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.