Picking Up The Pieces ||George||

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

Four months after the Battle at Hogwarts, and Adrienne still felt like she was in the midst of it. They had won the War, but at a terrible cost. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had attacked the castle, and everyone on the side of the Order of the Phoenix had come to help. Adrienne, who had been in her 7th year at the time, had been at the castle and working with the DA through out the year. George Weasley, her boyfriend whom she hadn't seen for a year while she was trapped at Hogwarts, and his twin brother Fred, had been among those who had come to help. They had fought together, and the unthinkable had happened; Fred had been killed.

Adrienne couldn't begin to understand how George felt. He and Fred had been together their whole lives. Adrienne could never have understood what it was really like to have a twin, so she couldn't understand what it was like to loose one. George was far from OK. He had been working like a demon, trying to avoid his grief. And Adrienne knew he had been drinking.

Though back at Hogwarts repeating her 7th year to get her NEWTs, Adrienne was of age, and since she should have left school this year some allowances were made for her leaving the school grounds. Coming back to retake 7th year was optional (though necessary if she was going to get qualifications for a job) and they were treated more like adults. So Adrienne was at the Burrow, visiting George, like she tried to do as much as possible. George had been staying at the Burrow a lot; being in their apartment (his and Fred's) seemed to be too painful for him. She knocked on the door and waited, not sure what would be on the other side.

[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

George had arrived at his family's home, the Burrow, early in the morning that day. Since he got there, he had kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. He tried to smile for his mother, but it came out as more of a grimace; which he though was suitable, as the pain he felt was intense. He didn't say a word after that, but climbed the stairs silently. He didn't stop until he'd reached his old bedroom - the one he had shared with his twin brother, Fred, since...well, birth. While he still had the apartment he had shared with Fred in Diagon Alley, it was too painful for him to be there without his brother. The memories he was faced with in that place were too fresh, too raw and unhinged - much like the young man himself had been lately. He couldn't face those demons yet, and so opted to return to his family home after...everything.

Shuddering, as the events of that terrible night threatened to enclose upon him, George simply leaned against the door frame. He lifted his head slowly as he pushed open the door, his eyes sparking with tears not but an instant later. He couldn't do this. Not today. He didn't know why he had even bothered leaving the sanctuary of their shop - his shop, now. But then he heard the shuffling that his mother was doing downstairs. That was why he had left work early. He had to try, especially with his mother. He knew that everyone was worried about him, Molly especially, but George was worried about her too. The only person who's loss of Fred was greater than his own, was their mother's. However, there was nothing doing for the wizard. He couldn't even bring himself to crack a smile, just to please her, let alone comfort her the way she needed to be comforted...the way he needed to be comforted. Things weren't the same for him anymore, and he had a dreaded inkling that they never would be again.

Rubbing his hands across his face, he tried to block out the memories that the room had provoked, but they seemed to compress upon him even further now that he had shielded his eyes. He didn't know what he was going to do, how he was going to survive without his twin. What had Fred ever done to deserve to go out the way he had? Nothing. He hadn't done anything but be a hero, fight the good fight. People try and tell him that at least his brother's death wasn't for naught...but what did they know. If it weren't for the fact that every time he tried to talk his words got stuck in his throat, George would have showed them a side of him that no one had ever seen before. Neither any of the Weasleys, nor Adrienne, had seen him angry to the point to where he wanted to resort to physical violence. George had been gentle, fun, life-loving. But that was all before that stupid war. He felt very much the same as he had that night, when he stood there in the castle, wand at the ready...looking into his brother's face as Fred was struck by a carefully aimed spell, and killed. George had felt as if his own life had been snuffed out that night as well.

Suddenly, he stepped back in an anger so forceful that the door to their once-shared bedroom slammed shut in protest. Now standing in the hallway, it took the young man a moment to notice that the banging he was hearing wasn't from the fact that he was an ear short, but was someone knocking on the front door of the Burrow. A minute later, he heard his mother call up to him, her voice small and tentative as she told him that his girlfriend was calling on him. How he hated to hear his mother without so much life.... He croaked out an answer that was neither word nor much intelligible, then made his way back down the stairs. His hands in his pockets once more, his movements were sluggish.

Even though he knew he should have felt more at the thought that Adrienne would be on the other side of the door when he opened it, George hadn't been able to recognize anything other than the pain and despair that flowed into the deep hole that had been left by his brother's death. He still loved her dearly, but was finding it increasingly difficult to express that certain emotion. Honestly, he didn't know why she even bothered to put up with him and his constant gloom-and-doom mood most days (not to mention the drinking), but he knew that it must be hard for her too. She was a friend of Fred as well, after all, and the entire time she was getting to know George, Adrienne had been getting to know his twin as well. Still.... George just didn't know where anything would end up, but he couldn't deny that he was grateful she was still a part of his life.

As he opened the door and looked into the most beautiful face he had ever seen, he felt a stirring of emotion. He recognized the beginnings of it, which was how he knew that he still loved this girl. George wasn't ready to try a smile for her - he didn't want her to be even more worried about him than she probably already was, and a painful expression would be just the thing to procure such thoughts. Instead, he shrugged and, by way of a loving gesture, reached out to touch her hand as he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. As lame as it was, the small amount of physical contact was what he needed to remind himself that there was something else worth living for. His entire world had come crashing down on him that horrific night, creating a wound in his heart so large that he feared it would never completely be healed; yet it was comforting for him to know that he still had someone so wonderful in his life, someone so amazing that was willing to keep him around and help him to find his way again. Even if it took him a while to make it back to her, all George knew, as he put his hands into his pockets once more, was that the smallest touch of Adrienne's hand was where it all began.

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

Adrienne worked hard to keep her face passive when George opened the door to her. She had seen him worse than this, and she had seen him a lot since Fred had died, but she was wasn't getting used to it. George had lost a lot of weight, his skin looked sallow, he clearly wasn't sleeping. He had dark rings around his eyes, which looked almost dead. It wasn't the George she knew, but she knew he was in there, somewhere.
"Hi," she said, gently, with a soft smile. She was always weary of being over bearing, of pushing George too much emotionally. She wanted to be there for him, and he didn't have to worry about pleasing her. She told him she loved him all the time, but she didn't get the same emotional response from him. But that was to be expected. Adrienne was having a hard time but she was getting though. For a long time before George, Adrienne had been used to standing on her own two feet, doing things by herself. She handled everything on her own. Now she was reverting back to that. She had to be strong for George.

Adrienne felt as though a small shock had gone through her as George touched her hand. After he pulled away and put his hands back in his pockets she could still feel the place where he had touched her, as though warmth was radiating from the spot. That was the most George could handle, most days. Adrienne smiled again, and stepped into the Burrow.

She walked through into the kitchen, smiling at Mrs Weasley as she went. She knew George would follow, and set about making tea. Adrienne knew her way around the Burrow kitchen by now. She had been helping out a lot since Fred had died. She got out three mugs, one each for George and Mrs Weasley, and one for herself. She got the tea ready as the water boiled. She was very concious that George looked like he hadn't eaten anything, though she knew that Mrs Weasley would be making food for him close to every minute of the day.

When the tea was ready Adrienne handed a mug to Mrs Weasley, and put hers and George's down at the table. It was up to Mrs Weasley whether she stayed or not, but Adrienne knew she usually chose to leave. It was understandable for her to take some time to herself, when she knew her son was being taken care of. Adrienne sat down, and looked at George, waiting for him to join her. She wanted to keep some normalcy, and show that life goes on. "How are you, George?" she said, asking the hard question. On the one hand it was a stupid one. How could be begin to answer that? But it was one she'd asked a lot, and she knew that George understood she wasn't asking anything too deep. She just wanted to know how he was doing that day, had he eaten, had he slept, did he need anything.

[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

George wanted to greet her properly, but he couldn't even get any words out, so he settled for mouthing a greeting before Adrienne stepped into the Burrow. Taking another minute, he turned his face up to the sky and closed his eyes. Feeling the warmth of the sun on him, he had to almost convince himself that it was real. Even though he could feel it, that moment, like the rest of his life since after the war, nearly didn't make sense as a reality. How could anything be real, if his brother anymore if his brother wasn't alive? Right now, that was the only thing that he knew for certain was hardcore fact. That, and the girl who had just showed up on his door. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself before following her into the home.

He stood in the kitchen, watching Adrienne go about making tea. As she performed this menial house duty, he felt a surge of emotion. George knew that she was trying to retain some normalcy, and he understood why it had to be done; for the same reason that he understood why his mother spent most of her time cooking, even though the majority of her children weren't at home anymore. With Ron and Ginny back at the school, Bill came and went on occasion but he had his own family now that he had to take care of. Charlie and Percy were the same, though they lacked their individual families yet. Everyone had a life to get back to and keep running, so George was the only one who had moved back into the Burrow semi-permanently. His brothers visited regularly, though, but no one ever talked about what had happened, who they had lost in the battle. It was still too fresh, not just the pain of losing Fred, but everyone else as well.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, George watched as Adrienne handed a cup of tea to his mother, then sat at the table to wait for him. He sighed, trying another smile as his mom gave him a one-armed hug before leaving them alone in the kitchen. This time, at least, he got his lips to turn up with only a minor look of pain on his face. He ran a hand through his hair before taking a seat beside his girlfriend. It was still strange, reaching up to touch the left side of his head and feeling...nothing. The hole his missing ear had made was a good reflection of what he felt after losing his brother, only the pain that lingered from the latter was 100 times worse.

He rested his hands around the mug in front of him, feeling the warmth seep off the cup before lifting it to his lips. He hadn't been much for eating or drinking since it happened, but each time someone put something in front of him - mainly his mother or Adrienne - he tried to ingest a bite or a sip or two. He froze for a moment when returning the cup to the surface of the table, as she had asked how he was. How was he? He turned to look at her and knew that his face, his eyes especially, spoke mountains. He knew she was conscious to all the pain and hardship he was going through, knew that he hadn't had a single night's proper sleep in the last four months, that he was plagued with nightmares each time he closed his eyes. George wasn't sleeping, eating or talking much, and it ached that those facts were most apparent to the one person that he wanted comfort from the most.

Shrugging, he put his mug on the table and scratched his head before clearing his throat. "I...." Quite unsure of what to say, feeling like he'd lost all the practicality of speech, he paused for a moment before trying again. ".....Work is busy...." Nodding, that was all that George could think to say that wouldn't lead to a discussion about his brother. He had buried himself in it, only taking breaks when someone either came in and dragged him out, or his regular employees had banded together in order to force him out into the real world. Sometimes, it was hard to get away from the events that had occurred even at work, though. Having founded the shop with his brother, he still received a lot of questions about things concerning Fred. Usually they came by way of condolences, but no matter what, they left the wizard stone-faced and silent once more. "I...don't know..... Ask me again...in four months...."

He tried a smile this time as he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. Walking the short distance to the counter, George stood for a moment as he peered at all the food that had been arranged. It seemed as if his mother spent all her time either in the kitchen, or mad cleaning. They all handled grief differently, but it seemed that his mother liked to be functional at least. It was more than he could say for himself most days. He studied the food before reaching for a loaf of bread. Slowly, he removed a knife from the kitchen drawer, sliced off the ends, and returned to the table with a few slices of fresh, homemade bread, and butter from the fridge. A task that would have been completed almost instantly using magic had taken him nearly ten minutes, his actions slowly measured and careful. That was just another thing he had taken a break from. George hadn't used much magic since then either, and he hadn't even told Adrienne that it was simply because he couldn't hold his wand with a steady hand. Each time he picked it up, his hand shook so badly that sparks shot immediately in all directions. It was dangerous, and was a clear sign of how badly he really was handling the situation. He didn't want to worry her any more, though, so he hadn't shared it with anyone, not even wanting to believe it himself.

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

George turned to look at Adrienne as she asked him how he was. His eyes bore into hers, and she felt terrible. He hardly ever looked her in the eyes any more. She knew her question was stupid. It was trivial, and ignorant sounding, and she knew how he was, and she wanted to tell him all that. She wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him everything was going to be ok. But, of course, how could she tell him that? Everything wasn't going to be ok. Again Adrienne felt guilt wash over her, the guilt she felt every time she realised that she couldn't help George. Or maybe she could, and she just wasn't good enough. Maybe she could be doing better. Maybe someone else could have done better.

Irrationally, she felt angry at Fred. Angry at him for leaving George like this. She knew Fred hadn't wanted to go, that he'd been killed and it wasn't his fault, but she couldn't help it.

"I...don't know..... Ask me again...in four months...."

Adrienne tried not to let her sadness show on her face as George attempted to smile. She remembered a time when George had always made jokes, and loved to laugh. That time didn't feel like it would ever come back. Adrienne watched as George walked slowly over to the counter and started to cut up some bread.

She thought back to the night it had happened. The battle had been won, and it had time to really sink in. No body was celebrating. It wasn't the right time. There had been too many lives lost. First they had to grieve. The celebrations would come later. Adrienne remembered how they'd had to pull George away from his brothers body. She remembered apparating back to the Burrow, trying to take care of George, who was inconsolable. He had cried, he had raged at her, and he had been silent as though dead inside. It went like that in rounds for a while. He had pushed her away as she tried to take care of him. She had had to get him out of his blood stained, filthy clothes. She washed the dush and ash from his face. He hadn't cooperated. Finally, she managed to get him into a bed, and after a while he didn't so much fall asleep as loose conciousness. Adrienne sat up with him, and it wasn't until Mrs Weasley came in and suggested, in a weak, shaky voice, that maybe Adrienne should have a shower herself, that Adrienne had noticed her own clothes were worse than Georges had been, that her hair was matted, and her face was filthy, the dirt streaked with tears.

Slowly, George had gotten a bit better. But he was far from being ok. If ok was ever going to be possible for him again. He brought over the bread Adrienne knew he wasn't going to eat. This had happened before, and she'd given up on hoping that it meant he would finally eat something without being persuaded. He just wanted something to keep him busy. "George," she said, her voice breaking despite trying to keep it steady. Going against her better judgement, she reached out her hand and grasped his. She wanted to wrap him up and take the pain away, but she couldn't. But she couldn't resist reaching out to him in some way. "Is there anything I can do? Anything, George. Just talk to me. I want to be here. Let me stay the night; I'll stay up, and I'll be there. I know you're not sleeping, George. I'll be there when you can't sleep, when you wake up..." she stopped herself from saying more, knowing she was rambling, and feeling selfish for giving in to what she wanted to say.

[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

Slowly, George spread butter on a slice of bread, though he knew full well that the preparation of food was as far as he'd get to eating something solid...and keeping it down. He felt numb as he watched the knife move back and forth, back and forth. He was trying not to think, having a hard time doing so unless directed lately anyway. If left to his own devices, he'd find himself reliving the horrific night of the war, which would only result in him drowning in more of his sorrows - although it wasn't like he didn't do that regularly enough. As the thought came to mind, his eyes flitted around the kitchen in search of his parents' liquor store. Not right now, but maybe later he'd have to go hunting for it. If it turned out to be a good night, he wouldn't need any more than 5 gobletfuls to numb the pain. Yes, that should be enough....

Brought back my Adrienne's voice, he felt a rush as she took his hand in hers. He thought of pulling away, and almost attempted to do so, but thought better of it and allowed her to keep hold. If George could admit it to her, the fact that she was solid and right in front of him made it easier for him to remain focused on the here and now, which was what he needed right now. He put the buttering knife down from his other hand and moved that one through his hair again. It took George a moment to focus on her words, as the sound of her voice was enough to keep him balanced at the moment. However, he took her words in, feeling slight panic when she said that she wanted to stay with him. He wasn't quite sure how he should feel about that, but he knew that it shouldn't have been panic.

Clearing his throat, he turned his eyes away from Adrienne to think about what she had said when she stopped. He wished she hadn't though, her voice had been so soothing.... "You can stay." He said simply, after a moment, though he was looking at the family clock that hung on the wall. He noticed that the hand bearing Fred's name had not been removed, as if they all needed a reminder that he was gone. Seeing it point to the word 'DEAD' was brutal. George turned back to look at his girlfriend then. "I know...I don't ever say it...but thank you...for being here for me.... It means a lot."

It was the most he'd gotten out in months, that full sentence of gratitude, but he knew that Adrienne needed to hear it - he wanted her to hear it. If there was anything that he wanted to be said about this period in his life, George wanted to her to know that he cared that she cared. Even if he didn't say it like he used to, or show it; which was killing him slowly as well, being so far away from her right now. He didn't know how to handle himself right now, and he could only be grateful that Adrienne was willing to help me. "Stay with me," he said again, his voice a whisper as he squeezed her hand gently. The uneaten bread had been forgotten since the moment he put the buttering knife down, but George looked back at it for just a moment before pushing back from the table again. He removed the plate to the counter and frowned, an expression that he had worn plenty lately, as he hated to waste food. But there it was. He wasn't going to eat it, they both knew that. Turning back to Adrienne, he nodded in the direction of the staircase before going to the cabinet where he knew his parents kept their liquor. He didn't hesitate as he grabbed a bottle, trying not to look at Adrienne as he walked past her and led the way to the room he had once shared with Fred. He was ashamed of his comfort methods, but George knew that he couldn't bare the look in Adrienne's eyes as she knew he was on the night's path to self-destruction.

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

Adrienne was afraid that George would pull his hand away, get up and walk away, or ask her to leave. But he didn't. Relief flooded through her as he held her hand, and said that she could stay. Some of the times Adrienne came to see George he hardly strung a sentence together, so when he began to speak next it was a surprise. When he told her that he was grateful for her being there, that it meant a lot, something close to a genuine smile flitted across Adrienne's face. This was the most progress they'd made in a long time.

Maybe George would get back to being his old self. Maybe small little steps like this were what he needed. Maybe he could be happy again, and learn to accept his brother's death. That was the most Adrienne could have hoped for.

She looked up at the clock when she saw George look at it. She hadn't looked at it before now, and realised that she had been subconsciously avoiding it. The hand labelled Fred was pointed to 'Dead'. Adrienne felt a sudden shock at seeing it, and wondered why nobody had removed the hand. But, she thought, that would be like removing Fred from the family. And dead or not, Fred would always be a part of her family. Adrienne missed Fred, and not just because of how George was without him. When she had fallen in love with George she had also gained a friend for life in Fred. No one can understand the relationship between twins but the twins themselves, but there was another kind of relationship, the one between a twin and the woman his twin loved. Each knew that they loved the same man, in completely different ways, and in ways that no one else would be able to equal or understand. That built a special kind of bond.

George nodded towards the staircase, and Adrienne stood, walking towards it, thinking they would be going straight up. She stopped when George didn't head straight for the staircase, and instead went towards a cabinet, and pulled out a bottle. The relief that Adrienne had felt before, and the hopefulness that George would be ok in the end, faded. She knew he had been drinking, but she never fully realised before now what that really meant.

She didn't know what to do. She couldn't take the bottle from him, when she knew, no matter how bad it was, that alcohol would give him some relief, relief she couldn't give him. She didn't want him to make her leave, either. George wasn't looking at her.

Adrienne followed George with his bottle up the stairs, until they reached his room. When they stepped inside Adrienne tried very hard not to look at Fred's bed. She knew she would never sleep in it. She'd either sleep next to George, on the floor, or not sleep at all, stay up all night waiting for the inevitable moments when George woke up. He wasn't sleeping through the night. Adrienne walked over to George, and took the bottle out of his hand. She placed it on the bedside table, taking it out of his hands but not taking it away. It was the best she could do. She reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. It was longer now, and looked unkempt. He hadn't had a haircut in four months. Adrienne put her hand on the side of his face, and looked into his eyes with their black rings. "You need sleep, George," she said, stating the obvious.

[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

With Adrienne behind him, George made his way up the stairs. He held on to the bottle in his hand tightly, as if it were a lifeline of sorts. In a way, it was. The drink was the only way he could numb the pain he was feeling, if even for a little bit. He knew it wasn't good for him, and if you asked and he found it in himself to answer, he probably couldn't even remember why he had started in the first place. His footsteps were fluid until he reached they reached the hall wherein his room was. George stopped fully and allowed Adrienne to walk past him into the room. He stood rigid, the tension in his body the only sign that his muscles were capable of making anything other than a slow and sluggish movement. It was hard for him to believe that not too many moments ago he was standing in the same exact spot that he was in now. After it had happened, each time he reached the doorway, he found it difficult to enter. The memories that rushed at him just from looking into the room made him feel like he was walking into an invisible barrier.

Simply standing outside the room, a blank look on his face, George didn't even blink until he felt his girlfriend remove the bottle of whiskey from his hand. Bless her soul, she knew what he needed even if he didn't want it. However, as it was fact that he didn't want to let go of the only medication he had found for his ailments, George watched Adrienne with lowered eyes as she placed the bottle on the nightstand. While he wasn't in any hurry to enter the room, it was pitiful to say that her taking the bottle from him was his motivation to get his feet moving. He went to take a step forward, his eyes on his mark, but was interrupted by Adrienne coming back to him. He allowed her to sweep the hair from his eyes, and looked back into hers. He knew what she would see and that she wouldn't approve, but he wasn't going to deny her the common courtesy she deserved. Actually, George knew she deserved much more than that, especially from him, but he couldn't find it in himself to give it to her.

When she told him that he needed sleep, he pulled away from her hand, the warmth of which remained on his cheek as he shook his head. Walking around her, George forced himself to walk to his bed, sitting on it in a manner so that he was facing Fred's bed, but not looking at it. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and bent his head, putting it in his hands. He rubbed it fiercely to wake himself up a little bit - sleep was the last thing on his mind. It wasn't that he didn't want it, because his body was just as exhausted as his mind and soul were; it just didn't come easy to the wizard anymore. Lifting his head, he turned to the bedside table and, picking up the bottle of alcohol, removed the stopper. He paused for a moment to stare at the picture that had rested on the table since he could remember, then finally turned his attention to Fred's bed.

His eyes trained on his brother's bed, George tipped the bottle upside down and spilled some of the liquor onto the floor at his feet. Next, he raised it in a saluting motion, then took a drink of it himself. Wincing from the burning in his throat, he shook his head again before recapping the bottle. "Nightmares," he said roughly, in response to Adrienne's previous statement. Silent now, he allowed his eyes to flit around the bedroom. He didn't get but partway past the doorway before his eyes began to sting with tears. He closed his eyes tightly to block them out, though a few managed to trickle down his cheeks. Sniffling, George wiped at his face quickly before taking another swig of Firewhiskey. He stretched out on the bed, then, moving to sit up against the headboard, and allowing room for Adrienne to join him if she so desired.

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

Adrienne felt cold as she watched George pick up the bottle she had taken away from him, give a mock salute to Fred's bed, and take a gulp. She didn't want to watch George disappear into the bottom of a bottle, but right now she didn't know what else to do. It was too early for tough love. It had only been four months. But seeing this now, Adrienne wasn't sure if George would ever snap out of this on his own. The time might come when he needed someone to make him pull it together. It would be hard, but Adrienne knew that if that was what George needed to some day be ok, she would do it. Even if it meant that he ended up hating her.

But not now. Definitely not now. It was still too early, and Adrienne just didn't have the strength to deal with it. She didn't blame George in the slightest, but if she wasn't with him then she could have grieved for Fred in her own way, and started to accept it and move on. But because of George she was stuck in this perpetual extended mourning period. She didn't complain, not even to herself, and with George was where she wanted to be, but it was exhausting, emotionally and mentally.

Adrienne hadn't been looking at George while she thought all this. She didn't want to watch him drinking, knowing she should be doing something about it. It made her feel like a failure. When George said that he had nightmares, Adrienne turned to look at him and saw that he was crying. He sat back on the bed, and moved over to make room for her. Without giving it a second thought, Adrienne sat on the bed next to George, put her legs up beside his, and wrapped her arms around him.

She'd known- or rather guessed- that George was having nightmares. It only made sense. She wished that she could have prevented him from seeing his brother's body in the setting of the war. It would have been better if he'd only seen him at the funeral, to say goodbye. But that image of Fred would haunt George forever.

"I'll be right here," she said, stroking George's hair "I'll wake you if you start having nightmares. And I'll be here when you wake up. It will be ok... you're exhausted,George. You can't even begin to handle this when you're in this state."

[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

In the short amount of time that it took Adrienne to come to his side, George had tipped the bottle three more times, giving himself very hearty sips. He was eager to feel something other than the pain that simply refused to leave him. Grunting, he allowed his girlfriend to put her arms around him, though his body ignored the will to relax and remained rigid and tense in her arms. He had started to close his eyes while she stroked his hair and spoke to him, failing to keep them open as her comfort hit home. However, it wasn't but a moment later that he snapped his eyes back open. For reasons unknown to him, George suddenly felt angry. It rose in waves, that emotion, the first he felt besides hurt since the night of his twin's death. While he knew Adrienne wasn't to blame for any of it, as she had only been trying to help, and doing a good job at it too; the young man was unable to hold back the words that spewed forth from him.

"Merlin...you're beginning to sound like a broken record. Don't you ever tire of repeating yourself? I know that I'm exhausted - you don't think that I can feel it?!" Seething, he rose from the bed in a rush, stumbling from the effects of his drink as he tried to find his footing. "Something like this isn't that easy to 'handle', Adrienne! I can't just pretend that it never happened and move on as if - as if he never existed to begin with," he spat at her. Shaking with his rage now, he turned from her and faced the solitary window in the bedroom. His teeth grit tightly together, his shoulders heaving with the fury that coursed through him, George tried to calm himself down, for both their sake's. He knew it was wrong to yell at his girlfriend, but he had become fed up with...just with everything! It was too much for him to handle, and had been from the very beginning; which was the main reason why he hadn't tried to deal with or even understand the events that had occurred.

In a huff, he lifted the liquor to his mouth one last time. After a long drink that all but emptied the bottle, George threw it at the window with a growl, not even bothering to open it before he did so. Glass shattered to the floor at the same moment that his knees buckled. His knees hit the wood hard as all the memories of the years he'd spent with Fred, and the months he'd spent without; all the pain and sorrow that he had experienced and held on to for far too long slammed into him like a banshee out of hell. The glass that was littered around him dug into the knees of his jeans, but George could pay no mind to that - the suffering he had been storing up the last four months was far too great for it to even matter.

Shoving his head into his hands, he began to sob, shaking his head madly as he also tried to speak at the same time. "Baby, I'm sorry!" he wailed, not caring who else was in the house, nor if they would hear him or not. He had to get it out before it tore him apart from the inside; before it tore him and Adrienne apart. "I know it's not-not you're fault.... You don't deserve this.... I don't deserve you... I just can't...I can't...take it anymore!" His voice raising to shouting level again, George stood suddenly and pulled his wand out from the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he pointed the stick in all different directions, making sure to hit everything in the room but Adrienne. He could never forgive himself if he hurt her, especially in a fit of rage.

When he had finished, the only thing that had been left intact and untouched was Fred's bed. His entire body shaking, George lowered his wand to the ground quickly, lest any sparks decide to shoot out from the leftover emotion he wielded. His face set in a grim line, he looked around at the mess his wand-work had created. There was rubble all over the place - wood from the nightstand and dressers, feathers from his own mattress, glass from the pictures and trinkets that the boys had kept in the room, scraps of cloth as he had fired into the closet space as well. It was a disaster area. The worst part was, even after that wild display, George didn't feel an ounce better. He looked at Adrienne for just a moment, then turned his back on her once more. "Might be best if you left," he said simply, quietly. He offered up no reasoning for this conclusion, but judging from the state of the room now, did she really need one?

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

Adrienne hadn't expected George to get angry, but when he did she realised she should have. She had pushed too far. But really, with George right now almost anything was too far! It was close to impossible to navigate. The only way, it seemed, to keep him happy, was to not say anything.

Adrienne almost laughed at her own thought. Happy? George wasn't going to be happy. Not now. Maybe that was why he needed to be angry. She let him yell, even though she didn't deserve it. She let him get it out. There was nothing else for her to do, and if he couldn't be happy he had to be something. And angry was better than nothing. It was hard, but it was how it had to be. Adrienne just had to take it, no matter how close to breaking point she herself felt.

But she jumped when he through the bottle through the window. She started to get off the bed when George fell to his knees in the glass, and she stopped. She didn't know what to do, but she didn't want to push him even further. Not when he was kneeling in a pile of broken glass. She didn't know what he would do. When George reached for his wand Adrienne made to lunge for it, but before she could he was shooting sparks everywhere, not seeming to care what he hit. Adrienne lay herself flat on the bed to avoid the sparks that shot all around the room, destroying everything they touched.

At the end of it there was bits of wood and glass everywhere. Only Fred's bed remained untouched.

Unsurprisingly, Mrs Weasley appeared at the door, looking terrified. George was still kneeling with his back to the door, and didn't see her. Adrienne silently held up a hand, to let Mrs Weasley know not to come in, that she, Adrienne, had it. She knew George would hate his mother to see him like this, would hate to see how scared she looked right now, and that would only upset him more.

"Might be best if you left,"

When George finally spoke, Adrienne knew he was done. She climbed off the bed, her own wand in her hand, and pushed George's wand across the room, away from him. "No." she said, simply. "I'm not going anywhere, George." she was in it for the long haul, no matter what. Adrienne waved her wand and the glass on the floor vanished. She went around the room, making small repairs, such as fixing holes in George's mattress and pillows. The furniture she would have to leave, as she wasn't sure how to fix it. She gathered up most of the feathers and put them in the bin she up-righted. Finally, she went over to the smashed window. She pointed her wand at it, and glass started to spread from what was left of the shattered glass on the edges of the frame. Slowly it came together in the middle of the window. The glass was wavy and not completely transparent. Adrienne knew it would also be relatively weak. It was temporary, that as for sure.

Then she went back to George. She put her arms under his shoulders and lifted. With great difficulty, she managed to get him to get up, and manoeuvred him over to sit on the bed. She was done messing around. She didn't give George time to protest, and with two quick flashes of her wand she cut his jeans off above the knees. They were ruined anyway. She pushed the denim down to reveal his cut up knees, with bits of glass stuck in them. She got to work, her deft hands working quickly, picking out pieces of glass. She knew George was too drunk to feel much pain.
"I'm not going anywhere." She repeated. "You'll just have to get used to that."

[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

Dejected, his shoulders slumping, George's breathing finally began to steady. Now that he had gotten some of the pent up anger out of his system, his chest felt a little lighter, and the breath he drew began to get easier. Even though his mode had been purely destructive, the fact that he felt the tiniest bit relief made it all worth it - save for the fact that he probably terrified the living daylights out of his girlfriend. Shuddering now that he thought over what he'd just done, the wizard was surprised to hear her voice, telling him that she wasn't going to be going anywhere. But he wasn't really surprised at her response. For all the breath that he'd wasted, he knew all along that Adrienne wouldn't leave his side. Just one more reason why his love for her ran deeper than anyone might ever come to know - she would never give up on George, as she knew he'd never give up on her.

He shook the hair out of his eyes and watched her silently as she patched up the bedroom, cleaning up after him. When she made her way back to him, he allowed her to lead him to his bed, relieved that she had opted to repair the damages he'd done to his mattress, instead of trying to force him into Fred's bed. He allowed her to push him into a sitting position, and watched as she used her wand to tear his jeans, and began to tend to his wounds. For all that it was, George was slightly startled to see blood at first, wondering how that had happened as he hadn't felt anything. He decided not to think too much about the details, though, as it was bringing on a headache that he knew would be making him regret the entire night come morning.

As she picked glass from his knees, he watched her with silent awe. He couldn't help the smile that appeared when she stated, once again, that she wasn't going to leave him, and that he'd just have to get used to it. It was a small smile, uncertain and fatigue-ridden, but sincere nonetheless. "Leave it to you to bring it out of me," he said quietly, placing a hand on her hair and stroking it lightly. Dazed, his vision beginning to blur from the alcohol he'd ingested, George sighed heavily and fell back onto the bed. His top half resting on the flat surface of the comfortable mattress, he left his legs hanging over the side so that Adrienne could continue to doctor him up. He wasn't quite sure when it happened, or how exactly, but the last thing he remembered was thinking of the first time he'd ever met the girl...and then he drifted into a dreamless, alcohol-induced stupor. If he could just get through this one night free of the horrors that plagued his waking hours, he'd take it gladly.

[ADRIENNE CAREY LENA]

Adrienne smiled as George stroked her hair, and continued to pick out all of the glass. George lay back on the bed, and a peaceful silence fell on the room. The small smile he had given her made everything more than worth it. It was one of the first genuine smiles she had seen from George.

When Adrienne was done picking out the glass, she looked up at George to find him asleep. Or maybe he was passed out? He had drank a lot. Slowly, careful not to wake him, Adrienne took off each of George's shoes, and placed them neatly at the foot of his bed. Then she unbuttoned and pulled off the tattered jeans, even more carefully. She didn't want to wake George now that he was finally asleep. She decided to leave his t-shirt on. She really didn't see how she could take that off without either cutting it or waking him. And George already had a pair of jeans torn beyond repair.

Adrienne lifted Georges legs and, twisting him slightly, lay them on the bed. She couldn't lift him to put him under the duvet, so she went to the wardrobe and got out a blanket. Adrienne lay down next to George, and put the blanket over them both. She lay awake, watching him, determined not to sleep. She didn't know how much of his sleep was alcohol induced, and she knew that if he was too out of it to wake himself up he could choke on vomit in his sleep. And she wanted to be there in case he woke up from nightmares.