Phases of Learning by Pondering

Chapter One: To Laugh

The first day Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes was closed, the customers milled around the door in confusion. Even in the midst of wartime, the shop had never closed its doors. Now, You-Know-Who had been vanquished and people wanted jokes and laughs to help carry on their celebrations, but the doors of everyone’s favourite prank store remained closed.

On the second day, people checked in the windows of the store, wondering what had happened to its owners, why they had simply up and vanished without leaving anyone to man the counter. Still, they weren’t too worried. Maybe the friendly red-haired twins that ran the store were sick, or tied up in their own celebrations.

A month passed, and when people stopped hoping that the shop would ever open its doors again, they passed it in the morning and saw that there was a flurry of activity inside. Excited, they went into the shop, ready to buy all the goods they needed to fulfill their pranking needs. But the shelves had not been stocked with new items and some were nearly bare. The shop assistants running the store were asked many questions, namely where the owners of the store were, but whenever they were asked they would simply get a far away look in their eyes and say, “They’re not available right now.”

Another month passed and the shop’s backroom was almost devoid of products and the shop itself was looking more and more empty, product-wise. But now, people had stopped asking what happened to the owners, as the Daily Prophet had started running again after a month long break, and one of them was an article about the list of casualties at the Battle of Hogwarts.

But the lack of items didn’t stop the shop from being filled with eager school students a month later, ready to start the new school year at Hogwarts, eager to forget that the War against He Who Must Not Be Named had ever happened.

However, some people could never forget what happened at that battle, and George Weasley was one of them.

He had been staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry ever since the battle of Hogwarts five months ago, to his mother’s great dissatisfaction. George knew that given the chance, his mother would hold onto him and never let him go, smother him with all the love that Fred…that Fred would never be able to receive anymore.

He knew that if he went home, no-one would ever leave him alone. He loved his family, but they would be around him at every hour of the day, asking him how he was feeling, if he was eating properly, to make sure he was having at least eight hours of sleep a night.

Harry, thankfully, didn’t do this a lot. Harry was very busy with his new job, so all that George received was a comforting smile when Harry went out the door every morning. Harry had also been spending a lot of time at the Burrow lately, as George suspected that Harry’s new job wasn’t the only thing he was busy with. But Harry was able to reassure the Weasleys that George was doing well, that he was feeling as good as he could be at the moment, and that he was getting better.

Was he?

His family wasn’t the only reason he could not return to the Burrow, and the fact that he couldn’t entertain other people when he was unable to amuse himself wasn’t why he couldn’t face returning to Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. The thing was that these places reminded him too much of Fred, reminded him so much that even thinking about these places were painful because all of the memories that assaulted his mind when he thought of them.

He couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, because the image staring back at him wasn’t his own face, but Fred’s. No matter what he thought, no matter where he looked, there were always traces of Fred and he could never hide from them.

A loud pecking noise coming from the window roused him from his thoughts. He looked over and saw a large barn owl with a letter tied around its leg. It was jabbing its beak against the window. Sighing, George stood up and walked over to it and let it into the house, where it let out a dignified hoot. George intercepted it in mid air and hastily untied the letter. The owl then landed on the table and started drinking George’s coffee with enthusiasm.

He flipped the letter over and saw that it was from Verity and Lee. He had received a few similar letters over the last months, but he had thrown them in the corner and not given them a second thought. He didn’t need to be told that he needed to get out more, or that he needed to be more optimistic or that everything would be better in time. But somehow, he felt his fingers opening the envelope and tugging out the parchment inside.

We need your help, George! There are so many customers and so little items we have left to sell. We need more products. We’re not asking you to come out here; we understand if you don’t want to or if you just can’t. But can you maybe hire some people to replenish the stock? Please?

If you want to come, I’m having my birthday dinner tomorrow night at eight. It doesn’t matter if you can’t make it though.

The lack of stock, however, is URGENT. The store might go bust if we have to close again, because we don’t have anything to sell.

Remember, if you ever want anyone to talk to, we’re right here, George. Stay healthy, try and get lots of sleep: you deserve it.

Take care,

Verity.

George crumpled the letter in his hands. He was taking care of himself, wasn’t he? Did people really trust him so little? He seethed in frustration, but somehow resisted the urge to throw the parchment into the bin. Instead, he unfolded it and smoothed it out, reading it again, and again. He wasn’t angry with Verity and Lee for asking him to ‘take care’ or inviting him out to dinner tomorrow night.

He was angry at himself for not keeping the promise that he had made to Fred, and to himself. The promise that, no matter what, they would keep Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes up and running, because people needed a bit of laughter in their lives to brighten up their days.

Maybe that was what was wrong. He had forgotten how to laugh. He thoughtfully picked up a quill and dipped it into the ink to send his first reply. But then, he started laughing.

It felt forced at first, because he hadn’t felt happy for a long time. Now he realised that he didn’t have to be happy to laugh, and the laughter became more natural, more elated. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, and for the first time in months he stopped dwelling on thoughts on what should’ve been and started thinking about the future.

He grabbed the quill again and scrawled a quick reply, saying he was going to come into the workshop and also attend Verity’s birthday function tomorrow. As he wrote, he chuckled to himself as he sealed the envelope and gave it to the owl, which was now eating some sausages that had been left behind on the kitchen bench.

George threw his head back and walked out the front door. He was amazed at how light everything seemed to be, when just this morning he felt as thought he was drowning in the depths of despair. He could hear the sound of people talking, the gentle footsteps of people walking on the crisp autumn grass, and he could hear children’s laughter: a magical tinkle, the most beautiful sound he had heard in a long time. His own laughter joined theirs, and now he knew that happiness was not a requirement to laugh, but that laughter contributed to happiness.

However, he couldn’t dwell on the doorstep forever. Didn’t he have something to do? Things to make, pranks to create so that wizarding children all over the United Kingdom would be able to laugh as well?

He had felt so lost and in his grieving, he had almost forgotten who he was without his twin standing right next to him. Fred wouldn’t want him to be sad. He would want George to continue running the joke shop, continue contributing to that laughter. Just because George was the last one left did not mean that he was any less a Weasley or a prankster just because he was on his own.

His heart filling with the prospect of a better tomorrow, he twisted on the spot to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, even though he was still unsure he would be able to face the prospect of entering the store when he saw all the remnants of Fred that were sure to be there.

Phases of Learning by Pondering

Chapter Two: To Live

With a thud, George landed heavily near the Apparation point in the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was full of witches and wizards talking, laughing, and generally having a good time. For a moment he just stood dazed in his corner, wondering why everyone else could seem so happy. But then he shook his head. Negative thoughts were not going to affect him right now. Now, he was going to be positive. Now, he had remembered how to laugh.

However, his feet remained stuck to the ground as if he had forgotten something as simple as walking. For moments that seemed like minutes he stayed glued to the spot, fixated by something as simple as everyday magical life going on in front of his eyes. He had to learn how to be part of that life again, learn how to be able to live his own life again, for now he had no twin to live it with.

His legs seemed to tremble beneath him as he walked out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the courtyard with the brick archway that led into Diagon Alley. Out of his pocket he removed his wand. It almost seemed dusty from lack of use. He quickly prodded the bricks in the correct order and they moved open in front of him, showing him a place that he used to visit every day, a place he once knew as well as the placement of the freckles on Fred’s face. But now, George thought that Diagon Alley had changed.

The last time George had visited Diagon Alley had been in the peak of wartime, where many shop windows were boarded up, their owners had fled the country. But as he looked around, the place was loud, humming and vibrant, with many people that George could only see as prospective customers.

Could it really be that easy? he asked himself, to change from the mindset of grieving brother to optimistic businessman?

His feet thudded down the familiar road, and he did not have to pay any attention to them to know where they would be heading. So he kept his face down, scared that if he was confronted with it too soon, he would run away and flee. Then Fred would call him a coward, and tease him about it for the rest of the month.

But of course, Fred wasn’t there anymore to tease him about anything.

His pace came to a gradual halt and he knew he had arrived at his destination. He knew that he still wasn’t ready to look yet, knew that if he glimpsed into the windows of the shop he would expect his twin to be standing there, serving the customers or answering their questions.

George could hear Fred’s voice clearly in his head as if his twin were still standing right next to him.

“Come on, George!” Fred called, and George looked up, feeling a small ball of hope forming in his heart. For a moment he saw Fred, waving to him and beckoning him inside. “The door’s not going to open itself, you know!” Then, after a second of hesitation, Fred put a finger on his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Actually, that may be something worth looking into.”

George’s world spun in a wave of euphoria. Fred. Fred was right there. He took a slow step towards the door, reaching his hand out. But for a moment, he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, Fred was gone.

If the euphoria had been a wave, the disappointment was like being pushed off a cliff. For a moment, just a moment, he had seen his twin again, but it had only just been a figment of his imagination. He shook, unsure if he would be able to remain standing any longer.

It was too soon. It was much too soon.

He half expected to whirl around and run back in the other direction, as far away from Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes as he could possibly manage, but he did not. Instead, in false calmness, he turned and walked away, the only sign displaying his upset the wobbling of his knees.

---

George sat down on the couch at Grimmauld Place, wondering if it was worth the bother to ever stand up again. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget that he had done such a foolish thing as travel to Diagon Alley under the pretence that he was ready to face all the memories.

Will I ever be able to set foot in the store again? he asked himself. He slumped down onto the couch and sneaked a glance at the watch on his wrist. Maybe I just need a little more time.

“Time?” asked Fred. “Don’t you remember that time is Galleons?”*

George shot upright, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He caught a glimpse of his own spooked face, but there didn’t seem to be anyone standing behind him. He was imagining things. He had to be.

Softly, he spoke to his own reflection, because he did not know where else to direct the question. “How can I think about money at a time like this?”

“Well, think of this way,” Fred suggested. “At least you don’t have to share the money with me anymore. But, if you’re feeling generous, you could always buy Ronnie some new dress robes. I think he’s outgrown his last pair.”

“I don’t want robes!” George shouted at himself.

“Then what do you want?” Fred asked, his voice mingled with a tinge of curiousity.

George looked at himself in the mirror, but he was really seeing Fred’s face, super-imposed over his own. Not that there was much difference, but George could tell.

“I want…” his voice trailed off. He glared at the image in the mirror and Fred glared back at him. “…my twin brother.” When he looked in the mirror again, the face staring back at him was his own.

“Who are you talking to?” asked a voice that, thankfully, wasn’t Fred’s. Harry edged into the door and George found some relief in the fact that this voice, at least, was real.

“No one,” George said unconvincingly.

“Were you laughing this morning as well?” Harry asked. “Because I came back in here because I forgot some necessary documents to work, and I just heard this voice laughing and laughing and laughing…”

“Maybe you’re hearing things?” George suggested lightly.

Harry looked at him and frowned, his eyes filled with pity. George did not like that look. In experience, it would be most likely be followed by ‘why don’t you get out a little more?’

“Anyway,” Harry said in an attempt to break the awkward silence, “I just came back here to nab some lunch. Those cafés in London are expensive. Sorry if I was…interrupting anything.”

George shook his head. “No, you weren’t.” For some reason he did not understand, the full story started to spill out of him. Maybe it was because he had no-one else to confide in. In the past, his twin had always been his confidant. “I went to Diagon Alley today,” George said sharply. He had not realised how long it had taken to say this until he saw Harry slipping back into the room with a roll in his hand.

“Why?” Harry asked through a mouthful of cheese and lettuce.

“I wanted to go back to work,” George confessed. “But I couldn’t. And now I don’t know if I want to go to Verity’s birthday party tomorrow.” He half-expected Harry to question him, ask him why, and George did not feel that he was up to answering those questions. In the past, confiding hadn’t been so hard. He’d never have to tell Fred anything, because Fred just always knew.

However, Harry did not say anything. Instead, he gave George a clear nod that said, I understand. Then Harry smiled encouragingly, showing George more mashed up food than George would have liked.

“Gottago,” Harry grunted through an obscenely large bite of roll. George waved him good-bye, but then Harry paused at the door thoughtfully, trying to swallow his food. “I think you should go to the party,” Harry said. “Just because…you can always count on your friends to cheer you up when you’re down.”

“Thanks, Harry,” George said hoarsely. “I think I will.”

Harry smiled brightly then looked at his own watch, which he had received for his seventeenth birthday. “Damn, I really should get going if I don’t want to get in trouble again,” he muttered. “Bye!” With that, Harry raced out the door and George heard the faint crack of Disapparation.

---

Applying a final quick-drying charm to his hair, George decided he was as presentable as he could be at the moment. At least he no longer looked like he had spent the past five months sleeping.

He had found the name of the restaurant in one of the letters he had not previously opened. It was a new establishment that had sprung up on the edges of Hogsmeade, called ‘The Golden Dragon Egg’.

George sincerely hoped that they didn’t actually serve dragon eggs as he quickly grabbed Verity’s present and Apparated hastily as he was already running late. Luckily, he arrived in one piece and hurried to the restaurant.

There was a ‘Please Wait Here’ sign right in the entrance of the restaurant, but he didn’t linger for long. A girl he remembered vaguely from Hogwarts rushed in, and looked George up and down.

“Table for one?” she asked kindly.

George had sat at too many tables by himself these past few months and he wasn’t going too any longer. “No, actually I have a grouping with Lee Jordan and Verity—”

“Ah, yes, I see,” the girl interrupted him, as she traced her finger down a long list of names. “I think they were under the impression you weren’t coming? Anyway, they’re over this way.”

She led him through the restaurant and George carefully observed the food on the patrons’ plates. Thankfully, there were no dragon eggs to be seen.

“Here you go,” she said unnecessarily, as George had just sighted his friends. “I hope you have a pleasant meal.” She turned around to go back to the front desk.

“George!” Verity shouted a little too loudly. “I thought you weren’t coming. Well, we saved a seat for you.” She patted down the chair next to her and George took it. “I’m sorry for sending you so many letters,” she mumbled apologetically. “I don’t want to be a hassle.”

George was slightly alarmed as it wasn’t Verity’s fault at all. “No, it’s quite alright,” he reassured her, “and I got you a present,” he said, taking it slowly out of his pocket and handing it to her.

The wrapping paper was rather gaudy and bright, but Verity smiled at it anyway and then looked up at George. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’ll be sure to unwrap it after we’ve eaten.”

Lee clapped him on the back. “I saw you today, mate,” he said quietly.

George nodded silently. “I was going to come back to work, but I just can’t…” He shut his eyes. “Just not right now. I’m sorry for dumping all the jobs onto you guys.”

Under the table, Verity squeezed his hand. “It’s okay,” she told him. “You don’t have to come back until you’re ready.

“Although,” Lee piped in, “if you really feel that guilty you could give us a pay rise.” He finished with a laugh, his hand absent-mindedly poking the tablecloth with a fork.

Verity glared at him. “Lee!” she shouted.

Lee chuckled and apologised, but George didn’t think he looked very sorry. “I joke, George. You know that.”

George grinned. Harry was right. He could rely on his friends for support and he didn’t have to explain anything. He had wasted time these past few months wondering if life would ever be fun again without his twin brother. But couldn’t life be fun with his best friends as well? “Hopefully someday soon I’ll come back. But in the meantime, I can replenish the stock at home, with some help from Ron. He can also help you guys out at the shop, if he wants. He’s been looking for a job for the past few months, and seeing as the shop needs more people…”

“That’s great!” Verity said enthusiastically, while stroking George’s hand with her thumb. “I can also find out if any of my old school friends need jobs as well. Replenishing all the stock might take a little while, especially as we’re getting ready for Christmas, but it’ll be worth it. It’s a great store.” She grinned happily at George. “I feel honoured for working there.”

George realised he had forgotten something. “Wait, where do I order?” he asked. Lee burst into laughter, which could never be a good thing.

“I’ve heard the Golden Dragon Egg is rather big, so I’ll probably need some help, you know,” he said, grinning.

“You didn’t…” George said in horror.

“How could I pass up the opportunity?” Lee smiled.

Verity let go of George’s hand under the table, and gave him a sly look, which George felt sure he had completely imagined. She then turned to Lee and rolled her eyes at him. “You’re an idiot. Golden Dragon Eggs are disgusting.”

“They’re not really golden dragon eggs, are they?” George asked.

Verity giggled and batted George lightly in the arm. “Of course not, silly, as if people want to get their arms ripped off while gathering food. It’s just the name of their most famous dish. It takes a while to prepare. But,” she lowered her voice so a passing waitress would not hear, “I heard it tastes awful.”

“I can’t wait to try it.” George affirmed.

Lee looked up from the salt and pepper shakers he was playing with. “Neither can I,” he said, fixing both Verity and George with a cheeky grin. “Oops,” he said as he accidentally sprinkled pepper on the sleeve of George’s robe, causing him to sneeze. George waved his sleeve in Lee’s face. “You did that on purpose!” he accused, smiling all the while.

Lee said nothing but grin, and George felt his own grin widen. He hadn’t felt this alive in months. Just because his twin had moved on did not mean that George had to feel dead as well. Fred wouldn’t want him to remain entrenched in the depths of grief forever, Fred would want him to enjoy all the experiences and laughs life had to offer, and George was going to start by eating this 'Golden Dragon Egg', whatever it was.

---

A/N: *Line partly taken from p.66 of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, UK Paperback edition.

Phases of Learning by Pondering

Chapter Three: To Love

Once George started having weekly get-togethers with his friends, he found that life was a lot more enjoyable. He no longer holed himself up in his room, no longer heard Fred’s voice in his head, and thankfully, he no longer looked into the mirror in the morning to see a reflection that could have easily been his own—if it hadn’t had two ears.

However, he couldn’t rely on Verity and Lee to brighten up his day all week, as they had to go to work. This was something George could still not bring himself to do, as he was certain that the moment he stepped on the premises, he would see Fred there again, serving customers.

He had not seen much of his family in the past months either, as he had no desire to visit the Burrow again, to have a reminder of the times when the Weasley family had been whole. However, Ginny had told him that they were holding a Christmas dinner and that he was expected to attend. After all, there was no point in making Mum feel she had lost two sons instead of one.

It was with a pang of selfishness that George realised he could not talk himself out of this one. He had not thought about how his mother would be feeling, so out of guilty concern he had asked Ginny how she was holding up. She was doing all right, according to his sister, but sometimes when their mother thought no-one was watching she would stand outside the door to the twins’ room, her face pale and distant, the ghosts of tears shimmering in her eyes.

His eyes traveled to the photograph on his desk, where he was seated between Verity and Lee, a large Golden Dragon Egg sitting in front of them. George had thought that it tasted a great deal better than Verity thought it did, but Verity did not like rice dishes in general, and the Golden Dragon Egg had a lot of rice. George’s and Lee’s grins were wide, and Verity had a small look of distaste plastered on her face that she tried to cover up every few seconds by telling a joke that could not be captured by a camera, magical or not.

He glanced quickly at his watch and was surprised to see how fast time had flown. It was nearly time for Verity and Lee to come over, their last meeting before Christmas. He hoped that he had bought them appropriate presents—Verity had mentioned something about not receiving something quite so girly for Christmas, and George could never be quite sure if she was joking or not.

There was a soft knock on the door that George nearly missed and he almost bounded down the stairs, full of festive cheer. He opened the door and found Verity standing on his doorstep, wearing her usual casual attire of jeans and a jumper. The only difference George could see was the flash of light reflecting off the bracelet Verity was wearing on her wrist. The bracelet he had bought her for her birthday. Did this mean that she liked it after all?

“Happy Christmas,” she greeted him softly, a strange contrast with her usual brashness.

George did a double take, trying to figure out why Verity seemed so different today. By now she would usually have run into the house and tracked in mud as she went; then rush back to her own muddy footsteps and mutter a humourous apology, cleaning the mess away with her wand as she did so.

Today, however, she did no such thing. She seated herself carefully at a chair in the kitchen table, her hands folded precisely in her lap.

They sat together in an awkward silence. George was about to ask her if she was feeling all right when another knock came from the door. Lee was carrying two huge parcels that after much huffing and puffing, he finally managed to fit through the doorframe.

George waited until his friend was inside and had stacked the gifts against the kitchen wall, before pointing out, ‘You know, you could have shrunk them before coming inside.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “You could have told me that before.”

“And spare you the trouble?” George scoffed.

“Some friend you are,” Lee said, looking put-out.

“I try, Lee, I try.” George smiled a little too sincerely for Lee not to be suspicious.
Lee was about to retort but instead turned around and looked at Verity. “You’re being rather quiet, you know.”

Verity smiled at Lee and George. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“You’ve been sitting down for far too long. Normally we can’t get you to stay still,” George said jokingly, nudging Verity gently in the shoulder.

Normally an accusation like this would be enough to rankle Verity and she would be on her feet in a flash. However, today she just remained seated, an embarrassed sort of smile flitting across her face.

“Well,” Lee said, stretching with an exaggerated yawn. “I have to be off soon; my dad’s working Christmas Day, poor guy, so we’re having Christmas dinner in…” he checked his watch, “half an hour. We might as well unwrap our presents now, then,” Lee said brightly, “see what we got each other.”

Verity looked at Lee with slight exasperation. “You just want to open your presents now, don’t you?”

“Why not?” Lee shrugged.

Verity just smiled and shook her head.

“I’ll just run up to my room and get my presents,” George told them, eager to leave this strange new Verity behind for a moment so that he could think. Unfortunately he did not have much time as his presents were easy to find and he felt guilty for stalling. So he returned back downstairs sooner than he would have liked.

“Happy Christmas, Lee, Verity,” he said, handing them their respective presents. Lee staggered underneath the weight of his, put it down and started to tear the paper off ferociously. Verity unfolded hers cautiously. After a few moments she had unwrapped the practical joke book George had bought for her. George had thought that it would be the perfect present for her and was disappointed when her face didn’t light up instantly. Could he ever buy a gift that would please that girl? “Don’t you like it?” he asked, surprised to hear a trace of anxiety filter through his voice.

“Oh, I do!” Verity assured him with a smile that seemed a little too fake. “I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.” She put the book down on the kitchen table, her eyes falling to the silver bracelet on her wrist.

George was about to ask her about her birthday present, but was interrupted by Lee’s enthralled whooping. “Wicked!” Lee shouted. “Wicked! I needed one of these. Trust you to remember that I’m moving house soon.” Lee flipped the trunk he had received down onto the floor. “It even has my initials on the side,” he said, fingering the letters ‘L.J’.

“And you were so sure that I wouldn’t pick up on all your not-so-subtle hints.”

Lee held his hands up in defeat. “All right, you win. You’re a great person, always remembering what gifts everyone wants to receive.”

From Verity they both received a box of Honeydukes’ finest chocolate. “Thanks, Verity,” Lee said, after he had unfinished wrapping his box. “Cheers, mate!” he called out to George as he lugged the trunk out the front door.

“Don’t forget—” George called out, but Lee interrupted him.

“Yes, I know,” he replied as he cast a Shrinking Charm on the trunk. “I’m not going to give you another excuse to laugh at me.”

Verity waited until Lee was well gone before saying anything. “You hate my present, don’t you?” she whispered. “I’m sorry that I can’t be as imaginative as you guys.”

“What, no!” George said, genuinely surprised. “What’s wrong with you today, you seem a little…subdued.”

Verity’s eyes flashed angrily and she crossed her arms. “Are you saying that I’m normally to boisterous? Is that it? Or is it more?” She stood up and stretched her legs. “Are you saying that I’m too insensitive, or that I’m too loud or that—”

“Whoa, Verity,” George said, trying to interrupt her tirade. “I don’t think that you’re too…too anything

“So I’m not special enough or pretty enough or smart enough, am I?” she asked, her fingers tightening around the head of her chair. “Is that what you really think of me?” She approached him angrily and George reckoned he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. He felt himself being backed into a corner.

“No, Verity, what on earth made you think all these things?”

“It’s just that…” Her eyes hardened and she looked away from George. “…it’s just that I thought that…that…you thought I was too tomboyish, too crude. For my birthday…I was expecting something different, then you go and buy me a bracelet. I thought, you know, maybe he would like me more if I was more girly.”

George shrugged helplessly. “I just bought you that bracelet because, I dunno, girls like jewelry.”

Verity’s lips pursed. “And they call you the sensitive one.”

“You were just acting so strange today,” George noted. “I wasn’t used to it. I liked you fine just the way you were. The Verity who would crack up in laughter the moment she would enter the room, or think that sticking chopsticks up her nose would amuse the restaurant staff.”

Verity lost some of her more angered demeanour, her eyes taking on a more hopeful look. “Do you mean that…you used to like me?”

“I don’t know,” George said, shaking his head. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“You still think about him, don’t you?” Verity whispered. Then, she took a step backwards. “I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to think that you would be interested in me with everything that’s been going on recently. I tried to get you to notice me, but every time we were alone together we ended up talking about Fred. Why is that?”

George’s eyes steeled. “He’s my brother. I miss him. I don’t want him to think that I’ve forgotten him.”

Verity looked at him humourlessly. “Don’t you think your brother would want you to be happy?”

“He does! It’s just…not the same without him. It’s like a part of me has been ripped away and if I enjoy myself for too long I feel like I’m forgetting about him. These get-togethers have been great, but I don’t ever want to forget Fred, even for a moment…it’s just…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say anymore. Unsure if anything else had to be said, even.

Verity cocked her head to one side. “Then, wouldn’t it make sense to try and find that other part of you again?” Then, somehow, she held his hand in hers. “But maybe it’s not meant to be with me.” Then she let go off George’s hand as if it were on fire. “I should go. I have a feeling I’ve embarrassed myself enough already.” She gathered her coat and was almost out the door before George caught up to her.

“Why do you even care?

She fixed him a small smile. “About what?”

“About me.”

Verity shook her head sadly. “If you don’t know, there’s no point in telling you, is there?”

Still feeling slightly mystified, he stuttered, “I think you’re right about having to find someone who completes me again.”

Verity leant on the doorframe, her eyes moist with emotion. Then she looked away so George could not see her face and he watched as small flurries of snow swirled around her. “I hope you find her.” Then the door was slammed shut by a gust of cold wind and Verity was gone.

George didn’t know why it hurt so much.

He ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, trying to find some telltale signs in his reflection. There were no tears on his face, and he wasn’t feeling sad—but empty. Emptier than he had felt before.

“You prat,” said Fred’s voice from the mirror.

“I know I am,” George said hoarsely. Then he glared at Fred’s face in the mirror, wishing that it would go away. At first Fred’s occasional appearances soothed him, but now they only caused him aggravation, and less reason to go on and move on with his life. “I wish you’d leave,” he muttered, not really expecting the reflection in the mirror to go anywhere at all.

“I hope you’re happy,” Fred said, and at first it sounded sarcastic to George’s ears, but then he realised it had been completely genuine. He blinked and then he only saw his own face in the mirror, eyes wide and face pale.

How could he be happy? Now he no longer had Fred—and he no longer had Verity. He stumbled out of the bathroom and went to bed, hoping that in sleep the empty hole in his stomach would disappear.


George had spent the last few days doing nothing in particular apart from feel the gnawing emptiness in his stomach grow. He had received an owl from Verity saying that she was resigning from her position at the shop. Now, was he not only out of a friend, he was out of a shop assistant.

Today he had to leave the house, however much he did not feel like doing so. He had to make a presence at the family lunch because he could not bear to see his mum’s feelings be hurt. He hated to think that she might feel as bad as he was feeling.

It would have taken him less time to Apparate to the Burrow, but he still did not feel ready to confront it yet. So he ended up at the other end of the long and winding path that led to his childhood home. As his feet collided with the dirt road he wondered if this was the long path to recovery. The long path to being able to live a life where he didn’t accidentally alienate the ones he loved. To be able to find another person that would be able to complete him in the way that Fred had completed him.

He hadn’t seen his mother in months. What would she think of him? Would she understand? He shook his head to try and get rid of the negative thoughts. Of course she would.

The walk was shorter than desired and soon he found himself in the front garden, the tumbling gnomes and the crowing of chickens was familiar and it soothed him. Before he could take another step, his mother rushed out of the house. “George, you’re home!” she called, and he was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, warm in the embrace of his mother’s love.

She lead him inside the house and did not ask any of the questions he had feared that she would. Instead she steered him into the living room, and the Christmas tree’s light’s danced in a beautiful rhythm. There, his father was lounging in his favourite chair by the fire. “Welcome home, George,” he said, and George felt more whole than he had in days. The search for his other half could wait. For now he had his family, and that was all that mattered.