Smile

by h-scribble

It's a week after the battle. Charlie tries to remember everything about his brother but finds out he has missed out on so much. He consoles his family and George as much as he can, but ultimately realises that one must relearn how to smile in time.

4. George and Fred

I'm 28 years old. I married a wonderful Irish girl and moved to Scotland with her, close to the family. I opened up my own dragon sanctuary for the dragons that had escaped during the war. I stand in the joke shop, Weasley Wizard Wheezes, searching for my brother in the sea of bright orange and purple shelves. George is standing a while away, talking animatedly to a couple teenage girls, eyes darting to the love potions near them. His face is lined, much too worn for a man of 21 years. He pulls himself away. We chat. I leave. He closes up the shop for the night and walks heavily up the stairs to his single apartment.

I'm 35 years old. I have three beautiful children. I bring them to Christmas dinner with the family at the Burrow. It's a giant reunion. Everyone's got their little children, some sleeping, some playing, some crying. My own tiny blond girl runs clumsily to hug her cousins. My wife is holding the hands of our twin ginger-haired boys. Mum and Dad, old now, welcome us warmly and pinch the kids' cheaks, grumbling happily about the excess of Weasleys. I spot George. He's bending down, I can't see what he's doing. His wife, a dark haired girl, caught my eye and grinned. I stride over to her and George. I can see now. He is on one knee, consoling his two year old son, who has his pink index finger in his mouth. "Don't worry, little guy," says George, "You just got it stuck in a door! I bet Lucy's really really sorry. Come here, Freddie." He holds out his arms and the little carrot-topped boy runs into them, toothily grinning. George smiles.