End of the Tunnel

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Not much changed for about a week.

George barely left his bed and Ron did his best to force feed him when the hours got to far in between.

Hannah didn't fare much better. Hermione dropped off a meal once a day and tried to stick around. Eventually the older girl dragged herself from her bed all on her own, and when Hermione returned one Friday evening, Hannah was standing behind the bar, not a tear to be seen.

"Hannah!"

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry I should have let you know," she said, noting the carefully prepared meal," It totally slipped my mind."

"No worries, I'm just glad to see you out of bed."

"Yeah, I mean I stayed in bed for less time after I was attacked by evil wizards. I love George, but if he thinks that poorly of me then I need to..." she trailed off as she choked on whatever she had planned on saying. It was clear she wasn't planning to move on anytime soon as she wistfully wiped away the bar.

"He'll come around."

"What?" she asked, eyes snapped up from her daydream.

"Nothing, do you need any help?"

"No, Draco's still around. Do you want a drink?"

"Um, no thank you, I actually have to get back, but I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, sliding the meal into her hands before hurrying out the door.

After making sure no muggles were around she quickly apparated to George's small apartment. The owner of the flat was still lying in bed, not coping nearly as well as the offended.

"Get up," Hermione snapped, but neither brother reacted. "I swear you Weasley boys, I said, get up," she snapped again, this time whipping her wand, yanking sheets from beneath George and tipping Ron's chair forward.

"Come off it, Hermione. The man's suffering," Ron mumbled, fighting with the still tipped chair.

"So is the woman, and yet she thinks you're never coming back, so you are going to shower, shave, put on her favorite suit and march yourself over to her and beg for her forgiveness." George stared at her, shifting uncomfortably.

"I can't."

"You can and you will."

"Hermione, you don't understand what I said to her, I can't."

"I do know what you said, and I know what I'm saying, get up." She yanked on his arm as he dropped back to the bed and dragged him towards the bathroom. "She's practically crying at the very mention of your name, and yet she's up, she's alive, and she wants nothing more than you, George Weasley." His eyes were wide, standing in the threshold of the bathroom. "You heard me, get in the shower before I force you in there with my bare hands." With a wave of her wand the door slammed in his face and the faucet turned on, steam quickly creeping beneath the door.

When she was satisfied the man was doing as he was told she turned to Ron, wand still raised.

"And you Ronald Weasley, will not enable him. No more making excuses."

"But 'mione-."

"No buts, I will not allow self-deprecation to ruin the best thing that has ever happened to him since the war. He loves her and the only thing holding him back is himself, and your willingness to let him drown in his own mistakes."

"What are you going to do if she doesn't take him back?"

"She will."

"How do you know?"

"Because she forgave him the moment, he said it." Ron didn't know what to say. It had never occurred to him that she had forgiven him, he figured he would simply be cleaning up tears, not helping his brother back to the girl he had wounded. "They always forgive, you should know that better than anyone," Hermione whispered, glancing down at the ring on her finger. They hadn't had a chance to tell anyone yet, but it didn't seem to matter when others were in shambles. He grinned sheepishly and opened his mouth to retort, but George threw open the door, saving him from something he was sure to regret later.

The older man looked different than he had minutes ago. The stubble across his chin had vanished and his hair had been combed. He had put on the suit Hermione had forcefully suggested. The only thing that looked out of place was the misery and shame that lingered in his eyes.

"It's not going to work."

"George, it's going to work." She reached out her hand to both boys and as they took them, she apparated them out of the front of the bar.

George instantly regretted letting her convince him to leave the house. He was standing on the very street that had led him to such happiness and then to such sorrow, staring at the very sign that had once welcomed him in.

Now it only seemed full of scorn.

"I can't."

"You can, and you will."

"Hermione-."

"Find that Gryffindor courage and get in there," she ordered, thrusting him through the front door. She stepped back to Ron's side and linked their fingers together. "He'll be fine," she whispered, not sure who she was trying to convince.

As George stepped into the bar, he felt anything but fine. He was taken aback by the fact that it was still warm. He thought she would have withdrawn it from him, that somehow the warm glow of the fire wouldn't reach him. It was surprisingly busy, but then it could have been Boxing Day for all he knew. The door banged shut behind him, the bell he had once been so familiar with, announcing his arrival.

The absolute beauty behind the bar turned, dropped the glass she was holding at the sight of him. He didn't know what to say, or what to do, because over the week she seemed to have grown only more beautiful. He didn't know that was possible.

"Draco," she called, and George almost ran out right then. She had already replaced him with the man he had been worried about all along. But then the blond popped out from the backroom, "Can you take over for a moment?"

Draco looked ready to argue, to offer his opinion on Hannah disappearing anywhere with the man who had destroyed her, but he stayed silent, pulling out the broom to sweep up the glass. All he said was with a sharp dirty look sent across the bar, and it said it all it needed to.

'I've killed for her before.'

She almost rushed over to him and led him through the crowds into the backroom. His heart soared to have her hand in his, and everything vile he had thought since he entered the bar was sucked out of him like a vacuum. The moment the crowd was gone he urgency disappeared and she looked just as nervous as he felt.

"Draco and I never-."

"I know."

"And I'm not trying to be Fred, I just-."

"I know."

"And I just want you to forgive me, and I want you to hold me, but if you're here to say goodbye, please make it quick, because I-."

"Hannah," he interrupted pulling her into his arms. She melted instantly. "I know, I know it all, and I'm so very sorry, I didn't mean it, I just let Ron get to me, you're more than enough, you're more than I could ever ask for, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. None of this is your fault, I was stupid and spiteful." She was crying now. "I've been a mess every moment you've been gone, and if you're willing, come back, please come back." She nodded quickly, wiping away tears.

He kissed her and it was like all the clouds had suddenly vanished. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with the same starvation. It had been so long, too long, and he never wanted her gone from his side ever again. It was true what they say about not knowing what you have until you lose it. He had lost her, and before this very moment, he was sure it was forever.

Now that she was back in his arms, he was never going to let her go again, not when she fit so perfectly.