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Hermione had found nearly every day since the Battle of Hogwarts to be excruciating, but today was the worst.
In the lands behind the Burrow, there was a pond, and beside that pond there was an ancient oak tree, and next to the oak tree was the Weasley family plot.
She had visited here almost every single day even though people kept telling her that it wasn’t right, that it wasn’t healthy, that it wasn't a normal thing to do. Hermione just couldn’t bear to leave him alone out there.
So, on this day, just like every other day, she knelt beside his grave, Fred’s final resting place, and told him everything that he was missing out on. Unfortunately, the weather seemed to match her mood, but she didn’t let the chilly early spring downpour deter her. The day was too important.
“Happy birthday, Freddie,” she said quietly, while trying to fight the quivering of her chin with all her might. “Today is properly dreadful, but I’m sure you already knew that.”
There wasn’t much left to say, so she just sat and let the downpour soak through her hair and all of her layers while slow tears rolled down her cheeks.
Hermione had often wondered if she would ever run out of tears for Fred Weasley, but as time went on it seemed less and less likely. He would always have her heart.
A crunching of boots on the gravel foot path pulled her from her thoughts. She must have been out here for a few hours then, that’s usually when someone came to get her in inclimate weather. Typically it was Arthur, Bill, or Harry tasked with coming to coax her back inside. Ron had come only once and it had turned into a row. He was hurt that she and Freddie had kept their relationship from him, she was furious at him for literally trying to drag her away from Fred’s grave. Wands were drawn, unforgivable things were said, and Ron hadn’t come back.
Hermione knew in an instant who it was that had come to fetch her, she could tell by the cadence of his steps, but even without that, she just knew it in her bones.
“Happy birthday, George.”
The steps faltered.
A heavy silence stretched between them as she waited for him to do or say something, but wasn’t holding her breath. Fred hadn’t been the only person she lost during the Battle. George hadn’t said a word to her, or even acknowledged her presence since Fred’s death.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat nervously, then spoke. “How did you know it was me?”
A small humorless laugh burst out of her. “Because he’s Fred, and you’re George.”
That had always been her answer whenever the Twins were amazing that she could tell them apart. Hermione wasn’t sure how she knew them like that back of her hand, she just did.
George didn’t respond, but took several steps closer.
“I’ll head back in shortly. You don’t have to wait here with me if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said, offering him an out.
His feet came even closer, and then the rain suddenly stopped pelting her. Hermione tore her eyes away from Fred’s gravestone and looked up to see George holding a large umbrella over her, shielding her from the onslaught of rain.
“I think I’ll stay actually,” he replied with a soft smile. The kind of smile that wasn’t for pranks or jokes, and was something gentler. “It is my birthday after all, and I deserve it.”
“You deserve to stand in the rain with a girl you usually can’t bear to look at?” Hermione asked skeptically.
George’s smile dimmed just a bit as something sad glimmered in his eyes. “That was never the problem, love.”
She scoffed and turned back to Fred. “You left me too.”
With a heavy sigh, he crouched down beside her, angling the umbrella so that she was still protected from the storm. “Do you remember what you told me the night before Bill’s wedding?”
The memory was like a lance through the heart. “Of course I do,” she snapped.
Undeterred, George leaned in closer. “Remind me then.”
Hermione turned to look at him, and his warm hazel eyes were searching her face. Which felt like another blow.
“I told you that I thought Freddie was my soul mate.”
George gave a sad smile and a small nod. “He was.”
She didn’t understand why he was saying this now. Was he trying to be cruel?
“How would you know?” She bit out at him.
Without warning he leaned completely into her space, holding his face only an inch from hers. “We’re twins, Hermione. We share everything. I tried to fight it, but it’s no use.”
And then he closed the distance between them, his warm lips pressing sweetly into hers.
The chaste kiss sent a shiver up her spine and ignited something in her chest that had been dormant and abandoned for the last year. Hermione felt like she could breathe more freely, almost like she had been held under the surface since losing Fred.
At the center of her chest, where her magical core sat, there was a pulse of magic, and it radiated through her entire body, warming her as it went. His simple kiss had brought her very soul back to life.
When he broke the kiss a wicked grin began to slowly stretch across his face. “Did you feel that?”
Hermione threw her arms around his neck and narrowed her eyes at him. “You are never to abandon me again, George Weasley. Do you understand me?”
His grin turned wolfish. “Never again, love.”
And then his lips crashed into hers, reviving her mind, body, and soul while still shielding her from the storm.