Dream: George

George Weasley organizes the boxes on one of the shelves of his store for the hundredth time in the last hour. It’s a slow day and George hates slow days, hates not having enough work to do, it make him twitchy, always has. He finally gives up the fight and turns the sign to closed on the door then heads up to the flat over the store.
His apartment is small and cluttered, George operates under the principal that he doesn’t need to clean until he stops being able to find things, and he can find things even if they are in very odd places. He puts the water on, then searches around until he locates the tea in an empty milk pitcher shaped like a cow that Ginny got him several Christmas’ ago. It can moo and walk about, and although it isn’t terribly practical he enjoys it a lot. Now he pulls it from under the sink, where it’s been hiding, and makes himself some tea before wandering into his workshop.
He’s trying to perfect some kind of candy that will make small children’s heads tern different colors. He’s life has become slightly routine, watch the shop, work in his workshop on new prototypes, sometimes go to the pub and meet Ron or Lee Jordon. Sometimes he coaches Quidditch with Ron, a local team Ron started. Slowly night comes and George embarks on what is surely the hardest part of his day. Actually being honest with himself it has gotten better over the years and his life is pretty good over all, not much he can complain about. However tonight, every time he closes his eyes memories come:


There had been a rumor going around school for a while. The preverbal incest story. Starting with the Malfoys it had naturally moved on to the Weasleys. Ron had taken it hard but Fred and George really hadn’t been all that surprised, it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen it coming. They’d played the rumor up, of course, at the slightest opportunity.
“Come brother of mine, my secret lover”
Fred flung his arms around George’s neck pulling him close after a particularly good Quidditch game.
“Love of my life. Let us go and celebrate in our own special way. To the showers!”


George’s eyes snap open and he stairs at the sealing in the dark, counting slowly back from ten, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.


“I don’t want to see you dead”
Molly’s voice is shaking and she looks like she might start crying again
“I have to”
he won’t look at her.
“It’s not like I’m good for anything else now, I’m only half a person . . . ”


George lets out a small growl and gets out of bed; obviously the sleep thing is not working for tonight. He dress and picks up his wand. A few seconds later he’s standing outside the Leaky Caldron. He walks inside and orders a glass of firewhiskey and takes it to a booth in the back. When he can’t sleep he comes here, sometimes he meets someone he knows mostly, he just sits by himself. The days when he used to drink until he passed out are long gone, George doesn’t have the personality for depression, but some nights it’s better not to be alone.
His whole life George had never been alone. He was a twin, one of a set, and that for better of for worse always guarantied him company even when he sometimes wished Fred would bugger off, even when they were fighting. They had shared everything, dressed identically, slept in the same room at school, and in the same bed when they were home, taking terns pushing each other out at odd times during the night. Most people got them confused, even their mother when she was distracted tended to. Not that they were exactly the same. Fred had a slightly more meticulous mind when it came to planning out pranks, and George had the blinding moments of genius. Fred was a little better with people and George little faster on a broom. Fred could cook when it was needed and George could barely find his way around a kitchen. Fred preferred girls and George sometime around his sixth year realized he fancied blokes. There similarities however out weighed any differences and when they had left school together it seemed only natural that they would remain together, open their joke shop together and rent the flat right above it. The Weasley twins, a set. Then had come the war, and suddenly for the first time in his life George was alone. He closes his eyes and leans his head on his hands.


It’s late, George knows he should be asleep but tonight sleep is not coming. He moves worriedly in bed hand clenching and unclenching the sheets.
“What’s wrong?”
Fred’s voice comes sleepily from behind him.
“Thinking of the war. Thinking about what’s going to happen when it starts.”
Fred nestles against his back.
“You think too much.”
“And here I thought we were exactly the same”
“Nonsense”
Fred murmurs against the back of George’s neck
“Everyone knows I’m much better looking, with my roughish charms”
George smiles and takes his twins hand drawing it around his own waist and cradling it against his chest.


“May I sit here or is this booth exclusive?”
George looks up to see the last person he could have ever imagined standing by his table. He gawked at Draco Malfoy for a moment before he was able to re-gather his wits and answer. One of Draco’s elegant eyebrows goes up, and George quickly closes his mouth and waves towards the opposite seat. Draco sits. George tries to remember the last time he has seen the other man. The end of the war? He had read in the paper that Draco’s parents had been killed later on. At the time he remembered thinking it couldn’t have happened to a nicer couple. Now he studies Draco across the table. Draco wares an elegant suit something between a muggle business suit and the latest wizarding fashion in gray. His hair is tied back from his face, but down to his shoulders which should have been disturbingly reminiscent of his father but isn’t. He looks older, actually, George thinks, he looks very much older then George knows he really is.
“so”
George watches Draco and the shadows that play under his eyes.
“what brings you to the Leaky Caldron at this time of night?”
Draco’s eyelashes drop for a moment
“dreams”
George inwardly curses himself he should have known better then to ask.
“and you?”
“the same”
Silence falls and George wonders if this can get any more awkward.
“I was thinking of my brother”
Draco looks up and George feels himself flush for no reason at all.
“I mean Fred my twin brother”
George looks down at the table moving his glass around in a little circle. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Draco this, but George has always felt better if he talks it out and Draco’s the only one here to talk to.
“He died during the war. A wall. . ”
George clears his throat wondering whether this will ever get easier to say.
“ a wall fell on him”
Draco nods
“I remember”
George looks up at the other man. Draco looks angry and George wonders if he’s crossed some line, bringing up the war maybe. His distress and confusion must have shown on his face because Draco shakes his head.
“stupid” He frowns at his drink
“stupid thing for me to say. I know you and your twin were close. Closer then I can ever know, and I don’t really know what to say. Especially given my family’s and my own involvement in the war, and what a bastard I was in school. I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have gone through, what you still must go through.”
Draco bites his lip and trails off. George wonders if he’s always been this socially awkward one on one or if it was just no one ever bothered to talk to Draco one on one. George certainly had never gone out of his way to spend time with him and given how Draco had been in school he doesn’t feel all that bad about it. Still he reached impulsively across the table and takes Draco hand.
“at least I came out of the war with my parents. We all suffered, and there’s probably things none of us will ever be able to leave behind. I can’t imagine what you must go through either.”
Draco pulls away his hand but not in a discussed or angry way so George lets it pass without comment.
“ my parents weren’t that big a loss for me or anyone else.”
Draco takes a drink of his firewhiskey
“but they were still my parents, and it wasn’t. . . the most pleasant way to go”
Draco stands. “you don’t mind if I was off now, would you?”
George shakes his head. Draco turns to leave then pauses,
“if I was to come back another night and you were here would you mind if I sat with you again?”
George shakes his head, and realizes he’s not just being nice he really wouldn’t mind.
“good. I really did enjoy your company and my other alternative is Granger, and she’s just not quite right these days”
There’s something almost like laughter in his eyes.
“not that the same can’t be said for any of us”
Then he’s gone and George sits for a time just thinking before he finishes off his drink. Draco’s right he thinks none of them are quite right anymore, but George is an optimistic person and he believes one day things will be better.