Grief is a complex and horrendous thing. Many had been lost in the Battle of Hogwarts, just as many had been lost in the First Wizarding War. People were sure to be lost for far after the War was won. While death is natural, for those who were lost in the Wizarding Wars, the people they left behind were often conflicted. The people they'd loved were lost in sacrifice, in protecting the world from unspeakable evil. But that did not provide solace in knowing that these people were taken far too soon. Before birthdays and weddings and children and love. Those lost would not get to grow old and reminisce in their long lives, surrounded by family. They would forever stay young in the minds of those who remembered them; an act which brought both warmth and comfort, as well as immeasurable pain.
And while everyone could feel the pain of those lost during the Wizarding Wars, nobody felt this pain as deeply as George Weasley. Every time he looked in a mirror, he was reminded of his other half, the person who had been by his side since birth. He relished in the scars left over where his ear had once been, as it served as a reminder that he was George, and the person looking back at him was not Fred. Because Fred was forever gone.
But that was not the end to George's pain. Before the war, two things in his life had been absolutely certain. The first, that Fred would be at his side through thick and thin. The bond they had had run deeper than any brotherhood, a bond that connected them deep in their soul. Soul mates was not the word they would use for it, but it was a connection so deep that Fred's death had created a rift inside of George, and he was certain that he could never truly be whole.
The boys had not used the term soulmates to describe their relationship to one another, and that brings us to the second thing of which George Weasley was certain. The second thing, indeed, was that Acelynne Connors was his soulmate. While they were young and dumb and in love, through every trial they had faced together, he knew she was his person. His one true love, the one he wanted to spend every moment with, for the rest of their lives. His Patronus had been not only powered by her every memory, but his visions of a future with her. His wife, the mother of his children, the person he'd grow grey with. These thoughts had been his greatest source of happiness. She too, took a piece of George when she died, another hole in his heart and soul that would forever remain agape. These holes were his greatest source of pain, but he never wished to close them.
Everyone had pitied George Weasley, the boy who'd lost his twin. But few knew of the other great love he had lost.
The weeks after the Battle were filled with chaos. The restructuring of The Ministry. The rounding up of Death Eaters who'd managed to escape initial capture. The funerals. George had been so overwhelmed by his grief that something inside of him had gone numb, and he began to understand why Acelynne had made the choices she had made those years ago. Turning off the grief was much easier than feeling it, because if he chose to feel it, George knew he would surely die too.
He did not feel the physical weight of the caskets he carried, insisting to act as pallbearer for both Fred and Acelynne. He instead felt the emotional weight once again tug at his soul, threatening to pull off the veil of numbness. The finality of their funerals had almost broken him, though on the outside you could not see how close George had been to breaking.
For Fred, the Weasley clan sobbed, Molly heard leagues above the crowd. Even Percy could not be consoled, but was once more welcomed back into the family fold in this time of shared sadness. George had placed some items from the shop inside of the casket, as well as his brothers beaters bat.
For Acelynne, Jacobson silently wept as the service went on for his only child. The Weasleys were also in attendance, their sadness more reserved as they regarded George with careful eyes. Ginny's head had been bowed the entire time, tears endlessly streaming down her cheeks. She too, had lost somebody. But the loss of this person may be the reason she was here today. George did not allow her to avoid him, as much as she tried, knowing all too well that the choice that Acelynne had made was no fault of Ginny's. Forever was Acelynne trying to shield those she loved from the dangers of the world.
Molly attempted to hide the tears she shed, gripping George's hand so hard he felt it may break. Inside her casket he placed a box of chocolate and on her left hand he placed a tiny, elegant, diamond ring. The plastic of the toy ring was cold against his chest where he kept it on a simple chain, just as Acelynne had worn it, if only for a short period of time.
He had told her he'd get her something better, and not even death would prevent him from making good on his promise.
George had moved back into the Burrow, at least for the time being. The apartment above the shop was cold, and quiet, and not the place he had left it. When George showed up on the doorstep of his family home, suitcase in hand and Pygmy Puff in pocket, Molly wordlessly nodded and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Welcome home" she had whispered and shed a single tear. For the longest time the house remained silent, with exception for the cracking of the eggshells which the entire family had been walking on.
George holed himself up in his childhood room at the beginning, slowly picking through the childish objects he and Fred had shared. His numbness protected him from the pain these items brought, allowing him to search his mind for the happier memories, forcing himself to honour Fred's memory instead of mourning in it.
As George unpacked his bag, he noticed his missing items. A scarf and a photo. He dug furiously through his suitcase, feeling the pockets of his robe and dumping his belongings out onto the floor.
A tiny squeak from the corner of his room earned his attention. Bart had positioned himself on the corner of his desk, wrapped in a scarf in place of a nest. He made a sound of sadness, something akin to a whine, as he burrowed himself deeper. George crossed the room and found the item he was missing. The photo.
George remembered the day it was taken, offered graciously by Ginny. They had been out in the Orchard, their first summer together when Acelynne had also lived at the Burrow. The summer before everything had first began to go wrong. Acelynne twirled in the sunlight, dancing in and out of George's arms as the sun shown down on her face. They looked so young then. Before the harshness of reality and the dangers of the world had been fully realised. Ace wrapped her arms around George's neck and placed a kiss on his lips, and then picture restarted.
Bart had now sat on George's shoulders, squeaking sadly as he watched the photo replay over and over. George placed the photo beside the nest, and Bart quickly began to drag it back into the depths of the scarf. "I know mate, I miss her too. But she's gone."
The reality of those words stung George like never before. Before he could secure his veil of numbness, the emotions ripped through him like a tide, tearing him apart from the inside. He couldn't stop the floodgates, and such heavy tears began to fall that they threatened to flood the room.
"She's gone." He turned away from the nest and through his tears looked in the mirror, a reflection of his ghost staring back at him. "THEY"RE GONE!" he screamed, his fist connecting with the glass before he could stop himself.
The glass shattered, splintering the skin of his knuckles, leaving it bloody and raw. He continued to sob, the cries threatening to break his ribs. He sunk to the ground, internally drowning in grief as he clutched his bleeding hand.
When the glass had shattered from upstairs, Molly immediately dropped the potato she had been mindlessly peeling. She had known this kind of grief when her brothers had died. The grief she had to keep at bay the night that Arthur was nearly killed by the snake. She felt this kind of grief for her lost son, and for her surviving son, lost in his own special kind of grief.
Quickly, she ushered up the stairs and opened George's door. She found him on the floor, his head cradled in his hands, blood smeared across his cheek. "Oh George." She wanted to remain strong for him, to carry the pain he felt, but her eyes betrayed her as quieter tears began to fall. She knelt on the ground beside her son, pulling him into her chest.
"They're gone, mum. They're gone" George sobbed, his entire body shaking as she held him. Molly ran her hand through his hair and rested her chin on the crown of his head.
"I know, dear. I'm sorry" was all she could say in comfort. She was lost for words. Molly had experienced grief, but something in George's voice lead her to believe that the pain he was experiencing might be on a whole other level, a pain that too threatened to take him away from her as well.
They sat like that for an unknown amount of time, sharing in each-others sadness. Eventually, Molly grabbed his hand and pulled him upwards carefully. She guided him down the corridor and towards the bathroom so she could clean up his hand. Percy, who had also come back to the Burrow for a short period of time, stood quietly in the hallway in observance.
"Percy, dear" Molly sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Could you please go take care of the glass in Georges room?" she asked.
He nodded obediently, and Molly closed the door between them. George had followed behind her mindlessly, a shell of a man with empty eyes. His eyes eerily reminded him of Fred, moments after the lights had gone out in his.
Percy entered the twins room, his mind unconsciously bringing him back to the sounds of explosions and smell of gunpowder this room had once been filled with. Now, George's bag was spilt onto the floor, littered with shards of broken glass. Percy bent down and picked up a particularly large piece, noting the blood that had begun to dry on the edges.
Percy knew that he had been nothing short of cold to his family, for the longest time wishing he had been born into a family of higher stature, a more respectable family. He had particularly loathed the embarrassment he felt that Fred and George cast upon him and his image. The War had brought his priorities back into focus, had forced him to recognize how important his family was to him. How easily they accepted him back into their arms made him doubly regretful at the pain he had caused them all with his spite.
With a few flicks of his wand, the glass was gone and George's items were sorted neatly onto his bed. Fred's bed remained empty, but not bare, as if waiting for him to return. Percy swallowed the knot in his throat and picked up a spare blanket from the closet. He placed it over the mirror, only able to imagine how much pain it caused George to see his own reflection as a constant reminder of the other half of him that would never come home.
The squeaks of one of their inventions, the Pygmy Puff on the desk, drew his attention. He noted the photo of Acelynne in its grasp, another source of Georges pain. He didn't know Acelynne well, but from what he had heard from the family, she was George's endgame. But now he had no endgame. No Fred. Percy began to worry about George's frame of mind, if he was going to be able to cope with these loses in stride.
Without a second thought, Percy hurried into his room and grabbed his own bag of clothes. He dragged the bag out into the corridor and into George's room, placing it on Fred's bed. Fred was never coming back, this bed served as a reminder of that, but Percy had a lot of reparations to make for his past behaviour, especially towards the remaining twin.
Percy was going to help George overcome these losses. It was the least he could do.
Molly eventually walked George back to his room, his hand wrapped in bandages but appeared to be no longer bleeding. He furrowed his brow at the sight of Percy on Fred's bed, hands in his lap. "Do you mind if I stay in here with you for a while?" Percy asked, brushing off the front of his pants. "I... I'd rather not be alone at night." This was a lie. Percy too had lost a brother, but the pain he felt was nowhere near what George felt.
The corners of George's mouth twitched. He knew it was a lie, but he appreciated the sentiment. He also didn't want to be alone. "For sure" he said, sitting back down on his bed. Molly noted the blanket on the mirror, raising an eyebrow at Percy. He shrugged and motioned to George, now staring mindlessly into the air again.
Molly nodded in understanding and left the room, casting a final glance at George. The boys sat in silence for a while, but this time the silence was welcomed as the presence of unsaid words filled the air.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
For months, Percy and George shared that room. Eventually, the silence broke and they began to speak, speak more openly than they ever had in their entire lives. At some point, reminiscing about the chaos the twins had caused in their youth had begun to feel warm again instead of causing George pain. Percy had tried to get him to open up about Acelynne too, but that was a more difficult topic for him to speak on. Sometimes he heard him whispering about her to Bart when George thought nobody was listening, but in a house of so many people... someone was always bound to hear.
Fred was always going to be a constant in George's future. By his side and along for the ride. But Acelynne, she was his future. The thing that connected all future milestones for him. Without her, he didn't know his future anymore. Molly had taken to leaving pamphlets about grief support groups on his bed, but George couldn't be bothered. He threw himself into his work, fixing up the damage to the shop and hosting a grand re-opening, Ron and Percy at his side.
Work got so busy that he moved himself back into the flat above the shop so he could dedicate more time to the business. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes rang in more success than ever, the entire wizarding world in need of a laugh after all of the loss they had suffered.
It was only on a cold, November day that George spotted the pamphlet posted along Diagon Alley.
Did you lose someone you love in the Second Wizarding War?
Grief can be hard, let us help at St. Mungos.
George hadn't been back to St. Mungo's in years. Yet, his feet knew exactly where to carry him as he crossed through the false department store window. The welcome witch directed him to a brightly painted room, the ceiling a window to allow in natural light. Through the window he spotted a courtyard, filled with patients and doctors enjoying a breath of fresh air. The chairs were arranged in a large circle, allowing everyone to see each-others faces. George recognized a number of people. Everyone had lost someone in the War.
"Welcome everyone, to our Grief Support Group for those who were lost in the War. Thank you for being here." A Healer in a dark blue cloak welcomed us from the head of the circle. She smiled softly and gestured around the room. "I am Healer McMartin. This is a safe space for us to share the stories of those we've lost, discuss how we are feeling about those losses, and provide support and guidance to help you move through that grief and into acceptance. You're encouraged to share, but we will support those who'd like to move through your journey more quietly."
George shifted in his seat, uncertain if he should acknowledge those he recognized, or if he should treat them with anonymity. They dove quickly into the meeting, a number of individuals introducing themselves and the people they'd lost. The door reopened, mid-introduction. A young woman, her dark skin in contrast to the bright décor, entered the room and quickly settled herself into the nearest seat she could find, as not to interrupt the person speaking.
Once they finished, the Healer stood up again and clasped their hands together. "Thank you, Franklin. Your son sounds like he was a fine young man." The Healer scanned the room, her eyes landing on the newly arrived young woman as she slid off her cloak and placed it on the back of her chair.
"Angelina" she gestured towards her. "Thank you for joining us. I remember you mentioning last week that you're starting to feel more comfortable with the idea of sharing your loss. How are you feeling?"
The name hadn't triggered George's memory. He remained focused on the tiles of the floor, doing his best to breathe and just listen to the stories of those who were brave enough to speak.
The young woman nodded and rose to her feet, clearing her throat. "Yes, uhm, thank you Healer McMartin." Her voice trembled as she began to speak. "My name is Angelina Johnson-" she started, and with that introduction, George Weasley snapped his head upwards towards the speaker.
His eyes met hers, and her voice caught in her throat. She paled, the ghost of Fred staring back at her, forgetting for a moment that her love had had an identical twin roaming around this earth, lest one ear short. His hair had grown out once more, but she could see the scars on the side of his head. This was not a ghost. This was George Weasley.
She cleared her throat and tried to find her voice once again. "My... my name is Angelina Johnson and I lost my boyfriend, Fred Weasley, at the Battle of Hogwarts." She broke eye contact with George, still feeling his eyes boring into her. "We had been together for nearly three years. We were young, but I thought he was the person I'd be with for the rest of my life..." she closed her eyes and willed herself to breath and look anywhere except for in the direction of George. "We all saw a lot of hard things that night. Ever since then, I've had a hard time sleeping. My friends keep telling me that I need to put myself back out there if I want to get over him... but I just don't think they understand."
She finally gave in and let her eyes settle back onto George. "I've been coming to these meetings for about six months, and they've definitely helped me. Thank you for allowing me to share my story." She quickly finished her story and sat back down, unable to break her eyes away from him now.
She knew he had to be grieving the memory of his brother, just as she did. She also knew that he had lost Acelynne that night as well. "Thank you for sharing, Angelina. Would anyone else like to share their story?"
Another witch stood up and began to speak, but George and Angelina couldn't hear her. They tried to pay attention, to pay respect for the other grievers, but their gaze kept coming back to one another, if not for a fleeting moment.
At the end of the meeting, Healer McMartin dismissed the group for tea and biscuits. Angelina rose from her seat and tentatively approached George, before throwing her arms around him without notice. George was not just Fred's twin. George had been one of Angelina's dearest friends all through school and on the Quidditch pitch. After the Battle, many people had grown closer, while others drifted apart in their sadness, them being the latter. The last time they had laid eyes on each other had been at Fred's funeral.
"Hey" George managed to squeeze out amidst the hug.
"George" she pulled away and smiled. "Been a long time."
George attempted to smile and shoved his hands into his cloak. "Too long." They appraised each other in silence for a moment or two. "How've you been?"
"Well... I'm here" she gestured to the room around her.
"Same."
"But I promise, it's helped me loads" she touched his forearm. He stiffened slightly at her touch instinctively. He hadn't been touched like that in a while.
"I'm glad." George was at a loss for words, his happiness in seeing Angelina clouded by the grief which constantly hung over his head.
Angelina guided him towards the refreshments table, offering up a biscuit but George refused. "How's the business going?" she continued, determined to reconnect. They had needed their space after Fred's death, but their friendship had been independent of him too.
"Better than ever." George dropped a teabag into his cup. "Have you been out here?" He referred to the courtyard, and Angelina nodded. She reached forward and opened the door into the yard, the smell of roses welcoming them.
They walked around the courtyard for a moment before finding an empty bench. "So, you've been struggling too, huh?" Angelina bit into her biscuit and starred ahead.
"Yah" George responded, taking a sip of his tea. "My family has done everything that can to help, and I think I've worked through a lot of my feelings about Fred... but I just can't seem to do the same about Ace." Her name on his lips felt familiar, despite the fact that he hadn't uttered it aloud in months.
Angelina nodded. "It's different, I suppose." George sipped his tea again, taking a moment to settle himself, threatening to fall apart again. "Fred was your brother. You two were close, connected, but you two were also different people."
"But with Ace' he started, the words catching in his throat. "Or Fred, for you. They were-"
"Apart of us." Angelina finished and placed a hand kindly on his knee. It was warm, friendly. "Ya, there's a lot of us like that in the meetings. I don't think it's something you entirely every work through. More like something you learn to live with. I haven't quite figured it out, but every time I come here, I feel like I learn a little something new."
George swallowed the rest of his tea. "That's good." He looked sideways at Angelina, her hand still on his knee. "Hopefully I learn some of that too."
"So you'll be coming back then?" she asked.
They sat in silence for a moment. "Yah" George responded, glancing back at the room with the chairs. "I think I will."
The coupling of Angelina Johnson and George Weasley made sense, in a way. At such a young age, they had experienced love in ways that most people only dreamed about experiencing. They settled into the shared grief of Fred, and the shared grief of losing a love that they themselves may not ever live up to. They didn't want to replace Fred, or Acelynne, but to honour them. They knew they were not each other's true loves, but there is other sorts of love, and in those ways, they loved each other dearly.
Angelina honoured Fred on April Fools day, taking part in George's birthday celebrations, where she herself becoming quite the prankster for those twenty-four hours.
George honoured Acelynne on Valentines day, buying as much chocolate as he could carry and handing it out to strange women along Diagon Alley.
Together they honoured their losses. They brought flowers every May 2nd to their graves and reminisced about days past as they walked around the graveyard. Their first born, their son, had been named Fred, in memory of the fallen twin. While George wanted to do the same upon the arrival of their daughter, the thought of using her name daily caused him great pain. Angelina suggested they use her middle name instead, and thus, Roxanne Weasley was crowned.
Together, they lived a life much happier and more fulfilling than they, at one point, ever thought possible for themselves. They basked in their loved for one another, the love of their children, and the love of those they had lost until their time had come to a close.
George Weasley knew he was dying. He had lived a life so satisfying, that now that the curtains were closing, he felt himself ready. His business had thrived and provided them with a much more comfortable life than he had had as a child. His children had grown into good human beings, ones with caring and a wicked sense of humour. Angelina had passed only months before, George allowing her to go in peace.
He too, wanted to go in peace. Ginny had come by to take care of him, along with Fred II and Roxanne. He did not want to go in a cold room at St. Mungos. He wanted to go in his own home, the house he built for his family. His remaining family had come by to say their goodbyes. He was ready.
When George closed his eyes for a final time, he dreamed of someone he had not seen in decades.
"George!" Acelynne cried, unable to control her glee as she threw herself at him.
George allowed himself to give into her embrace, pulling her tightly against his chest. He was still in bed where he had chosen to pass, his bones not feeling as frail as they had been "Ace" he said into her hair. She even smelt the same.
They laid like this for a moment. "You have NO IDEA how long I've been waiting for you" she whispered. Acelynne pulled her head away from his chest, and met his lips with hers.
George sat up in bed, observing the same bedroom he and Angelina had shared. Looking down at his hands, they were young again, no age-spots or wrinkles to be seen. "Is... is this it?" George asked.
Indeed, this was it. Gone was the aged, elderly, George Weasley. Forever young at heart, his shock of bright red hair replaced his silver mop. He stood up tall once more, hopping back and forth between his feet. "I haven't been able to do this in ages!" he laughed, doing a jig he thought he had long-since forgotten.
"This, my dear, is it!" Acelynne confirmed. She watched as he danced. After all of these years of watching, and waiting, her heart finally felt full. "I mean, as far as I know."
George stopped his jig. "What do you mean, as far as you know?"
"George Weasley, I've been waiting for you for nearly one hundred and fifty years." Acelynne laughed.
George continued to look at her in silence. "You mean... you didn't... you know... pass on or whatever?"
Acelynne shrugged. "Nope. I didn't want to go anywhere you weren't so... I didn't." George ran his hands through his hair, once again shocked at how soft it used to have been. "Love, really, it's fine. Watching you and Angelina and your beautiful family is all I ever could have wanted for you if I couldn't be around. Nice names, by the way. Fred and Roxanne? We were flattered."
George glanced around the room, once more. "We?"
"What, you expected me to just carry on into the great unknown without ya?" yet another sing-song laughed, this time from the doorway of the closet. George spun around, only to be greeted with the mirror image of his younger self.
"Fred?" he gasped. Fred crossed the room in three, long steps, pulling his brother into his embrace.
"Missed you, mate" Fred laughed, clapping him on the back. "I couldn't just leave Ace here alone either. Watching you two, George, it's like the best reality show on muggle tv."
George shook his head in disbelief. He took in Acelynne and Fred, neither looking a day older than the last he saw them. "Angelina passed by a few months ago, too. She's waiting for us on the other side. You've had her on loan for over a century. Do you mind if I take her back?"
George looked down at Acelynne. Not even in death would her strawberry blond hair sit neatly in place. He reached a hand forward, marvelling at how surreal it was to touch her face once more, and brushed the unruly strands away. "Yah, no worries."
"Can't get rid of me now, Weasley" Acelynne laughed, grabbing George by the hand and pulling him towards what should have been the hallway door. Instead, a glimmering, pearlescent haze greeted them.
"I guess I'm stuck with you lot then, eh?" Fred stood to his left. Acelynne to his right.
"Only for forever" Acelynne smiled and grasped his hand tighter.
George, with Fred and Acelynne at his side, took a step towards the barrier, the pieces of his soul finally mended. He was whole.
A/N: Here was have it, the ending to George and Acelynnes story. Posting this is like a massive relief, but also makes me a little sad. It took me so much time to get to this chapter. I may or may not have cried re-reading it.
So, just to clarify. I believe in preserving JK's original story, thus how this story ended. There was no way that George/Ace wouldn't have been endgame if she'd lived... So I had to kill her. I think I speak for a lot of us when I say that the George/Angelina coupling was weird to learn about at first. She was with Fred, no? At least, she was his Yule Ball date. Kinda weird, but I made the best of it. After knowing people who've lost their partners, I think that George/Angelina really did bond over their grief. I hope I represented that well.
In the end though, muggle or wizard, everyone dies. While I don't know what Wizard-God has in store, I'd like to think that George and Fred would be reunited on the other side. And if they did, so would George and Ace. So ya, the ending is sad, but its also happy. I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I did writing, and rewriting it after all these years. Thank you for your support and viewership. Without readers, Ace and George's story would never have come to life.
Until next time,
Xoxo
-Emily