It was bigger than me
It was bigger than the sea
And I’m not waving I’m drowning
It started on a warm summer night fourteen months after you lost Fred.
Fourteen months after the Battle and you could honestly say you were…okay. Not great by any means, but better than you were before. You no longer had unhealthy dreams of living a life with Fred. Even George seemed to be getting back to his old self. He finally started to smile again and the shop was thriving. The two of you still lit a lonely candle on their birthday for Fred, and sometimes one would still have to comfort the other as they cried, but things were getting better. Your new normal wasn’t quite as grim these days.
At least, until you found it. Hidden deep in the dresser you and Fred once shared was a little box covered in smooth black velvet. You had dropped it instantly once you realized what it was, but after you opened it and saw the gleaming silver band inside, you couldn’t seem to let go of it. It shocked you how detached you felt, if you would have found this a year ago you would have been an absolute wreck, but finding it now didn’t make your chest hurt like you were expecting.
That’s what made you most uncomfortable, the fact that you weren’t hurting. It meant that you were moving on from Fred, and that terrified you.
Which is what brought you to where you were now; sitting on the living room couch, surrounded by a blanket and holding the box in your hands. You were trying to decide what exactly to do with it; torn between wanting to throw it in an ocean or clutch it in your hands until your dying day when George’s voice broke you from your thoughts.
“What’re you doing up? It’s nearly two in the morning,” he grumbled, obviously just having woken up himself.
“I could ask you the same thing, Weasley,” you retorted, making room for him to sit next to you.
“Woke up, had to take a leak, saw the lamp on, decided to check it out,” he explained lamely, “your turn.”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to pack some more of his things up. I looked around the drawer and found this.” You handed him the open box and he forced a chuckle.
“I’m flattered, truly, but this isn’t exactly my style,” he said.
“I just found it, you git.”
George closed the box and handed it back to you, “I’m only surprised it took you this long to find it.”
“Wait, you knew?”
“Of course I knew! He told me everything he did.” You noted the sadness he tried to hide in his voice, “He bought it a couple weeks before the Battle. He was waiting to give it to you after the war was over.”
You didn’t know how to feel about that, much less respond, so you stayed quiet until George spoke up again.
“What do you think you’ll do with it?”
“I’m really not sure,” you opened the box again, taking another look at the ring. “It’s weird, I don’t feel sad. I mean, I feel a little sad I suppose, but I’m okay. I’m mainly surprised, although I don’t know why. Guess I didn’t think he was planning that far ahead.”
George saw the look in your eyes, the sadness and longing shone in them, and he got an idea. Standing to his feet, he reached a hand out, his palm open. “Take a last look, then give it to me.”
Your brows furrowed, but you did as instructed, gazing at the ring once more before closing the box and handing it to George.
“Now close your eyes,” he said, and as you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet as he moved around the flat, no doubt hiding the box. The sound grew louder, and soon he asked you to open your eyes and when you did, his palms were empty.
“This way you won’t be tempted by it anymore. Now, let’s get back to bed, please,” he asked.
“I actually think I’m staying on the couch. I kind of don’t want to go back there right now.” The bedroom you two once shared held too many memories of you and Fred together; while you were able to sleep in the bed most nights, you knew sleep would evade you after your little discovery.
George weighed his options, craving sleep but also not able to leave you alone like this. He briefly considered offering his bed to you, but shut that thought out of his mind as soon as it came. You were still Fred’s, and that would be too weird. No matter how close you two were, it wouldn’t be right.
So, he grabbed a pillow and an extra blanket from his bed and joined you on the couch. Once he saw your perplexed expression, he let out a laugh, a genuine laugh that even surprised him. “Didn’t think I’d leave you all alone, did I?"
He proceeded to flick the lamp off and grab the television remote, nudging your shoulder before asking, "scary movie or kid cartoons?”
-
Things changed for the two of you after that night, or at least they did for George.
The two of you spent the night on the couch, watching silly cartoons on the telly and drinking coffee until it was time for you both to open the shop. That night was the first time since losing his brother that George truly felt like his old self. He’d begun to feel better; better than he had been since May 2nd. Started smiling more and cracking jokes, not expecting Fred to cut in halfway through a sentence anymore. He started to feel and act more like himself, or as much as he could without his better half next to him.
During the weeks that followed, you and George grew even closer, often waking up at strange hours to watch whatever movie was playing at 3 AM or going to breakfast on Sunday mornings. The two of you had even fallen asleep together on the sofa a few times, not wanting to be alone for the night but being too mentally exhausted to stay awake. In the weeks that followed, George noticed that he thought you were beautiful, which he never really paid attention to before. He noticed that he smiled when you smiled, laughed when you laughed, and felt an ache in his chest when you cried. In the weeks that followed, George had begun to fall for you.
And the more George started to like you, the less he liked himself.
Godric, he was such an arsehole. What kind of bloke falls for his dead twin’s girl? The worst kind, that’s what kind. He lay in his bed most nights, tormented by the war happening between his head and his heart. Hating himself a little more every time he got butterflies when you smiled at him or whenever he’d stand just a little closer to you at the shop.
It’s not like he had planned this. Never in a million years did he think he’d ever have these kinds of feelings for you (but then again, he never thought he’d ever have to live without his brother.) He tried so incredibly hard to push these feelings down, but every time he did, they’d only grow and crash into him again.
And he’d hate himself just a little more.
But, you were still his best friend, roommate, and business partner and he couldn’t lose you as well, so he’d keep them buried. The two of you still had a store to run and lives to live. George vowed to keep things normal between you. These stupid feelings he harbored would stay safely locked in his heart until they eventually dissipated.
Because they had to go away eventually. He would not be able to live with himself if they somehow didn’t.
So when he found you in the kitchen one morning, obviously having been up way longer than he had and making breakfast, he decided to do something his younger self would have done. You were playing music through a small speaker on the counter; it must have been muggle since he didn’t recognize it, but its funky tune made him want to dance, so he danced. It reminded him of the night of the Yule Ball, the first night you had cried for his brother. It hurt you to see Fred kiss Angelina more than you thought it would, and George hated to see you so upset over it, so he did this outrageous dance to make you forget about what you were seeing. Soon you joined in and your tears dried, and the two of you spent the rest of the night dancing until your feet ached. Merlin only knew why, but he wanted to make you smile like you did that night.
He moved his legs and arms about behind you in the kitchen, the same way he’d done that night, until you sensed his presence and turned to face him.
“Care to dance?” He asked in the most pompous voice he could think of, holding his hand out for you to take.
Instead of making you laugh like he wanted, your face fell the moment the words left his lips. He was about to ask what he’d done when it hit him; a memory filed deep in his brain of walking into the flat and seeing you and Fred dancing barefoot in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand and enormous smiles on your faces.
George dropped his hand instantly, and muttered an apology before grabbing a piece of toast and turning back to his bedroom.
Yeah, he was a huge fucking arsehole.
-
You and George were treading dangerous waters and you didn’t know what to do about it.
At first you thought it was all in your head. The warmth you felt whenever George’s hand brushed yours in the shop, or the lingering smiles he seemed to save only for you. It all had to be your mind playing tricks on you and making something out of nothing. Perhaps it was the fact that you hadn’t felt a lover’s embrace in well over a year that made your heart flutter around George. Or maybe it was a simple, fucked up case of transference. You spent nearly all of your time with George, and since George looked like Fred, feelings you held for Fred for so long were now making their way over to his twin. It had to be that; something fleeting that would eventually go away forever. You didn’t think you’d be able to live with yourself if these feelings were anything real.
The most fucked up thing about this whole situation was that you knew deep in your heart that these feelings were real, though. And you were starting to think George felt the same way.
That’s what terrified you the most. If you were right and these thoughts were eating George up as they were you, you knew the guilt would be killing him and make him pull away. And you couldn’t lose him, too. So you had decided to keep a safe distance from George. He was your best friend and all you had, but this had to be done. The two of you had gotten a little too comfortable with each other in the recent months, and one of you had to put a stop to it before it got way too out of hand. So you started taking the armchair instead of sharing the couch with him and made sure to keep him at arm’s length in the shop. It hurt you more than it should have, and you could tell that it was affecting George too, but you kept telling yourself that it was necessary, and once your inappropriate feelings went away, all would be good again.
There was only one problem with your plan, though. Both you and George ran the shop, and with that title came many long nights doing inventory and mandatory business trips, during which you couldn’t really keep your distance from George.
It would have been fine if it wouldn’t have been for the stupid hotel messing up your reservation. Your plan was to spend most of your time mingling with other business owners at the conference, spending as much time away from George as you could for the next two days. However when you arrived at the hotel and were informed that you had been reserved for a room with one bed instead of the two you had requested, it became obvious that your plan was not going to work at all.
“How could this have happened?” You asked the poor desk clerk. You knew you must have sounded incredibly rude, but given the circumstances, you couldn’t quite help it. “I phoned weeks ago and made this reservation.”
“I really am sorry,” she responded meekly “I guess whoever took your reservation just…assumed? Unfortunately we are fully booked for the conference, so this is the only room we have."
You shut your eyes and willed yourself to calm down; you were so exhausted from traveling but now so stressed out. You had half a mind to apparate right back to England, but then George put a gentle hand on your shoulder and you instantly felt better. After saying that you’d take the room and accepting the free breakfast voucher they’d offered as a consolation, you and George made your way up to the room.
The two of you had decided that you would take the bed and George would have the couch that was in the room. You had initially felt bad; the bed was quite big and George would inevitably be uncomfortable on the couch, but he had insisted. It soon became apparent that George would get little to no sleep on the little sofa, though, because even after applying a cushioning charm, you could tell that the cushions were unforgiving on his back. He was still your best friend, and you couldn’t let him lay on that thing all night.
So much for keeping your distance.
"George, just come and share the bed with me."
Even in the darkness that enveloped the room you could tell George stiffened at your offer. "I’m really fine, don’t worry about it.”
“You shouldn’t lie, it’s unbecoming. Now just come on.” You persisted. “I don’t need you being a grouch tomorrow because you didn’t get any sleep.”
After taking a beat to think it over, he finally decided to join you, and you shifted in the bed to give him space. Sure, you had to share a bed for a few nights, but it didn’t mean anything. You’d still keep your distance, no matter what. You had to, even if it broke your heart.
The next morning you woke before George did, with his hand on your waist and your face mere centimeters from his, almost as if the universe had pulled the two of you towards one another during the night.
You hated to admit it, but it was the best night’s sleep you’d had in months.
-
The second Christmas without Fred was just as awful as the first.
It had started out well enough, with you and George exchanging small gifts with one another. Even with your new habit of not sitting close to him anymore (something he missed more than he would like to admit) the two of you had a pleasant Christmas morning before heading to the Burrow.
Percy had visited for just a few minutes before announcing that he had to leave; still too riddled with guilt to bear to be around his family for any longer. Charlie had stayed in Romania for reasons unknown. It really didn’t feel like Christmas at all with half of George’s siblings missing.
Even so, it hadn’t necessarily been a bad day.
Christmas lunch had gone by without a hitch; the food was delicious as always, and all in attendance were fawning over Fleur and her little baby bump. But after lunch came presents, and that was when hell broke loose.
Harry gave Ginny a beautiful new broomstick for her Harpies tryouts, and Hermione gave Arthur a muggle encyclopedia, which he dove into almost immediately. Bill and Fleur received more baby clothes and toys than they could count, and then it was time for Molly’s presents; which was once again going to be hand-knit sweaters if the wrapping was anything to go by. George was fine, everything was fine until his sister-in-law opened her sweater and he saw it; a blue sweater with the letter F stitched proudly on the front.
F
Fred.
George instantly felt white-hot rage fill him and he spoke out before he could think better of it.
“What the fuck is that?”
“George, watch your mouth,” his father quickly reprimanded, but George barely heard it. He was too busy staring at his mother who seemed to have been expecting this response.
“Now, George, Fleur is part of our family and she deserves-”
“I don’t give a fuck!” Shouted George. “She shouldn’t- it should have been his. I just- I don’t- how could you make that? How could you make that knowing that he’s not here to wear it?” A tear slid down his mother’s face, but he couldn’t make himself feel guilty at that moment. All he felt was anger and grief.
Never-ending, soul crushing grief.
He turned his gaze away from her to his siblings, noting that they didn’t seem to be as phased by this as he was. Even you, who sat beside Ginny, avoided his gaze. George felt hot tears stinging his eyes and he left the living room, ignoring looks of pity and the calls of his name.
He stormed out of the back door and rubbed his face, aware of someone following him but not caring who at that moment.
“George,” you said softly as you reached a hand out to him, “George, do you want to talk?”
“Talk?” He yelled as he swatted your hand away “Sure, let’s talk. Let’s talk about how my brother, my best friend, is dead and I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life. Every time I think about him I feel so guilty, and no one understands. Not you, not my family; no one could possibly understand how I feel.” You were crying now, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Every time I glance in a mirror, or at a shop window, I see him and I hate myself because I didn’t save him. Everyone is moving on but I just can’t.”
He took a breath and realized he’d been crying too. You reached for him again and he didn’t stop you this time, allowing you to wrap your arms around him. “I miss him so much,” he continued “I miss him so fucking much and I don’t know what to do.”
You only nodded as he had his outburst, and he felt his anger dissipate slightly while you held him. He felt his breathing return to normal and his tears dry, and in this moment he realized how much he had missed this. He felt a sense of comfort that he only had when he was with you, and having you this close after being so distant for months seemed to help him tremendously.
“I’m still hurting too, y'know” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his chest. “I know I don’t hurt like you do, but I still miss him and carry that guilt.”
George felt his heart constrict at your words because of course he knew that, his anger had just clouded his judgment. Now that he had calmed a bit, that anger was beginning to be replaced by a different kind of guilt. “I’m sorry for yelling and saying those awful things.”
“Don’t apologize, just know that you’re not truly alone with how you feel."
He nodded, allowing your words to sink deep into his brain as the two of you stood there, arms wrapped around each other. You had been so distant lately and even though it took George a while to figure out why, he finally realized that you were struggling with the same feelings he had been. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved, happy, or downright terrified when he came to this realization, but right now in this moment, he felt content.
He didn’t let himself think about what his family would say (or Merlin forbid what Fred would say). He didn’t dare think about how much this could potentially ruin the best friendship he had. George even tried not to think about the broken road that led the two of you here.
He needed this. He needed you.
"Please don’t leave me alone again,” he whispered into your hair, more to himself than to you, but the way you shivered at his words told him that you heard him anyway.
-
Today was George’s twenty-second birthday.
It still felt weird to not say Fred and George’s birthday, and you suspected that it always would, but it didn’t hurt as badly this time. Maybe you were moving on, or maybe time is funny that way; it makes the wounds on your heart less painful and heavy. Always there, but not nearly as awful as they once were.
Either way, neither you or George felt up to the way the three of you would normally celebrate their birthdays, a raging party with lots of friends, too much alcohol, and mind-numbing hangovers in the morning. You never would since an integral piece of your trio would forever be gone. So, you and George were celebrating the exact same way as last year; splitting a bottle of firewhiskey and reminiscing in your shared flat, alone. No parties with sympathy pats, no toasts to fallen heros, no headaches from too much crying.
The two of you rathered this, anyway.
George was four glasses in already and rambling on about some elaborate prank they had pulled on Percy years back, but you were only halfway paying attention. You were unabashedly staring at George; the curve of his lip as he talked, his hair; longer now than it had ever been. He was handsome, and not because him and Fred looked the same because George didn’t look like Fred anymore, not really. No, George was handsome because he looked like George, and that revelation made your heart skip a beat.
You had finally admitted the truth to yourself, you loved George. Not in the brotherly way that you had done for years, but truly, honestly loved George in a way that made your heart ache. You didn’t know when it happened. Sometime between long nights on the couch and shared cups of coffee. Getting rid of engagement rings and crying over Christmas sweaters. Comforting each other through hard times and celebrating all that there was to be happy about because he still had his family and you still had each other.
You had stopped trying to keep your distance from George after Christmas, you knew it was futile. Your feelings for George weren’t transference, or fleeting in any way. They were there, lighting a fire in your heart you thought had long been extinguished.
You could only hope that George felt the same way you knew you did.
In your reverie you failed to notice that George had stopped talking. His glass of whiskey was on the counter; forgotten about and he was staring at you. His gaze seemed to cut right through you, and briefly you wondered if he was going to lean in, if he was having the same internal struggle you currently were. He was impossibly close; when had he shifted so close to you? The question left your mind as quickly as it came because you couldn’t even care why or how this was happening, only that it was.
You could see the gold flecks in his amber eyes and smell the cinnamon on his breath. His gaze left yours for just a second, only long enough to glance at your lips then back to your eyes and the action made your heart race. When was the last time you felt a rush like this?
Probably when Fred-
You willed your brain not to think about it; you wanted to be fully in the moment with George. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he cupped your jaw, and all you thought of was George.
It didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would, nor did it make you feel as guilty as you probably should have.
He offered you a smile, just a small one as a silent question of 'Is this okay?’ And you nodded, just once, and he leaned in.
But just as you closed your eyes George yanked his hand away and you felt him jump. When you opened your eyes, George was no longer millimeters from you. He was standing at least a yard away from you with a hand in his hair and his eyes wild.
The moment was gone and you felt your heart drop.
“What, what the hell are we doing?” He sputtered.
“George-”
“No! No, this isn’t happening.” He shook his head furiously and ran both hands through his hair, a nervous habit he’d had as long as you’d known him. “This is fucked, you and Fred, oh fuck.”
The guilt you expected sill wasn’t there, and you briefly wondered what that meant. You tried to go to him but as soon as you took a step, he took two away from you, clearly adamant about keeping distance between the two of you.
“George, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel this way and it’s also okay to be scared.” You tried to reason with him, hoping the confidence you faked would be enough to keep him from spiraling.
He shook his head “No, it’s not okay. I cannot believe we were stupid enough to even allow it to get that far.” He took a breath. You could tell that he was going over everything that just happened in his head, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong.
Too bad the two of you had different ideas of what went wrong.
“I think I just need to sober up,” he finally said. “Yeah, I think we just need to be alone and sleep off the alcohol. That’s it.”
Twist the knife a little deeper, George.
“Can we talk about this?” You asked, voice beginning to shake from the emotions you were desperately trying to control.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He was almost to his bedroom door now, trying to get as far away from you as he could.
Please don’t leave me alone.
“George, please let’s talk-” You started, but it was too late. He had already stalked back to his room and slammed the door.
The two of you didn’t speak for weeks after that.
-
The Weasley family was together for the first time since the battle. Although, it was really their fault that it had been two years since they had all been in the same room.
Percy kept making excuses for why he couldn’t come to family dinners on Sundays, and Charlie had only been back to England once since that night. George showed up as much as he could, but the whole family would never be together again; hearing his mother use the term “whole family” made George sick. Fred wasn’t there, so there was no way the whole family could ever be together again.
The first Weasley grandchild had been born just days prior, however, so Charlie portkeyed over, and Percy couldn’t find an excuse to skip out on meeting his niece. So the whole Weasley clan was here at Shell Cottage to meet little Victoire.
Well, all except Fred, but George couldn’t think about that.
You were even here, which George was thankful for. Seeing his family and you pass the tiny bundle that was Victoire around took George’s mind off worrying about the shop and even made his ever growing feelings for you move to the back of his mind. He was grateful; family get-togethers made George uneasy since he’d never been to one without Fred until after the battle, but this one felt as close to normal as they could possibly feel now. He attributed this new found calm to you; just you being there next to him brought a sense of peace he thought he had long lost, even after the awkward encounter you’d had a few weeks ago. He had been adamant that the moment was a fluke and that it would never, ever happen again, but after weeks of replaying it over in his mind, he realized that he wanted it to happen. He had finally admitted to himself that he loved you, but that new revelation would have to wait until the both of you were ready to face it, so he made up his mind to make this day about his brother and his new daughter.
He had stepped away from the living room to get a moment alone, but when he returned you weren’t there, and something in his gut told him to look for you. Even after the horrible mess he made on his birthday, you were at his side, which he appreciated. The two of you hadn’t talked about the almost kiss, mainly because he didn’t know how to say that he was sorry, that he made a mistake and he shouldn’t have run away. He should have given in to the feelings that he knew were there.
He should have let himself be happy for the first time in two years.
You weren’t in the sitting room where the family was, so George checked the backyard and dining room, to no avail. His next stop was the kitchen, where he found Charlie sipping a cup of coffee. Charlie turned where he heard his brother enter, and muttered a quick, “She’s on the beach.”
Perplexed, George looked out the window, and to his surprise he saw a figure about 20 yards away; just a dark shape against the horizon, but undoubtedly you.
“How did you know I was looking for her?” George asked.
Charlie grinned. “You’re not as covert as you think you are, little brother. Something happened between you, I can sense it” He paused, taking a sip of his drink. “No one would blame you, y'know. Not even Fred.” His smile dropped as he said Fred’s name and he turned serious, which was rare for Charlie.
George was stunned, though. Charlie had been in England for two hours and already he had seen right through George. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” George argued weakly.
Charlie shrugged, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. But I meant what I said; no one would blame you or her. Not mom, not me, and definitely not Fred. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that something’s there. You both lost a lot, and now you have the chance to gain something.” He stood, patting George on the shoulder before walking back to the sitting room. “Just think about it. And for what it’s worth, I think she feels the same way.”
It took George exactly two seconds after Charlie left to leave out the back door and make his way towards you; his brother’s words repeating in his head. As he got closer, he was able to see your hair blowing in the wind and your arms wrapped around yourself, and it made him wish he had brought you a coat. Once he finally reached you, he noticed you had been crying; you tried to wipe your eyes with your shirt sleeve before he could see your tears, but the red around your eyes made it obvious. You had tried to hide it, though, which told George that you probably didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering you, so instead of asking what was wrong like he wanted to, he opted to keep it light.
“Y’know, there’s a little baby girl in there that’s way more interesting to look at than the sea,” George joked, not really knowing what to say. Things had been strained since his birthday, and he was determined to slowly start making it right.
You nodded, still sniffling “I’ll be there in a sec, I just had to get out of there.”
“You’re missing him today, aren’t you?” His tone serious, but soft.
“Well, yes, but not as much as I thought I would. And also more than I thought I would. It’s messy and I feel horrible for feeling even the tiniest sliver of happi–” you stopped yourself before you could say it, but George knew what you were thinking. Saying it would change everything. How could either of you be happy, after all that had happened?
George looked down at his feet, attempting to hide the guilt washing over his face. The last thing he’d wanted to do was upset you, and then he’d gone and mucked it all up. Again.
You reached out for his hand, an instinctive gesture. When he looked back up at you, you spoke again, seemingly choosing your words carefully.
“I’m not saying I’ll never be happy again, or that I shouldn’t be. I’m just…learning how to hold happiness next to all of the grief and loss I’m still feeling and probably always will.”
Bumping your side against his, you rested your head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad I have you to help me through it, though” you said. “And I think I just need time; we both need time to figure this out, but we will, because you deserve to be happy, too. He would have wanted that.”
George felt his heart beating in his chest and tears burning his eyes, and he fought to keep tears from rolling down his freckled cheeks. There was no need for you to specify what this was, you both knew that these feelings were real and that they weren’t going away as easily as you both thought they would, but maybe they were never meant to be fleeting.
“Don’t get all emotional on me now, you’ll ruin the moment” he said, unable to stop himself from adding levity to the moment. With a small snort, you squeezed his hand and the two of you remained outside, watching the waves crash against the shore.
Oh, pure heart’s peer caught me gawking
Your hair in the wind, such small lonesome hands
I think I was meant to keep you warm