Title: You've Got a Friend

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

Position: Chaser 2

Round prompt: Write a DRAMATIC story about THE WEASLEY FAMILY

Optional prompt(s):

1. (word) control

6. (word) masquerade

13. (quote) 'It's easy to make a decision if you already know what the outcome will be.' - Armin, Attack On Titan

Word count: 2,990 (On submission) - Updated: 3,500

Beta(s): DolbyDigital, NeonDomino, Rhead-a-holyc (Thankyou all! You're all celestial.)

The bustling of the Burrow's many occupants continued below as Harry knocked on her bedroom door. Ginny knew it was him because he still moved like he was a guest. There were strangers living in her home who were more at ease than Harry after six years. Harry was never easy.

Ginny was lying in one of the upper bunks in the cramped bedroom. It had once been just hers, but she now shared it with Hermione, Fleur, Luna, and Cho fucking Chang. In saying that, she and Harry were alone for the moment.

The other girls were setting up to leave downstairs; the day had come for the grand departure. People were piecing their lives back together, and the Burrow was one of several temporary sanctuaries in the meantime.

"Ginny?" Harry called through the crack he'd made in the door.

"Harry?" she replied, mimicking his tone playfully.

"Are you coming down? Ron's heading off with Hermione to help her find Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

Ginny lay there and refused to move even a muscle. She hated how normal her limbs felt, like there was nothing wrong, like things were in order. She hated that Harry was talking like that was true.

"Come in." The door creaked as he opened it a little further.

"The portkey leaves in a few minutes." He approached her.

"Then you'd better hurry." His startling green eyes came into view, level with her bunk.

"Are you—" Ginny kissed him; his nose was cold, like he'd been outside. He kissed her back, and she could tell by his breath stuttering against her cheek that he was nervous. She made Harry Potter nervous, and she couldn't even enjoy it. "Are you tired?" she asked him; he looked it.

"I was back over at Grimmauld Place reordering the books from readable to deadly. The house, it's almost ready." She chose not to respond to this.

"Hm, I'm not coming down," she whispered, looking him right in the eye. His hand reached up self-consciously and tried to flatten his erratic hair.

"Gin, please." The commotion downstairs increased, and Harry glanced to the door. Ginny turned to face the wall. Harry bit his lip. "Don't shut me out."

"I know that you saved it for us Harry, but this world is rubbish, alright? The only decent ways to pass the time are eating and wallowing." Harry chuckled softly; miraculously less nervous all of a sudden, he put a hand on her shoulder. Damn him and his moods.

"Do you want me to leave you to it then? Until your Patronus becomes a pig?" A tear slipped out unwarranted, but she was fortunate in that her face was hidden from view.

"Well, I would've taken the swan, only Chang got there first." Harry laughed again with less humour and withdrew his hand. Her back shook a little from a sob she couldn't quite swallow. There wasn't anything in her life that she could actually control, not even her own emotions.

"Funny." She attempted to cover a cry with a cough. "Why don't you tell me what you're thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I don't want to go downstairs if Fred isn't going to be there." Her chin wobbled halfway through the sentence, and she blinked out a set of fat tears. There was a pause.

"I'm so sorry."

"You'd better go."

"What can I do?" He didn't bother asking her to turn around.

"I don't know; my brother's never died before. I don't know what can help."

"George is down there." Ginny felt her stomach turn, she sat up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just that he misses you. We all do."

"He's not Fred, Harry."

"I know. I've been mistaken for a dead relative myself; it's not an error I would easily make when it comes to someone else." Ginny sniffled and reached forward to straighten her boyfriend's glasses.

"Good, now go."

When the house was almost free of the many spare occupants, Harry and Ginny remained, and they were arguing.

"Gin, please. We can't go on like this, in limbo. We have to carry on."

"I'm not built like you are, I can't just carry on. I don't want to. I want to take a holiday from being alive and wake up with my brother."

"Maybe if you just got out of the house..."

"What? It would be easier for you to look at me? To not worry about me? Well you should be worried. And if you think any amount of DIY magic is going to persuade me to move into Sirius's dump with you, you've another thing coming. I may as well stay here. At Least when my Dad built this place he knew what he was doing."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just trying to work out what your plan is since you're so secretive all the time. What are you going to do? Expelliarmus the place together?"

"I love you, I just want to to be with you. That's the plan. To actually start our lives, you know? Outside of your parent's house."

"I need my parents right now Harry, and their house. How can you not understand? This isn't the right time for me to be flying the coup, I belong here. I'm not even of age, and your so desperate for a family you want me to go and live with you? Well I won't do it Harry. Not now, not even for us."

"I can't stay here, Gin. The guilt, looking at your Mum, I can't stand it."

"Oh poor you: 'the walls are closing in on me, it's uncomfortable for me to watch you suffer,'" she twisted his words in a cool impression. "If you can't bear to watch us fall apart Harry then don't. Go, but go alone."

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was as full of life as ever. Different products fizzed and banged, filling the air with pleasant scents and making everyone laugh and smile. Everyone, that is, but the shop's sole owner: George Weasley. He stood with his sister: Ginny looked pleased at the sight, if not still far too annoyingly concerned for George's wellbeing. He tried to hide his worry for her, but he knew that he was just as transparent. He knew she was only here for him, she wouldn't have left the house otherwise.

"I told you: business is booming." A pink ball bounced off of the wall next to their heads and exploded in a shower of sparkles.

"I can see that," Ginny replied from her seat at the counter, but he still hadn't managed to iron out that crease in her brow.

"What now?"

"To be honest? I was sorting of hoping it wouldn't be running so smoothly. I wish something would happen that would make it harder for you to pretend like everything's fine." Not this again.

"Everything is fine."

"How can you say that?" Ginny admonished.

"How can you ask me that?"

"He was my brother too, George."

"He still is. He'll always be your brother, and so will I."

"Right," Ginny agreed and hugged him. He let her, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head. "So, talk to me."

"Not now." He couldn't even finish a sentence by himself. She was still so much smaller than him; she was still growing.

"I'm sorry. I'm really happy things are going well here. I just wish I could make my life keep working like you do."

"Are you kidding?" George started to wonder whether it would be appropriate to try and usher his sister out the door.

"I'm not. People still talk to you! You haven't alienated the entire wizarding world." He immediately felt bad for trying to come up with an exit strategy to escape Ginny. Ginny, whose relationship had fallen apart for the same reason his life had.

Harry had been fixing up Grimmauld Place for himself and Ginny. Now, Harry was living in Grimmauld Place alone, like some sort of bizarre stand-off; he was holding himself hostage.

Mrs. Weasley was furious and was shortsightedly giving her daughter the cold shoulder.

"You haven't done anything wrong. He's mental, trying to steal you away to live with him in London when you're not even of age," George said. "Thanks for keeping an eye on me."

She tousled his hair.

"Thanks for resisting this excellent opportunity to prank me." It was a statement, but she raised her voice at the end like she wasn't so sure. George scratched the back of his neck.

"That exploding pink ball may have temporarily turned your hair into spun sugar. I think it's temporary anyway. I haven't really tested it. I can't imagine what people would buy it for." Ginny tried not to rise to the bait. She kept her arms folded in front of her.

"Maybe, if you did, a whole box based on transfiguring parts of people into food?"

"Sausage fingers?"

"Liquorice lashes?"

"Ears of corn."

"Marshmallow breasts," Ginny mused, tapping her chin. George nodded thoughtfully.

"That's a terrible idea."

"Sausage fingers could be workable."

"My dear sweet-headed sister. If I were you, I would stay out of the rain for forty-five minutes to an hour so that my hair didn't melt off."

"Thanks for the life advice."

He hated that he relied on her. Life is lonely; you can't depend on anyone to stick around. They'd all die. Everyone except Harry, maybe; he's immortal. Still, if Ginny was going to survive, she would need more than just the very traumatised Boy-Who-Lived and her half-dead older brother to rely on.

Since she was born, Luna had lived just over the hill. For the last few weeks, she had been living in the Burrow, but he hadn't seen her there. It was his own fault for taking all of his meals in the room he shared with Ron and four others. The room George had grown up in, that he had shared, hadn't been opened since. It wasn't practical; the house was fit to burst, but it was an unspoken agreement among all of them. The door had remained closed.

George strolled over the grassy knoll of Ottery St. Catchpole and it wasn't long before the Lovegood's signature black rook appeared on the horizon; only, it had been painted white.

The door swung inward, and Luna Lovegood stood in front of him, looking soft and pink in a white wedding dress.

"My love, I was wondering when you would arrive." She sighed, swooning. He caught her, and he actually laughed. She smiled up at him, her features just visible through her delicately embroidered veil. She put her hand on his shoulder to hold her position.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"I've survived. It's been lonely without you." Her voice was as dreamy and far away as ever.

"I see; you've missed me sitting up in Gryffindor common room not talking to you all those years ago, while you sat in Ravenclaw tower not talking to me." Luna used her free hand to lift her veil and reveal her round blue eyes, framed by nearly transparent lashes.

"Not to mention all of those hours we spent alone, apart from each other, in different rooms in your house."

"Hush, what if someone were to hear?" George admonished. She snickered and pushed down on his shoulder to lift herself upright. She tugged the veil off and turned into her home.

"Why don't you come in then? Away from prying eyes." He followed her, closing the door behind him.

"Young lady, is your father home?" he asked. He noticed several boxes stacked against one round wall and the other was recently rebuilt. The plaster still hadn't been painted. Three barrels of rubble took up much of what was probably once the kitchen. There was clothing everywhere like a wardrobe had exploded, even as he watched Luna picked up a blue scarf and tied it around her waist. It was possible she was just playing dress-up.

"I'm afraid not, Master Weasley; he's gone to visit with my grandmother. We are as lonely as sin," she said. Alright, so they were flirting.

She went to remove some papers from one of the cluttered chairs. He hadn't expected the house to still be in such ill-repair. Luna had insisted that it was prepared for her return, that it was all set for her to move in. Had no one bothered to check? He took the seat she offered. She sat across from him on a couch; he realised it was dressed to double as a bed.

"You know, Luna, you could come and stay with us for a little longer if you wanted, just until things are properly fixed up here."

"No, I don't think so. I need to get used to being alone. Being surrounded by people all the time makes it harder to adjust to having no one around," she said, shrugging. George didn't know what to say to her. She shifted a little in her wide tulle skirt and then added: "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It was insensitive."

"It was?" Right, because he was the wizarding ambassador of sudden, unexpected loneliness. Just like that, he was back to being pathetic in one easy step. He had a feeling that the time for flirting had passed.

"I'm guessing you're here to talk about Ginny."

He was taken aback. "Uhm, yes. But, are you, well, expecting someone?" he asked, wondering who she might elope with.

"No. Are you worried about her agoraphobia?"

"What's that? Some kind of invisible nose parasite that stops her from leaving the house?" He snickered, and Luna smiled a small smile.

"Perhaps. I hadn't considered that."

George floundered for a moment. "I'm just a little concerned that she hasn't really been outside over summer. I can count on one hand the number of times she's walked out the front door."

Luna nodded, seeming distant. "You don't say."

"She could use a friend."

Luna leant forward, her back pin-straight with the support of the stiff, silk bodice. "Then I'll go and see her. She's terribly kind, your sister. I think she sometimes quite liked having me stay with you."

"We all... like you." Was he flirting again?

She straightened back up. "Thank you for saying that, George."

"It's the truth." His ears felt hot. Oh no.

She scooched forward in her seat and reached across to put a hand on his knee; her tangled, blonde hair slipped down off her shoulders to frame her face.

"What about you? Do you need a friend?" George wondered briefly if he was above receiving a pity shag from Luna Lovegood. He pushed her hair back off of her face, she smelt like she'd just come in from the rain although it hadn't rained in weeks.

The Burrow was unnaturally peaceful, the family was smaller, and they had all become accustomed to several dozen guests. George sat in the living room separating out the nosebleed nougat from the regular nougat. He was making sure to learn the difference by sight, he made a point to prank-proof himself against his own work. It was just his parents and Ginny now, and his Dad was always at work sorting out You-Know-Poo's mess and Molly was working part-time as Teddy Lupin's aupair.

His hand was just scraping the bottom of the barrel when Ginny stormed into the living room. Her bloodshot eyes were nearly bulging out of her head, and she was breathing audibly through her nose. He dropped the handful of sweets he had been holding.

"Are you alright?" he asked, frowning at her. She was clutching a navy roll of parchment, covered in silver ink.

"Me? I'm fine, it's not me you should be worried about. Of all the pointless, cruel things, what do you even stand to gain? Do you get a laugh from beating a dead hippogriff?"

"Is this about the letter I sent to Harry?" Ginny's mouth snapped shut abruptly, and George tried to backpedal rapidly. "Because I had absolutely no part in that."

Ginny paused pointedly and then spoke, "Look, George, I know you're grieving. We're all grieving, alright? And I can tolerate all the boxes of rubbish you're hoarding around the house, and the blankets on the mirrors—"

"—It's an old Irish tradition," he interrupted, but she raised a hand to silence his flimsy excuse.

"I know, you've said. Anyway, that's manageable. So help me, I can even tolerate the denial and the bloody letters to Harry you're all 'not sending' so diligently. Send him all the letters you want by the way, he's practically your brother. I mean, what's going on between me and him shouldn't factor into what goes on between the rest of you, although I would prefer if you didn't discuss me in your letters to him, I'm sure he asks. Does he ask? Has he been asking?"

"I haven't been in touch, but if you want to floo Ronnie I'm sure he would—"

"—Nevermind that. Stop trying to change the subject! Harry's beside the point. I've come to ask you about something I cannot tolerate, and that's dragging other people down with you."

"What?" George asked, half-laughing as though she had accused him of kissing Percy in an attempt to brush off the almost accusation, but the easy lightness failed him. Their once flawless masquerade of laughs and winks so often did these days. He eyed the swirling silver penmanship on the letter Ginny carried.

"Have you been carrying on with Luna Lovegood?" Ginny asked, hardening her gaze in a dead-on impression of their mother.

"Carrying on?" Oh no.

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, carrying on, so help me did you have sex with Luna?"

He hesitated for a beat too long. "What? No!"

"George!" Merlin.

"I didn't… actually have sex with her. I mean we pretty much did everything short of it but—"

"—Ugh! I don't want to know! Haven't we all been through enough without adding to it with this sort of thoughtlessness? Luna is a good person." She was. It had been sort of perfect.

"Hey, lay-off, it's not like I'm taking advantage."

"It's exactly like that, George; she's not like you."

"No one bloody is Ginevra! I get it; most people don't get to be accustomed to built-in backup but I can't help it, alright? Luna gets it. She's lonely; I'm lonely. She gets it. I didn't take advantage."

"Is that what this is about?"

"That's all any of this has been about!" For fuck sake, he was going to cry. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Anyway, it takes one to know one doesn't it? I may have mishandled things with Luna a bit, but you're hiding from Harry! He's family." George stood up and his younger sister held her ground.

"That's not fair!" Ginny cried, her eyes were watering now. It had probably occurred to her that she had alienated the one person left on her side, but she soldiered on. "Luna is D.A.; she was there in May, fighting alongside the rest of us. Harry wants me to just leave you here by yourself; all you had to do for Luna was be a fucking friend!"

"Don't put this on me. Don't pretend you're squirrelling yourself away in your room for my sake. What's going on between you and Harry is on you. You're not ready to commit to the boy, and you're ruining him," he retorted.

"I'm sixteen!"

"Well, I'm twenty; the same age as Fred, except unlike him, I have to grow up! Which means you do as well! So, there you go, grow up, Ginevra!" He pulled the end of his shirt up to wipe at his eyes, wishing he'd worn something with longer sleeves.

"You said his name. Now? After all this time? To win an argument?!"

"He's not Voldemort, I'm allowed to say his name—Fred's name."

They both stood there, their pale skin red and blotchy, their ears practically purple. Crying.

"What are we going t-to do?" Ginny asked. She swiped at her tears with her hand, smearing silver ink onto her cheek. George scoffed and closed the space between them. He pulled her into a tight hug.

"It's fine; it'll be fine. It doesn't matter what we do, we can't change it. We don't have to decide anything, it's done." Ginny shook her head against his chest. She was tugging at the back of his shirt. He sniffled and gulped around his tears. He couldn't cry; he hadn't the time. How would he stop?

"We're still here. We can still do things. The right things, like good people," she sniffed, her words muffled in his shoulder.

"Mmmm," he breathed around a hiccup. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try."

"We'll try. I'm sorry too."

That evening, Ginny wrote a letter to Harry, and George made his way over the hill and across the grassy knoll once again.