Chapter Text
“How’s Harry doing? We haven’t seen him at the Burrow in a bit,” Fred asks as they clear away the cobwebs and dust lining the shelves with Ron, who’d offered to give them a hand with the shop while waiting for his Auror training program to begin.
The shop had been in a right state when Fred and George had finally returned to it, having had to abandon it and their flat during the war to move into their Aunt Muriel’s to stay safe. It was hard seeing it completely ransacked, work of the Death Eaters no doubt, but they were optimistic that they could bring it back to its former glory. Even just getting the flat back in order had taken a while, but they’d finally moved back in a week ago, and George was all the more happy about it. He loved his family, but there were just so many of them that having their own space again was a relief.
Ron straightens up and winces at the question, which has George perking up in interest and Fred lowering his wand to pause his cleaning spells. “Ah… to be honest, he’s not doing too good.”
“What do you mean?” Fred says, frowning at Ron.
Ron hesitates, clearly wondering how much he should share with them. “Hermione reckons he’s a bit depressed. He’s been avoiding us, and holing himself up at Grimmauld,” Ron says, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Pretty sure he hasn’t been eating or sleeping properly either.”
This was the first that they were hearing that Harry wasn’t doing too well, and it tugged at something unnamed in George’s chest. He thinks back to the last time he had seen Harry, a couple of weeks ago at the Burrow for the regular Sunday dinners that Molly Weasley had reinstated almost immediately after the war had ended in an attempt to get back to normalcy. He’d been quiet and withdrawn – more so than usual – but George had optimistically chalked it up to tiredness, knowing that he’d been in and out of Death Eater trials and tying up loose ends with the Ministry. Now, judging from Ron’s comments, he realises it must be more than that.
They’re not even all that close – he was Ron’s best friend after all – but he still couldn’t quite shake the feeling of guilt that settles over him at failing to notice how badly Harry had been doing lately.
“He’s starting Auror training with you soon though, right? Maybe keeping busy will help,” George chimes in, a hopeful lilt in his voice, even though a part of him already knows he’s being too optimistic.
Ron shakes his head ruefully, and George’s heart sinks. “Nah he ended up deciding he’s had enough of chasing after dark wizards, and yeah after what he’s been through I don’t blame him.”
Fair enough, he thinks. “What’s he planning to do then?” he asks curiously.
Ron shrugs. “Nothing for the foreseeable future it looks like. We’ve tried asking him about it, but he won’t really talk to us. We’re not sure what to do, short of checking in on him,” Ron says with a sigh, his eyes sad and suddenly looking much older than his 18 years. They may have teased and pranked Ron a lot growing up, but he was still their little brother and it was hard to see him so upset at not knowing how to help his best friend. The war had changed them all, but none more so than the ‘Golden Trio’, as the Prophet had laughingly dubbed them. Ron, in particular, had emerged from the war with a new maturity and fierce protectiveness over Harry and Hermione that had George wondering what horrors had happened to them.
George glances over to Fred, silently communicating his idea with him with a simple look that Fred returns with a susceptible nod.
“Hey why don’t you get him to come here and help out?” At Ron’s sceptical look, George continues, “It might help him keep his mind off things and keep him busy. If anything it’ll just be good to give him a reason to leave Grimmauld. Merlin, that miserable old place probably isn’t helping.”
Secretly, George selfishly wants to keep an eye on Harry himself, especially after hearing how badly he’s been doing. He’s always had a soft spot for Harry – ever since they broke him out of his relatives place in the Ford Anglia and saw the barbaric bars on his window – and if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’d had a bit of a crush on him too back in Hogwarts. He’s over it now of course. Nothing kills an attraction to a bloke like him going for your little sister instead.
Ron looks over at Fred, who nods in agreement. “Where better for him to get some cheering up than a joke shop, right?”
Ron mulls it over for a few seconds. “Y’know what? That actually sounds like a good idea.”
“What can I say? George and I are known to be pretty good at those,” Fred says cheekily, trying to bring up the mood.
Ron rolls his eyes, but it’s laced with fondness, rather than the exasperation that they were used to seeing from him growing up. “Getting him here though? That’s a whole problem in itself, but I’ll mention it to him. See what he says, but don’t get your hopes up, yeah?”
“You reckon Harry will show up tonight?” George can’t help but wonder out loud as he and Fred get ready to go over to the Burrow, for the usual Sunday dinner. It had been sombre and stilted in the beginning, right after the war, but Molly Weasley was determined to bring back some sense of normalcy, and cooking up a storm for her family was the best way she knew how. George admits the dinners are better now, now that the passage of time has started to heal the wounds that the war had inflicted on them. There’s still a subdued tone in the air, but slowly, more laughter and joy has started to creep in, and with every passing week, George can see the stress and tension melt off his mother’s face – like she’s finally starting to believe that her whole family truly made it out of the war unscathed – well, save for George and his ear.
Fred pauses messing with his hair to look at George in the mirror. The all-too knowing look on his face suddenly has George squirming and firmly regretting saying anything. Thankfully, Fred chooses not to comment, instead he shrugs and humours George. “Not sure after what Ron’s told us. But who knows, he might surprise us.”
George sighs. “I’m just worried about him. Can’t even imagine what he’s been through – so I’m not surprised he’s not doing well, but it doesn't make it any easier to hear about.”
Fred’s face softens. Although George had been the twin with the minor crush back in Hogwarts, he knew Fred had a soft spot for Harry too, albeit a platonic soft spot. “I know, I’m worried ‘bout him too. Don’t worry, hopefully he’ll take us up on our offer and we can keep an eye on him.”
“Yeah. Hopefully,” George echoes.
Harry does turn up to dinner at the Burrow, much to George’s relief, although he’s alarmed to see that Ron hadn’t been exaggerating at all – if anything he might have been downplaying how badly Harry was coping with the end of the war.
If he thought Harry had been quiet and withdrawn a few weeks ago, it’s almost nothing compared to how much he’s obviously deteriorated since then. Harry had always been pretty skinny – thanks to those trolls that were a poor excuse for relatives – but it was even more obvious now, with the way his protruding bones could be seen, even as he tried to mask it with baggy clothes that hung off his frame. There was an unnaturally grey hue to his complexion that left no room for doubt that he wasn’t sleeping well – or even at all.
But it was Harry’s empty gaze – his once bright green eyes now dull, tired and haunted – that had George’s heart aching the most.
The war had taken a lot from them all, but none more so than Harry. He hadn’t just lost his parents, his godfather and his uncle, but he’d also lost his childhood and his innocence to this war. It was a testament to Harry’s strength that the cracks had only begun to show now.
Ron and Hermione keep darting worried looks at him and despite seeming to be at a complete loss at what to do to help their bestfriend – they stick by Harry’s side throughout the whole night, occasionally gently encouraging him to eat. He doesn’t participate in any conversations, only occasionally nodding when he’s addressed, but mostly he keeps his head down and plays with the food on his plate. Everyone’s painfully trying to act like everything’s normal but George catches most of his family giving Harry pained looks. He sees his mum frowning at the way Harry’s plate remains full the whole night, and the way she obviously wants to fuss over him but is holding back. He knows she sees Harry as one of her children – so he can’t even imagine how hard it must be, to watch one of your children suffer and not be able to fix it.
“Hey, you,” George says when he finally finds an opportunity to sidle up to Harry, with Ron being distracted with helping his mum out with dessert and Hermione being dragged into a conversation with Percy about Ministry happenings.
“Hey, George,” Harry says softly, even managing a thin smile in his direction and though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, it’s more than George was expecting to get.
“Has Ron told you about our offer to help out at the shop?” he asks tentatively, unsure of what kind of response he’s going to receive.
Harry’s silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Yeah. Yeah he has,” he mumbles eventually.
“So, what d’you reckon?” George prompts gently, trying not to be discouraged by Harry’s dejected tone.
There’s another pause. “I know why you guys offered, but really it’s fine,” Harry says in that same dejected voice. “You don’t want my miserable arse bringing the mood down at your shop.”
Harry’s still avoiding his gaze, so he ducks his head down to catch his eye, giving him a small grin. “We wouldn’t have offered it if we didn’t want your miserable arse at the shop. I think it’ll do you a load of good having something to do, but if you really don’t want to hang out with Fred and I’s ugly mugs don’t worry we won’t take it personally. Not much anyway.” On a whim, he sends him a wink, and surprisingly that pulls a small smile out of Harry, and has him lifting his head to properly look at him. It has George’s chest feeling inexplicably tight with pride.
“Alright, alright,” Harry finally acquiesces. “I’ll come for one day, just to try it out. Merlin knows it’ll get Ron and Hermione off my case at least.” It’s the most he’s sounded like his old self all night, and George feels a spark of hope bloom in his chest.
He just grins and gently nudges Harry’s shoulder with his own. “I swear you won’t regret it.”