George had never quite understood her.

{{user}} wasn’t rude. She wasn’t cold. But she had a way of shutting down around him and Fred — as if just being in the same room drained the color from her. She never joined in the laughter. Never teased back. She simply pulled away, and George couldn’t figure out what they’d done to deserve it.

So one quiet evening in the nearly empty common room, he asked.

“We ever do something to you?” George said, his voice unusually soft. “You always act like we’re the last people you want to be around.”

She didn’t answer at first. She kept her eyes on the fire, lips pressed together like she was holding something in. Just when George was about to take it back, she spoke.

“I had a twin brother,” she said quietly.

The world seemed to still around them.

“His name was Caleb. We were born minutes apart. Everyone used to say we didn’t need words—we just knew each other. One day, we snuck out near the lake during a storm. We thought it’d be fun.”

She paused, and George noticed her hands trembling slightly in her lap.

“He slipped on the rocks. Hit his head. I was right there. I screamed for help until my throat gave out, but no one came in time. I held his hand while he died.”

George said nothing. He couldn’t. His throat was tight.

“I couldn’t save him,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I haven’t laughed the same way since. And then I met you two — you and Fred — and all I could see was what I lost. What I’ll never have again.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she didn’t bother hiding it. “You and Fred laugh like he used to.”

She finally turned to look at him, her expression raw with regret. “I’m sorry if I ever seemed cold. It was never about you. It’s just… every time I look at you, I see him. And I didn’t know how to carry that.”

George’s breath caught. He sat down across from her, carefully—like she might break if he moved too fast.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “We didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“I know,” she said softly. “It’s not your fault. But sometimes, I wish I could just not feel it when you walk into the room.”

There was a silence, heavy and raw.

And then George spoke again, quieter than before. “You’re allowed to miss him. But I think… he’d want you to laugh again someday. Even if it hurts a little first.”