Good Days and Bad Days
George Weasley, like everyone else, had good days and he had bad days. On the good days he would wake to sunlight shining through the window and the sound of owls softly snoring. He would lie there and think of everything he had to be thankful for as he heard the shrill voices of his children playing and the out of tune humming of his wife Angelina as she cooked breakfast for them both; the smell of freshly cooked bacon drifting up the stairs to their room as he lay in bed with a small smile on his face. They were the days when he would entertain customers at his shop with his mischievous spells and he would flirt shamelessly with his brother's wives in an attempt to rile them up. These were the days he was truly thankful for.
But then there were the bad days. The days when he would scowl at the window and throw empty Fire-whiskey bottles at the family cat as it approached him. When he would refuse to leave the safety of his own bed and neglect his work; cursing the shop and all of the "mindless gits" that showed up everyday to buy his merchandise. He would shrink from his wife's touch and blatantly avoid the family, cursing Angelina as she tried to comfort him with words. But she had long ago given up trying to console him, instead giving him his space and time to himself. These were the days when his mind went to dark places, when he would try and fail to conjure any magic, when he would wish that he could just end it all.
And as Angelina stood by the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle boil, she realised that the bad days were occurring more and more, far outweighing the good days. She didn't know what to do, she wished she knew a spell or a potion or some magic words that would pull him out of this ever-spiralling whirlwind of depression. But she had learned to accept that she couldn't; that the most she could do was to keep the children quiet, the cat downstairs and the Fire-whiskey locked in the cupboard.
When she first realised how she felt for George she, along with his family, was trying to help him to recover from Fred's death. She had been hurt too, she knew she loved Fred when they were younger, although she'd never confessed it to anyone. Not even George. And at first, it was almost too painful to see George as, if she wasn't careful, she would allow herself to mistake him for Fred; to believe that Fred had somehow survived. Over time though, she began to notice something. Subtle differences between the twins: the way George walked was much less lively than Fred, his hair was ever so slightly darker, he was much more capable of being serious than his brother ever was, he was also more timid than his twin. Not that either of the infamous Weasley twins could ever be classed as timid, but of the two George was definitely closer to timid than his twin. It was then that she realised she had fallen for George because he was George, not because he was Fred's twin. And a year later, she found herself at the altar dressed in white, face to face with none other than George Weasley, and she found herself questioning the sly smirk on his face. That was just before the majority of the wedding guests' faces were overcome with blistering boils. She'd called him "Prat," and he had just laughed and whisked her down the aisle and out the double doors.
She sometimes found herself wondering if she would have still married George if she'd known what she knew now, that he would develop a short temper and begin to distance himself from the world around him, favouring solitude. And the scary thing was, she didn't know the answer.
She was abruptly dragged from her reverie as she heard a high shriek just as Roxanne came running into the kitchen, closely followed by Fred II.
"Roxanne!" she whisper-shouted at her daughter, and waved an admonishing finger in her direction as Roxanne turned to her mother with wide eyes.
"But mummy, he pulled my hair and said he was going to hex me!" she whined, her brother flustering next to her, trying to defend himself.
"I don't care, what did I tell you this morning?" The siblings exchanged a brief look before turning and fixing their attention on the floor at their feet. "Well?" she pushed.
"Daddy's not well today, so be on your best behaviour and try to be quiet." They both repeated, bored.
"Exactly. Now don't make me have to speak to either of you again." And with that she turned back to the cup on the counter and began to pour the now hot water over the teabag inside.
But even as Roxanne headed towards the door, Fred didn't budge and instead asked, "Mum? What's wrong with daddy?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Angelina saw Roxanne falter at the doorway and turn towards her mother, obviously expecting an answer.
She sighed and took the teabag from the cup and began to add milk and sugar before stirring and answering her son, "Your daddy is upset. He just needs some time alone, he'll get better soon." As she turned, cup in hands, she saw their doubtful faces and smiled reassuringly, "He'll be fine as rain soon, don't worry." They clearly believed this more than their mother did as they both nodded and returned to the living room, most likely set on tormenting the cat and destroying the furniture.
Angelina took a deep breath and made her journey upstairs to give her husband his usual morning tea, praying to Merlin that today he would at least come down for some food. She'd noticed that his clothes hung loosely these days.
But as she reached the top of the stairs, she heard laughing coming from their room and the familiar sound of her husband's voice and was shocked; who else was in there? She opened the door to see George sat on the foot of their bed as his head swung in her direction, clearly startled, before he quickly recovered and instead grinned goofily at her and she found she couldn't resist smiling in return.
"You look happy this morning." She noted as she crossed the room to put his tea on the bedside table, and heard him chuckle under his breath.
"I'm not particularly unhappy."
At his odd tone she turned to him but he just gave her the same ridiculous smile and thanked her for the tea.
"You're welcome," she smiled back as he picked up the cup and began to sip at its contents before she shook her head, still smiling at his sudden good mood, "So who were you talking to just now?"
He paused for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to notice, before he slowly shook his head and smiled at her, "There's no one here, darling."
She laughed nervously, "So you were just sat talking to yourself then?"
He laughed too but didn't bother to reply. Instead he just continued to drink his tea and turned to face the wall, effectively dismissing her.
Angelina took her cue to leave and turned towards the exit. However, worried by her husband's odd behaviour, she turned back to face him just as she was about to close the door to see the same odd grin on his face as he watched the mirror across the room intently, and she closed the door on the sound of that same low laughter.
Thanks to anyone who read this, please be a darling and favourite and review. :3