Soulmates - George Weasley

57

Every morning, George would drape his arm over the opposite side of the bed, his heart clenching when he remembered she wasn't with him. It was a well known fact that his love language was physical touch, closeness, words of affirmation and now, he only had one of those needs being met. It was getting difficult for him to even get out of bed at this point.

The days became a blur and he couldn't wait for night time. He couldn't wait to hear her voice. He couldn't wait to fall asleep and dream of her. It was their main topic on conversation: going back. However, Ron was still too proud, too blind to go back to Hermione, no matter how much he desired it. "She told you she loves you," George reminded him once during lunch. "It was the first time... wasn't it?" Ron simply blinked, looking away.

I'm no good at waiting
All the separation
Feeling suffocated
I just need to breathe
And I'm starting to hate it
I can't wait to fall asleep

"Please, Ron," George begged in one particular night, feeling his eyes sting with the need to cry. "We have to go back, we have to try," he pleaded as he stared over at his brother, who laid quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "If not for me then for Hermione. Don't let your ego get in the way, don't let it ruin your relationship, don't let it ruin you. I know you wanna go back to her. Do you not realise how much you're hurting her? Merlin, you're hurting you! What about me?" Ron sniffled, pursing his lips before turning to look at George.

"They won't want me back there," he muttered. Before George could even reply, he flipped around on the bed, closing his eyes and tuning his older brother out for the rest of the night.

Oh baby
When I'm apart from you
I just close my eyes
And all I have to do
Is dream, dream, dream, dream
About you...

One afternoon, Hazel, Hermione and Harry were resting from trying to destroy the Horcrux. They'd been at it for days now, looking for the Sword of Gryffindor as well. It was supposed to appear whenever it was needed, so where was it now? Harry laid in his bed, the Golden Snitch in hand, letting his mind escape the situation for a few moments - even if he was the one wearing the locket. Hermione and Hazel were right outside of the tent, talking about what her grandfather's journals. "I've been rereading one entry," Hazel admitted, biting her lip. "It's about Veelas, the transformation... Apparently one is able to control it through concentration and practice," she told Hermione, who looked up from her book.

"Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to try and master it - could come in handy if we ever encounter trouble," Hermione suggested, shrugging slightly.

"Maybe," Hazel nodded along. They were both sitting down on individual rocks, looking at each other. "Would you help me?" Hermione nodded, setting her book aside. "It said that I should concentrate my anger, like one concentrates their happiness to create a Patronus," Hermione hummed in acknowledgement.

"So it's very like a Patronus charm then?" Asked the curly haired witch, Hazel nodded. "I guess that means it may take a while at first... That's okay though, because it gets easier, almost like a reflex," they both stood up and walked further away from the tent. "I'm gonna have my wand drawn in case you lose control somehow," Hazel chuckled as Hermione took her wand out of her back pocket.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a second, Hazel set her emotions free. At first, she felt fine. They were all okay and that gave her a small sense of peace. Even if George and Ron weren't with them, at least she knew they were safe. Hermione watched as her eyes opened back up, looking teary.