percy toddled along after them as fast as he could, though no less excited.

"Uncle Gideon! Uncle Fabian! You're back!"

"Can we play quidditch?"

"Did you bring lunch? You promised you'd bring chips next time!"

"Uncle Gid! Uncle Fab!"

The two older men swept their nephews up in their arms, Charlie somehow ending up upside down and positively squawking with glee.

"Hey boys!" they responded at once, both looking just as pleased to see their sister's children as they were to be received.

"Of course we brought lunch."

"We'd not subject you to your father's cooking."

Gideon snickered and elbowed his brother. "Nor ours."

Bill wriggled free and straightened his hair, finally noticing the strangers. "Who are they, Uncle Gideon?"

Charlie, naturally, only noticed the promised food. "Have they got lunch?" He pushed past Bill to stand in front of George, eyeing the packages of take away hungrily. "Can we eat now, please? The only ones that have eaten lunch yet are the babies and that's only because they eat off Mum. I'm starved!"

George laughed nervously as he stared back at his much younger, older brothers. Charlie's brown eyes light with energy and curiosity, Bill's own, so keen and set in a smooth, unmarred face that made George wince for his future. Fluer had always claimed to love the scars, but did he really need them?

"Who are they, Uncle Gideon? Why does he seem so familiar?"

It was Fabian that answered, taking the food back from George. "That'll be the family magic, Bill. This here is your long lost cousin, George." He indicated Hermione with a nod of his head. "And this fair witch is his fiancé, Helen."

Hermione waved at the boys timidly, eyes lingering on Bill's face too. "Hello."

Apparently taking notes from their uncles, Bill and Charlie greeted Hermione first. "Nice to meet you, Helen. My name's Bill."

"And I'm Charlie! I like Dragons! Do you like dragons?"

Bill rolled his eyes and started to say something to his little brother before Hermione practically choked on a laugh. "I'm not sure I can say I like them. I've been far too close for comfort more than once. They lose a bit of their uh… magic once you've been on the back of one."

When everyone—George included though more from disbelief at what she'd shared than surprise—stared at her open mouthed, she seemed to realize her mistake. "Ah… I mean… what I meant was that um.. yes, Charlie, I quite like dragons."

Everyone started at once, the boys shouting questions to be heard over Gideon and Fabian. Hermione stammered, unable to think up any kind of plausible excuse to explain her fantastical comments. Thankfully, George had heard more than one equally fantastic tale from Charlie over the years and so thought of something that would hopefully satisfy their curiosity. Draping an arm around her shoulders and stepping forward slightly, he waved his other hand dismissively.

"It really wasn't all that exciting. We've spent the last few months with her family on the continent. Took a holiday a bit too close to the Romanian reserve." He shrugged. "A rogue Ironbelly took our camp by surprise. Thankfully there were several of us and some blokes from the reserve were close behind. Helen here ended up in quite a spot but, well she's no slouch with her magic."

Neither of his uncles looked entirely convinced, but the boys had bought every word, staring up at her with admiration. Gideon shook his head and said something about eating and headed for the long table with the food, Fabian close behind. Hermione followed, still beset by an exuberant Bill and Charlie. About to join them himself, George was stopped by a small Percy standing just at his feet.

Missing the brother he might have brought to the past, he crouched down to be at the not quite two year old's height. "Hey Perce. Been a while… Well for me, anyways, I guess." The little Percy only stared at him with wide brown eyes, his garbled reply nothing that George could understand. Then he reached up with one pudgy hand to touch his face, tickling his beard.

"Forge."

Letting out a surprised breath, George smiled and bumped a knuckle gently against Percy's chin. "Ya, that's right, Perce. Forge." Stomach growling, he stood and picked up the toddler and brought him to the table to join the others.