George Weasley

Written in the Mirror

Tiny chattery drifted from the open window of the bathroom from outside. The kids were throwing gnomes out of Luna's garden, a pass time they quite enjoyed. George traced wrinkles in his face as he looked in the mirror. Even his kids made him think of how ugly he was being toward Albus. He balled his hands up into fists and punched the mirror, giving his face many more cracks in it.

The door to the bathroom flew open. "Are you alright, dearest?" Luna was asking as George twisted around, ready to pounce on the intruder.

His eyes filled with deep regret as he looked at his young-looking, still-blonde, wife, who had no mark of judgment on her face. Instead, she was grabbing a towel and wrapping it around George's hand. Blood was spilling from it. George hadn't even noticed.

Luna rushed out of the bathroom and came right back, wand in hand. She mended George's hand first. Then she repaired the mirror. "Seven more years of bad luck," she mused, shaking her head back and forth.

"I've only had bad luck in my life," George huffed. His face softened as his wife shifted her weight uneasily. He was lucky to have her. She never yelled at him for pulling stunts like these. She accepted the shop. She was there in the nights went George would wake up calling out Fred's name. It took a couple months for their oldest son not to walk into the room. "Except for two things."

"What's that?" Luna pushed a stand of hair out of her face.

George reached over and took her hand in his. "You and the kids."

They moved in toward each other and hugged each other tightly. Luna always had a same base smell to her, which was tea and musty books, but she always had a bit of a different smell to her as well. It was a smell he had almost forgotten in his older age. The smell of a Quidditch pitch.

"We bagged fourteen of those boggers today, Fred!" Their youngest son yelled out.

George's shoulders slouched. Some days he wished he hadn't named his oldest after his brother. It hurt his heart too much. But he loved that seventeen-year-old redhead so much that he would never give him up for anything. He felt a small rage go through him, thinking about Draco deceiving his son like he had Albus.

"What is it?" Luna asked.

"Maybe I need some of that luck potion that Ron took in his sixth year for some luck."

Luna shook her head again. "No, George. You don't need Felix Felicis to give you anything more than you already have. That is no way to fix broken things."

Her voice soothed his anger. He knew Luna well enough to understand that she was talking about his relationship with Albus.

"Whenever I think of Draco, I want to punch his teeth in. And Harry doesn't even know—"

Luna put her hand up and lightly touched George's lips. Her fingers smelled and tasted of sugar. When it smelled that deeply of sugar, George knew that Luna was putting herself in a tea trance.

"I don't think it is as it seems to you, George. I've also seen that it will all turn out alright. But you should go to Albus and talk to him soon. Remember, our relationship was not too popular when we first started dating."

George sighed. "Fred was so much better at this kind of thing..."

"What would Fred do, George?"

George turned toward the fixed mirror. His thoughts fell on how easy it was to fix things with magic, yet there was so much magic couldn't fix. Couldn't undo. What would Fred do? "I need to go have a chat with my brother." He was aware that he could be talking about one of five places. But Luna knew which one he truly meant.

"Today is a good day," Luna exited the bathroom with that message.

George apperated from his bathroom to the graveyard. The winds were blowing wildly through the nearby meadow. Lost Patronuses danced in the midst. A broom was propped up against a tree. George would have studied it to see who it might belong to, but his attention was quickly brought to the grave of Colin Creevey. Strangely, the first thing he noticed was the lack of a rose on it. Something that was missing five days earlier as well. What should have caught his attention was a huge crack right over the top of where the body was buried and the headstone was a crumbled pile of rock.

"What does it mean?" A meek voice asked behind George. He didn't even have to turn around to know that it was Albus.

George waved him forward. The younger boy was at his side in a couple of steps. George didn't look at him, but he put his arm around him. "It means that Colin Creevey is no longer dead. He had merged with someone."

"Neville did it."

"Did what?"

Albus explained what happened to his uncle.

George's mind is swamped with that information. "Excuse me for a moment, will you?"

Albus nodded and walked over and climbed the tree. He was looking in the air. George tried to ignore that as he went over to Fred's grave. He kneeled down in front of it. Light green moss was starting to grow over it. George pulled out his wand and cleared it off.

"Oh, Fred. I'm having a time with your nephew. Our nephew. I just want the best for him. But I'm having a hard time accepting him with Draco. Help me. You'd know exactly what to do."

A white light flashed over the headstone in George's eye. It was a wondering Patronus of a doe. George sat down cross-legged, thinking about why that seemed so familiar. They stared at each other for a very long time, until the story of Snape's Patronus hit George.

"You really think I'm that dim-witted that I wouldn't notice that Severus was in Albus's name, Fred?" It gave him the answer, though. You can't help who you love. "Thank you, brother." George kissed his fingertips and pressed them on Fred's name.

He stood up, finally ready to face the one thing that had been haunting him for about a month. He walked back to the tree. Albus was still looking to the air. George wondered what he was looking for. But Albus spotted him and hopped down.

"Hey." His smile ran a little crookedly.

"I'm sorry I haven't been very kind to you about this whole thing."

"It's okay, Uncle George." Albus shuffled his feet in the grass.

George put his hand on Albus's shoulder. "No, it's not." He looked the boy right in the eye. "I don't know Draco Malfoy much anymore, but I don't trust him by nature. He wasn't a great kid at school. People didn't much like him. And I distrust anybody that is over twice your age having interest in you."

"Men used to be much older than Draco and marry girls that were younger than me. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. And that's exactly why I love Draco, Uncle." Albus pulled away from George's grasp.

"Love?"

"Yes. I love him." Albus nodded affirmatively.

"I may not fully support this, but I will be here for you if you ever need to talk."

The sounds of a broom sweeping in distracted the two guys from their talk. They both looked toward the tree. A dark figure was shaded. The blonde hair was recognizable, but it didn't seem like Draco at all. The boy was too young. Scorpius?

Scorpius!

George fled back to Fred's grave. He watched from a far as Scorpius climbed the tree. Albus came running toward George.

"Sorry, Uncle." Albus took a few light breaths. "But can you leave. I'm kinda teaching Scorpius how to kiss and don't really want to do it in front of you."

"Right." George apperated back to his bathroom. He looked into the mirror again, seeing a smile plaster to his face. Luna might be right. Everything might work out for the better.