6. George’s Grief

As he waited for Ginny to return with her brothers Harry found his eyes constantly wandering to Teddy. Fleur was making faces at the baby who was staring at her solemnly. He watched as Neville moved over to sit next to Fleur and talk to the infant. Little Teddy began shifting his gaze between the two of them.

“Why don’t you go over and be with Teddy?” asked Hermione softly. Harry shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked. “Just go and be with him, he needs you.”

“I know he needs me,” Harry looked at her sadly. “I don’t know if I can do it, Hermione. I don’t know if I can be strong for him. If I go over there, what if I break down again? What if every time he sees me I’m a blubbering mess? It hurts, Hermione. I don’t know if I can keep doing I … oh I’m so weak, why can’t I just go over there? I’m stuck here. I can’t make myself go over there. What’s wrong with me?” Harry began to pull away from her, wrapping his arms around himself and looking at Teddy who was still watching Neville intently.

“Come on, I’ll come with you, “Hermione offered, extending her hand. Harry shrank away from her. He was saved from further efforts to get him to move closer to Teddy by the re-entrance of the Weasley children, each carrying a rather large, orange box with WWW written across the sides in large print. Hermione was immediately distracted.

“What have you got there?” she demanded, rather suspiciously in Harry’s opinion. “What are you about to do?”

“Calm down, Hermione,” protested Ron. “McGonagall just said don’t damage anything and this is not going to damage anything. Rather perk everyone up I’d say, wouldn’t you George?”

“Right you are little brother!” replied George. “Beneficial is what I would call the contents of these boxes.” Harry looked away, back to Teddy who Fleur was passing to Neville. The other boy was holding the baby rather uncomfortably but he smiled as he looked down at the infant and said something to Fleur that made her laugh and coo at the baby.

“Neville’s got himself a girl magnet there,” said Charlie slyly.

“There’s definitely something attractive about a baby,” replied Bill, whose eyes were fixed on Fleur. His thoughts were clearly not fixed on the baby if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.

“Excuse me, but do you think I could put this box down now?” demanded Ginny. “If you great lumps can get out of the way, I can put it on the table.” Murmuring apologies, her brothers made way for her to put the box she was carrying on the table. As she relinquished her load she spotted Harry, arms still wrapped around himself, staring at little Teddy Lupin, tears threatening to break from his eyes and spill down his cheeks. She sat down next to him and placed her hand on his arm.

“Harry, are you alright?” Harry didn’t look at her, he watched Neville tickle the baby’s tummy. Teddy didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh, simply stared up at Neville with his big eyes and reached his tiny fingers out to bat Neville on the nose.

“He’s sad,” Harry whispered softly. “He knows his mum and dad are gone and he can’t work out where they went and why they haven’t come back. He misses her. He’s going to miss her for the rest of his life.”

“At least he won’t remember her,” said George, putting his box down next to Ginny’s. “No idea what he’s missing really.” Harry turned to George.

“Oh yes, he’ll know what he’s missing, every day. When all the other kids have mums and dads to pick them up from school, he’ll know what he’s missing. Every mother’s day, every father’s day,” Harry’s voice was getting louder, “he’ll know what he’s missing. And it’ll hurt, all the time. And some days it won’t matter that he knows they did it for him, so that he would be safe, because some days all you want is for them to be here with you because you miss them.” He stopped, breathing hard.

“Well at least he’s got no memories to torment him, every time he turns a corner, expecting them to turn up,” George retorted. “Can’t really miss it if you never had it; can’t miss hearing their voice, seeing them laugh. Can’t miss him giving you a hug if you never remembered when he was here!” The entire occupants of the Great Hall were looking at them now. Harry stood up, furious, tipping his chair over.

“Of course you can miss something you never had! When everyone around you has got it and you know you had it once,” yelled Harry, clenching his fists. He wasn’t talking about Teddy anymore, this was all about Harry and the pain he was feeling and unable to hold in anymore. Mr Weasley stood up and put out a restraining hand, his remaining sons appeared frozen, holding the big boxes, their heads whipping from George to Harry like they were watching a Muggle tennis match. Ginny and Mrs Weasley were staring at them in horror and Hermione, tears glistening in her eyes stood shocked, her hand over her mouth.

“You’re not haunted by memories, hearing things that remind you of him, not if you never had him in the first place,” George argued. “You’re not paralysed with fear in the middle of the night because you don’t know how to go on without them. Not if you never had them there, by your side for all your life. Yeah at least he won’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“Well you just try it, George!” Harry hissed. “You just try it! Take the one person who knows you better than anyone else, who’s been there all your life! The one person who’s been with you since before you were BORN! Take them away and then try and tell me I don’t know what I’m missing!” There was a collective gasp. Harry knew a split second too late what he’d said. He knew what he’d said only after the cruel words had fled his mouth in pain and in anger and grief. He would have done anything to take them back, to make them unsaid. He saw the pain etched on George’s features and wished with all his heart he could take it back. Distantly he heard Teddy begin to cry. Fleur’s voice was the only one that broke the silence, shushing the baby and trying to comfort him.

“You did take him away,” whispered George. His voice rose as he continued, “He’s gone now and he’s never coming back. I know exactly how it feels to miss someone so badly to know you’re never going to see them ever again, talk to them, feel their touch. I know what it feels like and I would rather never have known what it was like because this hurts too much!”

“You don’t know that,” Harry said softly, with steel in his voice. “You don’t mean that. It hurts just as bad when you never knew what it was like for them to hold you when you cried.” His face was flushed and angry, the two of them stood there staring each other in the face, holding their anger and grief over each other’s head like a bargaining tool.

“Oh I do mean that,” said George menacingly. “You have no idea. No idea how I feel!”

“Maybe not exactly,” spat Harry, “but don’t you dare tell me I don’t know how it feels to lose someone, that I don’t know what I am missing just because I never knew them. They’re all gone! All of them! There is no one left, no one to tell me about them, share stories with me and fill in the gaps. No one left who knew them, no one left who can share them with me because there’s no one left who shared those experiences with them. No one left who was there was I was born, who was there on my first birthday. It’s missing, it’s all missing and who’s going to fill it in now?” his anger was deflating. He slumped and looked down at the ground. He missed the look on George’s face; he missed the fact that George had drawn his wand; he missed the curse that flew his way. He heard only George hissing before the room spun as he fell to the floor.

“You think you can fill his place? You shouldn’t even have survived! Why couldn’t I still have Fred instead of you!” Harry’s vision blurred and his pulse beat faster. He heard screams and swearing and then sobbing as he lay there trying to clear his head. Hermione’s head swam into view, her mouth moving but he could not work out what she was saying and then Mr Weasley was there a concerned look on his face, but Harry couldn’t look at him. He’d hurt George, how could he look any of the Weasleys in the eye? Harry turned his head, closing his eyes and trying to move his body to curl into a ball.

He felt someone touch his shoulder and he shrank away from them. How could anyone bear to touch him after what he’d just said? Why was anyone with him anyway, they should just leave him alone and help George, poor George who had lost so much so recently. Let’s face it, he, Harry, should be dead and nobody else should have died. Voldemort was only after him. He’d lived with his losses for years surely he could deal with it by now, keep it in check and not turn on George for whom the wound was still so raw, so fresh? The world was still spinning and blackness began to cloud the edges of his vision as he finally managed to curl up on his side and he didn’t fight the blackness as it overtook him. He sank gratefully into the oblivion it provided.

**********

“How could you do that to him?” the voice shrieked. “He’s your friend! How could you, after everything he’s been through! There was no need to do that. No need.” The voice trailed off sobbing and Harry was glad it had because his head was pounding as though a freight train had run through his head instead of the level crossing at Little Whinging. Harry searched his brain for an explanation of why he was lying on a cold floor with a woman’s shrill voice screaming through his head and why he felt the need to agree with the voice. The voice was right, he didn’t need to do that he’d been completely wrong. He wasn’t sure what about exactly but he knew instinctively he’d said something wrong.

Thinking hurt and he groaned, trying to move his head and failing miserably. He brought his hands up to cradle his head but his hands were caught by someone else’s.

“Shhhh, Harry, lay still. Madam Pomfrey’s coming with something for your head,” said a soft voice from above him. “No, don’t try to talk, it’s okay.”

Hermione, thought Harry, that’s Hermione. He groaned again and cracked his eyes open to see Hermione bending over him and Ron hovering over her shoulder looking at him with concern.

“You alright mate? Anything hurt apart from your head? Took a nasty fall after you hit the table with your head,” Ron said. “Bleeding’s stopped, but I’ll not be surprised if you have a whopper of a headache right now.” Harry blinked at him.

“What – what happened?” he asked. Ron shifted uncomfortably and in the silence Harry could hear the low rumble of voices, at least one baby crying and two people sobbing loudly from somewhere nearby while several people were making various shushing sounds.

“You got knocked out when you got hit by a spell and whacked your head on the table when you fell,” said Hermione briskly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a Bludger,” said Harry wincing at the sound of his own voice. “Who on earth wants to throw spells at me now?”

“Oh look, here’s Madam Pomfrey,” said Ron, moving aside to allow the matron through. Harry got the distinct impression that he was avoiding the question.

“Mr Potter, I was under the impression that you did not need to visit my Hospital Wing,” she started briskly, “but here we are, let me look at you.”

“I am still under the impression that I do not need to visit your Hospital Wing,” grumbled Harry. He did allow her to check his head thoroughly and mend the wound there. After making him drink a foul tasting pain potion she proclaimed that he would be best off spending the night in the Hospital Wing.

“But-”

“Don’t worry Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, and forestalling his protest. “You don’t have to go there given that it is too full in any case. I will leave you in the capable hands of Mr Weasley and Ms Granger.” The hospital matron bustled away. As the pain potion began to take effect the fog in his head cleared and Harry remembered exactly what had happened. He closed his eyes and shrank away from Hermione’s concerned embrace.

“I can’t believe I said that to George,” he whispered to no one in particular, drawing his knees up to his chest. He shrugged off the hand somebody laid on his shoulder and put his head down and began to weep softly, mortified and horrified at his own actions. No wonder he agreed with the shrieking voice, how could he do that to George?

“No-ooo,” he moaned as someone firmly gripped his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. He struggled briefly but the other person was too strong for him and as he broke down he dimly realised that he was gripped in one of Mrs Weasley’s bone crushing hugs. As she rocked him and stroked his hair, whispering soft words into his ear Harry cried tears he did not know he had left and let a mother’s love truly envelope him for the first time in living memory.