Gift Fic: Comfort (Harry Potter-verse, George Weasley, PG)
Title: Comfort
Character(s)/Pairings: George Weasley (implied George/Angelina)
Written for: ginervra_sm
Prompt: "On the first day of Christmas..." , Butterbeer, and a box of toads
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon character death and reactions to it.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. JKR does. I do not make any money from this.
Author Note: Hey remember when I wrote for HP? Yeah, I barely do too. LOL Hope you like this, Gin. Its probably not exactly what you were looking for but the toad took off on me. Happy Holidays!
Kihansi spray toads. That’s what it says on the box that George currently has in his hands. He’d forgotten about the order. Of course he had. He hadn’t been the one to place it. But Fred had had this idea that these little things could be the answer to the toad pet problem. They were small, kinda cute in a toady kind of way. Like pigmy puffs! He’d said.
George sighed and set the box on the counter of the empty store. The only noise to be heard was from the Christmas display in the window with its five singing mice. They were currently on the seventh day of Christmas. He’d sent the staff home with multiple happy holiday wishes. Telling them he had to head out to the big Weasley family Christmas.
He was dreading it.
He took a sip of the butter beer in his hand and sighed. Who was he going to pull stupid pranks with? Who was he going to share all the family gossip with? Who was he going to laugh with when Hermione gave Ron that look, or Fluer’s fancy new Christmas dress caught fire ‘accidentally’?
George emptied the bottle and tossed it in with the other empties behind the counter before opening another. He’d spent far more time than he should have on the Hogwart’s grounds after-well, after the battle. Some part of him thought maybe… just maybe Fred would stick around. Maybe he’d become a ghost. It had taken Nearly Headless Nick’s most fervent insistence that, no his brother was not among the spirits that had lingered briefly after the battle, for him to finally pack up and go home.
Home had been worse. He’d finally found a new apartment and rented the one over the store to a couple of the cashiers for a few months, just to get away from that lonely, incomplete feeling he got there. Eventually he’d moved back in, but it didn’t feel like home anymore.
And now it was Christmas. Angelina had come over to help him decorate… not that they’d actually gotten anything done aside from the bottle of firewhiskey and enough fooling around to make the next morning sufficiently awkward. At least she didn’t get that sad ‘I’m so sorry’ look about her around him. That was a plus.
But she wasn’t going to be at the big family dinner. So his mother would fuss over him twice as much as always. Everyone else would shuffle their feet and ask if they could do anything. He had a list of absurd requests all set too. Some of them Fred would have been very proud of. And no bad ear humor. He almost smiled for a moment. God, Fred hated his puns sometimes.
A noise from the package caught his attention and he slowly lifted the lid. Several of the tiny toads looked up at him expectantly and surprisingly intelligent. One, he noticed had a strange rusty stripe along his head. George picked it up, letting it hop up and down his arm for a moment. “Almost look like a part of the family, lil one.”
It hopped down into the palm of his hand and he swore for a second it tilted its little head at him and the damn thing nearly smirked. George shook his head. “You and your little friends have a nice temporary home in the back.”
The head tilt happened again and either he was going crazy or… the little toad tightened its grip on the heel of his thumb. He studied the toad for another moment, rubbing his finger lightly over the rusty streak. “You want to stay here, lil one?”
No, the toad did not nod.
“Well, for now, into the tank with your mates, alright?” George took another drink and scooped up the box full of toads. Once they were safe and sound in the tank, he turned to shut the store down properly. Once that was done, he grabbed his coat, only to be distracted by a little chirpy noise. He turned back to the tank and saw the little rusty headed one leaning against the glass. “Look, I gotta go.” He shrugged but the toad didn’t move. “What? You wanna come for dinner?”
Again he convinced himself the toad did absolutely not nod.
George sighed. He was going crazy. He knew that. He had to be. But he scooped little Rusty-as he was now calling him in his head-out of the tank and put him in one of the carrying cases they’d had ready for the little toads months ago.
“Alright fine. But I’m not sharing dessert with you.”
Character(s)/Pairings: George Weasley (implied George/Angelina)
Written for: ginervra_sm
Prompt: "On the first day of Christmas..." , Butterbeer, and a box of toads
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon character death and reactions to it.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. JKR does. I do not make any money from this.
Author Note: Hey remember when I wrote for HP? Yeah, I barely do too. LOL Hope you like this, Gin. Its probably not exactly what you were looking for but the toad took off on me. Happy Holidays!
Kihansi spray toads. That’s what it says on the box that George currently has in his hands. He’d forgotten about the order. Of course he had. He hadn’t been the one to place it. But Fred had had this idea that these little things could be the answer to the toad pet problem. They were small, kinda cute in a toady kind of way. Like pigmy puffs! He’d said.
George sighed and set the box on the counter of the empty store. The only noise to be heard was from the Christmas display in the window with its five singing mice. They were currently on the seventh day of Christmas. He’d sent the staff home with multiple happy holiday wishes. Telling them he had to head out to the big Weasley family Christmas.
He was dreading it.
He took a sip of the butter beer in his hand and sighed. Who was he going to pull stupid pranks with? Who was he going to share all the family gossip with? Who was he going to laugh with when Hermione gave Ron that look, or Fluer’s fancy new Christmas dress caught fire ‘accidentally’?
George emptied the bottle and tossed it in with the other empties behind the counter before opening another. He’d spent far more time than he should have on the Hogwart’s grounds after-well, after the battle. Some part of him thought maybe… just maybe Fred would stick around. Maybe he’d become a ghost. It had taken Nearly Headless Nick’s most fervent insistence that, no his brother was not among the spirits that had lingered briefly after the battle, for him to finally pack up and go home.
Home had been worse. He’d finally found a new apartment and rented the one over the store to a couple of the cashiers for a few months, just to get away from that lonely, incomplete feeling he got there. Eventually he’d moved back in, but it didn’t feel like home anymore.
And now it was Christmas. Angelina had come over to help him decorate… not that they’d actually gotten anything done aside from the bottle of firewhiskey and enough fooling around to make the next morning sufficiently awkward. At least she didn’t get that sad ‘I’m so sorry’ look about her around him. That was a plus.
But she wasn’t going to be at the big family dinner. So his mother would fuss over him twice as much as always. Everyone else would shuffle their feet and ask if they could do anything. He had a list of absurd requests all set too. Some of them Fred would have been very proud of. And no bad ear humor. He almost smiled for a moment. God, Fred hated his puns sometimes.
A noise from the package caught his attention and he slowly lifted the lid. Several of the tiny toads looked up at him expectantly and surprisingly intelligent. One, he noticed had a strange rusty stripe along his head. George picked it up, letting it hop up and down his arm for a moment. “Almost look like a part of the family, lil one.”
It hopped down into the palm of his hand and he swore for a second it tilted its little head at him and the damn thing nearly smirked. George shook his head. “You and your little friends have a nice temporary home in the back.”
The head tilt happened again and either he was going crazy or… the little toad tightened its grip on the heel of his thumb. He studied the toad for another moment, rubbing his finger lightly over the rusty streak. “You want to stay here, lil one?”
No, the toad did not nod.
“Well, for now, into the tank with your mates, alright?” George took another drink and scooped up the box full of toads. Once they were safe and sound in the tank, he turned to shut the store down properly. Once that was done, he grabbed his coat, only to be distracted by a little chirpy noise. He turned back to the tank and saw the little rusty headed one leaning against the glass. “Look, I gotta go.” He shrugged but the toad didn’t move. “What? You wanna come for dinner?”
Again he convinced himself the toad did absolutely not nod.
George sighed. He was going crazy. He knew that. He had to be. But he scooped little Rusty-as he was now calling him in his head-out of the tank and put him in one of the carrying cases they’d had ready for the little toads months ago.
“Alright fine. But I’m not sharing dessert with you.”