A/N: This is a LONG ONE! Sorry.
TW: Angst, grief/loss, depression, anger.
Sometimes grief makes you angry and irrational, and that definitely shows in this chapter.
I'm sorry for all the angst, but I promise the second half of the chapter is sweet and fluffy again. ?
ooo
It was early on Saturday morning and the low winter sun was shining unbearably bright above the London rooftops. After the rather impressive snowstorm they had had a few days ago, the weather had turned and despite it still being quite fresh in the mornings, most of the snow had already gone and the world had finally begun to move again. So, after telling a white lie to her mother, stating that she needed to do some last-minute Christmas shopping and that she couldn't possibly have her parents there for that, Ginny had asked Greg to accompany her to Diagon Alley.
She hadn't told him what they were really going to do – only that her mother couldn't know – but to her immense relief, the sweet Slytherin had agreed to come with her anyway, and despite looking a little unsure, was keeping close to her side, his hand wrapped tightly around hers, as she led him down the empty cobbled street.
It didn't take long at all, until she spotted their destination; eye-wateringly bright and colourful, as it stood out between the much duller looking shops around it: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
Ginny's stomach was in knots – a horrible, writhing feeling, that she was sure was going to make her throw up any second – as she clutched the fabric bag in her hand a little tighter, approached the extravagantly decorated shop door, and pushed it open.
Despite the early hour, the shop was surprisingly full, and they had to push their way past several clusters of people to get to the till in the back of the shop.
"Hi, Verity." Ginny addressed a young witch with short blonde hair, who was stacking a shelf next to the till, and failing miserably at hiding a tired yawn.
The girl looked up and nearly dropped a box of trick wands as she spotted Ginny, her eyes wide and almost fearful as she opened and closed her mouth several times.
"Miss Weasley." She finally breathed, and Ginny's stomach dropped, as her expression grew into one of pity – gentle and compassionate, yet terribly reserved and far too tentative. It was how everyone looked at her these days and she absolutely hated it. Grieving a loved one was hard enough as it was, she didn't need people to constantly remind her of her loss by tiptoeing around her as if she was this incredibly fragile thing that could break at any moment.
"Uhm… how can I help?"
It cost Ginny a tremendous amount of willpower to keep her face straight, as she looked up at the twitchy witch and pulled her lips into a friendly smile.
"Well, we were in town for some last-minute Christmas shopping and I figured I'd pop in to see George." She said casually. "Is he here?"
"Oh…" Verity said, her freckled face growing rather pale. "He…" she swallowed hard and to Ginny's horror she could see tears form in the corners of her eyes. "Uhm… he's not here yet. But I'm sure he'll be down soon."
"Right…" Ginny sighed, feeling like she had just had her worst suspicions confirmed. George wasn't doing well then. Heart heavy and feeling a little helpless she cast a look around the shop. "Well, I guess, we could wait a little."
"I can make you a cup of tea back in the staff kitchen if you like?" Verity offered kindly, but Ginny shook her head.
"No, thanks, Verity. I think we'll just stay out here and have a little look around if that's alright?"
"Of course." The blonde witch smiled. "Let me know if you need anything."
Ginny nodded gratefully, before grabbing Greg's hand and pulling him down an empty aisle, eager to get away from the overly emotional witch.
"That was intense." Greg whispered as soon as they were out of Verity's earshot. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah…" Ginny nodded, squeezing his hand gratefully. "She means well, she's just not very good at keeping her emotions under control. I don't think she's coping very well with everything that happened." She jerked her head towards a shelf near the front of the shop. "Come on. Let's see what's new in."
They'd been browsing for a while, and Ginny had just been reading through the different types of Patented Daydream Charms the shop offered, when a sharp voice cut through the quietly buzzing shop.
"Oi. What are you doing in my shop? People like you are not welcome here!"
Ginny's stomach dropped as she looked up, her chest constricting painfully as she looked at the owner of the voice.
George was barely recognisable as he glared at Greg with dark, hateful eyes; the usually so friendly, freckly face pale and pasty, with dark circles under his eyes and deep lines across his forehead. But the most striking difference in his appearance was his hair… or rather the lack thereof. He had shaved his head down to the scalp, not a single trace of the vibrant Weasley hair left on him, and even the usual fiery stubble on his chin was nowhere to be seen. If she hadn't known that this was her brother, she wouldn't have believed that he was a Weasley at all.
"George." She said, hurrying to Greg's side and clasping his hand. "He's here with me."
Her brother's eyes widened and for a moment she thought he was about to kick them both out, before his gaze grew dull and he shook his head, desolate.
"Whatever." He huffed. "I'm done wasting my energy on people like you." He shot Greg another disgusted look, before directing his gaze at Ginny. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"
Ginny swallowed thickly. It was clear that she wasn't any more welcome here than Greg was, and it took her every ounce of her Gryffindor courage to not turn around and storm out of the shop. After all, she had come here for a reason and she was going to see it through.
"I wanted to see you." She said, fighting to keep her voice straight.
George looked at her for a long moment, before tilting his lips into a cynical smile. It looked wrong and unfamiliar on him, and made Ginny feel sick to her stomach.
"Well," he said, spreading his arms wide and tilting forward in a sarcastic bow. "You've seen me now. Is that all?"
Anger flared up in Ginny's chest as she watched her brother's theatrics. Fine. If he wanted to be difficult then so be it. He had picked the wrong person to taunt.
"No." she said, gritting her teeth. "That is not all."
She lifted the bag in her hand, a fierce look on her face as she continued. "Mum said you won't come to the Burrow for Christmas this year. So seeing as you'll miss the family gift exchange, I figured I'd bring you this now."
She walked over to him and pushed the bag towards his chest. "It's my Christmas present for you. Take it."
For a fraction of a second George's eyes widened, before his expression grew dark again and he took a step back. "I don't want any gifts, Ginny. I told mum I'm not celebrating this year, so just leave me alone, okay?" And with that he whirled around and dashed back upstairs where he disappeared through the door that led into his private flat.
Ginny's entire body was shaking, but she wasn't ready to give up just yet. Taking in a deep breath, she turned around to Greg and muttered a quick "Wait here, I'll be right back." Before she made her way upstairs, nostrils flaring as she stomped up the wooden steps, the bag with the gift in one hand, while the other pulled her wand out of her pocket.
Channelling all her anger, it only took the tiniest flick of her wand and the door nearly flew off its hinges as it blasted open; allowing Ginny access to the small apartment. She marched into the room, the air crackling around her with pent up magic, and glared at a rather shocked looking George.
"What the fuck, Ginny?" He yelled; eyes livid as he jumped up and drew his own wand, pointing it directly at her chest.
"Yes!" Ginny growled, staring unflinchingly at him. "That's exactly what I was thinking – What the fuck?"
She waved her wand and the door behind her slammed shut, before she approached her brother; anger roaring in her chest like a monstrous beast. She had watched him wallow in self-pity for months and she wasn't going to allow it any longer.
"I came all the way here to give you this, so you'll bloody well take it! Do you hear me?" she seethed, pulling a small parcel out of her bag and holding it out for him to take.
They both glared at each other for several long seconds, chests heaving and jaws set into stubborn expressions, until George finally gave in and for a split second something in his face softened, before he dropped his gaze.
Looking like a petulant child, he raised his hand and accepted the gift, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he muttered a reluctant. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Ginny said coolly, before nodding towards the small parcel. "Now open it."
"What?" George exclaimed. "but it's not even Christmas yet!"
"I thought you won't celebrate anyway. So might as well do it now." Ginny retorted. "Open it."
George cast her a withering look, but Ginny didn't budge. He may have been drowning in sorrow and self-loathing, angry at the world for what it had taken from him, but she knew he wasn't stupid. He knew better than to argue with her; so with a deep sigh and muttering a number of profanities under his breath, he walked over to the sofa, sank onto it, and began to unwrap the gift.
Ginny went and sat beside him, a nervous flutter in her stomach, as she watched him peel the paper off a small wooden box.
"Open it." She nudged. "Don't worry. I secured it. It can't move."
Brows pinched with confusion, George opened the box to reveal a small, black ball that had the letters F. W. engraved in the front; held in the box by two thick leather straps with metal clasps.
"Fred's bludger." Ginny explained, a renewed wave of grief welling up in her chest. "He lent it to me, so I could practice Quidditch with it. But I know you have the rest of the set, so I wanted to give it back. Make it whole again."
George stared at the little ball, transfixed; a mixture of shock and pain on his face as tears began to collect in the corner of his eyes.
"Remember how you and Fred used to teach me how to play?" Ginny said, a desperate attempt to fill the heart-breaking silence. "With old apples from the orchard behind the house?" she huffed out a small laugh "Mum hated it. She never wanted to see me on a broom, but you two… you always supported me. You understood my love for flying."
She took the small box out of George's hand and placed it carefully on the coffee table beside them, before clasping his hands in hers.
"You and Fred were always there for me when I needed someone to lean on. No matter what it was, I always knew you would have my back." She pressed on, a desperate almost pleading tone in her voice now.
"I miss that." She choked out, her chest feeling so tight it was almost impossible to breathe. "I miss him. …and I miss you. I need you, George."
Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she fought to suppress a sob, and all of a sudden George sprang back into motion. With a shuddering gasp he pulled her into a tight hug, his arms wrapped so tightly around her that it almost hurt, as he began to weep uncontrollably into her shoulder.
It was heart-breaking and gut-wrenchingly painful, and yet, to get any type of emotion out of him that wasn't anger or resentment filed her with so much relief that she wanted to cry and laugh and throw up all at the same time.
Feeling dizzy with emotion, she held onto him, her hands travelling in soothing patterns across his back, until his breath evened out, and eventually his tears subsided, and even then, she didn't let go, until he lifted his head and pulled out of her embrace to wipe his nose ungracefully on his sleeve.
Still unable to speak, he stood up, picked the bludger from the table and walked over to the other side of the room, where an intricately carved wooden box was sat atop an old sideboard.
He opened the box to reveal a set of expensive looking Quidditch balls – the type that were hand-crafted and probably cost more than all the Quidditch gear that Ginny had ever owned combined – but it was evident that there was one missing.
George pulled his wand out and tapped the bludger in his hand once, which immediately stopped twitching in its confines, before he undid the clasps carefully and placed it in the empty divot next to the quaffel, making the set complete once more.
He stared at it for a long moment, a mixture of grief and affection on his pale face, before his lips split into a weak smile. Ginny's heart soared, as she spotted the expression on his face. It was small, only the shadow of the way he used to smile, but it was there… and it was genuine.
"This was the first thing we bought when we finally started to make some extra money with our inventions." He croaked, looking fondly down at the set of balls. "After we paid off our debts of course."
He turned around and looked at Ginny. "I had no idea Freddie gave it to you."
Ginny nodded, new tears welling up in her eyes, but she pushed through them and forced her lips into a little smile. "He told me I was going to be a famous Quidditch player one day."
"You could be." George agreed. "If you wanted to. You have the talent."
Ginny's chest constricted as she shook her head. "I don't know, George…" she sighed, a heavy sort of feeling settling in her stomach. "It was always something we used to do together. It feels kind of wrong to pursue it with him not being here."
George nodded to indicate that he understood and pursed his lips, looking thoughtful.
"It hurts not having him here." He finally admitted. "I can't even look in the mirror without missing him so much that I can't breathe."
"George…" Ginny began, but he only shook his head.
"He'd hate that, you know?" He insisted. "You giving up on your dreams… me… pushing everyone he ever loved away… He'd fucking hate it."
"Then don't!" Ginny urged, getting up to walk over to him and pull him into a hug. "Don't push us away."
George went rigid for a moment, but then his stance softened and he put his arms around her waist. "I'll try." he promised, squeezing her tight.
"Good." Ginny sniffled, before letting go of him and offering him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for barging in like this."
She watched as her brother pursed his lips disapprovingly, before he shrugged and rolled his eyes affectionately. "Well…" he sighed, "You always did have a bit of a temper."
"Rude!" Ginny scoffed, swatting his chest.
"Maybe." George grunted, looking amused. "But probably true."
"Hmm… maybe." She conceded reluctantly. "Anyway, I best head back downstairs. Greg's probably wondering where I've gone off to."
"Yeah…" George said, a dubious tone to his voice. "So what's the deal with the snake, eh?"
At that Ginny couldn't help but grin, lifting her shoulders into nonchalant shrug. "Oh, just a little inter-house unity." She drawled, waving her hand dismissively. "Apparently its all the rage at the moment."
"Mhmm, I'm sure it is." George said, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her. "Well, go on then. Don't keep the man waiting."
"Okay." Ginny said, pulling him into another quick hug, before she walked towards the door and turned around to look back at him. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
"I won't." George promised, raising a hand to wave at her. Ginny smiled and waved back, a heavy, yet slightly hopeful feeling in her chest, as she stepped out into the corridor and, with a last look at her brother, closed the door behind her.
Later that night Ginny found Greg alone at the kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot cocoa in front of him and an old baking magazine in his hand. He looked up at her when she entered the room and smiled, before moving over on the old kitchen bench to make room for her.
"Hot chocolate?" Ginny asked, pulling the mug towards her and giving it a sniff.
"Yeah." Greg confirmed. "Felt like something sweet."
She took a sip and let out a soft hum. "Mmmh. Good thinking. I needed that after today."
"There's more on the stove." Greg said, looking amused. "I can fix you a cup if you want?"
"No." Ginny retorted, before taking another sip from his mug. "It tastes better when shared."
Greg snorted. "If you say so."
"I do." Ginny insisted, but then her smile faded and her expression turned serious.
"So…How are you feeling?" she asked, studying Greg's face closely for a reaction.
Ginny was incredibly grateful that he had accompanied her on her rather eventful visit to Diagon Alley, but she felt terrible for how he'd been treated by George, and couldn't shake the feeling that it had affected him more than he was willing to admit.
"Fine." Greg shrugged, flicking the page of his magazine. "why do you ask?"
She put down the cup and turned to face him properly. "Because George wasn't very nice to you this morning, and I don't want you to think I support his actions in any way. He was completely out of line saying that you weren't welcome in his shop."
Greg shrugged again, but then his expression grew dark. "Honestly, Ginny?" He said, finally putting down his magazine and looking up to meet her gaze. "It's how I expected your entire family to treat me." His mouth pulled into a bitter line, and shook his head. "I'm really grateful for how nice everyone has been so far, but I can't say it didn't surprise me. I did a lot of horrible things during the war, and I will probably never forgive myself for them, so how can I expect others to forgive me?"
"Things you were forced to do." Ginny retorted, feeling irritated all of a sudden. "You didn't have much of a choice in the matter."
"Maybe not." Greg sighed. "But I still did them."
"Yes, and you regret them!" Ginny insisted. "Everyone can see that."
"Of course, I regret them." He confirmed, looking sad all of a sudden.
"Well, there you go!" she piped up. "You've made mistakes and you've learned from them. Surely you deserve a second chance. Everyone does."
Ginny's eyes were burning with the unfairness of it all. They had only been children when the war had started. How could anyone blame a child for being raised at the wrong side of a war? How could they blame him for doing the only thing he thought would keep him and his family safe? The fault lay with his peers. The adults that taught him to hate and discriminate; who threatened him with torture or even death if he didn't stay loyal to their Lord. It was all their fault. Not his.
"Hey…" Greg murmured and raised his hands in a pacifying manner. This pulled Ginny out of her spiralling thoughts and she forced herself to look at him, and angry tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm not saying I won't accept forgiveness if someone offers it to me, okay?" He said sweetly, before tucking a stay curl of hair behind her ear. "All I mean is that I don't expect it to be given freely to me."
"Well," Ginny sniffled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You definitely have mine."
She was feeling like a petulant child, but she couldn't help feeling defensive of him. The way he talked about regretting his past mistakes somehow really irked her and she was feeling sick to the stomach at the thought of anyone treating him badly for it.
"Good." Greg laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "That's all I need anyway."
Ginny let out an irritated huff and pulled her mouth into a disapproving pout, before she reluctantly let him pull her closer and sank into his embrace.
"So…" Greg said after a long pause. "You looking forward to the Ministry Yule Ball? It's not far off now."
Ginny sat up and narrowed her eyes at him. It was blatantly obvious that he was trying to change the subject, and she wasn't sure she was quite ready for that. But then their eyes met and she saw the plain look of adoration on his face, and all of a sudden, all her anger and frustration instantly washed away.
"I'm not sure." She sighed. "It'll probably be very formal and rigid, and not much fun."
"Oh, come on." Greg retorted. "You're telling me that eating good food and dancing all night won't be fun? I'm sure we'll have a blast."
Ginny shot him a sceptical look. She knew how much Greg was dreading to go to the Ministry event, but it was sweet how hard he was trying to cheer her up, so she decided to humour him and take the bait.
"I suppose dancing could be fun." She said, a teasing smirk forming on her lips. "Just as long as you don't step on my toes."
At that, Gregory let out an indignant huff. "Excuse me?" he said, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Are you suggesting that I don't know how to dance?"
"Hmm, I don't know." Ginny giggled. "Do you?"
"Obviously." He scoffed, looking incredulous. "That's part of etiquette training."
"Hmm, yeah... I'll believe it when I see it." Ginny smirked. She was teasing him of course. She knew that all purebloods were taught how to dance from a very young age, but for some reason she just couldn't imagine Greg would have taken it much further than the few mandatory lessons.
"Alright." He said, standing up and holding a hand out for her. "I'll have to show you then. Come on. Get up."
"What, right now?" Ginny asked, eyes growing wide. "Here?"
"Yes here, where else?" He took her hand and pulled her up, putting a gentle hand on her waist and taking on a graceful stance, as he began to lead her into am elegant Viennese waltz. Ginny's stomach instantly began to writhe with butterflies and her heart began to thrum excitedly, as he led her across the kitchen floor with confident steps.
"See? He smirked; "Easy." before raising his arm and twirling her around.
Ginny let out a small shriek; laughter bubbling up in her chest, as he gave her hand a deliberate tug to pull her back in, causing her to tumble straight back into his arms.
"Okay, okay!" She huffed, fisting his jumper in an attempt to regain her balance. "I concede. You know how to dance."
"Good." Greg chuckled as he pulled her close; his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he swayed them lightly on the spot. "then we're all set for the Yule Ball." He looked down at her with glittering eyes and smirked happily at her. "I'll be the guy dancing with the prettiest girl in the room."