October 1998
Angelina had been sending owls to George once a week since Fred's funeral, but he hadn't opened a single one of her letters, they were all gathering dust in the drawer of his desk. He couldn't explain why he didn't just throw them all away, maybe he knew he would want to read them eventually. Other than Lee and himself, Angelina was Fred's closest friend. George assumed she was writing to him because she needed his support, but he felt like he had nothing to offer her. He couldn't even help himself, how could he ever comfort her?
He was hoping maybe she would eventually give up after five months of not hearing from him, but that wasn't the case at all. As he was getting ready for another mundane day of work he heard a tapping sound on his bedroom window. It was just like clockwork, her owl showed up at 7 am every Tuesday. George laid his orange tie over his shoulders before opening the window and retrieving the letter from Angelina's owl, Phineas, who nipped as his fingers while he did so. It was very much like Angie to tell her owl to pester George into replying, but he wasn't in the mood for it this morning.
"Get out of here, you annoying thing." he tried to shoo the grey owl back out of his window but the bird just flapped his wings at him angrily in return. "I'm not opening it, now go." George persisted, but the owl stayed planted on the window sill and tilted his head, large unblinking orange eyes glaring back at him.
Phineas usually went away after George shooed him for a second time, but this morning was different, he wasn't budging. Apparently Angie was sick of not hearing from George and told Phineas to stay put until he gave in.
"Merlin, I'll reply to her this evening if you just leave." George surrendered, earning him an approving hoot from the owl which finally departed.
George pocketed the unopened envelope before closing the window and doing up his necktie. He grabbed his maroon jacket from the end of the bed, locks of fiery hair fell into his face as he did so. His messy hair always fell into his eyes despite his best efforts to brush it away from his face, he knew he was long overdue for a haircut and a shave to be quite honest, but covering up all the mirrors in the flat helped him avoid facing his own appearance. He didn't really care what he looked like these days as long as he didn't ever have to see himself.
As he descended the spiral staircase down into the store he was met with Verity who was taking inventory before opening the store, her brows furrowed making her normally carefree face look quite stressed. The shop was running low on a few things due to George's lack of interest in inventing new products, without Fred he just didn't have the motivation or creativity.
"I know you don't want to hear it, but this is everything we are low on." Verity said, handing him a piece of parchment.
"You're right, I don't want to hear it," he said flatly as he shoved the parchment in the same pocket Angelina's letter was in, not giving it a second look. It was quickly becoming the pocket of George's problems for the day.
"I can run to Zonko's, but I think they're getting tired of helping us out." she offered.
"I'll figure it out." he huffed, though he was not intending to solve that particular problem today at all. He promptly walked right by Verity and retreated into his office as he had been doing nearly every day since 'returning' to work.
To be quite honest, George hadn't done much work at all since agreeing to come back. He spent most of his days in his office, staring at the wall or scribbling mindlessly on scratch pieces of parchment. The guilt he felt over leaving Charlie and Verity to run everything on their own was overpowered by his feelings of hopelessness. It was difficult enough to get out of bed each day, going through the motions was enough effort in George's eyes.
As he slumped into his desk chair he reached into his pocket, intending to look at the list of items Verity had given him, but his fingers found Angelina's letter instead. With a groan of frustration he opened the drawer all her other letters were in, this would be her twentieth attempt at writing to George. The stack of unopened envelopes was quickly outgrowing their home and George wasn't interested in finding out what Angie's owl would do if he kept ignoring her for much longer, so he reluctantly pulled out the entire stack and spread them out across his desk.
There was no rhyme or reason to it, every single one was identical - beige envelopes with 'George' written in her perfect handwriting. He set the most recent letter back in his pocket to open last and reached for the one closest to him to open first.
'George,
I heard from Lee that you're back at work! That's lovely to hear, as soon as the Quidditch season is done in October I'll come down to London to visit.
All my love,
Angie
P.S. Write me back, you git.'
George set it to the side before picking up another, a pile of Angie's letters quickly growing taller and taller on his desk. The letters written earlier on in the year were longer and more emotional, there were a few that George could barely finish because they were too heartbreaking. The later letters grew shorter the more he avoided her, but she still made the effort to reach out every single week regardless. A feeling of guilt grew in his chest the more he read her letters, all Angelina wanted to do was make sure he was okay and all he did was shut her out, it was a bad habit he had become very good at.
Only two letters remained, the one he had received this morning and, as luck would have it, the very first letter Angie sent him after the funeral. Knowing the latter would be the hardest to get through, he decided to bite the bullet and get that one out of the way. Ripping open the envelope, he pulled out the parchment to see some areas of ink that had bled through due to her tears falling on the paper. That alone made George want to crumple it up and toss it out but something about her letters had a cathartic feeling for George, they hurt to read but they also brought him a sense of relief.
'George,
I'm so sorry I didn't speak to you at the funeral. Katie tried to get me to talk to you but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Even looking at you hurt, all I saw was Fred. I can only imagine how it is for you to see yourself, you probably hate looking at your own face now. I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say...
Katie told me that writing to you might make me feel better. I hope you'll write back, but even if you don't, just being able to write my feelings and send them away will give me some sort of release. Everything is so hard George. There's so many things I wish I could have told Fred. I haven't been able to sleep at all for the last two weeks. Have you been sleeping well? Probably not...
I have so many regrets. I didn't tell Fred enough how much I loved him, he was my greatest friend and I took him for granted and now he's gone forever. I don't want to take you for granted as well, I'll write to you every week and remind you that I love you, whether or not you respond.
All my love,
Angie'
Tears were streaming down George's face as he set her letter down on top of the pile. He sunk down in his chair and covered his face with his hands. All the months he spent trying to build up a wall and numb himself to the pain crumbled down every time he had to face the fact that his brother was gone forever. Angelina's letters brought him right back to square one, as if it had only happened yesterday.
The last letter remained unopened for several minutes before George could compose himself enough to read it.
'George,
I'm in London this weekend, so if you want to meet up we could have a drink or two at The Leaky Cauldron. Let me know as soon as possible!
All my love,
Angie
P.S. I told Phineas not to take no for an answer, so I'll see you this Saturday!"
George rolled his eyes after reading the last line, he knew there was no way he could get out of seeing her. Maybe it was a good thing though, after all, he did have a wonderful time when Lee visited - at least until things got a little messy with Verity later that night, but they both had moved on from that so he didn't dwell on the memory.
But Angelina was different, she and Fred had dated briefly during school and though they remained very close friends after breaking up, everyone always assumed they would eventually rekindle their relationship once the war was over. The lack of closure both she and George had when it came to their love for Fred was a lot of baggage for two people to carry, let alone try to support one another with.
It would be much different seeing her than it was seeing Lee. Lee just wanted to have fun and help George forget about all of the hurt he was feeling, Angelina would want to talk it out. But maybe she was coping better than George was giving her credit for, he would never know until he actually saw her, which apparently would be four days from now whether he liked it or not.
-
It had taken George at least forty-five minutes of giving himself mental pep talks before he was able to convince himself to walk down to the Leaky Cauldron and meet Angelina. It was half past six by the time he left the flat and he had promised to meet her at six in his letter. Hopefully she would be forgiving of his tardiness given the fact that he'd even be seeing her at all, which was more than could be said for the last five months.
The early October air was quite chilly, but George welcomed it. Whenever he felt a panic attack coming on a cold shower or a night time walk was usually what calmed him down the most. Charlie didn't appreciate George's desire to keep the flat cool, but he never persisted with his argument out of respect for George's feelings, instead he just bundled up in jumpers and wooly socks and grumbled to himself.
George's anxiety had been getting better over time, but there was always something that triggered at least one or two panic attacks each month. Sometimes it was little things like accidentally catching a glimpse of his reflection or seeing one of Fred's old belongings, but other times they were brought on by vivid nightmares of the battle and seeing Fred lying motionless on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Overall, he was decently good at shutting down his thoughts, occasionally with the help of alcohol, but he really didn't want it to become a habit so he did his best to stick to the cold showers and midnight walks.
He buried his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes down on the cobblestone path as he made his way down the road to The Leaky Cauldron. As he got closer he heard the muffled sound of laughter and loud chatter, he thought to himself that it must be a busy night at the pub, maybe that would be a good thing. The louder it was in there, the less likely anyone was going to overhear the inevitably depressing conversation he and Angie would be having.
When he entered the pub he only had to scan the room once before he found the woman with long dark braids cascading down the back of her crimson sweater that he was looking for. She was sitting alone at the bar silently, leaning over a half drunk pint of beer and staring at her hands. George took a deep breath and made his way over to the empty stool next to her.
"Alright, Angie?" he greeted as he sat down.
As she turned her head to look at him she immediately closed her eyes and quickly turned her head to look back down at her drink. Seeing Fred's face in person again was jarring for her, even though she knew it was George sitting next to her.
"Sorry," she breathed, "It's been so long since I've seen you, I haven't even looked at photos. I couldn't ever forget your face but it's still strange."
"That's alright, I don't even look at my own reflection if I can help it." he assured her before waving the bartender over, "Firewhisky on the rocks, please."
"This is going to sound weird, and I don't want it to be awkward... but can I just stare at you for a moment?" she requested.
Nothing sounded weird to him when it came to coping, so her request didn't bother him, "Go for it."
The bartender set down George's drink in front of him and he picked it up to take a sip as Angelina turned to watch him. George looked much older than he had five months ago, it was a combination of stress and letting his beard and hair start growing out, he was only 20 years old but looked much more mature. He set down the glass and turned to face his friend, allowing her to study the details of his face that he hadn't even seen in such a long time. Her mahogany colored eyes darted around his different features as she absorbed every single freckle and strand of red hair.
"You look different." she concluded.
"I feel different." he shrugged.
Angelina brought her eyes back to her own drink, idly swirling her finger over the rim. As much as she wanted to see George, she realized how much they both had changed since losing Fred and how different their friendship was now as a result.
"Quidditch go alright? Sorry I never came to a game." George asked in an attempt to kill the silence with small talk.
"Hmm? Oh yes, it was okay. Not much attendance this season, I suppose people are still getting used to normal life again. How's the store going?"
"Slowly falling apart around me." George laughed darkly.
"What does that mean?"
He shrugged, "I haven't invented a single thing in months, I don't think I can. Verity is worried about it, but I've been avoiding the problem."
"Why don't you think you can?" Angie asked, turning her head back to him.
"I've never tried inventing anything without him." he replied, taking another longer sip of his drink now that the topic of Fred had finally come up.
"You'll never know unless you try."
"I don't feel much like trying."
"Fred would be pissed if you let the store fail." she said under her breath, but despite the loud volume in the pub her words seemed deafening as they repeated over and over in his mind.
"Don't start that, Angie." he frowned.
"Well it's true."
"I know it's true. But I'm nothing without him, so how do you suppose I keep going on like everything is normal?" He didn't want to sound harsh because he knew Angie was hurting too, but he could hear the anger growing in his voice.
"You may have always thought of you and Fred as one person, but you can be just George and be alright."
"It doesn't feel that way."
"I always knew the difference between you two, not by your appearance but by your personalities. Fred was always the fire and chaos - the mad scientist. You're warm and caring, you've always been the compassionate one. Even when Fred was alive, you were your own person, whether you believe it or not."
At that comment George threw his head back and quickly downed the rest of his drink before waving down the bartender to order another. Though he typically tried to avoid alcohol as a coping mechanism because he didn't like himself when he was drunk, he knew he needed it to get through this evening.
"I'm a mess Angie. An absolute fucking mess."
She chuckled slightly, "Yes I can tell, but that's alright."
"I'm letting my store fail, I keep pushing everyone away, I act recklessly when I want to feel something other than numbness or pain. I can't see any way that being on my own will ever be a good thing or make me happy."
"You'll get there in time. Plus you're not on your own, you let me in. I mean, it took five months but I'm here now."
"Only because your evil owl wouldn't leave me be."
"You may be depressed, but I don't think you'd let yourself actually be bullied by a bird."
He sighed as he let more of the warm alcohol burn down his throat when a flash of Eloise entered his mind. If there was anyone he was really pushing away, it was her, out of a combination of fear and self-loathing.
"Angie, can I get your advice?" he inquired, almost immediately regretting what he was about to ask.
"Of course, what's on your mind?"
"Fleur's got this friend who's staying with them, I think she moved in to help Fleur with her anxiety after Bill started going back to work - I don't know the full story. Anyway, I've been around her a few times and I have no idea how I feel about her, all I know is that every time she's near me I almost forget about everything that's been going wrong."
"She sounds like someone you need to keep around then, what's her name?"
"It's Eloise. The only problem is I've obviously got this habit of pushing everyone away. I'm afraid of letting her get too close."
"Why is that?"
"I don't want to end up falling for her and losing her. I don't think I could handle more loss. I thought pushing her away would be the easiest option, but she's always on my mind."
"Why can't you let her in and just be her friend? It doesn't have to be romantic if that's what you're worried about."
"I'm attracted to her, I don't know if I could handle being only her friend. It was hard enough when Charlie stupidly set her up on a date with his mate a few weeks ago."
"I loved Fred for years. When we broke up I watched him flirt with other girls and sure it hurt at the time, but having his friendship was more important to me than not having a relationship with him at all. I think if you're scared of loss, maybe the biggest loss would be never getting close to her at all."
George hung onto Angie's every word, maybe she was right. When Eloise was around there was no stress about work or painful thoughts about Fred, there was only her. Even if she never fell for him, having her close might be exactly what he needed. Perhaps letting Angie back in was his first step to breaking down his walls. It would be difficult, but pushing away Eloise for the last few months had already been hard enough on its own.
"There's also the fact that she never knew me before Fred passed. She'll never know the real me, she only knows this version of me, which I hate."
"You're still you, this version of you is still real George. Different doesn't mean bad, and even if you hate every piece of baggage you carry, maybe Eloise would be more than willing to help you carry it. You'll really never know unless you let her in."
George hated how much sense Angie was making, she made the fog seem to instantly clear, he was frustrated that he hadn't been able to realize it all on his own. It was so obvious this entire time, Eloise was putting forth all of this effort to try and get to know him. She knew about his loss before they even met and she wasn't afraid of his baggage then, so why was he so scared of letting down his guard? If she was put off by his demeanor she would have never shown interest in him from the start, logically he knew that, but in his heart he was still cautious with his vulnerability.
He just had to hope it wasn't too late. Angie hadn't given up on him after pushing her away for so long, but he had known her for nine years now, they grew up together and their relationship was more concrete. Eloise and George had only known each other for a few months, he needed to let her in sooner rather than later before she completely gave up on him.
"You're right, thanks Angie."
"Always have been right." she replied with a wink, "So when is the next time you're seeing Eloise?"
"I think she's meant to be at my mum's birthday dinner, Bill mentioned something about it last week. My mum already loves her."
"Molly having a good first impression of a girl? Now that's nearly unheard of, she must be incredible. Especially considering she's Fleur's best friend, your mum hated Fleur at first." Angelina teased.
"Well she's nothing like Fleur, almost the exact opposite honestly."
It was true though, Molly was notorious for disliking most girls her sons brought home, other than Hermione. But Hermione was a much different case, she had grown up with Ron and had been around his family for years before their relationship turned romantic. But with Fleur, both Molly and Ginny made it quite clear that they were not fond of her at first. Of course they came around in the end, but it took Bill nearly being turned into a werewolf for that to happen.
Molly never hated Angelina while she and Fred dated, but she would make comments about how she didn't think it would last and they were just kids with a crush. Those comments always bothered Angie, but Fred just brushed them off. So Angelina had a point when she said it was quite impressive for Eloise to be so well liked almost immediately, Molly was quite difficult to impress. But maybe it was just because none of her little boys were romantically involved with her that made it much easier for Molly to like her.
"I'm excited to meet this girl." Angie smirked.
"What makes you think you'll be meeting her?" George raised his eyebrow at the woman next to him.
"Well, assuming you follow my advice on not being a prat anymore and you don't start ignoring me again, I think it'll be inevitable, don't you?"
"I make no promises."
"Of course not." she replied, rolling her eyes.
George had softened up a lot since the beginning of the week thanks to Angelina. He'd never admit that to her, the boost in her ego would just give her permission to give George a hard time and he was too short-tempered these days to find the humor in it. When he agreed to meet with her he truly hadn't expected to talk about Eloise at all, but Angie's advice was exactly what he needed to hear, and he oddly felt more excited to see her in a few weeks at his mother's birthday dinner.