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In the weeks following the final battle and Fred’s death, things were very heavy at The Burrow. And also quite tense. No one was quite sure what they were supposed to be doing, or when they were supposed to go back to their normal lives. This was further complicated by the fact that the last three years of their lives had been consumed by the war. There really was no “normal” to return to.
Bill and Percy took over planning the memorial service and kept themselves busy with that. Once the service came and went, they seemed itching for something else to do. Thankfully, in a home like the Burrow, there were always projects popping up, needing to be tackled. Charlie threw himself into restoring Hogwarts, apparating to Hogsmeade every morning and walking up to the school. The first few days he did not return home until well after dinner, but Bill convinced him to make sure to be home at least in time for dinner, because his absence upset their mum. From that day on he made sure to never miss dinner again. His mum had enough to be upset about, he definitely did not want to contribute to her heartbreak.
Ron and Harry were constantly helping out and cleaning up around the house, which was highly out of character for Ron. His brothers suspect that Hermione had a part in that. She, Fleur, and Ginny had been baking a lot, mending and developing their relationships along the way. Between their baking and Molly’s cooking, there was no shortage of food. Ron, Harry, and Arthur almost always were found with some baked good or another in their hands. Charlie had been bringing platters to Hogwarts for the other volunteers.
George was absolutely shut down. He only came downstairs for food, eating quickly before going back upstairs. His family was trying to balance giving him space and making sure he wasn’t alone. At any given time, it was very likely for someone to be standing on the landing outside the twins’ room, wanting to knock but hesitating.
-----
One morning, George had actually beaten Charlie downstairs for breakfast. Charlie usually snuck out before anyone else woke up.
“Let’s play quidditch. I’ll be keeper. Once the rest of them wake up, I mean,” George said. Charlie gaped at him. That was the most words he’d heard George say since the battle.
“Umm. Yeah. Great idea, Georgie!” Charlie said after a beat, pouring himself some tea that George must have just made, as it was very hot. “They can get on without me at the school for a day.”
Charlie and George drank their tea and chatted far more lightly than felt natural or comfortable. Charlie noticed that there was almost a manic energy around George that morning, and he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. When Bill and Fleur came downstairs he was relieved, no longer needing to keep the conversation going on his own.
“Morning, Bill. Morning, Fleur. Georgie here wants to play quidditch this morning.” Bill exchanged a look with Charlie, who shrugged. “He’ll be keeper, and I’ll obviously play seeker.”
Bill and George started chatting back and forth while Fleur put on more tea. Charlie took this opportunity to excuse himself. He was drained just from the small conversation with George. At the school, he only had to worry about exchanging a few pleasantries. At dinners he could count on his siblings to carry the conversation and fill the silences. The conversation that morning had been the longest conversation he’d had since the battle. He grabbed a book and went to sit on the sofa.
About an hour later, they were opening the broom shed and grabbing brooms. Charlie fell comfortably into the role of captain and began assigning teams and positions. The beaters bats were significantly left in the corner of the shed and the bludgers were left contained in the box. No one commented.
Fleur, Hermione, and Percy sat out the game, sitting instead on the fence and chatting. Percy was still getting to know Fleur, as he’d only recently reconciled with the family. Above their heads, Bill, Harry, and Ginny took on Charlie, George, and Ron.
They played for a while, laughing for what felt like the first time in forever. Things took a turn, however, when Ginny nearly knocked George off his broom with the Quaffle, causing Charlie to laugh. “Careful, Gin! Mum won’t be happy if she has to play medi-witch after this.” He flew over to George. “You alright there, Georgie?” he asked, offering his arm to pull George up, which he refused.
George had righted himself on his broom. “I’ve got it under control, Charlie. Don’t need you protecting me.” His jovial mood from before had completely shifted, a dark cloud coming over him.
Charlie furrowed his brow, unsure how to respond. He decided to try to keep it light. “It’s my job as your brother, George. I’m required by law to keep you safe. And tease you while doing so.”
“Fuck you, Charlie,” George said, flying down until his feet hit the ground. Charlie followed him.
“What is your problem, George?” he said, approaching his brother. George tossed his broom on the ground.
“What do you think, Charlie? Maybe the fact that you’re trying to protect me from a bloody quaffle but you couldn’t be bothered to protect Fred. Or the fact that you’re carrying on like nothing happened. Fred died. And you don’t care.”
“What the hell do you mean? Of course I care, George.” Charlie had thrown his broom onto the ground as well.
“Bullshit! You didn’t even cry at his funeral. I’ve seen you more upset over a dead rabbit.”
“What the fuck, George? Are you saying I’m not sad that Fred died? That I’m not upset? Are you stupid?”
“You should have been there, Charlie! You couldn’t even be bothered to leave Romania on time even when your entire family was marching into battle. I’m surprised you’re still here, honestly. I thought you’d fuck off back to your dragons as soon as we buried him. Just as well that you did, honestly. I’m sure they don’t need you at Hogwarts and we don’t need you here, either.”
George picked up the fallen quaffle and threw it at Charlie, who barely caught it before it caught him in the face. Charlie threw the quaffle into the ground and took a few steps towards George. George quickly shouldered past Charlie and Bill, who had stepped up in case it came to blows. The rest of the group had already started wandering to the garden with anxious looks over their shoulders, wanting to give George and Charlie space. Once George had made it a little up the lane, Bill turned to Charlie, who hadn’t moved.
“You okay?” he asked, trying to catch Charlie’s gaze. Charlie didn’t respond, apart from taking a heaving breath. He was chewing on his fingers and refusing to look at Bill. “Let’s go inside. Get something to eat. It’s nearly lunchtime.” He put his hand on Charlie’s arm to encourage him to walk with him. He didn’t like Charlie’s silence. Between that, the refusal to look at him, and the chewing on his fingers, Bill knew a storm was coming. He could easily recognize the signs, after 25 years of being Charlie’s big brother.
Charlie jerked away from his hand and walked towards the house. Bill shook his head and followed, jogging slightly to catch up. He wanted to be there to run interference between Charlie and anyone that was in the kitchen when he walked in.
Bill saw his mother in the kitchen window. When Charlie, closely followed by Bill, entered the kitchen, she smiled. “There you all are. I was wondering when you might be getting hungry. Good game?” she asked, glancing at her sons. Her smile faded when she saw Charlie’s face. Bill shook his head and Charlie brushed past her and climbed the stairs, two at a time.
“What on earth happened, Bill? Where is everyone else?” Molly asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
“They’re in the garden. Well, not George. He had a bit of a moment and started walking up the road towards the village. He and Charlie got into it.”
“Got into it? What about? He seemed so much better this morning.”
“I’m honestly not sure what started it. By the time I got there, George was accusing Charlie of not caring about Fred because he didn’t cry at the funeral. He said Charlie was more upset about dead rabbits than about his brother. Basically told him that he should have been there and that no one needs him here now.”
There was a loud thump upstairs. “Charlie didn’t take that well, I would gather.”
Bill nodded. “Definitely not. Probably heading into a meltdown.” Another thud, followed by a crash, sounded upstairs. “I’ll go check on him.”
Bill nodded. “Definitely not. I think it’s going to be a storm, mum.” Another thud, followed by a crash, sounded upstairs. “I’ll go check on him.” They’d been calling these times storms for as long as Bill could remember. Referring to them as tantrums didn’t seem accurate, because it was an entirely different experience from tantrums thrown over not getting the lolly you want or having to go to bed before you feel tired. Tantrum never really encompassed what Charlie went through. Not to say that he didn’t ever tantrum over lollies and bedtime as a kid, because he definitely did. These were just different. Like a pot boiling over.
Molly nodded sadly. “Let me know if you need anything. Your father had to go into work for a little bit today. He should be home shortly.”
Bill climbed the stairs towards the room Charlie was sharing with Percy. Bill and Fleur had been staying in his and Charlie’s childhood bedroom, leaving Charlie to bunk with Percy. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Charlie. It’s just me. I heard a crash.” He looked around the room. It hadn’t taken Charlie long to completely destroy the room. Percy would have a conniption if he saw it right now. Especially his books that were strewn on the floor. Charlie had cleared every surface in the room.
Charlie had tears rolling down his face, eyes red. He turned away from Bill, shoulders tense. Without warning, he swung out and put his fist through the wall, yelling loudly enough he was sure they’d hear him from the yard. “Charlie,” Bill said, sighing. He sat down heavily on Charlie’s camp bed. He watched as Charlie paced, squeezing his head between his hands. Bill knew that Charlie had to work through this, and that trying to stop him would only make things worse. He did step in, however, when Charlie made to punch the window, by grabbing his arm.
Charlie tried to pull away from Bill. He tripped over a book and fell, though. Rather than get back up, Charlie curled up in a ball and yelled. No matter how many times he’d watched Charlie melt down like this, it never got easier. It broke Bill’s heart to see Charlie get to this point, when he was unable to speak and just imploded in on himself under the weight of whatever had brought him to this point. He hated seeing him hurt himself. He sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed, watching his little brother, ready to step in to stop him from getting hurt. He didn’t have to wait long before he had to intervene. Charlie had started pounding on his head with his fists and then raised his head only to slam it into the floor a few times.
He’d begun to hit his head hard enough that Bill had no choice but to step in again, placing his hands between Charlie’s head and the floor. He looked down and saw that Charlie had blood trickling down the side of his head, having cut it on something.
Decades of experience had taught Bill that touching Charlie in these moments almost always backfired, so he resisted the overwhelming urge to pull him off the floor and into his arms. He simply sat there while Charlie cried, head resting on Bill’s hand. As long as Charlie wasn’t actively hurting himself, they would just sit here.
After a few moments, Charlie sat up, pushing away from his brother. He got shakily to his feet while Bill waited cautiously, unsure if Charlie was calm, or if this was the eye of the storm. Unfortunately it turned out to simply be the eye of the storm, and Charlie once again punched the wall. This time he threw his head into the wall as well, leaving a lump on his forehead to match the one on the back of his head.
Bill took his chances and grabbed his brother from behind, arms wrapping around his chest. He pulled Charlie away from the wall and to his surprise, Charlie did not fight. They’d been in this exact position before, and Bill ended up with a split lip that time after Charlie’s head collided with it. Bill backed up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Charlie was taking heaving breaths, still allowing his brother to hold him. Bill tested the waters by moving his hands to Charlie’s shoulders and starting to turn him around. Finding no resistance, he kept going until Charlie was facing him, pulling him into a tight hug. Charlie pressed his head into Bill’s shoulder, continuing to breathe heavily. Bill could feel hot tears soaking into his sweater.
“You’re okay, Charlie,” Bill said, finally breaking the silence. “It’s alright.”
At Bill’s words, Charlie began to sob. Bill winced when Charlie's fingers dug painfully into his back but did not move. He just held Charlie tighter, rubbing his back in hopes of delivering some comfort.
Unknown to Bill or Charlie, Molly had come up the stairs when she heard the continued crashing sounds. She knew that Bill had things well in hand and hovered right outside the door.
After a few minutes of relative silence, Molly pushed the door open slowly. She spared a quick glance at the holes in the wall and Percy’s belongings on the floor, but was focused on her sons.
Bill gave her a small smile, though his eyes were wet with unshed tears. Charlie seemed to sense her presence, his face not leaving the crook of Bill’s neck. He sighed shakily before shoving away from Bill and sitting heavily on the floor against the bed, burying his face in his hands.
“Oh, Charlie,” Molly said, kneeling stiffly on the floor. “Sweetheart, you’re okay. It’s okay.”
He didn’t answer, but leaned his head against the edge of the mattress and looked at her. He had dried blood on the side of his head that had dropped onto his cheek, as well as a visible lump on his forehead. Molly resisted the urge to immediately start fixing him up, knowing it was best to wait a bit.
Downstairs, the door opened and shut. “That’ll be your father, Bill. Could you head downstairs and catch him up to speed? I’d like for him to track down Georgie if he’s not back already. And could you also fetch a calming draught?” Bill nodded and headed to the door and down the stairs.
Charlie had not moved, though he continued to cry, tears streaming down his face. He was chewing on his fingers though not hard enough to cause damage.
“Oh, Charlie,” she repeated, scooting closer to him. She was close enough to pull him into a hug but resisted. Instead, she put her hand on his knee, rubbing small circles with her thumb.
She heard steps outside and Arthur entered the room, a small vial and cup of tea in his hands. “Bill volunteered to track down George,” he updated his wife, handing her the vial and setting the tea on the nightstand. He looked sadly at his second eldest, who had stopped crying but was still taking heaving breaths.
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed where Bill had sat earlier. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. “I brought you some tea if you’d like it.”
Charlie glanced up at his father before leaning forward again to rest his head against Arthur’s leg. Arthur reached down and ran his hand through Charlie’s hair, stopping immediately when he brushed against one of the forming knots and making Charlie hiss in pain. “Sorry, son.”
“Charlie, I’d like you to take this calming draught and try to get some sleep,” Molly said, demanding without demanding. She was great at that. She handed Charlie the vial and he took it with a shaking hand, drinking it immediately.
She took the bottle back, and unable to stop herself, quickly wiped some tears off his cheek. He allowed this, and Molly smiled sadly at him. The draught was quite strong and within moments she could see his eyelids getting heavy. His breathing slowed down and his head started to loll forward.
“I forgot how quickly that works. Let’s get you into bed, dear, so I can get you fixed up. I’m sure your head is hurting,” Molly said, standing up. “Why don’t you rest in Ginny’s room, Charlie. She won’t mind, I’m sure. That way I can get this room sorted without disturbing you.” She walked out the door to fetch her healing salves, Charlie turning his head to watch her go.
-----
Rather than send his father to look for George, Bill chose to take off after his wayward brother. He needed some space, some time to decompress and come down from the adrenaline rush of what he’d gone through with Charlie. He took off down the road at a quick pace, focusing on his breathing and timing his breaths with his steps.
He’d wanted to bring Fleur with him on this adventure, but she encouraged him to talk to his brother alone. He understood her reluctance to involve herself with this. She’d been coping with the tension and grief that encompassed the Burrow, but it was getting to be too much. She and Bill had decided to let Molly know they’d be heading back to Shell Cottage in a few days. They needed some time to themselves. They had hardly had any time alone since their wedding. After the attack at their wedding, and with Shell Cottage being a safe house, time alone had been limited. They hadn’t yet had a proper honeymoon.
He rounded a corner and saw his brother sitting on a fallen log a little ways off the road. Bill took a deep breath before approaching him, hands in his pockets. George glanced up at him before looking back down at the dirt by his shoes. Bill sat down next to his little brother. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I know this is an idiotic question, but are you alright, Georgie?” Bill asked, looking at George. He noticed that George’s knuckles were bruised and bleeding. He had been taking some of his anger out on one of the trees, it seemed.
George huffed derisively. “You’re joking, right?”
Bill didn’t say anything, hoping George would keep talking.
After another few minutes of silence, George spoke again. “I’m not alright. Thanks for asking. I’m honestly not sure if I can ever be alright again.” More silence. “I can’t even look in the bloody mirror, Bill. Not without him looking right back at me.”
Bill nodded, putting a hand on George’s knee. “I’m so sorry George. If I could bring him back, you know I would in a heartbeat. I am so sorry he’s gone. It’s not fair, and you have every right to be upset.” He almost added that taking things out on others wasn’t helpful, until he realized that saying that would be even less helpful at the moment. He chose to remain silent.
George started to sniff, his breathing starting to get shaky. “It hurts, Bill. Like I’ve been cut in half. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep.” He started to cry, sobbing when Bill wrapped his arms around him.
Bill held him for a while, rubbing his back, letting him cry. Bill hadn’t seen George cry like this since they were in the Great Hall after the battle. He found that he was crying as well, tears falling into George’s hair.
They sat like that for a while, and eventually George pulled away from Bill. “I don’t know what to do, Bill. I feel so lost.”
“We are all sort of lost right now, though I know we are only feeling a portion of what you are. We will never be able to truly understand how you are feeling,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “We don’t know how to help. I don’t have any clue how to help you right now, Georgie. I’m doing my best, and while I can’t speak for the rest of them, I’m sure they’re doing their best as well.”
“I know.”
“We are all grieving in our own way, just like we’re all trying to help you in our own way. And there will be times we get it wrong or we make things worse. It’s just part of this. But I promise every single one of us is grieving and mourning Fred right now.”
“I know.”
Bill took another deep breath. “Even Charlie.”
“I know.”
“Do you really believe that Charlie didn’t care that Fred died? That he’s not sad he’s gone?” He didn’t mean for this to be aggressive. He genuinely wondered.
“No, I don’t know why I said that to him. Everything just felt so heavy all of a sudden and I felt so angry. I didn’t mean to take it out on Charlie. He just pissed me off laughing at me like that.”
“I understand. And you’re more than entitled to your emotions and you can grieve however you need to. But you said some really hurtful things to Charlie. You’ve known Charlie your whole life. Not as long as I have, but still a long time. You know he processes things differently than you or I do.”
George sighed.
“This isn’t a lecture George. I just wanted to remind you that just because Charlie doesn’t express his feelings like you do, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any. And you hurt his pretty badly.”
“Was he pretty upset, then? After I left?”
Bill wasn’t sure if he should be honest with George about what happened after he left. He didn’t want George to feel guilty. But he did think it was important for George to know what an impact his words can have.
“He was. It was pretty rocky, but he’s okay now. He’ll have a headache I imagine but no real harm done.”
George closed his eyes. He’d seen Charlie meltdown like that just a handful of times but he knew exactly what Bill meant when he mentioned the headache, knowing Charlie had been hurting himself. “Shit.”
“It’s all over now. And everyone is really worried about you. You’ve been down here a while.” George nodded. “Think you’re ready to head home?” Another nod.
They stood and started back down the road. George kicked a rock as hard as he could. “Do you think I should apologize?”
Bill thought for a minute. “No. What’s done is done. We all just need to have a little grace with each other. This is a new thing for all of us, and we’re going to fuck up sometimes. We need to make sure we have empathy for each other.”
George walked quietly fie another few yards. “Charlie’s best friend died that night too. I keep forgetting that.”
“Yeah. Me too, honestly. I got so used to knowing her as an auror and member of the order that I forgot about their years in school together. She was his first friend, and only friend for quite some time,” bill said. “Gosh they were annoying together.”
George laughed. “I thought he was going to hit me, you know. After I chucked the quaffle at his face.”
Bill snorted. “So did I. That’s why I’d rushed forward. I'm glad I didn’t have to break up a fist fight.” They were about a hundred yards from the Burrow now. “I love you, George. We all do.”
“I know. And I love you too.”
-----
“Alright. Up you get,” Arthur said softly. He stood and reached his arm down. Charlie grabbed his arm and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Charlie was able to keep his feet under him, just barely. “Feeling a little wobbly?” he asked, smiling when his son took a shaky step. Charlie nodded. Arthur helped him out the door and down a few steps to reach Ginny’s room.
Charlie sat heavily on the side of the bed before leaning back onto the pillows, wincing and reaching a hand to his head when it hit the pillow. He rolled onto his side, trying to find a position where his head wouldn’t hurt.
Arthur left the room, returning shortly after with the tea that had been left in Percy’s room. He set it on the bedside table. Molly came bustling back into the room, and Arthur dismissed himself.
Molly sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Charlie. He looked ready to fall asleep, but of all her children, Charlie’s ability to fight sleep was the most impressive, even as an adult. Once Charlie was asleep though, he was dead to the world.
She could hear Arthur greet the rest of the family downstairs. They must have finally gotten up the courage to come in from the garden. She wondered with a pang whether George had come back, but turned her focus to Charlie.
Molly stroked some of Charlie’s hair out of his face, tutting when he pulled away. “Either you let me look at your head or you go to St. Mungos.” This was an ultimatum they’d had to use many times when Charlie was growing up. Charlie relented and allowed her to inspect his head. He must have caught it on a sharp edge of some item he’d thrown on the floor, because there was a neat little cut near his temple. She grabbed the cloth she brought up and began to clean the blood off his face. Magic would have made it faster, but doing it the muggle way allowed her to be more gentle.
Even with as gentle as she was being, he still flinched, especially when she put the salve on. “I know, I know. It stings. I’m sorry,” she soothed. She did use magic to close up the wound, sure now that it was clean.
That done, she began to inspect the rest of his head, looking for bumps or bruises. She started at the front, carefully avoiding the lump on his forehead and worked her hands gently around to the back of his head, wincing along with Charlie when she found the bump back there. She moved his hair as well as she could and was relieved to find the skin hadn’t broken back there. The knot, however, was huge and had to have been sore. When she brushed over the bump, Charlie hissed and squirmed uncomfortably. “That’s going to be quite tender, I’m afraid. Not much to be done for it.” She applied a bruise healing salve, soothing him when he flinched, grunting in pain.
After a meltdown like the one he’d just had, his pain threshold was nonexistent. Any other time, his tolerance for pain was almost alarming. He’d broken his wrist badly in the orchard when he was eight and continued to play the rest of the evening, neglecting to tell anyone he was hurt. She also knew he was notorious on the reserve for taking a bad burn but finishing his shift anyways. “Sorry, Charlie. There. All done. Why don’t you get some sleep? I'll have Bill bring up a plate of food for you. Just to tide you over until supper, which won’t be for another few hours.”
“I’m sorry.” Molly turned to see that Charlie was crying again. These were the first words he’d spoken since he had come in from the yard. They often were the first things he said after a storm. As awful as it was watching him hurt himself, it was almost harder to watch him wrestle with the shame and guilt afterwards.
“Sweetheart, why are you sorry? Everything is fine. Everyone is okay.”
Charlie nodded but still looked miserable. Molly sighed. She hated how broken he was after he lost control. She sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to stay with you. Is that okay?” Charlie nodded. Molly pulled the blanket up and rubbed Charlie’s shoulder. She fussed over him for another few minutes before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.
-----
Molly started standing up when she heard the door downstairs open. She hoped it was Bill and George coming back. She closed the door softly behind her before heading down the steps.
She was relieved when she saw George sitting at the table. She could tell he was feeling uncomfortable, maybe a little sheepish. His shoulders were sitting up higher than usual, like he was trying to take up less space. She hoped that Bill wasn’t too harsh with him. He’d definitely crossed a line with Charlie, but she knew that grief makes a person act in ways out of their control. She knew that better than most.
Sitting at the table with George were Arthur, Ginny, Harry, and Percy. Hermione and Ron were playing wizards chess in the sitting room. “Where are Bill and Fleur?” Molly asked.
“They went for a walk,” answered Percy. “They said they’d be back for dinner.” Molly felt a pang of sadness. She knew that they were likely discussing the best way to break it to her that they’d be heading to Shell Cottage soon. While the reason for everyone being under the same roof again was not a happy one, it had been nice to be together for these few weeks.
Everyone settled into a somewhat uncomfortable silence for a while. Molly busied herself in the kitchen, not really accomplishing anything, just puttering. There was still a cloud of tension hanging over everyone, and it was clear nobody quite knew how to break out of that.
George stood up suddenly, walking upstairs without a word. They heard his door slam shut, and Arthur winced, knowing Charlie was in the room below sleeping.
Ginny, who had been unnervingly silent, stormed after him. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. Moments later, they looked up when they heard her start yelling at George, with George loudly arguing back. It was no secret that Charlie was Ginny’s favorite brother, and to be honest, they were all surprised it took this long for her to avenge him.
Molly went over to the foot of the stairs.. “If you’re going to yell at each other, at least come downstairs so you don’t wake your brother,” she yelled, not seeing the irony of what she was doing.
Ron snorted from the other room. “A herd of abraxans wouldn’t be able to wake him up, mom. He doesn’t even wake up to his own snoring.” Charlie was a notoriously heavy sleeper, that was true.
Before Molly could reply, Charlie came down the steps, empty teacup in hand. He had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up, obscuring his face. “That’s slander, Ron,” he muttered roughly. “Someone should probably head up to defend George. Ginny’s really laying into him.”
As if on cue, George came down the steps, closely followed by Ginny. “I’m sorry for ruining the quidditch game. I’m sorry for storming off. I’m sorry for shouting.” He glared at his sister. “Happy?”
Ginny rolled her eyes, before gesturing to Charlie with her elbow. He was sitting in the other room setting up a game of Wizards Chess with Ron. George sighed, steeling himself before walking towards them.
“I’m sorry for all of the vile things I said to you, Charlie. And I’m not just saying that because our little sister scares me. I really am sorry, Charlie.”
Charlie took his move, knocking out Ron’s pawn, before standing up. George took a step back but Charlie pulled him into a hug anyway. He sat back down and continued his game with Ron, who was looking between them with an uneasy look on his face. The rest of the family had a similar look, though they went back to what they had been doing when George turned back towards them.
“Anyone else I need to apologize to, Gin?” he asked.
Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled at him. She pulled him into a hug. Some of the tension in the house seemed to have been released by the events of the afternoon. They were able to settle into a comfortable silence for the first time in ages.