Written for the "So you think you know your character" competition 6/11 as Hermione

Disclaimer: I only own the exact word order

George is doubled up in laughter, the first real laughter that has entered his once innocent face since Fred's death.

I guess I should probably explain the situation. It is currently a year after the war ended and we all decided to get together after the memorial, we figured we'd all need it. So we all went back to the Burrow.

I guess because the Burrow fits us all best but we didn't think in the planning of the way that Fred seems to cling to every object, to grip the wall. That the ghost of his memory is always just around the corner. But we all felt it press down on us the minute we stepped inside.

Lunch was a quiet affair and I'm pretty sure that it was the only time Molly's incredible cooking couldn't bring in an appetite. Everyone just stared gloomy at the food on their plates thinking of happier times.

However after lunch Harry, Ron and I decided enough was enough, sure it was sad - we were never going to see Fred or Remus or Tonks or Colin or any of the others that had died again but they didn't die so we would spend the rest of our lives moping about. They died so that we could live our lives and to do that we had to start picking up the fractured pieces and keep going.

So we started talking, quietly at first and then getting louder and louder, diving into the memories that had previously been to fragile to look at.

All three of us were reminded of how lucky we were to have each other. To have these friends. It didn't matter how different we were, how much we argued, how our personalities weren't something you'd pick as going together, we're not the sort of people that would work on paper but somehow, for some reason we do because life isn't a sheet of paper. A sheet of paper is straight and flat and perfect - life is more like that old piece of paper, covered in messy writing that looks like it was done by a small child and scrunched up then flattened out over and over and ripped around the edges from overuse.

The very opposite of perfection yet somehow it's still perfect. As is our friendship. But even so me, being me and having to analyse every little thing asked the question - how the bloody hell did we end up liking each other?

And each of us smiled at each other, and completely oblivious of the others in the room started retelling the tale. Of a stupid git that can't keep his mouth shut, of a twelve year old girl crying in the toilets, of a troll that entered the school and of a club that we could each see perfectly in our minds eye dropping with a sickening thud onto the trolls head, of teachers rushing in, of the look on McGonagalls face.

We didn't realise anyone was listening until we finished and the room was deathly silent. We also didn't realise that we had neglected to tell anyone else in the room what exactly had happened until we looked around at everyone's shocked faces and Molly's face that was growing steadily redder looking as though she were about to blow up.

But then the unexpected happened. George laughed, as in really laughed, not just that small fake laugh that people give genuine loud laughter, and at everyone's incredulous glance he gasped out, "it took fighting a troll for you three to become friends?!"

Suddenly everyone else was laughing and Molly's face no longer looked angry, how could it when we were the happiest we'd been in a year? When there was a smile on George's face and the tears were now of laughter?

These are my friends, but they're more than that, they're my family in all but blood. Each and every one of them because although we argue and bicker and our personalities are awful together we laugh and cry and help each other through all the hardships.

That is what true friends are for.