Chapter 7

Several hours later, George sat beside Hermione in the garden outside the Burrow. Arthur had joined them briefly to greet them—looking as delightfully exhausted as George remembered him being when he was a boy—and carried up two portions of food for himself and Molly.

Once the boys had been fed, George had joined Gideon, Fabian and the older two of his brothers in the yard for quidditch. Hermione, opting to stay on the ground with Percy, was nearly beside herself watching the seven and four year old boys chasing after the quaffles. Remembering the many games he'd played with his brothers before ever going to Hogwarts and seeing how low they were keeping to the ground, George knew this was rather tame.

Now they sat together, Hermione resting her chin on her knees, watching the three boys and their uncles root about the garden for gnomes. "It's always been so amazing to me how easy it is to forget about the war when I'm here."

Hermione was smiling to herself as she watched Percy run on short legs from Charlie and the howling gnome he carried. The afternoon sunlight looked good on her. Allowing himself a small smile, he didn't let his eyes linger on her long before turning back to the chaos in the garden.

"Ya… we had a happy childhood despite it all. Bill always said, at least until Gideon and Fabian… well until then things were usually pretty normal. Sometimes tense and once when I was almost two, they came late with another Wizard. He wasn't too clear which one of them was hurt as he'd been watching from the stairs, but Mum had to patch them up."

She didn't say anything for a while after that. Eventually, George turned to find her watching him with a hesitant lip caught between her teeth as if unsure if she should speak. "What?"

Looking back at the others in the garden to make sure they were far enough away, Hermione sighed and started to speak. "George, I…" Only to be interrupted by Arthur coming out behind them.

"Five boys. I can hardly believe it." Looking up at his father, George was stunned into silence to see the two small, red haired infants in his arms. Arthur smiled down at the twins, shaking his head fondly. "Not even a day old and already wearing your mother and me out. Well, you'll fit right in with the rest of the family."

George could hardly breathe as Arthur carefully sat between himself and Hermione. For half a second he expected reality to implode as he came face to face with himself. But it didn't.

"Could I bother the two of you to look after them for a bit? I uh… well it's been a long day and they're not at all tired. Molly's sleeping and I'd like to join her. Just for a few. Get some rest for the night shift." He laughed to himself as he looked between them.

Still unable to speak, he looked to Hermione who held her arms out in something of a daze. "They really shouldn't be much trouble, they've just been fed and changed. Wide awake and darling." Mimicking Hermione, George held up his arms in time to take a baby too.

Arthur said a few parting words and hustled back inside but George didn't notice. All he could see was Fred. They were indistinguishable, not even their own mother would be able to tell them apart. But George knew. Like a missing piece of his soul slid back into place, for the first time in half a year he felt the ease of their magic flowing together. Harmony.

Little Fred had stopped squirming nearly as soon as he'd been placed in his arms. They stared at each other now, dark grey newborn eyes locked onto his, the same brown they'd eventually be. The world around them didn't exist. All George knew was his brother, so small and precious and alive. It was all he'd wanted for months. So desperately he'd wanted it.

"George. George!"

Hermione was shaking him by the shoulder and doing her best to get his attention without alerting the others in the garden. Blinking slowly and reluctantly dragging his eyes from his twin, he frowned at Hermione. The baby she held, him, fussed on the edge of screaming. He thrashed against her and bobbed his head along her chest towards little Fred.

"George, what are you doing? I've got you haven't I? George is… this George is reacting to it. He was fine until a few minutes ago then he started freaking out! Here, give him to me." She adjusted little George on her other shoulder and reached out and took Fred from him before he had the chance to stop her. "There, see? Here's your Fred. He's still here. Shhhh, you're alright, Georgie, you're alright."

It felt like someone had hit him with a stunner. That was Fred. But he wasn't his Fred. He couldn't have that harmony, that magical bond, that relationship with him. Because he wasn't his George.

Together in Hermione's arms, George and Fred had settled at once. He had upset their harmony, their bond. As he'd known from the moment Hermione had cast the tempus, Fred might as well still be dead for all they could be together.

"George…" Somehow Hermione shifted both babies to one side and brought a free hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing away tears he'd hardly noticed. "Oh, George. I'm so sorry."

"No…" He sniffled and pulled her hand from his face, tucking it gently back around the babies resting against her chest. "No, I'm… I'll be ok."

Standing, he left them sitting there and strode away from the house. He passed his Uncles and brothers, the stone fence, the chickens and the screeching gnomes. He didn't stop until he reached the edge of the pond.

Letting out a heaving breath, George ran his hands through his hair and down his face. This all felt so surreal, like some kind of tragic comedy. Just a few yards behind him his dead uncles played with his brothers, his dead twin curled up in Hermione's arms. He felt like he knew too much and it was going to drive him insane living here, in the past, if he could not do anything. Watching the years pass, letting people die and knowing exactly when and how… George would rather die himself than live through that.

No. He had to try to save them, to change things. Maybe the old man in the store had been wrong. Maybe time really was a loop no matter what device or spell or magic was used like Hermione thought and it wouldn't matter. He might try, fight the tide with all his might and fail. Maybe he had been that other man Bill had seen in the night when his uncle had been hurt.

Mind racing as fast as his heart, he tried to think of anything else he knew, anything else he'd ever heard about the first war. Had a mysterious cousin that looked something like himself ever been around at family gatherings with a curly haired wife? Had this all already happened? Were they doomed to watch everyone die all over again from both wars, totally helpless?

Practically gasping for air as confused panic set in, he didn't want to believe it was true. It couldn't be, and he would act as though it wasn't until he was forced to accept it.

Slender arms suddenly slid around his waist from behind that he immediately wrapped in his own, holding them in place. As Hermione's magic brushed against his own, George felt his mind begin to clear and he tried to calm his breathing.

"I'm so sorry, George."

His voice only wavered a little. "Me too, Hermione." They were both quiet for a while before he felt in control enough to speak again. "It's amazing really, how strong our magical bond was even so young." He sniffed. "When I held him, it was like everything was right again, Hermione. Our magic just… fit together. I can't explain it, not properly. But I think little me could tell something wasn't right. Can't hardly be a twin bond with extras, can it?"

"Are you going to be alright?"

He sighed, long and resigned. "As alright as I can be without him."

She nodded against his back. "Well, whatever we do from here, you're not alone."

He patted her arm. "Neither are you."

Lapsing into silence again, he wondered how she'd react when he told her what he wanted to do. Would she go along with it or push back? Her comment had implied that whatever they decided they'd do it together. And he had no intention of abandoning her to the past. But if she didn't want to help… well he'd just have to convince her.

Glancing over his shoulder he could see that they were in no immediate danger of being overheard. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed.

"I've decided this won't change anything, Hermione. I'm still going to save my brother. And while I'm at it, there's a few other people I'd like to save as well."

Letting out a resigned sigh of her own, Hermione released her hold on him, coming around to stand in front of him. Staring up at him, she looked for the determined resolve she heard in his voice. "What if we can't, George? We might just make everything worse."

He tore his eyes from hers, uncomfortable with the possible reality she'd suggested. "I have to try Hermione. I don't want to live through the next twenty years knowing everything and not even trying."

"And if it's not possible to change anything…" She paused for a beat and he met her gaze again. "Will you be able to survive that?"

"You won't let me fall apart completely. Like the first time."

She smiled sadly, glancing past him at the family in the garden and George thought he could almost see her thoughts. "Alright, George, I want to help you. But if it starts to seem like all of this has already happened, or if we're making things worse, we go live in the woods and wait it out. I couldn't live knowing we've only hurt the people we love more than they already would have been."

"Alright." He started to say something, about planning or horcruxes or Harry's parents, but was interrupted when his Uncles suddenly apparated right beside them.

"Time to go." They spoke in unison and there was a slight edge to their demeanor. Hermione was instantly on alert, as he was himself.

"Why? What's wrong? Have you heard something from Dumbledore? Are there Death Eaters around?"

Fabian narrowed his eyes at Hermione, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not sure. What do you think?"

George frowned and moved closer to her, eyes scanning the trees around the clearing. "How the bloody hell should we know? Let's go then."

Sharing a look, Gideon and Fabian each took one of them by the arm and they spun away.

When they landed, George was only half surprised to find a wand in his face. Gideon was giving him an odd look as he held his wand on him.

"You know, there's been something off about the pair of you from the beginning."

"Dumbledore was suspicious, told us to keep an eye on you. It was the family magic, you see. Made us think you were alright."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione's hand twitch for her wand. Thankfully she refrained as Gideon continued.

"But it wasn't until this morning, after we visited Molly and Arthur the first time, that we really began to wonder. There was just something…" He looked lost for words, glancing at his brother to pick up the narrative.

"Too familiar. You have the Prewett family magic, there's no doubt about that. But that's not it, is it? So we thought..." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not test a theory?"

It was all George could do to keep control of his breathing as the inevitable hurtled towards him.

"We haven't got a clue on your bird, but you… you're not quite who you say you are, are you?" Gideon paused for effect before they finished the thought together.

"Nephew?"