She had a lot of earrings.
It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her when she first arrived, and here he was, still contemplating them.
When his father had brought the girl to the Burrow, he'd felt... odd. The Burrow was emptying of occupants; most of his siblings were married. After George's passing, he'd moved back home. Memories were still sharp in the flat above the shop, and he rented it out over the summer to an employee or two. He felt less lonely back at the Burrow, and enjoyed pestering his mum, for old time's sake.
Living just the three of them had, in fact, become more normal. After the War, so much felt so very different. He felt choked a lot. The house felt hollow and more somber. And damn, he missed Fred. He missed Fred more than he could miss his own arms. Some nights it was real pain. He felt a cold stab in his chest and he'd wake up, shaking, hand clutching his nightshirt before worriedly checking for singe marks or blood. That ghost of pain he'd felt when Fred fell, so suddenly. No warning, no time for fear, no goodbye...
But yes, over the long years he had gradually... not quite gotten used to it, but dealt with it better. The nightmares quelled. He was able to look at the smiling, joking photos of them again. As first Ron, then shortly after Ginny moved out to be with their respective spouses, he'd helped his mum pack away their belongings and spell them into trinket-sized boxes, tucked into dresser drawers for easy access.
He was used to the day-to-day in this now three-person household. The mornings were gradual, sun breaking through the windows and cracks in the walls, the smell of breakfast, the whistle of a self-percolating tea kettle. He ate quietly with his parents, kissed his mum goodbye, and went off to the shop about the same time his dad also left for work. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was always buzzing and rarely droll. His favorite time of year, even more than Christmastime, was the start of the school year. The newest students to Hogwarts (and even some other wizarding schools) always found the shop, set snugly between an essential bookstore and robes tailor. He especially loved it when their parents, already stressing from the start of school, weren't paying much attention to the bits and baubles their child was begging for and simply purchased it to move on to other school supplies. It was to these children of preoccupied parents George added an extra few charmed candies with a wink.
After work he might stop by the pub for a bite or a drink, but mostly headed straight for home. When his dad returned, they all sat down for a good dinner together and talked contentedly about the day's events.
So when, on August 8th, the footsteps of his father returning from work sounded in duplicate, he was unnerved. Thoughts of to whom the other set of footsteps belonged coursed through his brain; a coworker from the Ministry? One of his siblings? A stray―
"Molly, love, I hope you remembered an extra place setting for ― George? Why so wide-eyed, son?" Arthur looked at George in a rather amused way, which shook George back into reality and he closed his mouth. Arthur stepped into the kitchen, gesturing for the person behind him to do the same. "You can sit over here, Ivis. I hope you aren't allergic to cabbage!"
While his mum placed an extra plate and utensils on the table, George looked back to his father's mystery companion. A girl? Yes, a girl. Taller than most witches he knew, though still shorter than his father. Long dark hair, clothing in a style he hadn't much seen, and light skin. She mumbled a "Thanks" to his father and when she looked up to give an appreciative nod to his mum, George noticed her bright green eyes.
"Welcome, welcome!" his mum was saying to the girl, who muttered quiet thank yous in return, her English coming out in a drawl. The family seemed pleasant with this witch and her quiet words, almost as though they'd expected her arrival, like she wasn't some surprise guest. Wait.
"Excuse me, dad? Mum? Er, strange young lady? Hi. Sorry, but ... what's going on?"
Silence for a moment, as the other three looked at him oddly, like he were the one acting strange. Then―
"Oh, George! I was going to tell you; slipped my mind, of course. We discussed it last night over dinner. You ate at the pub, and I was going to wait up and forgot-"
"What, Dad?"
"This is Ivis!" Arthur waved his hands out to the witch with a flourish. She blushed a bit and smiled, giving a slight wave. "Yes, Ivis Rivervine. Ivis, this is one of my boys, George."
"Hello, George." She still smiled, but he felt his nose snarl up at her accent. Something... different.
"George," his mother hissed, kicking him under the table. He started.
"Er, hi. Hi there, Ivis."
"Ivis is interning for me at the Ministry. I explained this to your mother last night. Ivis is from the United States." That was what he heard, or rather, didn't hear; her English lacked the jovial clip of a Brit because she wasn't one. "... of course, I guess I should let you tell your own story, Ivis, so...?"
"Well, I'm from the southern US. The wizarding community is very, um... secretive there. I was sent to school in Texas, once I received my letter. My mom was confused by it all, but she's getting used to it. I mean, after eight years, she had to."
"So your mum's not a witch?"
His own mum eyed him again for such a blunt question, but Ivis didn't seem to mind.
"Nope. Just a regular ol' human... er, what, what was that term? Muggle? Yeah, regular ol' Muggle. Not exactly the term they use in the States."
"What do they say, then?" This question from his father, already intrigued by the prospect of new knowledge.
"Normals, mostly. Blanders. Like, my best friend at school would slip up and talk about my 'Blander mother.' It's not really hurtful, though some of the preppier kids would sneer it out. Meh," she shrugged her shoulders and tucked her hair behind her ears. George's eyes flicked up to the row of tiny silver hoops. For a second it made him think of Tonks, and for that second he was sad.
"Blanders, eh? I haven't worked much with wizards from the US, so that's new to me." But Arthur was actually padding his coat pockets for a way to write down this information. He jumped up and left the room, returning shortly with a scrap of parchment and a quill. Ivis didn't seem annoyed by his behavior, and smiled warmly at the man.
"So, what about your dad, then?" George pressed. Her eyes wandered over the food dishes to him, and her smile faltered a bit.
"No dad. I mean, obviously had a father at some point, heh, but no dad."
"Oh." It was all George could think to reply. He turned back to his plate of cabbage and hash and decided being quiet for the rest of the meal was a good idea.
As Ivis helped Molly clear away the dishes (she seemed to prefer the Muggle way instead of with her wand, which George had yet to see), Arthur motioned for George to follow him back to the sitting room.
"Since Ivis is interning with me, I decided it'd be best if she stayed here. I'm giving her Ginny's room, since it probably still has the most residual feminine touches." George's mouth quirked at his father's wording but said nothing. Arthur gestured to the fireplace. "If you don't mind taking her things up to Ginny's room, then?" George nodded. His father smiled and clasped his shoulder quickly. "Great, great. We'll meet back here for tea."
George nodded again and removed his wand. He tapped the three suitcases, two of large size and one medium, and beckoned them lightly to follow him up the stairs.
When he came back down, Ivis was sitting across from his parents, one denim-clad leg slung casually over the other.
"... try to use the word 'Muggle' so I don't seem too much of an outsider."
"Good luck with that," George snorted as he took a seat. The look on his father's face made him rethink his phrasing. "Oi, not that you're hopeless or anything. I meant... I meant the Ministry... everyone's an outsider to them." While his father didn't seem much happier with that clarification, he did stop glaring at his son. George looked to Ivis, who pursed her lips in thought.
"I can see that. I mean, especially an American? I'm rather surprised I was invited, honestly."
"That, in a round about way, has a lot to do with Voldemort."
Everyone turned a shocked gaze to Arthur Weasley, and he didn't seem surprised by their reactions.
"When that evil shell of a wizard was defeated, this time for good, the Ministry realized how, erm, cut off they'd been. If they'd had more allies to fall back on, perhaps this whole thing wouldn't have gotten so chaotic. A lot of lives could've been saved." At that, his father paused. His mother's face changed a little too swiftly to a look of determination. George himself felt a pang in his chest that shot ice through his stomach.
Ivis seemed sympathetically somber, but George had a feeling, he just did, that she wasn't aware of the extent to which the War had pained them.
"Moving on." His father cleared his voice after taking a long sip of tea. "We, the Ministry, knew that in order to prevent such tragedy in the future, we needed to reach out. Not just to nearby European neighbors, but internationally. I think in the past, they hesitated to seek help from America and other advanced, outside nations not only because of the physical distance, but the way the wizarding world is handled."
"How so?" Ivis inquired, breaking a biscuit before biting into a piece.
"Well, America has... that is, American wizarding society seems to have embraced Muggle life much more easily than we have here. You yourself are a testimony to that, Miss Rivervine."
Ivis looked up, another biscuit piece halfway to her mouth, and gave a shy smile.
"Uh, well. I went to a Normal public school. As in, a public school for-" she looked to Arthur, rotating her wrist as if searching for a word, "-Muggles. We were integrated in and had specific magic-only classes, then other classes like basic biology and language were shared. The Nor―Muggles didn't know what our special classes were about. Just thought of them as AP or college prep. Most of these classes were in the basement of the school to help soundproof, but wards were put up as well to deter Muggles from entering.
"I think they're kinda new," she went on, nodding a yes to Molly's offer for more tea. "Started in 1997. We heard about the ... the trouble here. But it was partially coincidence that the integrations were happening simultaneously."
George watched her spoon sugar into the tea before looking hesitantly at the small pitcher of milk. She gingerly picked it up and poured a tiny bit into her cup, stirred well, and took a taste. She seemed surprised, then satisfied, and added a bit more. George realized he was smiling.
The family chatted a while longer with the American witch before Molly glanced up at the clock near the fireplace.
"It's getting late, Arthur. Really should let our guest have a good night's rest before her first day interning."
"Quite right, Molly love." Arthur stood and stretched, then extended a hand to his wife. "I had George take your things to our daughter Ginny's old room."
Molly took Arthur's hand and stood, then looked to Ivis. "The washroom is just up the stairs on the third floor. Please make yourself at home, Ivis. You are very welcome here." George's mother smiled then; a warm, sparkling smile. The tired look in her eyes vanished, replaced with a flickering happiness George was pleased to see. She certainly didn't seem agitated about a stranger staying in the house, and had immediately taken to the girl (it hadn't hurt the witch asked for seconds of his mum's cooking).
"Yeah, welcome," George said, gesturing to the stairs. "My room's just up the way also, so if you need anything feel free to give a knock."
"Thank you all, very much. Your home is so cozy, and so full of love ― I worried I'd be homesick from the start, but y'all've really made me feel welcome."
George couldn't help but snicker at her drawling slang, but he was polite. She grinned to them all and followed their directions up the steps. George stopped at her door.
"I placed your bags on the bed but there's room in the dresser and wardrobe to put away your stuff."
Ivis looked up to him, eyes still bright with anticipation and welcome, and nodded.
"Yeah, okay. That sounds great. I'll probably unpack tomorrow, heh." She raised a hand to cup over her mouth. "I'm lazy," she whispered. "Don't tell your dad."
George laughed.
"Oh, oh if you only knew," he grinned as he backed out her door. "Have a good night, Ivis."