Disclaimer: Everything but the plot and a few OC characters belongs to Rowling, not me
Chapter 2 – When it rains it pours, stay thirsty like before, don't you know that the kids aren't alright, kids aren't alright?
He's just finished playfully arguing with Dominique about what the best Fall Out Boy song is and picked up a drink from the kitchen when there's a hand on his shoulder.
"Freddie?"
He forces himself to smile, he tries his hardest to make it seem real because his Father can read him like an open book at times and glances at his Dad. George Weasley smiles back, they have the same face shape and blue eyes, but Freddie's skin is darker, he has less freckles and he has his Mother's nose.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine.
George raises an eyebrow and Freddie tries to hide his panic, "Just a little tired," he lies.
"Why are you playing with your sleeves?"
Freddie tries to not tense but he can tell he has, George squeezes his shoulder again. He looks concerned. Freddie wonders if he looks scared. He hadn't noticed he had been playing with his sleeves, he's recently gotten into the habit of tugging at them a lot to make sure his burns stay that, his burns. He knows people would make a big deal out of it if they saw them.
"Freddie?" George presses.
"Just a little restless," Freddie says, which is true, he's always restless always has been, "Sorry."
George is silent for a moment, "Listen, I've been talking with Hermione, she has this idea, you know how she is after all, well she thinks you may have something called ADHD?"
Freddie is a little confused at this change in conversation but nods, "Okay…what's that?"
"I can't remember the exact definition," George admits with a sheepish grin, "But it may explain why you're always so restless, she said she can take you to get tested for it tomorrow if you want?"
"Oh," Freddie's a little nervous at the sound of that and he really can't stand being around Hermione that long, Freddie may like reading but nowhere near as much as his Aunt, "Er yeah, that sounds okay."
George smiles and nods, "I'll go tell her and Teddy wants to talk to you."
Freddie nods, "Okay, thanks Dad."
George drops his hand from his shoulder and starts to turn away as if he's about to leave but turns back to his son, his son whose almost as tall as him already, whose hair is a wild mess of dark brown curls currently pushed out of his face by a bandanna, whose eyes are George's but they don't seem as bright as usual.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
His son nods, once, and a small smile tugs at his lips, an Angelina smile, "Yeah, I'm fine." He quickly moves away.
An Angelina smile…just not the Angelina smile George wanted to see then.
Later that night, after Bill and Charlie had gotten so drunk their Mother had nearly screamed the house down and the kids had played their fair share of pranks and games everyone made their way to bed. George had just finished helping Harry discard Ron into the room he's sharing with Hermione before he could finally go join his wife and talk to her.
Angelina stands beside the bed in the midst of changing, she flashes him a smile as she pulls on a plain shirt that is much too big for her – one of George's shirts if he's not mistaken – and he flashes her a grin in response. She's as beautiful as ever, even in one of his ratty old shirts. Her skin is a rich dark chocolate shade, her hair long and black and free of its braids instead a messy halo of curls around her heart shaped face. Her brown eyes are bright and warm.
"Hey," Angelina leans over and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, "Finally got Ron up the stairs?"
George rolls his eyes, "Eventually yes," he puts his hands on her hips, his gaze drops down to where the hem of the shirt just brushes her thighs, "Teddy thankfully didn't help."
Laughter bubbles from her lips and George smiles at his wife, she drapes her arms around his neck and brings her lips to his. George eyes fall shut and he pulls her closer to him. He sometimes forgets that, even though he now has two teenage kids, he is still fairly young. He's only in his mid-thirties after all. He and Ange had had Freddie fairly young and then Roxanne only a few short years after.
Reluctantly, George breaks the kiss. He glances into his wife's eyes and Angelina frowns.
"Something's wrong," She runs her fingers through his hair, "What's going on George?"
"It's Freddie." George sighs.
Angelina looks very concerned very quickly, "Freddie?" she demands, "What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure," George admits, "I just know somethings wrong…"
He's not quite sure how to explain how he knows this. Angelina draws away from him and sits down on the bed, the shirt ridding up her thighs exposing more of her long tawny legs. George stops himself from thinking about the benefits of being married to a professional Quidditch player. He sits beside her and interlaces his hand with hers.
"I was talking to him earlier," George smooths his thumb over the back of her hand, "And, this is going to sound crazy, but he smiled like you do sometimes, or well used to do sometimes you know when you were lying about your parents…"
He anticipates her going tense and is sadly not in the least bit surprised when she tenses the line of her shoulders and suddenly squeezes his hand very tight. Mentioning her parents has become a massive taboo.
"It's probably nothing to worry about," George continues giving her hand a light squeeze, "I'm just a little worried, he seemed a little off to me."
Angelina nods, "Yeah, I noticed that."
"I'll talk to him tomorrow, after this thing with Hermione." George says.
Ange, again, nods, "Good idea."
George shoots her a knowing look and she sighs, "Sorry."
"It's not your fault Ange." George kisses her forehead.
"I just wish it still didn't get to me." Angelina sighs.
George nods and places his arm around her, he pulls her gently against his side and she curls herself into him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, "They were awful to you Ange, I hate to say it but I don't think your reaction will change."
Angelina nods against his chest. George kisses the top of her head and tries to not get angry at the mention of her parents, he hated anything to do with those people – though monsters would be more accurate – and is very, very glad his wife no longer has anything to do with them.
"We really need to tell Rox and Freddie about them." Angelina says suddenly.
George nods slowly at that, "Only when you're ready."
"They deserve to know," Angelina looks up at him and her eyes are very bright, "I mean, they're their Grandparents, they're complete dicks," She says and George smirks, "But they deserve to know why they've never met them."
"Only if you're sure Ange."
Angelina nods slightly, "I'm sure, just got to find a way to tell them that my parents were almost as abusive as the Black family.""
"One day things will be easy with our family." George notes with a smirk.
Angelina grins, "Not a chance, love."
And he pulls her into a kiss, a soft, sweet kiss at first that soon turns to more. He finds himself pulling at the hem of the shirt she was wearing and pulling it over her head as he had wanted to do the second he saw her wearing it, she's pulling off his shirt and his lips are on her neck…
And quite suddenly, George doesn't remember what he was so worried about.
"Why the fuck didn't they tell us?" Freddie snaps at no one in particular. He paces up and down the kitchen, cracking his knuckles and twisting the sleeves of his shirt in his hands. He desperately wants to smoke and desperately wants to go kick the shit out of something.
His little sister, whose not quite so little anymore, follows his pacing with her eyes from where she is sat on the kitchen table, "It's must be hard for Mum to talk about." She suggests.
Freddie lets out a harsh laugh, "Well good for her."
Roxanne narrows her eyes, she's very like their Mother, and scarily, like their Grandmother. She crosses her arms and pushes back a curly strand of brunette hair.
"Don't be a dick Freddie," She says flatly, "This must be really traumatic for Mum and the fact she's thinking about telling us if as big step if-"
"Oh shut up Rox," Freddie snaps impatiently, "It's just them keeping something secret from us, something we deserved to know!"
Roxanne stands suddenly, she looks so much like their Mum then that Freddie actually stills in his pacing, "Merlin Freddie, this is not some childish secret! It's a big deal! Mum's parents abused her! Don't be a dick about something like that!" she snaps.
Freddie knows he shouldn't retort… "I bet it wasn't even that bad!"
Roxanne's eyes flash and Freddie almost regrets what he says, before he can say anything his sister turns around and storms off upstairs. He's only dimly surprised she doesn't wake anyone up. Freddie sighs in frustration and kicks at one of the legs of the kitchen table, he receives a sharp pain in his foot as a result and swears loudly. He needs to smoke. He needs to drink. He needs to burn.
Or does he…? He spots a small knife beside the kitchen sink, similar to those he uses in Potions when he turns up to the class, the blade is silver and is shining in the moonlight…and it's so beautiful… Freddie thinks of the scar it will leave and that too, will be beautiful. He quickly snatches up the blade and carefully puts it into his pocket. If he can't have a cigarette he'll have a scar.
The light in the bathroom is very bright and Freddie wishes it was a lot dimmer. The small knife seems to shine even more in the bathroom and Freddie is beginning to have some doubts over what he's about to do. Some, not many. He bolts the door and takes a deep breath. He wishes the light was dimmer. It makes his beautiful scars seem ugly.
Freddie breathes in a deep breath and rests his hands on either side of the sink, the sink is cold to touch and in a strange way calms him. He stares at the knife resting in the bottom of the sink, he's mesmerised by the way it shines and glimmers in the bright light, it suddenly seems a lot bigger than a small kitchen knife. Freddie chews his bottom lip.
This is a big step and he knows it. He knows it's a bad thing to do but when had anything he ever done been right? He thinks of what he said to his sister, his best friend before anyone else, and what he had said about his Mum and her parents… He bites down on his lip and draws blood. He's a horrible person. Vic was right – he's just making people sad. He was the person Aaron's girlfriend cheated on him with. He's the one who snogs girls and doesn't even both to catch their name.
He's a bad person. He deserves this. He's not Fred. He's not Fred. He's not Fred.
He suddenly gasps in pain. He'd cut himself but he doesn't remember when he picked up the knife. The cut isn't deep, maybe a scratch, it doesn't even bleed. He cuts again. It's a cut this time and it bleeds, small beads of blood gather across the gash on his forearm then slowly roll down the side of his arm and are brilliant, bright and beautiful crimson in the bright light.
He likes the sight of the blood, so he cuts again.
The doorknob to the bathroom suddenly rattles as someone tries to open the locked door, Freddie jumps and drops the knife then blinks at the state of arm. When had two cuts become ten?
"Vic I swear to Merlin if that is you getting ready to go shag Teddy or something I'll tell Dad!" His cousin Dom hisses through the door.
Freddie curses under his breath and rapidly cleans away the blood from the sink (why did it have to be white?) and wraps a wad of toilet paper around his arm to hide the cuts. He fiddles with his sleeve trying to hide the fact he has half a loo roll wrapped around his forearm. He shoves the knife into his pocket and unlocks the door.
Dom blinks at him in surprise, her strawberry blonde hair messy around her pretty, pale face, "Freddie? Geez, what the hell where you doing in there?"
"Not getting ready to go shag Teddy, so don't tell my Dad that," Freddie supplies humourlessly, he moves aside and lets her into the bathroom, "Why you still up?"
"Gotta share with Molly and Lucy," Dom rolls her eyes almost fondly, "We've only just stopped gossiping, you know how they are speaking of gossip…" she looks at him shrewdly, "Apparently you shagged Megan?"
"Erm – who?" Freddie says blankly.
"Thought so," Dom smirks, "Go to bed Freddie boy."
Freddie rolls his eyes and ruffles his cousin's hair, "Night Domino."
She scowls at his back as he walks away towards the room he is sharing with Albus and Louis. She blinks and shakes herself as she goes to do her business. She must have been going crazy or sleep deprived if she thinks she saw blood on Freddie's sleeve.
The next day is hell. Complete hell. Freddie knows he should be smiling and laughing, after all its Christmas, but he's worried about this thing Hermione is getting him tested for, and he's worried someone will see the cuts even though he's wearing a thin black jumper and a hoodie that's slightly too big for him, he felt like he was going to have a panic attack when his Grandmother announced she was missing a knife but must have misplaced it due to old age.
Teddy keeps trying to talk to him but Freddie keeps hiding or running off – quite literally at one point – and talking to someone else to avoid the blue haired boy. It's one massive stress after another even before the day has properly begun and all Freddie wants to do is cut. His beautiful cuts aren't bleeding anymore, something the teenager is quite upset about, but they're certainly not healed and he knows it he moves his arm the wrong way they'll bleed but he doesn't mind, if they bleed the blood won't show on his dark clothing.
He sits talking to James for a while before excusing himself and heading upstairs. He knows everyone is downstairs and sees that as an opportunity to maybe cut a few more times before he has to leave with Hermione to go to this unit thing wherever and whatever it is… He makes it into the room he is sharing with his cousins and is reaching for the knife he hid in his trunk when he hears a thud from the next room over.
Freddie dismisses it at first and picks up the knife. He hears another thud, like something was knocked over. He curses and throws the knife back into his trunk before heading out of the room and into the one next to his. The one Teddy is in. He hears another thud and knocks on the door.
"Teddy?"
No answer. There's not another thud. Freddie frowns and opens the door and feels like he's going to be sick when he sees Teddy. There's a nasty cut on the side of his head that's bleeding copiously, his knuckles are bruised and bloodied and the floor length mirror that had stood in the corner of the room is in pieces on the floor, the glass is cracked all around the wooden floor and the frame of the mirror is broken into pieces beside the wall and the door. That would explain the thuds at least.
"Shit," Freddie swears loudly and grabs one of Teddy's shirts off the floor, he kneels down beside the now brown haired boy and presses the shirt to the wound on the side of his head in an attempt to stem the bleeding, "Shit, Teddy, what the fuck?"
Teddy doesn't speak nor does he move from where he's sat on the ground. His arms are wrapped around his knees. He doesn't look like Teddy when he has brown hair, he looks like Remus…
"I know you miss them Ted-" He begins but he's cut off.
"No, you don't Fred!" Teddy snaps but there's a crack to his voice, "Your parents aren't dead! They didn't leave you!"
Freddie thinks of what he could yell back at Teddy, he thinks of how he could yell about his problems and how Teddy doesn't understand how people are trying to make him into a Fred Weasley clone, but he doesn't. That's a good way to get his problems brought to life and he doesn't want to do it and it won't help Teddy. So instead he takes a deep breath and drops Teddy's now bloodied shirt into his lap.
"You're right, I don't," Freddie says as calmly as he can, he hates that Teddy called him Fred, "Not many of us really can, except Harry."
Teddy wipes his face on his sleeve but doesn't reply. Freddie see's that his eyes are red from crying.
"I can go get him if you want?" Freddie offers. Teddy silently nods.
Freddie stands and leaves the room, he makes his way downstairs quite quickly and manages to find Harry even quicker – after all he's raven haired amongst a sea of red heads and blondes."
Freddie?" Harry looks over at him with a questioning look, not missing the panicked look in his eyes.
"Go talk to Teddy." Freddie instructs. Harry raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Go talk to Teddy," Freddie repeats and Harry's questioning look turns to concern, "Now."
Harry is already making his way upstairs and Freddie doesn't make to follow him or inform Ginny or Andy what's going on. Instead he heads over to Hermione and as good as stops her mid conversation with his Mum.
"When are we going?" He asks his Aunt.
"Whenever you're ready." Hermione answered.
"I'm ready." Freddie responded quickly. He just needs to leave and quickly.
Positive. ADHD. No doubt about it. Treatment? No point. Won't help much as he's wizard. Just has to 'buck up' and deal with something he doesn't really understand. Hermione tried to explain it to him but was just confused by it, weren't most kids and teenagers hyperactive? Sure he spaced out sometimes in class and would rather drum his fingers along a table than write out an essay but wasn't that most teenagers?
Apparently not. Apparently once again Freddie was in a minority. A half cast wizard who now has ADHD. Maybe that was why people wanted him to be a clone of his deceased Uncle, they were trying to help him, and they were trying to help get him out of the minority and into the majority.
A/N So not much so say about this chapter except that obviously its gotten a lot darker, added a bit of Teddy angst in there as well because what's live without a little angst now? Please review! Next chapter should be up soon!