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[The faces of the passerby's to the device's lens seem to be reflecting a range from distinct lack of interest to mild amusement to extreme confusion. They also appear to be shielding their heads from something, but from the device's position, it isn't quite clear whatThat is, until the throng clears enough for the device ( Read more... )
[The faces of the passerby's to the device's lens seem to be reflecting a range from distinct lack of interest to mild amusement to extreme confusion. They also appear to be shielding their heads from something, but from the device's position, it isn't quite clear whatThat is, until the throng clears enough for the device ( Read more... )
She is doing such a shite job of pretending everything is okay.]
Shut up. [The words are choked out in a whisper and a laugh, and she finally pulls back to look at him, hands on his shoulders and blinking the water - it's just water - out of her eyes.] Merlin, Fred. It's so good to see you. I've missed you so bloody much, you can't imagine how long it's been since I...
[She drags in a breath, shaking her head, and she throws her arms around him again in another hug. Don't be concerned at this explosive display of affection, Fred Weasley, because nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong at all. This is more than she could have wished for, on her birthday no less, so let's not focus on why this is so painfully impossible because this is a happy occasion. It is.]
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But there's no time for words, apparently, only clinging bordering on the desperate. He doesn't know how long it's been, and he can't begin to guess how this is even possible, let alone what she's had to endure in the time he's missed. Though if the tight hugs are anything to go by, he has a very vague idea, and that comes as no reassurance whatsoever.
Regardless, Fred will let her stay just like this as long as she so pleases. He keeps his arms wrapped tight about her, his left hand coming up to the back of her head and keep her close as the right snakes out his wand. With a silent flick, the water starts to pull away from them and reform as his monster from earlier, the tendrils wrapping about them in a bone drenching hug. Congratulations, Ginny. You can officially say you've been hugged by an aquatic apparition.]
Happy birthday, Gin.
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It really is a testament to Gryffindor willpower when Ginny finds it in herself to laugh, loud and bright, when Fred's latest invention envelops her in a waterfall. She pulls back from her brother far enough to smack his shoulder indignantly, but that familiar Weasley twinkle is back in her eyes - though something else is flickering behind it, ignore it, it's being buried as we speak - and she's beaming at him. See how she's alright, Freddie? She's perfectly fine. There will be time to dwell later.]
Oi, just when I thought I was starting to dry off! [She tips her head back to look up at the watery creature, pleased and impressed and proud. Only her brothers would be so brilliant, and maybe she's biased, but she doesn't care at all.] Thanks, Fred. Can't say I've ever been hugged by a water troll before.
[And she looks back to him, smile and voice taking on a far more sincere and heartfelt tone.]
I reckon this is the best birthday I've had in a long while.
[She isn't talking about the fountain creature.]
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No matter. Fred's all grins and laughter anyway, letting his newfound friend sway precariously to the side as he props himself up on his elbows. Even if the water monster hadn't been in the fountain with them, he'd've assumed she meant him, if only because everything is about him, naturally.]
'course it is! D'you have any idea how much trouble I went through to be here for this? Trans-dimensional time travel's no easy feat, I'll have you know.
[Because clearly he came here just for her. Even though he didn't actually come here. There can just be no other reasoning. Family sticks together, so he reaches up to pinch her cheek playfully and let her know he is here. Regardless of everything that's happened in between, he's here now, and as far as he's concerned, that's the only thing that matters.]
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[Ginny is shaking her head, a fond grin tugging at her lips, and she finally hauls herself up to her feet, dripping fountain water everywhere. She pushes her sopping wet hair out of her eyes and extends a hand to her brother, jerking her head back to the pavement, suddenly all business. After all, if she focuses on the simple and important tasks like settling him in, informing him of the City, explaining her situation (and hopefully being composed enough to explain his), she'll manage to be alright. No tears, no desperation, no panic. Just alright.]
Come on, then. Wizard or not, you can't wear those clothes and I know a place that has just your size. [The old cabin in the forest has a closet full of the twins' clothes. Merlin, that's weird.] And I promise I'll answer any questions you've got, too.
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Excellent. First things first, then. When the bloody Hell did you become so damned gorgeous? I'm not going to have to interrogate any extraterrestrial boy-toys, am I?
[Arms crossed and eyebrows wagging up and down teasingly, it's rather difficult to know if he's serious or not. Or rather, it would be if Ginny wasn't a Weasley and close enough to him to know better. Obviously this is the most pressing matter after being teleported to a strange new realm and being nearly hugged to death.]
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[She snorts, wading through the water and clambering over the lip of the fountain before wringing out her vivid mane of hair. She's forming a decent puddle on the street but funnily enough, people aren't really giving them a second glance - mostly because people landing in the fountain seem to be a common occurrence in the City.]
I'm not dating anyone, if that's what you're so afraid of. [And Ginny arches an eyebrow at him, drawing her wand - to dry herself, naturally, but it might look like she's considering hexing her brother for his comment, too.] And I thought I've always been gorgeous, thank you very much. What a thing to say to your favourite sister.
[Fact is, she doesn't know how he's going to react when she tells him she's three years older than he remembers. To be honest, she's a little worried about it. She knows she was fairly distressed by arriving here a couple years back and finding Ron older than he was meant to be. He'd only been here two years... and, Merlin, it looked like she was going to be here for three if her bad luck held out. But she might like to stay a bit longer now that she can have extra time with her brother.]
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Well, that goes without saying. Look who you're sharing genes with; I'm gorgeous as they come. But you were always the innocent, adorable sort of gorgeous. Now you've gone and made yourself all grown up and fancy.
[The words, they aren't making too much sense at the moment. Mostly because he's not even sure what he's trying to say - how d'you put your little sister's unexpected maturity into words without sounding mad? - but also because he's not sure there's any sort of explanation that won't be just as crazy. He's not even sure he really wants one. Following her out of the water, Fred kicks the water from his shoes.]
Ah, well. S'long as I haven't got to beat off a throng of waffling young men fainting in your wake, I suppose all's well.
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[Ginny ducks her head to busy herself with drying off her clothes, wand sweeping with a casual sort of elegance from head to toe, and she doesn't even give it a moment's thought when she points it at her brother and dries his off too. Lazy arse. But beneath this façade of witty, smiling sister is a grimacing, flinching one - especially when he asks so pointedly about her age. Perhaps not in so many words, but she can hear the subtext in her brother's tone and she's usually quite good at reading between the lines when it comes to family.
Damn it. She had hoped she didn't look too different, but three years is a long enough time, and when she looks up at him, she actually looks apologetic without meaning to. She didn't expect to feel guilty. Anxious, yes, but not guilty. Sorry I grew up without you, Fred. Sorry I moved on. Sorry I'm not your baby sister anymore. No, she can't say that. She rolls her eyes, grinning still, even as all this debate is going on behind her eyes, and she reaches out to tug him along by his shirtsleeve so they can find a place to Disapparate from. No Muggle tag-alongs, please.]
And I didn't make myself anything. This is what happens when you get older, Fred. You start to get wrinkles and next thing you know, we'll all be as ancient as Bill and have a sudden urge to wrestle with enchanted mummified cats.
[Deflect with humour. It's something she learned from the twins and she is trying her hardest to be as good as they are at it. There was truth in her words, too, she did admit to being older but... no, they can have that conversation in private, can't they?]
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Guilty was not what he wanted from her. Bloody Hell, he can't ever remember a time he'd seen her look so stricken when it wasn't entirely uncalled for or a stretch on someone else's behalf. And that's what it'll be, he ultimately decides even before hearing any sort of explanation. Someone else's fault, same as his being dragged here, and that's what'll make this all easier to bear. He doesn't want to think she's gone and left him, especially now when she's right here, tugging him along as though they're back at the Burrow, seven and three years old and discover her first gnome.
She's still his baby sister. Still ickle Ginny. There's nothing to worry about.]
Don't worry, love. The moment you start going the way of Bill in his old age, I'll be sure to give you a firm kick in the arse, or at least a Canary Cream in your afters.
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[This she calls over her shoulder with a laugh framing the words, mask firmly back in place until she can organise her thoughts. Thank Merlin her brother has enough tact to not go chasing after her bizarre behaviour; she knows Hermione wouldn't let it alone if she saw her like this (God, Hermione, she doesn't even know where the other witch has disappeared to and it's worrying her sick), and it would be out of concern, but Ginny can't deal with that so immediately. She needs time. She's getting it.
Ginny heaves a theatrical, long-suffering sigh and winds an arm around her brother in a sort of sideways hug, and acts like it pains her to do so.]
We're going to Apparate, now. [Never mind that she had no idea how when she was sixteen.] Don't get offended by being Side-Alonged by your sister, alright? I don't want you getting Splinched trying to get to someplace Unplottable when you just got here.
[On the count of three.]
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Eying her side ways as she hugs him, he rolls them back away and noticeably deflates a little, groaning as he speaks.]
Oh, bullocks. George'll never let me hear the end of this.
[Not that he's here to take advantage of the moment anyway, a thought that hits him rather hard yet again before he reluctantly wraps an arm about her in return. No sense in fighting it; this is her turf. He'll follow her lead as long as he has to.]
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In the few seconds until Disapparating, Ginny slants her gaze to her brother and a sharp pang lances through her heart. She'd noticed almost immediately that Fred was without his twin, and she didn't want to bring it up. Obviously it wasn't something to be talked about right away - if ever - because the bond between the twins is something Ginny can never truly understand. She can't replace George, and she'd never try to, but she'll be there for Fred as best she can, as long as she can. That's what siblings are for.
Ginny doesn't reply. Instead, she taps a silent count with her fingers on Fred's arm, twists them around, and after a distinctly uncomfortable few seconds being twisted through space, the Weasley siblings are standing on a gravel path in front of a modest cabin in the forest. A small greenhouse is barely visible around the building, and there's a small clearing off into the trees with a practice dummy for spells. When Ginny reaches out to the door of the cabin and pushes it open, it's clear the place hasn't truly been lived in for a while. It's too neat and tidy. But... ]
Well, home sweet home. If that's what you want it to be, anyway. It hasn't exactly been a home for about a year.
[She steps past the threshold, still trying to go through this outline she's set up for herself. Settle him in. Explain things. Go, go, go.]
Have a seat and I'll go fetch you those clothes, hm? There's biscuits in the cupboard-left one, the right's got potions things-if you're hungry.
[She's channeling their mother, isn't she?]
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The cabin, on the otherhand, is a wonder beyond words. He releases his grip on Ginny the moment he sees it, as though he needs his entire being in order to comprehend. His first thought is that it's beautiful, not entirely unlike Hogwarts and its surrounding forests and wildlife. His second is that it's strange, peculiar to have a house out here that's set up and ready - which leads to his third thought just as Ginny says the word herself. Fred hears her, and he knows the word, recognizes the word, but it doesn't quite connect until he notices some distinct parallels. Away from the city, out of view from Muggles, quite unlike a house but cozy in all the ways one should be.
Home. It's just like the Burrow.
Ginny's next words hardly register with him, and he has to blink himself back to reality.]
Hm? Oh, right, yes. Brilliant.
[Clothes. Why are there clothes here for him? No matter, it's hardly as important as observing the cabin at the moment, so he takes the first seat he can find in the place and continues to look around. It's clean - but too clean; the sort Mum'd trade her wand for in their unmanageable chaos of a home. And there's that word again, in relation to this place. This unfamiliar place with all the traces of its former inhabitants, traces of people he knows - traces of the things he will never see again outside these walls.
That thought pangs particularly strongly deep within him, and Fred unwittingly finds himself filled with the notion that he can't leave this place. He doesn't want to leave, and not just the cabin but the City as a whole. There are no regrets, there is no bitterness, nothing of the sort in light of his death. He accepts that, he was ready for that. Fred was willing to give everything for the War - but that doesn't mean he didn't want those things. It's not like he didn't want to celebrate what he knows to be an assured victory with his family, or to help restart the world the way it is meant to be. Or to watch Ginny grow up into a beautiful woman, to see his git of a little brother finally get together with Hermione, or to grow old with George forever at his side--.
Fred lifts a hand to his mouth, determined to keep it together despite a warmness spreading across his face, clouding his view with a thick gloss. This is it for him. This cabin. This place, here, now, with Ginny. He lost that future, and is trapped in present while surrounded by his past. He's come home.]
Think these biscuits have run a bit foul, Gin.
[He calls through the tightening of his throat as he moves to rub at his eyes, the tin left untouched and undiscovered in the kitchen.]
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[This she calls across the cabin from the twins' old bedroom, where she's busy staring into the contents of the neatly-organised boxes she'd packed herself. She had packed these up so long ago, hadn't expected them to leave the box again, but here she was and as she was pulling a fresh shirt and jeans free, she finds herself wanting to cry. The sensation sweeps out of nowhere, blindsiding her and she has to pause to gather her emotions, to compose herself.
It's so bloody hard.
Fred is here. Fred is here, with her, as alive as she remembers - until she hugs him and can feel the lack of a heartbeat. Ginny thought she had accepted this long ago, but the wound felt as raw and fresh as the day he had first arrived in the City, happily announcing his death for anyone who might happen to hear. For her to hear, for Ron, for everyone else from their world. And George had followed and he never talked about how it made him feel, she never knew -
Pull yourself together, Ginny Weasley.]
Hey, Fred? D'you reckon these'll fit? [She says this as she walks down the hall, voice thick around the edges but ignoring it and hoping Fred does too. Ginny stops to just look at him, really look, and she can't help but break into a quiet smile.] Or did you want explanations first? I'm sorry. I know I'm being terribly mysterious.
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Ginny said it hadn't been "home" for nearly a year, but it was still almost immaculate, which leads him to believe she's been keeping it clean just for the sake of it. He sniggers at the thought. Mum should only be so lucky to get this sort of upkeep in the Burrow. And maybe that's part of what makes it different. Rather than being home, where he wants to be but never will be, they have this cabin, and it's theirs. Something to make their own, and he'll just have to make the most of it.
Without George, or Ron, or Mum and Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy. Bloody Hell, they'd just started to be a whole family again. Just the luck of the draw, apparently, and Fred shakes his head with a heavy sigh just before Ginny comes back down the hallway - sounding in much the same state he is. Stuck in a proper flap, conflicted between relief, misery and just all about confusion. He grins a bit.]
No need to apologise, that'd ruin the excitement of it all.
[Playful and excitable, Ginny. The way he always is, as though looking at the world through Omnioculars at that World Cup match years ago. It's but a game full of players - win or lose, the playing's the important part. The uncertainty, the thrill of it all, the fun. Fred's playing, he's always playing, and death doesn't change that. He still aims to win.]
Reckon those'll do just fine, little sister.
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