RP: "The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things..."
Date: 4 March 1999
Characters: George Weasley
Location: Fred's place
Status: Private
Summary: George goes to talk to his brother about a party...
Completion: Complete
George had spent the better part of the morning trying to work, mixing and brewing and vanishing like clockwork, and had absolutely nothing to show for it. It took another failed batch of something for him to admit that he was much too distracted for this, and headed upstairs.
A few minutes and a brief conversation with Verity later, he was zipping up his jacket, and Apparating to a wooded spot near the Burrow. Near Fred's place. He was having a terrible time even thinking the word grave today...
He shrugged deeper into his coat as he headed down the path toward the spot where his brother lay. Well, the only physical spot, anyway... He approached the stone from the side, dropping to his knees to brush scattered leaves and twigs aside. A squirt of water barely missed his wrist, and he smiled faintly. The sunflower was as bright as it had been Christmas day, and just as cheeky, it seemed.
He sat for a few moments, thinking. Ordering his thoughts.
"Been a while since I've been here," he said slowly. "I can talk to you anywhere, but...sometimes I need to see this. Need to...know that you're really somewhere close, not that what's left here can hear me..." His fingertips traced Fred's name in the chilly marble, then the dates that bracketed his life. George sighed, then traced the first date again.
"Soon," he said, then turned and sat, leaning against the side of the stone. "Our birthday. Soon. It kinda snuck up on me, you know. I hadn't thought about anything past Christmas, until a few weeks ago. Went downstairs to work on the basement. You know how we always planned to open up that space? You should have seen the crap that was down there. A whole box of bikinis. Nothing my size, though..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Found your calendar. You must have put it up, under last year's. And circled our birthday in sparkles." His throat tightened, and he swallowed, leaning his head back against the stone and looking into the tops of the trees.
"Lost it a bit, that day. Lee came home and found me. I'd been through almost a whole bottle of Ogden's. Said I didn't want it anymore. He thought I meant the shop, but I didn't. I meant our birthday. Don't want to have a birthday of my own..." He paused, swallowing again, and his voice was rough when he continued. "Don't want to have anything I can't share. With you."
He waved his hand idly in front of the sunflower, watching a stream of water dampen the grass again. "But it's still gonna happen, y'know? Can't avoid it by drinking, or sleeping...or anything else, really. Aunt Muriel said things wouldn't be the same as they were, even with you here. I think she's right. She's a lot cooler than we thought, y'know. Right savvy old bird..." He huffed a soft laugh. "Said she'd have to take after anyone who hurt her family with her walking stick. C'n you imagine her with one of those? She'd have beat us 'round the head that year..."
He shrugged into his jacket a bit deeper. "Verity's back in town. She's been in Germany, since we nearly had to fire her to get her to go with her folks, remember? I hired her again a few weeks ago. She's just like she always was. Funny and great with the customers. Makes sure I eat. Nags me about my hair. Calls me...calls me Mr. Weasley." He leaned his head back again, chuckling at the sky. "Y'know, I really think she always knew who was who, after that one time, and it was her, taking the piss out of us."
George tore a handful of grass and began sorting through it, letting it fall blade by blade. "Went to see Bill. You know, he's been seeing this bloke. Some kinda shrink, I guess. Therapist. Whatever... Said it really helped with everything, after Greyback, and the war." He sorted out a root and worried it with his fingers, then let it fall as well. "I sent him an owl, asking for an appointment. Guess it's worth a shot. I...I'm not doing as well as they think, Gred. Sometimes I can't even think. And when I do, sometimes it's scary. Sometimes I think everyone would be better if it'd been me, instead of you. Sometimes I think...it still would. That it'd be easier on everyone, if they didn't have me to hold up, too..." One tear made its way down his cheek, a brief flash of warmth before it chilled. He wiped at his cheek and took a deep breath, then another, shaking his head.
"Wonder if it'll ever not hurt." He tossed the rest of the grass aside. "Went to see the swamp, at the school. Still as slimy as it was that day..." He smiled wistfully, thinking of how they'd cheered each other the day it had come out right, at last... "And I'm going to see this...shrink. And...well..."
He turned toward the stone, almost as if Fred were sitting there, listening. "What d'you think of a party? For our birthday. I want...something where everyone can...think about you, and laugh. Well, not be sad, anyway. Much." He pressed his mouth tightly shut, breathing deeply again. "I'll...I'll even try. I don't want my own birthday. It's always going to be...ours. As long as I live, it's going to be ours. The day I shoved you out because you were afraid to go. Then followed because I couldn't stand to be alone..."
He sobbed, a soft choking sound, then pressed his forehead to the cold marble. "Dunno if I'll make it through the day without crying, but...I'll do my damndest to laugh as much as I can..."
Characters: George Weasley
Location: Fred's place
Status: Private
Summary: George goes to talk to his brother about a party...
Completion: Complete
George had spent the better part of the morning trying to work, mixing and brewing and vanishing like clockwork, and had absolutely nothing to show for it. It took another failed batch of something for him to admit that he was much too distracted for this, and headed upstairs.
A few minutes and a brief conversation with Verity later, he was zipping up his jacket, and Apparating to a wooded spot near the Burrow. Near Fred's place. He was having a terrible time even thinking the word grave today...
He shrugged deeper into his coat as he headed down the path toward the spot where his brother lay. Well, the only physical spot, anyway... He approached the stone from the side, dropping to his knees to brush scattered leaves and twigs aside. A squirt of water barely missed his wrist, and he smiled faintly. The sunflower was as bright as it had been Christmas day, and just as cheeky, it seemed.
He sat for a few moments, thinking. Ordering his thoughts.
"Been a while since I've been here," he said slowly. "I can talk to you anywhere, but...sometimes I need to see this. Need to...know that you're really somewhere close, not that what's left here can hear me..." His fingertips traced Fred's name in the chilly marble, then the dates that bracketed his life. George sighed, then traced the first date again.
"Soon," he said, then turned and sat, leaning against the side of the stone. "Our birthday. Soon. It kinda snuck up on me, you know. I hadn't thought about anything past Christmas, until a few weeks ago. Went downstairs to work on the basement. You know how we always planned to open up that space? You should have seen the crap that was down there. A whole box of bikinis. Nothing my size, though..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Found your calendar. You must have put it up, under last year's. And circled our birthday in sparkles." His throat tightened, and he swallowed, leaning his head back against the stone and looking into the tops of the trees.
"Lost it a bit, that day. Lee came home and found me. I'd been through almost a whole bottle of Ogden's. Said I didn't want it anymore. He thought I meant the shop, but I didn't. I meant our birthday. Don't want to have a birthday of my own..." He paused, swallowing again, and his voice was rough when he continued. "Don't want to have anything I can't share. With you."
He waved his hand idly in front of the sunflower, watching a stream of water dampen the grass again. "But it's still gonna happen, y'know? Can't avoid it by drinking, or sleeping...or anything else, really. Aunt Muriel said things wouldn't be the same as they were, even with you here. I think she's right. She's a lot cooler than we thought, y'know. Right savvy old bird..." He huffed a soft laugh. "Said she'd have to take after anyone who hurt her family with her walking stick. C'n you imagine her with one of those? She'd have beat us 'round the head that year..."
He shrugged into his jacket a bit deeper. "Verity's back in town. She's been in Germany, since we nearly had to fire her to get her to go with her folks, remember? I hired her again a few weeks ago. She's just like she always was. Funny and great with the customers. Makes sure I eat. Nags me about my hair. Calls me...calls me Mr. Weasley." He leaned his head back again, chuckling at the sky. "Y'know, I really think she always knew who was who, after that one time, and it was her, taking the piss out of us."
George tore a handful of grass and began sorting through it, letting it fall blade by blade. "Went to see Bill. You know, he's been seeing this bloke. Some kinda shrink, I guess. Therapist. Whatever... Said it really helped with everything, after Greyback, and the war." He sorted out a root and worried it with his fingers, then let it fall as well. "I sent him an owl, asking for an appointment. Guess it's worth a shot. I...I'm not doing as well as they think, Gred. Sometimes I can't even think. And when I do, sometimes it's scary. Sometimes I think everyone would be better if it'd been me, instead of you. Sometimes I think...it still would. That it'd be easier on everyone, if they didn't have me to hold up, too..." One tear made its way down his cheek, a brief flash of warmth before it chilled. He wiped at his cheek and took a deep breath, then another, shaking his head.
"Wonder if it'll ever not hurt." He tossed the rest of the grass aside. "Went to see the swamp, at the school. Still as slimy as it was that day..." He smiled wistfully, thinking of how they'd cheered each other the day it had come out right, at last... "And I'm going to see this...shrink. And...well..."
He turned toward the stone, almost as if Fred were sitting there, listening. "What d'you think of a party? For our birthday. I want...something where everyone can...think about you, and laugh. Well, not be sad, anyway. Much." He pressed his mouth tightly shut, breathing deeply again. "I'll...I'll even try. I don't want my own birthday. It's always going to be...ours. As long as I live, it's going to be ours. The day I shoved you out because you were afraid to go. Then followed because I couldn't stand to be alone..."
He sobbed, a soft choking sound, then pressed his forehead to the cold marble. "Dunno if I'll make it through the day without crying, but...I'll do my damndest to laugh as much as I can..."