Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, only my OC!

"I've been thinking of becoming an auror."

She looked at him with certainty. Waiting for a response, she was surprised to see him remain completely silent. Still kneeling, his eyes lingered upon Fred's grave, seemingly lost in thought.

The awkward silence dragged on, eating away at Nava's patience. Approval or not she was doing this. She needed to.

His eyes were still trained on Fred's grave but she could tell that he was thinking.

The corner of his mouth twitched, a semi-smile spreading on his face. It was the first glimpse of happiness since they got there.

"Hah. I guess I can't change your mind now can I?" His eyes were still trained on the headstone in front of him.

Her lips twitched, but she forced the happy feeling inside of her away. She couldn't smile right now, not yet.

She looked down fiddling with a blade of grass, "No George you can't..."

Once again, he remained silent, his eyes unwavering. After a few moments, she turned her head, looking towards Dumbledore's grave. The white marble glistened in the mid-morning sun, standing majestically amongst the emerald grass that surrounded it. Her eyes lingered upon it; memories of the beloved headmaster flooded her mind.

"Nava?" George's voice cut her reminiscing short, calling her attention back to reality.

"Hmm?" She quickly glanced back at him.

"I won't fight your decision, just... just let me be there." His voice was steady and calm despite his evident apprehension.

Her eyes widened at his words. Him? Stay? She wasn't sure what to make of his words. He'd really stay? Looking down at her hands once more, she fiddled with the blade of grass a bit baffled by the thought.

"George..." She managed to whisper out.

She glanced at him as she continued to fiddle with the grass, unsure of how to properly respond. Silently, she replaced her unspoken words with a nod of approval, hoping that he would understand her agreement.

George's eyes remained on his brother's grave, his hand grazing over each letter of his name. His fingers stopped at the words; Beloved Son, Brother and Twin.

"I think it's time for me to reopen the joke shop." Again, his tone was steady and confident, as if the choice was the only logical decision.

She gave a light smile and nodded, but said nothing more. There were no words needed. He needed to do what felt right to him at this moment, just as she did.

"Fred would like that," his voice softer as he stared at his twin's remnants, "Wouldn't you Freddie?" He chuckled lightly.

Realizing he may want some time alone, Nava silently got up and returned her attention to the shimmering, white marble. Once more, her thoughts turned towards memories of the previous Headmaster. She silently walked towards the marble coffin, leaving George to peacefully reminisce and reflect over his twin's headstone.

She walked past the memorial stone and up the steps till she reached the cold marble. She glanced at the name engraved onto the top of the stone; the knowledge of knowing that the name on the headstone matched the body inside was reassuring.

She whispered to herself as she placed a hand on the cool stone. "Harry and I used to visit you quite often..." She shifted her footing a bit and felt the marble underneath her fingers.

"You were the reason we met. But you knew, didn't you?" A soft smile appeared on her lips briefly as she stared into the marble, "That we would end up together?"

Her smile quickly dissipated, leaving a reflective expression upon her face. "Though, I'm sure you didn't think this would happen. Me, a widow, can you believe it?"

She furrowed her brow and laughed sarcastically, "And they've gone and called me a weak, unlovable widow...utter rubbish." Utter. Rubbish. She repeated the words in her mind as she smiled lightly once more. "If only I could go back to the day you introduced us."

Crack.

The sound of a snapping twig brought Nava's mind back to the lakeside cemetery, her eyes opening as she turned around. George stood a few feet from her, his hands in his pockets. Despite wearing an expression of pain, he smirked as their eyes met.

"Talking to yourself now, Nava?"

"Just recalling memories," her eyes wandered back to the shimmering marble.

He walked forward, joining Nava beside Dumbledore's coffin. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes mimicking hers.

"I remember when he caught Freddie and I for the first time," he smiled lightly as he reminisced, "Our very first invention..."

"We gave him our creation, a squirting ink pen, as a gift." He shook his head lightly.

"He grabbed it and used it like a regular pen. We were in shock... It was supposed to shoot ink out once any pressure was applied to the tip, but it worked normally." He paused and laughed a little, his eyes still staring into the marble.

"We ended up grabbing the bloody thing and tried to figure out what wrong. We both looked at it closely as we pressed the tip down...the ink sprayed us both in the face. Permanent, black ink right in our faces. Dumbledore just laughed it off and told us to try and fix it before we try to give it to Professor Filtch." He chuckled loudly as he patted the marble.

"You knew us too well," He smiled. "We ended up with detention after the pen exploded when Filtch was using it rather than simply spraying ink, Boy was mum mad."

Nava smiled lightly at his story, her first genuine smile since arriving. She attempted to hold back her laughter, letting out a soft chuckle.

He stopped his laughing, observing her closely with a light grin. "Is that a genuine smile I see?"

She coughed roughly, clearing her throat, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Right...of course," he continued to look at her.

She averted his gaze, looking upon the pristine marble. She ran her hand along the cool stone, thinking to herself until another hand rested itself upon hers.

"Let's go back, yeah? I think we've had enough reminiscing for one day," he closed his hand around hers gently.

She looked up into his blue eyes and then to their joined hands.

"Yeah...Let's go. See you soon Headmaster."

Their hands still interlocked, they walked away from the Hero's Graveyard towards a clearing. Upon reaching the middle of the grassy clearing she turned to him, looking into his eyes once more as he apparated them with a crack.

[Back at Nava's Home]

They reappeared in her living room, which was still in shambles. Her eyes scanned every bit of the chaotic mess, taking in everything that littered the floor and furniture.

Without further thought she let go of his hand and stepped towards her desk.

"Scourgify."

Upon waving her wand the mess that covered her desk began to disappear, only to be replaced with the proper materials that once graced it.

Satisfied, she slowly sat in her office chair, rolling it carefully close to the desk. Her hand glided atop the surface of the wood as she eyed every prominent groove on the desk. Each one came from a certain, fervent quill stroke. She lived at this desk once, back when she used to love her job. Now the excitement of it was gone.

Now, she felt nothing at this desk.

Furrowing her brow, she forcibly removed herself from the office chair. Pushing away her old aspirations.

George was simply leaning against the bare wall, eyeing her every movement as she turned away. Ignoring him, she placed her attention on the heavily disrupted living room.

She took one step forward and observed the chaos. Broken picture frames littered the ground along with unread letters from friends and family. Bits of torn newspapers could also be seen scattered amongst the mess. Her eyes scanned the room until they came upon the bottles of fire whiskey, their amber liquid now drained.

Silently, she walked to the coffee table and began to straighten out the letters. Upon gathering them all she tied them neatly with a string before placing them on the desk. She had no intention of looking at them now; they would be there when she was ready.

She then knelt beside the broken frames on the ground, waving her wand over them slowly. Gradually, the shattered glass, splinters of wood and photographs pieced themselves together. The completed frames then hung themselves once more on the wall.

Her eyes lingered upon the series of photographs, thinking back to the night she broke them. She remembered why she had thrown them. Every single frame had a picture of Harry. Closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly.

You promised...

After a moment, she opened her eyes and stared at the photos, fixated by his emerald eyes. Fighting the urge to break them once more, she stepped back, nearly tripping.

A hand was already around her shoulder before she could fall. Surprised, she turned to face her only companion, his blue eyes filled with remorse.

"You don't have to clean this all now..." He gave her a reassuring expression, a light smile.

Roughly, she pushed him away from her. "No. I'm fine."

He pressed his lips together tightly at her words, frustrated by her decision.

Ignoring him once more, she turned away and walked towards the couch.

"Scourgify." She waved her wand once over the couch and the surrounding area.

The shreds of paper that once littered the space gradually disappeared, all of it replaced by neat piles of parchment.

The only remnants of the mess were the empty fire whiskey bottles. With a precise movement, she waved her free hand over the bottles, causing them to float to the trash bin. The final one rattled between the cushions of the couch, trapped. She leaned over and released it, allowing the empty bottle to join the others.

Looking up from the couch, her eyes met the fireplace. She couldn't help but recall the countless times she had rested on the couch, waiting for him to come home.

A green fire roared to life. A pair of emerald eyes sparkling.
"Hello dear." His soothing voice echoed across the room, and his smile ever so radiant.
A ghost like image of herself flew into his welcoming arms.
"You have no idea how much I needed that." He laughed as she kissed him romantically.

Her hand unconsciously touched her lips as her mind struggled to cope with the vision. Was it real?

The realization then dawned upon her. She was crying. She let a tear fall.

She shook the empty feeling away as she quickly wiped away the evidence.

As soon as she looked up she saw George walking her way, obviously in response to her tears. Dammit. She gritted her teeth and abruptly stood up straight, bolting through the halls towards her room.

She ran in, locking the door behind her immediately. She then put her back against the wood, trying to block out the memory she just relived. Maybe she was weak... She groaned, the memories felt so real... Could they be real? Gradually, she closed her eyes and began banging her head against the wood until she felt warm tears roll down her cheeks.

Oh, how desperately she wanted it to be real. How she wanted it to go back. To have him back here, with her.

Slowly, she slid down the door. The noises around her didn't exist. All she could here was her own breathing and thoughts.

After awhile she opened her eyes. Their room.

Another flash of his ghost appeared in the closet as he was dressing for work.
Then came another... a ghost of herself, hugging him from behind... Their smiles, genuine.

Ghost of herself.

She didn't even recognize herself. That wasn't her... Not anymore.

She stood up and walked towards the bed, sitting on the corner. Once more, she closed her eyes tightly. She needed to pull herself together. Opening her eyes a bit, she placed her hands on the soft bed. Her left hand felt the fringes of a cloth, immediately grabbing ahold of his remnants.

How could something so solid, feel so cold? So, distant. So far from closure.

She looked at the cloth, resisting the urge to open it; she couldn't bear to look at them. Quickly, she tightened the strings and placed the package in the drawer of his nightstand.

She couldn't take it, this can't be real. He can't be de-... gone. She cleared her throat trying to pull her thoughts together.

Her gaze fell towards her hands, lingering upon the diamond ring that adorned her left ring finger. The stone, which used to shine brightly, now looked dull to her. She took a deep breath; the ring was a constant reminder of a promise that would never be kept.

A lie.

She looked at the ring with anger as she roughly removed it and chucked it into the drawer along with the cloth package.

The Daily Prophet called her weak...but she was anything but that.

She was not weak.
She fought during the war.
She persevered. Won.
And married the boy who lived.

A boy who later left her...

As she looked back, she could barely remember who she was. What she was like...

She felt so hollow now. A dark void left her in darkness that she drowned in constantly.

She pushed the negative thoughts from her head and walked towards the bookshelf. She then began pulling out every book relating to auror training, tossing each one onto the floor. One after another they fell to the ground until it was littered with books. Satisfied, she turned from the now half empty bookshelf and observed the pile in determination.

"Parchment... I need parchment, quills and ink... Lots of ink," she found her eyes locked onto the door. "The desk has some."

She quickly strutted towards the door and opened it roughly, bumping into something that caused her to stagger backwards. Once more, she tried to push through but to not avail. She then began to punch and kick until she realized that arms were wrapped around her. Warm comforting arms that were holding her close.

"Harry...?" She spoke softly as she looked up into those emerald eyes.

"Nava..." A confused expression occupied his face, "Nava...dear god...I'm not Harry...This is worse than I thought..."

She took a step away, shaking her head in confusion. "I... I'm..."

"Nava, it's okay. It's me, George."

She struggled to see him, but her mind couldn't erase the emerald eyes from her vision. Frustrated, she shook her head and looked out a window. What was going on? She couldn't think straight. Her head felt all foggy, something was wrong.

He groaned to himself before speaking. "I'm so sorry... Patrificus Totalis!"

Her body went stiff instantly and fell to the ground.

-George's Perspective-

George was relieved to be back at Nava's home, the time at the Hero's Graveyard having cleared his mind. His eyes scanned the living room. Still a chaotic mess. He shook his head lightly eventually letting his eyes fall upon their still joined hands. His fingers fidgeted slightly, yet remained clasped around her hand, squeezing it gently. His gaze drifted back towards her face, her attention on the room in front of them.

Her gaze shifted around the room, looking at everything but him. Without warning she let go of his hand, immediately moving forward.

Not wanting to be in the way, he leaned against the wall and simply observed.

She hesitated when she reached for her wand; her hand trembled, pausing for a moment before pulling it out. She walked forward and swept her arm over her desk, starting to clean what she could. Upon returning the desk to its pristine state she took a seat, carefully rolling her chair in.

Why now? He thought to himself, wondering what was going through her head. He scanned the contents of the room, most of which was a reminder of Harry. Perhaps she's trying to move on.

He continued to observe silently as she abruptly left her desk, walking towards a mess of shattered frames. With another swipe of her arm the splinters and shards of glass mended themselves, the photos returning to their spots on the wall.

After a while he walked towards her, concerned when she took a step back. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he saved her from tripping.

She spun around, her eyes filled with restrained anger.

"You don't have to clean this all now..." He gave her a reassuring expression, a light smile.

Roughly, she pushed him away from her. "No. I'm fine."

He pressed his lips together tightly at her words, frustrated by her decision.

Why are you pushing yourself like this?

He remained where he was as she casted Scourgify over the coffee table and couch, watching her movements carefully. He resisted the urge to help her, knowing the gesture could do more damage than good.

His eyes followed the fire whiskey bottles as they floated towards the trash bin, surprised at how much she had drank.

Something glistened in the corner of his eye, catching his attention. He turned his head back towards Nava and was shocked to see tears streaming down her face. Without speaking, he began walking towards her as she quickly wiped away her tears.

After lowering her hands, she looked up, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before running from the living room.

He stared blankly, hesitating to move any further. Bolting out of the room was the last thing he expected her to do.

"Nava!" he called out as he finally gave chase.

Slam.

The door closed in front of his face. Stopping at the door, he slammed his fist into the wood once. "Dammit...Nava!"

Nothing.

Bloody hell... What are you doing? He leaned against the door, struggling to hear by pressing his only ear against the door. A sudden rattling against the door took him by surprise.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

The door shook with each hit.

"Nava?" He whispered lightly pressing the palm of his hand against the door.

Soon enough the pounding stopped and soft muffled sobs enveloped the air.

"Nava?" He whispered once more, but to no avail.

His body slid down the door, following the sobs until he sunk to the ground against the doorframe. Speaking through the crack, "Nava, Come on. Let me help." He leaned his head backwards after the sobs slowly stopped.

He sat there for what felt like hours, waiting for another sign of her presence. A sudden feeling of exhaustion overcame him, mostly from the lack of sleep the previous night. He let out a yawn and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Nava... you okay in there?"

No answer.

He began to speak while a yawn slipped out, "Well..." Yawn. "If this is your way of hoping I'll leave, it's not happening, I'm staying right here... In this spot... all day if I must." No response followed, just the sound of a weight landing on the springs of a mattress.

"Well at least I know you're still alive." His eyes felt heavy, almost like they were out of his control. They fluttered for a few moments; the silence was incredible. His body felt heavy, but light at the same time, it felt... relaxing.

No George stay awake. You can rest later.

He shook his head lightly his eyes opening once more. He glanced at the door once more, no sign of commotion, no sound of despair, just pure silence. She probably just fell asleep. A few minutes wouldn't hurt. He let his eyes flutter close a bit hesitant of his decision.

George was running through the halls. Avoiding the collapsing pieces of the castle. He remembered clearly the days him and Fred would prank the halls.

Each hall had a memory.
Each hall they had shared laughter.

He pressed his body against the wall before he turned the corner, making sure the hall was clear of surprises. He gripped his wand tightly, as he turned the corner. He continued running through, searching for his twin.

Fred and himself were forced to split up after a group of death eaters entered the hall they were running down. There were two halls to run into, both were opposite of each other. They needed to split up; it was the only way to fight them off. 'Split them up and kill them off one by one' as his brother said. But now finding him was his number one priority.

He continued down the hall at a quick turn down another he could see the head of red hair that he was looking for. Fred. He was battling against a death eater. They were neck and neck.

He ran quickly down the hall now trying to reach out for his brother. To be by his side fighting as they should be.

"Fred!" His voice carried, reaching his brothers ears. Fred turned around swiftly after blocking a spell that was heading his way. He smiled at him reassuringly; he could handle this. They could read each other like books.

Fred threw a spell at the death eater exposing his identity. The Minister. George's eyes widened. He gripped his wand a bit tighter as a curse headed his way from a distant hall behind him. He ducked just in time backing into the wall. He turned from the oncoming death eater towards his brother.

"Bombarda!" He yelled out aiming at the wall adjacent of the death eater sending him flying into the wall next to him, knocking him unconscious. He quickly got back to his feet regaining his footing and began running towards his brother once more.

A new red head came into view, determination written on his face. Their voices became clearer. He could hear them now, through the constant explosions around them almost as if they were muffled.

Percy pointed his wand at the Minister not backing down for a second. "Hello, Minister!" With one quick and swift movement of his wand the Minister fell limply to the ground. "Did I mention I'm resigning?" Percy smirked at the figure of his former boss and looked towards Fred. His brother gave Percy a large smile.

George smiled to himself softly as he continued down the hall, avoiding the explosions swiftly. He was almost there.

"You're joking, Perce! You actually are joking... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were -"

A larger explosion echoed through the hall ahead of him. The sound wave caused him to fall backwards to the ground. A ringing echoing through his ears as the explosion settled. Realization of what had happened dawned over him. No.

He staggered to his feet, running the rest of the way as a large piece of the wall fell to the ground next to him. He dodged it as he yelled his name, "Fred!"

Percy was crying over his brother's body. No. "No..."

He pushed Percy's crumpled figure out of the way, his only half gone. Left him. "No... Fred... No!"

"Wake up! Please!" He gripped his brother's lifeless hand tightly, his words reaching no one.

His own heart beat echoing through his ears. Panicked as he stared at his brother's limp form in his arms.

Thump. Thump. Thump... Thud.

His eyes snapped open. His palms sweating from the nightmare he encountered. His heartbeat was quick but not loud enough to make the noise he was hearing.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He turned towards the door, eyeing it suspiciously. With each sound, he felt the wood floor lightly shake.

"Nava, what are you doing?" He called out a bit louder, knowing she was no longer at the door. Yet, his words still received no reply.

What is she doing? Is she tearing apart this room now?

After a few moments, the soft thuds stopped, only to be followed by Nava's faint voice and footsteps. Quickly, George got to his feet, positioning himself before the door in anticipation.

The door swung open roughly as Nava crashed into George, seemingly unaware of his presence. She struggled repeatedly to get past him, completely oblivious.

Does she not realize I'm here? Had she forgotten already?

He wrapped his arms around her as she began to punch and kick at him. He held her until she stopped retaliating, waiting for her to speak.

"Harry...?" She looked up at George, her eyes still quite red from crying.

"Nava..." A confused expression occupied his face, "Nava...dear god...I'm not Harry...This is worse than I thought..."

She took a step away, shaking her head in confusion. "I...I'm..."

"Nava, it's okay. It's me, George." He stood his ground and stared at her with an expression of confusion and concern. This can't be good... He shook his head as she turned away, unwilling to acknowledge him. Slowly, he pulled out his wand, pointing it at her.

"I'm so sorry...Patrificus totalis!" Her body fell to the ground stiffly, leaving him standing there with his wand outstretched in front of him. His eyes were wide, overcome with the realization of what he had done. With his free hand, he combed through his hair while he lowered his wand to his side.

"What have I done?" he whispered as he let out a breath.

He looked at her pale, stiff body on the floor before him. He hesitated to reach down, immediately he straightened back up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He then began to pace frantically in front of her body, stopping after what seemed like an eternity.

"What do I do?" he grunted, "She's bloody losing her mind...that's what this is."

He paced once more before halting abruptly.

"I need help, maybe a healer...I can take her to a hospital...or I could just take her to the burrow." The possible return trip played out in his head.

He shivered at his mother's reaction, "No, next idea, come on, George, think!"

He looked down at her body once more, lifting his wand to levitate her to the couch.
He laid her on it as he sat on the corner next to the newspapers.

He couldn't take her to a normal healer. The Prophet would be all over it if they found out she was in the hospital.

Think, who else could help her...

His eyes darted around the room until he stopped at a picture on the wall of Harry, Ron and Hermione, smiling and waving at the camera.

"Hermione...She's bloody brilliant. If anyone could figure this mess out it's her!" His excitement soon dissipated as the realization dawned on him. Hermione was Harry's best friend, "I'm sorry Nava, but you need help..."

He picked her up her body, cradling her in his arms as he walked towards the fireplace. Readjusting her slightly, he grabbed some floo powder and cleared his throat.

"Okay, here goes nothing."

He threw down the floo powder as he spoke their destination clearly. "Granger Flat."

The green fire enveloped them as they disappeared from the fireplace.