[The above video contains strong hints for events that take place in the following chapter.]
A/N: Hi lovelies!
First off: Happy birthday to Madison, Sierra, and Elisabeth! (And you, if it happens to be your birthday. <3) I hope you all have a lovely day.
Next: This week's songs are "Separate Ways" by Journey, "Brother" by Kodaline, and "Leaves From the Vine" (specifically the rendition by AtinPiano on spotify/Apple Music). The third song fits especially well with the last chunk of the chapter. (If you're familiar with the song, you'll...know, when you come to it.) OH and Haley Reinhart's rendition of "Can't Help Falling in Love" is excellent for any of the Hermione/George interactions, but especially the last one, just before the end of the chapter. ANYWAY. Sorry for geeking out over music this week; this is just for those of you who like this sort of thing. <3
As always, I do not own the rights to these characters or story world.
Finally: I ugly cried writing this multiple times. That's not to say it will make you cry, but just that you, like me, might be a bit frayed. So, maybe get your most comforting blanket, some tea, a good candle. Biscuits would be good. Go with your instincts. Let them guide you, my snack warriors. (Sorry, I haven't slept in so long.) Please forgive any errors. <3
And remember: This isn't where it ends.
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George
June 14, 1998
George hadn't really left his room in a week, much less gone downstairs. How could he? Downstairs, people milled about, and he was bound to run into Hermione or Ron if he emerged. So, he stayed under the blanket, staring at the ceiling, watching the sun paint pictures over the walls, feeling nothing.
It was easier, this way.
He leaned heavy on occlumency, whittling his thoughts to nothingness every time the sound of her laugh flashed through his mind.
Merlin, he couldn't.
He was such a fool.
A soft knock on the door.
He didn't answer.
"Did you want dinner, Georgie?" It was his dad, waiting outside in the hall. George rolled over, pressing his palms to his eyes.
"No."
"Still feeling poorly?" Mr. Weasley's voice faltered through the wood paneling.
George grimaced. "Yeah," he said, just loud enough for his father to hear.
The door cracked open, but Mr. Weasley didn't enter. He leaned in a bit, speaking through the gap, not looking at him.
"I'm sorry, Georgie," he whispered. Then: "I'll leave the plate on your desk, in case you change your mind."
The dish floated through the frame, clinking as it hit the table. Mr. Weasley shut the door and finally left him alone.
George turned, shoving his head under the pillow.
The nightmares of the battle followed him from waking into sleep.
#
June 15, 1998
In the middle hours of the morning, there was a knock on the door.
"Go away," George groaned. He'd finally showered that morning, and the effort of it had drained the little reserves he'd built up over the past week. It was as though all of it—the war, the death, the guilt, the foolish heartbreak—it had all piled up, hitting him at once, and he had no choices other than suffering or numbing himself to the world.
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Lumos
FanfictionHermione doesn't remember marrying or falling in love with her husband. In fact, when the healer asks her if she'd like to see her husband, she thought Ron would walk through the door. Instead, it was George. A stray Obliviate from a dissenting blo...
