Summary: What would happen if Harry hadn't lost the Resurrection Stone?
Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: Sorry! I know, I said Chapter 4 was the last one . . . but I had a review that said it didn't seem finished. Originally, I had five chapters planned, so I understand. Here's the real last chapter.
"Sit down, dear, sit down," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly. George grinned and went to sit at the table. His mother wiped at her eyes for a moment before saying, "Are you hungry?"
"Starving," said George truthfully.
"I expect you are . . . there's been so much food here, though, it's hard to believe." She hurried to the cupboard and pulled out three bowls of leftovers, and set them on the table. "We just had dinner, dear, a few minutes ago." She heated the food up with her wand and got him some silverware.
"Who's still here?" George asked as he started to eat.
"Charlie went back to the dragons, and Hermione has gone home with her parents. Harry's still here—and Bill and Fleur and Percy," she said, rather more quickly than normal.
George nodded. "So Hermione's parents are okay?"
"I suppose—she, Ron, and your father went to get them today. Your father said the enchantment was easy enough for Hermione to lift, so she didn't come back here with them." George noticed his mother wouldn't look him in the eye—I'm just too much like Fred, he thought.
"How's everyone else doing?" he asked, after a moment's pause. He noticed that his father and Percy had not resumed talking, and wondered if they were listening.
"As—as good as we could hope, I suppose. G-Ginny's been in her room for a few hours now. . . . She didn't come down to dinner."
George's fork stopped half-way to his mouth. "Why not?"
"I'm not sure, dear. I think . . . she and Harry might have had a fight, you know. I heard her yelling at him earlier, and I haven't seen her since. And he wouldn't tell me what happened." Her eyes filled with tears again and she pursed her lips. And then George realized why—for a few hours, two of her children had been locked in their rooms, unwilling to talk to her or anyone else. He felt a surge of remorse about what he had put her through. He looked down and continued to eat.
A few minutes passed in silence, and then Mr. Weasley walked into the kitchen.
"Hi George," he said softly. He sat down across the table.
"Hi Dad," George replied.
"Feeling better, son?"
"A little bit."
Mr. Weasley paused, and then rather bluntly said, "If you want to talk, you know we'll listen, don't you? We're all here for you—Mum and me, and your brothers and sister."
"I know," George said, but he didn't want to talk about Fred—at least, not to his parents. More than anything, he longed to talk to Ginny. The want to see her had been growing ever since he and Fred had talked about her earlier in the day, and now that he knew she wasn't leaving her room, the want had become a need. His baby sister was hurting . . . and the least he could do was go to her, see her, convince her that Fred was okay. But how to do that, he did not know; he still had the Resurrection Stone, but as soon as that idea came to him, he realized it would not work. It had been so hard to let go of the Stone the first time—knowing that Fred came back again, even if George didn't see him, would be too much to handle.
"Dad, have you talked to Ginny since she's been in her room?" George asked.
"No, I'm afraid not," his father said. "Bill asked her to come to dinner, but she refused."
"What a shock. You know, Bill has a lot of tact when it comes to things like that," George said sarcastically.
"He only wants to help—"
But Mr. Weasley was interrupted by the appearance of Harry and Ron entering the kitchen from the garden. Ron, like Percy and his father before him, looked shocked; Harry smiled.
George made up his mind instantly. He stood up. "Harry—a moment?" he asked.
Harry nodded and, without another word, George lead him out into the hall.
They stood in silence for a moment before Harry quietly said, "I'm proud of you. You came out of your room."
"It was easy, after"—he hesitated—"talking." George was careful not to mention Fred—he couldn't be sure that no one could hear them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small stone. He looked at it longingly, knowing he could not keep it.
"I was worried you wouldn't be able to let go," Harry said.
George looked up. Harry was smiling gently. George shook his head as he held out the stone. Harry took it.
"I'll never be able to let go."
George knocked on the door.
"Go away." Ginny's voice was muffled and George smirked—the response was rude but, after all, he had said it to her very recently as well.
"Don't take that tone of voice with me," he said.
A loud thud resounded inside the room, followed by hurried foot-steps, and then the door flew open. Ginny's face showed the customary shock. He raised an eye-brow.
"Expecting someone else?"
She let out a low sigh. "George . . ."
"Good. I was worried you might have forgotten about me."
She didn't smile. Her mouth worked for a few seconds before she said, "You came out of your room."
"Yes. Now it's your turn."
She blinked and then stepped aside. He walked in, sat on her bed, and she closed the door.
"Are you . . . feeling better?" she asked.
"Yes," he said truthfully. "A lot better. All I needed was . . . some time, I guess. A break." She didn't look quite convinced. He smiled. "You are so beautiful."
Her eyes filled with tears and a second later, he realized why. Fred, not George, had always dished out the compliments to her. He took a deep breath.
"Someone has to say it now, right?" he said softly.
She grinned reluctantly. "Harry could—"
"Harry isn't going to be saying things like that to you for a long time, understand? Only brothers and husbands can do that."
She laughed tearfully.
"So, you've taken my example? Locked yourself in here?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Not really. I just . . . everyone's been so depressed and moody." She crossed her arms and kicked at the floor. "And I was worried about you."
"I'm okay. And anyway . . . I don't think Fred would like the idea of you or me shutting ourselves away from the rest of the family, you know? He would hate that."
"Yeah, you're right. I miss Fred," she said, and she looked George in the eye, "but I'm in here because of you, not him."
He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Well . . . he's gone. There's no way to bring him back"—George forced himself to keep eye contact—"and that makes me very sad, but . . . you. Knowing what you were going through hurt me more than the thought of Fred being gone. It's like, there's nothing we can do for him, but you were pushing yourself away."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, after a pause. "I didn't mean to hurt you, or anyone else. I just couldn't be around people—even siblings—for a while. Especially you. He loved you so much, so much, I'd bet that wherever he is now, he thinks about you constantly." Ginny covered her mouth and turned away. "And next to me, you act the most like him. Being with you just makes me think about him even more than I do without you, and that's really saying something." George took a deep breath, and stood up. He walked to her, turned her around, and took her in his arms.
She buried her face in his shoulder, and though he could feel her tears wetting his shirt, her body didn't shake.
After about a minute, she pulled away and looked at him. She smiled through her tears, and he knew she felt better, too.
"So, ready to rejoin the family?" he asked.
"If you are," she said.
He kept an arm around her and steered her out the door. They walked down the stairs together, back into the lives of the people they loved and they were ready to face the world.
A/N: Hope you liked it! Also, I'm a little worried, so please tell me what you think: was it obvious anywhere in the story that I hate Ginny? I tried to hide it. . . .