Blood and Irises (Chapter 4)
Title: Blood and Irises
Characters/Pairings: George Weasley and Eve Blackmore (with possible appearances by other HP characters)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 850
Warnings: violence, torture, angst and partial nudity
Disclaimer: George Weasley and any other HP characters are the property of JK Rowling. I don’t own them. I only wish to play with them, for a little while (okay, so I’d like to play with Fred and George a lot, but can you blame me?). Eve Blackmore, her family, etc are the product of my brain. Some may remember her from Haunted Chambers. In fact, I’ve kept much of her background from HC, with only minor tweaks here and there (though she would probably argue the term “minor”, in some instances, but she’ll go along with them, like the good little warrior she is…)
Summary: In the five years after the war… One struggles to find his place in a world that’s no longer funny. The other struggles with her own actions, during the battles. Two who were once close must find their way back to each other…
George spent the next few days in his room, trying to figure out what the old monk had told him. He barely ate, which created much worry, among the rest of his family. Both his parents had been in to talk to him, as well as all of his siblings, including in-laws. Charlie’d even come home, from Romania, out of worry for George.
He spent hours pacing his room. ”You know where she is…” The words chased themselves through his head. If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t have had to ask for help, now would I?
With a growl, he shoved a pile of store ledgers off his desk. “George?” his mother’s voice called, from the other side of the door. “George please come downstairs and eat something.”
George looked around, at the mess he’d made and sighed. This was getting him no where. And now he was starving, to boot.
“George? Is everything all right, in there?”
George’s shoulders sagged and his stomach rumbled. He wandered to the door and opened it. “Everything’s fine, Mum,” he said with a smile he didn’t feel. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Be sure you wash up,” his mother advised, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek. “You look like a red-headed niffler.”
George nodded, and watched his mother go back downstairs. As soon as she was gone, George wandered into the bathroom. He barely recognized the face that stared back at him, in the mirror. Several days worth of beard, along with hair that had grown out, passed his shoulders had him looking like some sort of bushman. Or it would have, if his eyes and face weren’t so sunken, from lack of food and sleep.
In short, George looked like hell.
George took his time washing up… Or, rather, it took longer than expected, to get days of grime and grease off of him. Clean, shaven and dressed in something other than a dirty pair of sweats, for the first time in days, George made his way downstairs, to find his entire family already gathered ‘round the table, for dinner.
Teddy and Victoire were sitting at a small table, not far away from the adults. They both looked up and waved excitedly at George, as he entered. He waved back, giving the children a half-smile. Everyone else was quiet, as he sat down. Ginny gave him a warm smile then went back to talking with Harry and Bill.
George ate absently, only barely hearing the conversations going on around him. His mind kept returning to the old monk’s words. George had looked in every conceivable place, in Britain. She hadn’t come home or gone to where her Gran’s store used to be. And the house where Eve’s other grandmother had lived was closed up. And she wasn’t in Chinatown or at the monastery.
“George, did you hear me?” Percy asked, nudging him a bit.
“Hmm? What?” George looked up, at his older brother.
“I asked if you’d looked at the sales projections, for the shop yet,” Percy prompted.
“Er… um… Not yet,” George shook his head, “I’ll have a look tonight. I’m sure they’re fine though.”
“Take your time,” Percy shrugged.
Dinner passed uneventfully, after that. It seemed like everyone had become accustomed to talking around George. And George was too lost in his own thoughts, to notice.
George wandered back upstairs, sometime later and grimaced at the mess he’d made of his room. Fred had always been the messy one. George was the one who kept the room livable.
Sitting down on the floor, he started to reorganize everything back into piles. He found the report Percy’d mentioned and flipped through it, but he still couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on shop-related business.
As George continued to shift things around, he stumbled upon an old photo album. Curious, he flipped through it. There was a picture of his Fifth Year Quidditch team, the one that had finally won the Quidditch Cup, for the first time in years. Pictures of Fred and Lee handing out fliers for product testing, at the school. A portrait, taken at the Yule Ball, of Fred and Angelina. Another picture of George and Eve dancing at the Yule Ball; One of Eve standing over Fred, after she’d given him “flying lessons”, while Lee doubled over with laughter.
In spite of himself, George found himself smiling. He flipped to the next page and his smile faded. He’d forgotten about this picture. Eve’d given the twins a copy of it, the summer after they all left Hogwarts. Eve sat alone, on a rock, dressed in a white gi. Her hair hung lose, around her shoulders. And, even though this was a magical picture, Eve didn’t move. She sat perfectly still, in meditation. Occasionally, leaves would rustle around her, or a small breeze would lift a strand of her hair. Otherwise, one might have assumed that it was a Muggle photo, instead.
As he stared down, at the photo, he suddenly had an epiphany… “You bloody idiot,” he cursed himself, smacking himself, in the forehead.
Characters/Pairings: George Weasley and Eve Blackmore (with possible appearances by other HP characters)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 850
Warnings: violence, torture, angst and partial nudity
Disclaimer: George Weasley and any other HP characters are the property of JK Rowling. I don’t own them. I only wish to play with them, for a little while (okay, so I’d like to play with Fred and George a lot, but can you blame me?). Eve Blackmore, her family, etc are the product of my brain. Some may remember her from Haunted Chambers. In fact, I’ve kept much of her background from HC, with only minor tweaks here and there (though she would probably argue the term “minor”, in some instances, but she’ll go along with them, like the good little warrior she is…)
Summary: In the five years after the war… One struggles to find his place in a world that’s no longer funny. The other struggles with her own actions, during the battles. Two who were once close must find their way back to each other…
George spent the next few days in his room, trying to figure out what the old monk had told him. He barely ate, which created much worry, among the rest of his family. Both his parents had been in to talk to him, as well as all of his siblings, including in-laws. Charlie’d even come home, from Romania, out of worry for George.
He spent hours pacing his room. ”You know where she is…” The words chased themselves through his head. If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t have had to ask for help, now would I?
With a growl, he shoved a pile of store ledgers off his desk. “George?” his mother’s voice called, from the other side of the door. “George please come downstairs and eat something.”
George looked around, at the mess he’d made and sighed. This was getting him no where. And now he was starving, to boot.
“George? Is everything all right, in there?”
George’s shoulders sagged and his stomach rumbled. He wandered to the door and opened it. “Everything’s fine, Mum,” he said with a smile he didn’t feel. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Be sure you wash up,” his mother advised, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek. “You look like a red-headed niffler.”
George nodded, and watched his mother go back downstairs. As soon as she was gone, George wandered into the bathroom. He barely recognized the face that stared back at him, in the mirror. Several days worth of beard, along with hair that had grown out, passed his shoulders had him looking like some sort of bushman. Or it would have, if his eyes and face weren’t so sunken, from lack of food and sleep.
In short, George looked like hell.
George took his time washing up… Or, rather, it took longer than expected, to get days of grime and grease off of him. Clean, shaven and dressed in something other than a dirty pair of sweats, for the first time in days, George made his way downstairs, to find his entire family already gathered ‘round the table, for dinner.
Teddy and Victoire were sitting at a small table, not far away from the adults. They both looked up and waved excitedly at George, as he entered. He waved back, giving the children a half-smile. Everyone else was quiet, as he sat down. Ginny gave him a warm smile then went back to talking with Harry and Bill.
George ate absently, only barely hearing the conversations going on around him. His mind kept returning to the old monk’s words. George had looked in every conceivable place, in Britain. She hadn’t come home or gone to where her Gran’s store used to be. And the house where Eve’s other grandmother had lived was closed up. And she wasn’t in Chinatown or at the monastery.
“George, did you hear me?” Percy asked, nudging him a bit.
“Hmm? What?” George looked up, at his older brother.
“I asked if you’d looked at the sales projections, for the shop yet,” Percy prompted.
“Er… um… Not yet,” George shook his head, “I’ll have a look tonight. I’m sure they’re fine though.”
“Take your time,” Percy shrugged.
Dinner passed uneventfully, after that. It seemed like everyone had become accustomed to talking around George. And George was too lost in his own thoughts, to notice.
George wandered back upstairs, sometime later and grimaced at the mess he’d made of his room. Fred had always been the messy one. George was the one who kept the room livable.
Sitting down on the floor, he started to reorganize everything back into piles. He found the report Percy’d mentioned and flipped through it, but he still couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on shop-related business.
As George continued to shift things around, he stumbled upon an old photo album. Curious, he flipped through it. There was a picture of his Fifth Year Quidditch team, the one that had finally won the Quidditch Cup, for the first time in years. Pictures of Fred and Lee handing out fliers for product testing, at the school. A portrait, taken at the Yule Ball, of Fred and Angelina. Another picture of George and Eve dancing at the Yule Ball; One of Eve standing over Fred, after she’d given him “flying lessons”, while Lee doubled over with laughter.
In spite of himself, George found himself smiling. He flipped to the next page and his smile faded. He’d forgotten about this picture. Eve’d given the twins a copy of it, the summer after they all left Hogwarts. Eve sat alone, on a rock, dressed in a white gi. Her hair hung lose, around her shoulders. And, even though this was a magical picture, Eve didn’t move. She sat perfectly still, in meditation. Occasionally, leaves would rustle around her, or a small breeze would lift a strand of her hair. Otherwise, one might have assumed that it was a Muggle photo, instead.
As he stared down, at the photo, he suddenly had an epiphany… “You bloody idiot,” he cursed himself, smacking himself, in the forehead.