Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: This might be one of the longest chapters I've ever written for anything. I had no idea how it would turn out when I first started writing, but this is certainly isn't what I expected, at any rate. It's less of a memory story than the others were, but it still seemed to fit for this particular character. Review, please. Let me know…

George's memory … AKA … The Right Name

Katie stared at the disarray that used to be her living room and felt her blood pressure rising.

"George!" she shouted, and after a few moments, he wandered into the room – and stopped short. He stared around at the mess, and she could have sworn she saw his lips start to twitch in amusement. That did it.

"It was YOUR son who did this," she informed him, her hands going to her hips in a way that was horribly reminiscent of Molly Weasley at her angriest, and he tried to repress his shudder as she said, "So YOU deal with it."

He stared at her for a moment before realizing two things. First of all, she was in no mood to be argued with, and he'd rather her only be angry at one of the Weasley men right then. Secondly, though… she was right. This mess was definitely made by his son. There were many times when Fred Weasley lived up to his name. This was definitely one of those times.

"I'll take care of it," he said as soothingly as he could manage. It was hard not to laugh, though, even though he knew it would make things 100 times worse. He fought to keep a straight face while she stared at him suspiciously for a moment, and then she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, shaking her head and muttering something that sounded distinctly profane. He chose not to ask her to clarify.

"Fred!" he shouted, once he'd had a moment to himself to compose his expression.

He had to wait a couple of minutes before he heard his son thudding down the stairs. He knew Fred was counting the days until he could apparate, but both he and Katie were relieved that they had a few more months until that happened.

"Dad, you have to listen to me," Fred blurted the moment he entered the room, but George shook his head impatiently.

"I don't have to, actually," George said, trying hard for a glare. "What I do have to do is remind you that you have to clean up this mess. This house looks like a cyclone hit it, and as you well know, this is what we call your fault. Well – ok. I'll be fair. It's your fault and your friends' faults too."

Fred reddened and stared at his feet. He hated to admit it when he was wrong, but there didn't seem to be much of a way out of it this time.

"Fine," he muttered. He still wouldn't look at his father, but George inspected the top of his head thoughtfully. Then he smiled slightly.

"Fred, take a seat," he said. His son glanced up at him quickly and saw that he shouldn't argue. He slumped down on the couch, resting his cheek on his fist and refusing to look at his father even when he sat in the chair facing him.

They sat there for a moment silently before George cleared his throat.

"I understand this better than you think I do. I wasn't always your father, you know. I was once a teenager."

Fred snorted. That was hard to believe. Of all his friends, no one else had parents who anticipated their every move like his did. Granted, as his friends liked to point out, if his dad owned a joke shop, there was a pretty good chance he'd played his fair share of jokes in his time. But they didn't understand what it was like when he even seemed to know what Fred was thinking. Even now…

"I know you think we always know what you're going to do before you do it," George continued, and Fred rolled his eyes. There he went again. But his father continued talking, and what he said next made Fred really start to listen for the first time.

"But that's because we … I … well, we got into trouble far more when we were your age than you do. And I don't mean by a little. Your uncle and I were in trouble ALL the time when we were at Hogwarts and at the Burrow. You work alone. Your uncle Fred and I were a pretty terrifying team."

Fred stared at George almost against his will. He was actually admitting it? This was what he'd always wanted him to talk about. He'd heard the stories but never from George, and he couldn't imagine why. But now – now – he was actually saying it himself! He smiled slightly as he said, "I've heard, Dad. Everyone at school still talks about the way you and Uncle Fred left when you decided to open the joke shop."

George smiled slightly too, remembering. "Yes, that was quite an exit, I must say." He looked at his son and saw the amusement in his eyes, and he laughed. "Ok, so I'm still a little proud of it," he conceded, but then he hastened to add, "but that doesn't mean it should give you any ideas. Those were extenuating circumstances. Dolores Umbridge was in charge, for Merlin's sake."

Fred rolled his eyes. "I know that. But come on. If you and Uncle Fred got into so much trouble, then why can't you lighten up on me a little bit? I mean you two had fun, didn't you? Why shouldn't I have fun with my friends? It's not like anything bad ever …"

He trailed off, horror washing over him like a cold bucket of water. He couldn't believe what he'd almost said, and judging from the look on his father's face, this was another of his mind-reading moments, and he knew what Fred had been about to say too. He was about to apologize when his father shook his head.

"No, it's ok," George mumbled. He stared down at his feet, and Fred stared at his own. Now he knew. This was why his father never talked about these things. Because this might happen. Fred waited, but he didn't know what he was waiting for. And then George spoke again, and Fred was forced to look up even though once he saw his father's face, he knew he would rather look anywhere else.

George was staring at him more intently than he could ever remember either of his parents ever looking at him before, and he felt himself locked in even as he wished he could look away. He was unaccustomed to emotion from either of his parents but especially his father. And he had a sinking feeling that George's eyes weren't usually this bright. But then he started to speak, and Fred felt a small burst of relief when his voice still sounded like his own. At first.

"I know you and your friends want to have fun. I know it, and I understand it too. No one had more fun as a teenager than I did, Fred, but that's because I had your uncle with me every minute of the day. And neither he nor I ever thought anything bad could happen to us either. I'm not saying that's why it did, but it didn't help that in spite of some pretty major setbacks, we never thought anything REALLY bad could happen. And then it did…"

He trailed off as his voice tightened, and he shifted in his seat, looking away from Fred for a moment. He would give anything for his eyes not to be stinging with tears right now, but it had been so long since he'd talked about this at all, and even the thought that something could ever happen to this Fred was enough to sink him back into all the terror he had managed to keep at bay for a long time now. He blinked hard and it was a few minutes before he could look at his son again.

"Fred, listen. I know it seems like I'm making a big deal out of nothing, and in the grand scheme of things, you and your friends destroying the living room really isn't the end of the world. But the thing is… I already lost one Fred Weasley that I loved as a part of myself. You're a part of me too, and I need you to understand how important it is to me that you be careful. I know you and your friends are just fooling around. I know the world isn't as dangerous as it was when I was growing up. But I just need you to understand that bad things can happen sometimes even when we don't ever think they could. You need to be responsible and not just for your own sake."

Fred stared at his father for a moment before he too was forced to look away. He didn't understand why tears were welling up in his eyes, but he did know he didn't want his father to see them. This didn't make any sense. His dad had talked to him about responsibility before. He'd even talked to him about Uncle Fred. So why was this…?

"Because I don't think you ever really understood how much I love you," George mumbled hoarsely, and Fred's head snapped up even as the tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

"How do you do that?" he tried to demand, but his voice shook. George smiled at him sadly.

"I've always been able to tell what Fred Weasley is thinking," he said quietly.

The two stared at each other, and then Fred bolted from the room, and George slumped in his chair, his hands over his face. This was how Katie found him a few minutes later, and her mouth fell open slightly before she rushed to his side.

"Are you ok, George?" she asked softly, putting her arm around his shoulders. He sniffled, shrugged, and then finally lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and Katie immediately understood.

"You talked to him about Fred, didn't you?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question. He nodded, his lip trembling, and she bent to him and kissed him.

They stayed there in silence for a few moments until he mumbled, "You might want to go check on him. He seemed – he seemed pretty upset when he left."

Katie bit back her next question – she knew why he hadn't gone after him, himself. But even as she moved toward the stairs, she took his hand and pulled him after her. She looked back when she felt his resistance.

He shook his head. "He needs you now," he insisted, but Katie smiled sadly at him.

"He needs both of us," she corrected. "You're the one who understands this best."

He couldn't argue with that and allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs, but when they reached the door to their son's room, he heard the sniffling inside, and he hesitated.

"You go in first," he said, and when he saw the skeptical look on her face, he added, "I'll be right here. I just – I need a minute."

After a momentary inspection of his face to assure herself that he was telling the truth, she nodded. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

Fred was lying face down on his bed, sniffling, his shoulders jerking slightly. Katie walked quietly to his bed and sat down slowly beside him, but she saw him freeze, and she rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. After what seemed like an agonizingly long time, he spoke.

"He – he never told me all that stuff before," Fred said, his voice thick.

Katie rubbed his back like she'd done when he was small, and her touch soothed him. He turned over, dragging his hand across his eyes.

"This is stupid, isn't it?" he asked, looking slightly ashamed. Katie shook her head firmly.

"It isn't stupid, sweetheart. This – this isn't an easy thing. For any of us. Your father and I knew when you were born that we would name you Fred, but just because it's the right thing doesn't mean it's simple. The whole situation is hard, and even though you never knew your uncle, it's still hard for you too because you know how much your dad loved him."

"It is. I wish – I wish I could have known him," Fred whispered, the lump in his throat making it suddenly difficult to talk again.

"I wish you had too." It wasn't Katie. George was standing in the doorway, and father and son found themselves staring at one another again. George moved slowly into the room to sit beside Katie on the bed, and he tried to smile at Fred but failed miserably.

"You're a lot like your uncle," George said, his voice wobbling, "and nothing could make me happier. What your mother said was true. It wasn't an easy choice to give you his name, but it was the right one. He would – he would have approved."

They were the magic words. Without either of them quite knowing how it happened, their arms were around each other, and Katie quietly moved out of the way.

It had always hurt her to know that Fred thought his father didn't understand him when she knew that the complete opposite was true. It had hurt George too, but she'd never been able to convince him that this was a conversation they needed to have. He'd always been too afraid to reopen those wounds. But now – something had happened, and even though she didn't know what it was, she couldn't help but feel relieved. As hard as it might be, this was where they were supposed to be.