It Takes Time To Heal

I.

The wind is harsh and bitter, and she has to move slightly out of Ron's comforting grasp to wrap her arms around herself.

It was early summer, but you wouldn't think it was so, for the sky was darkened, casting a heavy gloom over everyone, and it was chilly to the point that goosebumps rose on her arms.

The afternoon was very quiet; only the occasional sniffling disrupted the still atmosphere, some of them her own.

It should be a happy time, for Voldemort is dead, gone forever, with no threat of returning to full power ever again.

But it's not.

Instead it's a time filled with the pain of a personal tragedy and loss.

The casket slowly lowers into the earth.

It's hard for her to believe that Fred is in there; some part of her keeps expecting him to just show up out of nowhere, sporting a wide grin, but she does not grasp that shred of hope.

She knows it is not realistic, and she must focus on the truth of the situation, for if she doesn't, she'll probably never be able to get through this.

She wipes away the tears that have escaped her blurry eyes as she looks around at them.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are the farthest away from her; Mr. Weasley's arm is wrapped around his wife's shoulders, his face shining with utter sadness as Mrs. Weasley dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Percy is next to them, his brown eyes glimmering behind his horn-rimmed glasses. She knows he is thinking about that night, when Fred was fighting beside him one minute then unmoving on the floor the next; alive, then suddenly, dead. She remembers how Percy had held onto his brother's body and refused to move, risking his own life.

The thought of that haunts her to no end.

Next to Percy is Charlie, gazing sadly ahead, then Bill, hand in hand with Fleur, his face mirroring Charlie's, while Fleur's face glistens with tears.

And next, closest to her and Ron, were Ginny and Harry. Ginny was leaning against Harry, her eyes rimmed with red as Harry stroked her long red hair in comfort, his face a mask of regret and grief.

She knows what Ginny must be thinking as well, for she knew that Ginny had always admired Fred and his pranks, often participating in them.

And Harry...well, she could read him like a book. He was blaming himself, and that makes her even more sad, for that's all he's done: blame himself for everything. He should be rejoicing right now at the fact that he was finally free of his biggest burden in life, but now he must deal with more sadness.

She asks herself what she has been asking in her head countless times in the past two days: why did this happen?

There is one person not in the middle of them all, but closer to the hole where Fred now lies, and she watches as Mrs. Weasley moves away from her husband and towards George, who stares at the dirt piling more and more into the hole.

He does not cry. He never has, not once, since Fred died a few days ago.

Mrs. Weasley puts her arm around George's shoulders and whispers something in his ear, but it has no effect whatsoever, for George's face remains placid, and he does not look at his mother.

She wants to look away; she feels she is watching something very private, but she just can't bring herself to do so.

Mr. Weasley approaches his wife and son, his eyes now set with sympathy.

"Leave him be, Molly. Let's just leave him be for a while."

Mr. Weasley's voice is low, tinged with understanding, and she expects Mrs. Weasley, in her well-known haughty manner, to turn on her husband and refuse, but instead she looks once more at George, then nods sadly.

Mrs. Weasley brings her handkerchief to her eyes again and allows her husband to lead her away.

George, through all of this, remains stock-still, as if they all weren't there at all.

The hole is now smoothly covered with dirt, and they all, with nothing to say, slowly turn to leave.

Ron squeezes her shoulder a little and she looks up at him, at his blue eyes underlined red just like all of their eyes were, and he half-smiles at her.

She half-smiles back.

They turn together to follow behind Ginny, who is now holding hands with Harry, and she lets herself look back.

He is there, a lone, solitary figure in his deepest grief, his arms hanging limply at his sides, and his eyes, it seems, permanently fixed on the place where his twin rests forevermore.

She forces herself to look away.

It was always FredandGeorge to them all; you couldn't include one without the other, and whenever she, and all the others, spoke of them, FredandGeorge rolled off their tongues like one word.

Now it was just George, all by its lonesome.

And it feels so utterly wrong.

The rain begins to fall now, first coming lightly in small drops then quickly pouring on them heavily.

She does not have to look back again to know that George has not noticed it at all.

II.

The next couple of days are awkward, but she can't help but expect that.

Conversations are started, but suddenly cut short when it leads up to something about Fred.

But life does go on, regardless, and they each attempt to get back into their old routine.

Bill and Fleur, she believes, seem to be tied together by an invisible rope: they are always cuddled together, sharing loving smiles. They are indeed the shining image of a young married couple.

Charlie entertains them with stories about his dragons in Romania; Percy even cracks some jokes on a daily basis, and they all can't help but be surprised by his newfound wry humor. He has relaxed his serious guard a bit this way, and she suspects that he does so in honor of Fred, for Fred had always encouraged him to relax a little and have some fun.

It's a shame, though, that Fred's advice is taken only until after his premature death.

Harry and Ginny are back together, but that's something that she has viewed as inevitable. They often curl up on the sofa together, whispering things to each other with secretive smiles.

She and Ron still argue, of course, for that was also inevitable. But now their arguments are over more trivial things, just to get at each other, for that's really all they've known to do to each other, after seven years. They are dating now, though, and she would have to say that things are going pretty well.

But there is one thing that worries them all now, despite their new smiles.

George has taken refuge in his room ever since the day of Fred's funeral, and has not come down at all, not even through avid persuasion by them.

They would knock on his door, begging him to come out, telling him that they miss him, but their pleas are only met by silence, and every one of them come down the stairs the same way they went up: alone, with a frown on their faces.

They all have tried hard, except for her, for she has no idea what to say.

If he wouldn't listen to his parents or siblings, why would he even listen to her?

They all have their own ways of healing, and so does George.

III.

Dinner time would have to be the most uncomfortable time, she believes.

She remembers how it used to be the happiest, with them all laughing and talking loudly with each other across the table.

But that's gone now, and she wonders when it will come to be that way again.

She knows, more than anything, that it will be a long while before it does.

The sight of Fred's empty chair is what makes the once noisy kitchen quiet, with the only sound being the clinking of plates and silverware.

They look up at the sound of Ginny's light footsteps, and as Ginny brushes her red hair over her shoulders, she says the words they have all heard so much over the previous days.

"He won't come down, Mum."

They all look down at their food again, their faces tightening in sadness mingled with frustration.

She looks up again at the sound of a chair scraping backward across the floor.

"Oh, but surely--" says Mrs. Weasley, but she cuts off at the sad shake of Mr. Weasley's head.

They are fighting a losing battle, and Mrs. Weasley seems to realize this as she slowly sits back down, tears in her eyes.

One by one, they each look back at their plates and resume eating.

IV.

The weather outside today is very beautiful, the sun shining strongly in the clear blue sky.

Charlie has challenged Bill, Ron, Harry, and Ginny to a game of Quidditch, and she can't help but laugh as they all rush to the backyard.

She follows Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Percy, and Fleur outside, and they proceed to magic chairs out of thin air to sit in.

She magics out an armchair and Percy looks over at it with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugs. "Might as well be comfortable when you're not playing, right?"

He laughs, and she realizes that she really likes this new side of Percy.

"So you don't like to play?"

She shakes her head as she sits in her seat. " I'm not a very good flier. I'm more of a reader."

"That's one of the things we have in common." Percy replies with a nod.

She smiles.

"Hey, Hermione!"

At Bill's call, she looks over at him.

"We need one more player; can we count you in?"

She can barely reply when Ron chimes in, "No, Bill, not Hermione. She's not very, well..." He falters at the frown on her face.

"She's not very good," Harry finishes for Ron, grinning apologetically at her. "No offense, Hermione."

She shakes her head with a smile. "None taken."

"Harry practically said what I was going to say and you're not--" Ron's sputtering is cut off by Charlie.

"Right, then. Fleur?"

"On one condition: I'm not playing against my wife," Bill declares quickly.

Fleur directs her blue-grey eyes at him. "And why not?"

Bill opens his mouth to reply when Ginny says, " Well, that leaves you, Perce."

"Yeah, Perce!"

"Come on, Perce!"

She laughs as they drag Percy out of his chair, his feeble protests ignored by them.

They've barely begun the game when she looks back at the house, her thoughts going to George.

She's up from her chair before she's even realized what she's doing.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley don't take notice of this, but Fleur does, and she tells her, "Bathroom,".

Fleur nods at her, looking back up at the game, and she walks toward the house.

She doesn't really know why she's doing this, but she can't stand the thought of George being all alone when the rest of his family were enjoying themselves.

She must try to do something.

She's through the back door in seconds and it's only when she's halfway up the stairs that she hears the noise.

The sounds were something like the heavy thudding of objects hitting the floor and she follows the source of it, and sure enough, the noises grow stronger the closer she approaches the door to George's room.

She should be afraid, but strangely enough she's not, for she thinks she already knows what she'll see.

Her hand encloses around the doorknob, and she thinks she shouldn't do this, but she pushes that thought aside, and taking a deep breath for a reason she doesn't really know, she opens the door.

What she sees makes her freeze in her spot, even though she had already expected it.

Objects, books, clothes, and ripped posters litter the wooden floor and George's back is to her.

She sees that he is rifling through the chest of drawers, the one she supposes must have belonged to Fred, and the object he throws behind him hits the floor with a tinkling crash, broken.

She studies it and realizes it was a Sneakoscope.

She thinks, now, that she shouldn't be watching this, that this was a mistake, and she moves to close the door.

The floor creaks beneath her feet as she attempts this, and the sound catches George's attention.

He whirls around to face her, startled, tears heavily running down his face.

She doesn't know what to do, and they stare at each other for what feels like to her an eternity.

Then he looks away from her, red flushing to his face in embarrassment at the fact that she has witnessed him like this, in his weakest, most vulnerable state.

He walks over to his bed and sits down on it, and at this point, she thinks that this is the definite time to leave, to let him be alone, but her feet betray her.

She walks towards him, but while doing so she looks to the left, at the bed that used to be Fred's, neatly made and to be unused by Fred always.

She sits down next to George in silence.

She doesn't really understand why George would shut himself up here, with reminders of his twin staring at him in the face every day, but she supposes it would be even worse to see his family attempt to move on with their lives, to the point that the absence of Fred would eventually go unnoticed.

She watches sadly as George covers his face with his hands, shaking with repressed sobs.

" I can't look at them anymore, Hermione," He says, his voice muffled. " They're all of him but he's not actually here, it's just... I can't bear to look at them anymore."

She nods, even though he is not looking at her.

Her nod comes a second too early though, for now he takes his hands away from his face and his blue eyes meet hers.

"He was supposed to be here," He whispers, and in his eyes she sees a broken man. " Why isn't he here?"

She gazes at him, not knowing what to say.

He seems to sense this, and he looks away from her, his eyes resting vacantly at a place on the floor.

She wants to say something.

She could say "It'll be all right," or "I understand how you feel," but they are not true statements.

Instead, she does the only thing she can think of.

She runs her hand softly through his ginger hair.

He closes his eyes at her touch, as if it was something he had been waiting a long time for.

She wonders if she should assure him that she wouldn't tell anyone about this incident, for she knows he is worried she will, even though she is sure his family would not judge him, but perhaps be relieved that he is showing any emotion at all.

But she continues to be silent, running her hand through his hair, for she believes that he already knows she won't.

V.

The next day, they are all separately challenged to a game of chess by Ron.

This issued many groans from them, for they all knew of his special skill at playing a good game of chess, but Ron wouldn't take no for an answer.

And so here she finds herself, surrounded by them all in the living room.

Ron is sitting in a chair, a small table with the chessboard on it in front of him, the chair across from him empty.

A confident smirk is upon his face.

'He wouldn't be so confident if he were in a Potions class,' She thinks wryly.

"No volunteers?" He declares, and they all stare back at him.

He looks at every one of them, and they all look away, as if a teacher is asking the class for an answer.

She, however, has never been the kind to turn down telling a teacher an answer, so she stares back at Ron, silently challenging him to call on her.

And sure enough...

"Hermione," He says, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "you're up first."

She rolls her eyes but gets up as they all applaud her as encouragement.

"Beat him, Hermione." Harry says.

"Please." Ginny adds.

She winks at them both while Ron scowls at them.

She sits in the chair across from Ron, determined.

It's over very soon, but she had expected that, for she had never been good at chess anyway.

But that doesn't mean that she'll let Ron beat her at something so easily.

He grins at her, mocking her, but she places her foot over his and stamps down on it hard.

"Check--OW!"

She gets up, smirking in accomplishment as Ginny laughs loudly.

"For that, dear sister," Ron says, still wincing, "you're up next."

She sits back down next to Harry as Ginny gets up and approaches the chair, eyes narrowed at Ron.

This time, the game is much shorter, due to the fact that Ginny sought to rile up Ron by accusing him of cheating every minute or so.

"Yes, you did, I saw you! You switched one of the pieces while I looked away for a second!"

"I did not!" Ron answers once more, outraged.

"Yes, you did, Ronald! And don't make me put a Bat-Bogey Hex on you!"

Through their laughter, everyone except Mr. and Mrs. Weasley winced. They all knew how good Ginny was at Bat-Bogey hexes.

Ron seemed to realize this too.

"All right, the game's over!" He says in frustration, scattering the pieces.

Ginny gets up from the chair immensely satisfied, and sits back down on the other side of Harry.

Ron looks around at them all, his happy mood now diminished, courtesy of Ginny, trying to decide who should be up next.

"How about Fleur up next, Ron?" Harry jokes. "You'll finally be beaten because you'll be looking at her so much you won't know what you're doing..."

She laughs with everyone as some of them voice their encouragement.

"Yeah, Ron!"

"Why not, Ron!"

At this point, Ron's so frustrated his head is in his hands.

Fleur, who took this behavior from Ron as extreme embarrassment, declares, "Don't worry, Ron. I think it's sweet."

They all laugh again at this as Charlie, taking pity on Ron, gets up.

"All right, Ron. I'll go next."

Ron looks up, relieved, as Charlie sits down across from him.

If possible, this game was even shorter than the one with Ginny.

As it turns out, Charlie had no idea what he was doing.

When he saw how much Ron was beating him, he felt he had no alternative but to do something rash.

"Hey, Ron, what's that?" Charlie asks him, pointing behind him.

Ron turns around in confusion as they all, too, looked.

Charlie then knocks the whole chessboard off the table.

They all roar with laughter and Ron, startled at the noise, turns back to face them.

"What-- Charlie!"

Charlie shrugs. "Whoops."

At this, they all laugh harder, but their laughter is quickly cut short by Mrs. Weasley's surprised voice.

"George!"

The room goes dead quiet and they all stare at George, who is standing almost awkwardly at the front of the living room, behind Ron.

"Hey, everyone," George declares, and he sounds almost nervous.

They all are at a loss as to what to say when Mrs. Weasley is out of her chair, hugging George so hard it must knock the breath out of him.

George looks at her over his mother's shoulder and his lips form a small smile, the first smile he has let forth in a little over a week.

She smiles back.

And so began their new relationship.

VI.

They make a habit of meeting in the kitchen at night to talk.

Whenever Ginny falls asleep she gets up from her cot, and when she enters the kitchen he is always there waiting for her, seated at the table with two cups of tea: one for him and one for her.

She encourages him to talk about Fred, and tells him that he would heal better by remembering Fred rather than trying to push the thought of him out of his mind, and after a few nights of persuasion, he does.

He tells her stories about what he and Fred did when they were little, what pranks they did at school and what punishments they had gotten for them, what dreams and plans they both had for their future... and she listens.

Then there are other nights when he says he doesn't want to talk about Fred, so she has them ask questions about each other instead.

By now, she knows that his favorite color is blue, his greatest dream was to be a successful businessman (and when she told him he already was, he ducked his head with a small smile), his favorite subject at Hogwarts was Charms... and other things.

And by now, he knows that her favorite color is green, her greatest dream was to make a good change in the world, her favorite subject at Hogwarts was Arithmancy... and other things as well.

He finds his solace in her, she knows this, and he tells her many times that he is grateful for her, that he has someone like her to really talk to.

When he says this she always gives him a warm smile.

But what he doesn't know is that she is grateful for him as well.

VII.

The next night they meet he is more down than usual.

She supposes this must be because he had remembered something about Fred earlier, and it made him forlorn.

When she sits down with her cup of tea, he looks up at her.

"Why are you here?"

She looks back at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you take such an interest in me? We never talked before at school, or anything..."

"Because I hate to see you alone." She says.

His blue eyes focus on her brown ones for a few seconds.

When he finally speaks again, he seems to choose his words carefully.

"Do you feel sorry for me?"

She chooses her words carefully as well. " I care for you."

He stares at her a moment longer, considering her words, before he looks down at the table.

Her next words come fast, almost against her will. " I do wish to see you smile, George, like you used to. Just once."

He looks back up at her again, surprised, and she blushes.

But she knows what she said was the sincere truth. She does miss that grin of his, more than she can comprehend.

He looks away from her, his facial expression almost that of guilt.

After a few seconds, she looks away too.

They are silent for a long while.

VIII.

The next night he is a little more cheerful. She can tell by his behavior, by the way he picks up his tea, and by the way he looks at her.

And when she brings up Fred, ever so carefully as she always does, he does not tell her he doesn't want to talk about him.

He tells her about a time when Fred, before he and Fred had attended Hogwarts, had turned Ron's teddy bear into a spider while Ron was holding it, and she laughs.

"Yes, I remember Ron telling me about that! He was still so angry about it..."

"Well, I guess I can't blame him for still being angry... you should've seen his face; he was screaming bloody murder over it."

He smiles at her, but she notes with sadness that it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

His smiles never do, now.

They talk about other things that Fred did, but it's only when she brings up the time when Fred had danced so crazily with Angelina at the Yule Ball that people had actually backed away in fear of being injured, that George breaks down and cries in front of her for the second time.

It had happened so fast that the grin didn't actually melt off her face until she had spotted the tears shielded behind the hand he was leaning against.

" I wish he was here so much, Hermione. I don't know what to do without him..."

Her heart breaks to see him like this.

"I miss him too, George." She whispers softly. "We all do."

He does not look up at her when she says that, and she suspects that he feels ashamed that he is so vulnerable in front of her again.

She wishes he would not feel that way.

She's not too sure why she says her next words, but she feels that they need to be said, whatsoever.

"I saw it happen, George."

She has never told him that she was actually there when Fred died, but now she thinks it's time for him to know.

He looks up at her now at these words, his eyes desperate and imploring.

"You did?" He asks, his voice low.

She nods. " Yes. He was fighting alongside Percy and Percy made a joke and he laughed..." She wills herself not to cry as the vision of that incident comes back to her vividly. " then the side wall of the castle was blown apart from the outside by a Death Eater. He got the full blast of it."

She takes George's hand in comfort.

"It happened so fast he didn't feel anything, I swear it. He still had a smile on his face; he died happy."

George stares at her placidly for a moment, then nods at her and wipes his tears off his face.

He does not succumb to tears again this time.

And she feels she might have given him something he had so desperately needed: closure.

IX.

She can't help but be surprised when Harry asks her if he can speak to her privately.

They walk together through the backyard of The Burrow and she waits patiently for him to start talking.

After a few seconds, he finally does.

"What's going on between you and George?"

She is startled by his bluntness.

"What are you talking about?"

He looks at her. " What I just said."

She sighs. "Nothing."

She sees by his face that he doesn't believe her.

She might as well tell Harry about her late night talks with George. After all, she could trust him.

"We just talk at night."

He continues to stare at her, his green eyes curious, so she adds, " He needs someone to talk to."

He nods, and she relaxes, thinking the conversation is over.

"You don't see the way he looks at you, though."

His statement surprises her, and she looks at him in shock.

"What do you mean? What way?"

He laughs at her confusion, making her impatient.

"Harry..."

" I mean that I think he has feelings for you."

She is quiet, not knowing what to say.

Could George have feelings for her?

"So, do you have any feelings for him?" Harry asks.

She wants to say no, but her voice doesn't seem to want to work.

He takes this as a yes. "You better tell Ron, then, Hermione. It wouldn't be fair to keep dating him if you have feelings for his older brother."

"I don't have any feelings for him," She declares, her voice a little too loud.

Harry laughs. "Which one?"

She stays silent again, frustrated.

She doesn't want to talk about this anymore.

"So, Harry," She says, " how are things going with you and Ginny?"

She watches with satisfaction as the suspicion leaves his eyes and a boyish grin spreads across his face, "Good. Really good."

She smiles.

One of the perks of being best friends with someone for seven years is knowing how to divert their attention.

X.

The next night she and George meet he appears to be pondering something deeply.

She sits down beside him and waits for him to speak.

When he does, his subject of conversation catches her a little off guard.

"I'm thinking of opening Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes again."

He must have taken her shocked expression in a negative way, for he looks down, almost ashamed.

She berates herself and quickly changes her expression to that of joy.

"No, no, that's great!" She declares.

He looks up at her, clearly relieved.

" I figured," He begins, his tone a little awkward, "that's what he would've wanted..."

"It is," She says confidently, and she can see in his eyes that he is grateful that she understands.

"And..."

"Yes?"

She notices that he looks a bit uncomfortable. "I'll need someone to help temporarily, and I was wondering if... if you wouldn't mind helping me a bit?"

She grins. "I'd love to!"

He smiles at her then, and this time, finally, the smile reaches his eyes completely.

Her happiness at this overwhelms her.

XI.

She looks around the shop, astonished once more at how decorative it is, how the colorful boxes adorn every shelf.

Today she had a simple task: helping George organize the shop and take some new products from the back room and put them up for sale at the front.

Frankly enough, she can't wait to get started.

But even though she is excited, she can't help but feel a bit forlorn at how Fred is not here with them.

His absence could be strongly felt here; he had worked so hard with George to make this shop and it showed, for she was reminded of him at every product she looked at, and at every sign that was hung in the window.

She blinks back tears as George calls her name.

"Hermione?"

She turns, and he walks towards her from the back room, clutching something in his right hand.

He holds it out for her to see.

It was a small piece of candy, pale white and square-sized.

She can't help but stare at it apprehensively. "What is it?"

"A name hasn't been decided yet." George answers, "It was something Fred and I were making before he... well, just try it, will you? I want to see if it works."

She frowns at him. "You're going to test this on me like you used to with all those first years in school?"

"Don't worry, I've already tested it." He says, giving her one of his rare smiles. "I just want to see if it works the same for you. Try it."

She shakes her head but takes the candy from his outstretched hand and sticks it in her mouth.

She waits.

Suddenly, an odd feeling came over her: a prickly warm feeling on her skin.

She looks at her arms and discovers the colors of the rainbow washed over her skin in stripes.

She has barely looked up at George in shock when she hears laughter, and she sees George there, almost doubling over from his glee.

He was actually laughing, something he hadn't done in over a month, and she sees the funny, care-free man he once was again, plain as day.

Then the moment is gone as quick as it had come, and he turns away, a pained expression on his face.

She knows why instantly.

She approaches him, and without thought, takes his hand in hers.

"It's all right, George," She murmurs, " He wants you to laugh."

He won't look at her and she's not sure if he's crying or not.

"I just think that he might think I've forgotten him if--"

"He doesn't, George." She cuts him off, her hand rubbing his reassuringly. "You're not forgetting him when you laugh."

He nods, then after a few seconds he looks down at her, but quickly looks away again.

She thinks that he might be hiding tears, but instead, he is chuckling.

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out another piece of candy, and hands it to her. "Here, take this. You'll go back to normal color."

She sees that it is rainbow colored, just like her skin.

She really does have to admire Fred and George's way of thinking.

She smiles at him and pops it in her mouth eagerly, welcoming the cool feeling that signals her return to a normal state.

It's then that she realizes that she's still holding his hand, and they, both seeming to have the same thought, look down at their intertwined hands.

She pulls her hand slowly away from his as she flushes bright red, which she knows can no longer be hidden in rainbow colors on her skin.

He looks at her then, and they just stare at each other, quiet all of a sudden.

She can't help but think that perhaps Harry was right on the mark when it came to her and George.

XII.

After her realization a couple of days ago, she follows Harry's advice, and approaches Ron talking to Harry over a book in his room.

She tilts her head down to one side a little to make out part of the title, which said something about charming witches, when Ron looks up and sees her there, and hurries to yank the book out of Harry's hands and shove it under the bed.

Harry, confused at this, looks up at Ron, and follows Ron's gaze to her.

Normally she would be suspicious and ask why they seemed so secretive with that book, but today she has more important matters to deal with.

"Can I talk to you, Ron? Alone?" She asks, and before Ron can reply Harry is up from the bed. As he passes her to the door he gives her a knowing look mixed with approval, and she relaxes a little.

"What's up?" Ron asks as the door snaps shut behind Harry.

She sits down on the bed. "Ron, I... I want to talk about our relationship."

She sees he is concerned as he moves closer to her, and she feels so guilty. She cares a lot for Ron and does not want to hurt him.

"What about it?"

She doesn't really know how to begin, so she feels she has no choice but to get right to the point. " I, um, I want to break up."

Ron's face takes on shock and she looks away, feeling worse by the minute.

But she's doing this for a reason, and she has to stay strong.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Ron's fearful question makes her look back at him in surprise. "No, no, of course not! It's just, well, I think I have feelings for someone else."

'There, now. Was that so hard?' She thinks.

"Oh."

She tells him the only thing she can think of to say. "I'm sorry, Ron."

He sighs. "Yeah, well, it's probably for the best, then."

She's completely taken aback, and he sees this.

"I mean, it's just... well, to be honest, I really only see you as a close friend too."

At his statement she remembers the kisses she and Ron shared, and how she felt nothing in them, and also, how they had both seemed to pull away quickly.

She's glad he apparently feels only friendship with her too.

"I did have a crush on you though," Ron continues, "but it was nothing more than that, I see that now."

She smiles at him, relieved at how well this worked out. "I understand. So, we'll just be friends then?"

He smiles back at her. "Yes. Best friends, always."

As they hug she feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

XIII.

The front of the shop is empty, so she supposes he must be in the back.

As she enters through the door to the back room she sees George there, sitting alone in a chair against a long wooden table.

He seems to be thinking hard about something.

He looks up and sees her, and a smile that seems to be reserved only for her lights up his face.

"Hermione," He says, his voice somewhat cheerful but she can also detect the nervousness in it.

"Hey, George," She greets back, smiling.

He gets up and pulls up a chair across from his for her. "Sit here."

She complies to his wish.

As she sits down he begins to talk. "Hermione, I... I want to thank you for all your help."

She waves it away. "Don't worry about it; I love working here with you."

He smiles again, but shakes his head. "That's great, I'm glad, but I mean for... everything else."

Now she realizes. "Oh, of course. I-- You don't need to thank me for that."

He seems to barely know she's said something, for he appears to be so deep in thought.

"I've felt happy with you these past few months, and even though I'll always feel this incomplete part of myself from Fred's... death, it doesn't hurt quite as bad when I'm with you."

He looks up at her then, and she finds herself to be speechless.

"What I'm trying to say is... I think I'm in love with you, and have been for a while."

He sees her expression and looks down, hurrying his words. "And if you only have feelings for Ron, I--"

She cuts him off the only effective way she knows how, and as she kisses him she can feel his smile against her lips.

She can picture Fred's face now, and she knows he is smiling down on them at this moment, his smile bearing a promise.

The promise that everything, now, will be all right.

FIN.