Angels Brought Me Here (George Weasley)

Like I'll Never Love You Again

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
Two weeks had passed, and every night Jenny had begged George to take her to his joke shop, and every night George had found a reason to refuse.

He wasn't sure yet if he was ready for Jenny to know all he had lost. He was happy just being George to her, rather than one half of Fred and George. She was the only person who knew him as his own person, rather than the man who lost his twin brother.

But every time George said no, he didn't want to open the shop up today, he didn't have time, he didn't feel well, no matter the excuse he came up with, Jenny's face became more sad every time he refused. And the last thing he wanted to do was to push her away. Despite all of his better judgement, he just wanted to get to know her more.

And that's how George Weasley found himself stood outside the doors to his old joke shop, taking deep breaths as he attempted to put the key into the rusty lock, his hands shaking.

"Are you alright?" Jenny asked him, as she wrapped her scarf closer around her neck, trying to stave off the cold.

"I'm fine," George was lying. He was a bag of nerves, he didn't know how he would react to seeing so many reminders of his brother.

"Why are you shaking?" She asked again.

"It's cold," George reasoned, knowing she wouldn't believe him.

"Let me," She moved closer to him, taking the keys gently from his hands and, with her steady ones, managed to quickly unlock the door.

She stood back as the door blew open in the breeze, gesturing for him to enter first. But he couldn't. He was frozen to the spot, staring into the dusty shop, eyes wide and unblinking. He wasn't sure if he could muster the courage to step one foot into the shop. Knowing Fred wasn't there, that he was never again going to be there, it felt too much to handle.

"Do you want to talk about something?" Jenny spoke softly, tentatively placing a hand on his arm. Any other day, her touch would've probably sent sparks shooting through his arm, but today he was distracted, his mind with his brother.

"My brother died," George's voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

"What?" Jenny asked, stepping closer.

"My brother. My twin brother, he died," George said. 

"Oh George," Was all Jenny said.

"We started this shop together, I haven't been back since he died," George was looking down at the floor, he didn't want Jenny to see the tears that were brimming in his eyes. He felt pathetic and he felt weak.

"We don't have to, if you're not ready," She reassured, but he shook his head.

"I need to do it," George insisted. It felt as if it was now or never for him, it he couldn't find the courage to go in now, he feared he never would.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Yeah. Will you just help me?" George felt like a child, asking his Mummy for help. He didn't understand why he felt so strongly for her, how could it be that he couldn't face seeing his Mother, but he was so comfortable with Jenny that he could face going back to the joke shop? How did she make him feel so safe?

"Of course," She moved her hand down his arm, and took his large hand in hers. He was aware that he was still shaking slightly, and his hand was probably cold and clammy, but she didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't mind.

"Take your time," She whispered, and he nodded.

It took a few minutes, but he finally stepped into his shop, and he was immediately overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions. As he looked around the shop, the memories of sitting in their little bedroom as children, imagining all of the products they could make to prank people. Memories of starting at Hogwarts, pranking people on their very first day, setting the precedent for the following seven years and their whole lives afterward. Memories of growing up and perfecting their magic, working hard to invent the products they had dreamed up and testing them on themselves, and their family and friends. Memories of arguing with their mother, who was adamant that their business wouldn't be a success, who would confiscate their products as punishment. Memories of accepting the money from Harry, of working even harder and expanding their own business. Memories of purchasing the building he stood in now, of stocking the shelves and painting the walls, of the first day they opened the store, of watching thousands of people flood through the doors during its first year of business, of sitting with their mother the Christmas following the shops opening and her admitting how wrong she was and how very proud she was of her sons.

"George, this is amazing!" Jenny broke the silence, and George looked up to find the girl beaming from ear to ear, her blue eyes wide as she looked around her, full shelves of brightly coloured boxes and pranks surrounding her from floor to ceiling. Every box containing a cartoon version of Fred and George.

"Thanks," He said. The sight of her so happy, so enthralled by his hard work, it numbed the pain and anxiety he had initially felt, and it was muddled in with feelings of adoration. She made him giddy.

"How have I never been here before?" She began to walk around, taking in the sights around her.

"It wasn't open long really, only a year," George explained.

"You should really consider opening again, the world could use a laugh," Jenny looked at him, her face still holding a smile.

"I don't think I could, not without him," George shook his head.

"I don't know him, but I can't imagine he'd be very happy to see you this way," Jenny walked towards him, and George knew deep down she was right, Fred would be less than impressed to know all his hard work was collecting dust.

"He would be calling me boring," Jenny laughed at this.

"I don't think you're boring, I think you're lost. Wouldn't opening your shop give you a purpose again?" She enquired.

"You've given me purpose again," George wasn't sure what had possessed him to be so honest, but he knew that he meant it entirely.

"How so?" Jenny asked.

"Before I met you, I would either be in my bedroom asleep, or I'd be in the bar drinking. You've given me a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a reason to look after myself. Hell, you've given me a reason to wash again," Jenny laughed at this.

"Well, I'm glad I can be of service. But I do think you need something for yourself, something like a big successful joke shop, fully furnished and decorated and ready to open back up," Jenny said.

"Where on earth could I find one of those?" George smiled.

"I'm sure we can think of somewhere that fits the bill,"