Learn to Love Again | George Weasley

62. Closure

On Sunday morning, George awoke filled with apprehension. In a few hours, Angelina would be arriving to help him clean out Fred's bedroom. Part of him wanted to write to her to cancel. They could tackle it another day. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd get cold feet and not come over at all.

It was just much easier to pretend as if the room didn't exist.

It was only when Eloise told him as he was getting dressed that she'd be leaving soon that the dread began to sink in. She had no qualms with leaving the flat early that morning, she understood completely that this was something he needed to handle without her. But George still felt that the very second she left, he wouldn't be able to balance his anxiety and grief any longer.

As George buttoned up his flannel shirt, Eloise bid her farewell. The promises of her return later in the evening were drowned out by the worried thoughts going through his head.

The two shared a brief kiss and a lingering touch as Eloise's cupped the side of his face. The furrow in her brow as she gazed at him expressed all of the concern in her mind and George smiled at her half-heartedly.

"I'm okay, promise." he assured her as he laid is hands over hers, leaning into her touch.

Eloise remained silent as her eyes scanned his own, looking for the truth his lips refused to tell. She could tell he was feeling uneasy and her caring heart urged her to stay by his side at least until Angelina arrived. However, he soon convinced her that he would be okay and she finally left in a flash of green flames after one more kiss.

Now, George was sat alone at the kitchen table, occasionally peering at the fireplace in the living room counting the minutes until Angelina appeared within the hearth. The tea in the mug before him had grown cold, long since forgotten as the gravity of George's decision to clear out Fred's room finally weighed down on him.

That door had remained closed since he moved back in two months after his twin's death. He and Charlie lived as if the room didn't exist at all, as though the purple door was merely a decoration, a trick door that never opened and never led anywhere.

As easy it would be to simply go about each day ignoring the room, George didn't want to live a life of trying to forget anymore. Avoiding thoughts of Fred had gotten him nowhere over the last two years. All it did was cause more problems. He felt as though he had gone through every stage of grief six times over. Every stage, that is, except acceptance.

He hoped that finally going through his brother's belongings with Angelina would help make acceptance seem a bit more attainable. She was the only person, perhaps other than Ginny, who George felt comfortable enough with to do this particular task.

With her, he would be understood. Angelina was a no nonsense kind of woman, much like his sister. No matter what inevitable emotions George would unleash, she would never give him a canned response about time healing all wounds and grief growing smaller over the years.

Angelina was always a stickler for arriving on time, especially when she was Quidditch captain in their seventh year. So, when she arrived the very second the clock struck nine, George wasn't surprised at all.

The green flames flickered in his fireplace and faded away to reveal a woman who somehow looked both optimistic and mournful.

George offered her a cup of tea as she dropped her bag on the couch and she accepted. The two of them caught up on the happenings over the last few weeks they had been apart.

He politely asked how the remainder of her Quidditch season went, as if he hadn't already seen the results printed in The Daily Prophet. Even though he could tell she knew he was already aware of the outcomes, she went into great details about the matches.