March, 2013
March, 2013
"Who's the letter from?" Alf looked over to Eileen, sitting at their table, but lost in her own world.
"Huh…oh, it's nothing." She said quickly, putting it away in her rucksack even as Teddy and CJ joined them.
"From Prescott?" Teddy asked, his voice dripping.
CJ elbowed him hard, and Alf glared…generally they tried to pretend that Eileen's boyfriend didn't exist. Every now and then Teddy slipped up with a snarky remark, and generally Eileen turned around and gave as good as she got.
Not this time. This time she slammed her glass down and, blinking hard, rose quickly, taking her bag with her. "As a matter of fact, yes. Prescott has grown tired of a long distance relationship, if you must now, and he is currently dating some dumb southern witch named Laila May Barnes. Not that YOU care, Teddy Lupin!" And with a huff, she turned away, and then ran out of the hall.
Teddy flushed brightly. "Oi, I didn't mean anything by it!" He called after her, and went to follow himself.
"Sit." CJ dragged him down. "She's not going to want male company at the moment."
Alf stared between CJ and Teddy, and then out the door where Eileen had departed. With a sigh, he picked up his own bag, and dodged out of CJ's grasp.
"Not even your company, Alf!" CJ warned. "You're risking your life."
"Right. Explain to Dad if I don't make it back alive." He replied, jogging lightly after Eileen. Part of him suspected CJ was right, and the last thing that Eileen wanted was a guy around, even one of her friends. But then, it was pretty clear that Alf, to her, was a friend, and not a guy. At least not usually.
WWWWWWW
He caught up to her under an old willow tree by the lake, where she was sniffling quietly to herself. She shot him a glance of death that would have scared away anyone else. But Alf just went ahead and sat beside her. After a moment, he conjured up a box of tissues and handed it over to her.
"Thanks." She sniffed, then blew her nose loudly.
"Easy…I've never heard about cutting off your nose to spite your boyfriend." He quipped, hoping to get a laugh from her.
He didn't succeed. Eileen merely drew herself together, and wiped at her eyes, as she resumed a glassy stare over the lake. "I knew it wouldn't work." She said, sadly. "We liked each other a lot last summer, but he's so much more mature than I am. Why would he want me?"
"Don't be an idiot." Alf said. "And don't go fishing for compliments, because you know the only way I can answer that is to give you the whole laundry list about how wonderful you are and that's just going to make your head swell. Your nose swelling is bad enough." He nudged her gently, and this time at least she cracked a smile.
Seeing her at least listening to him, Alf continued gently. "'Sides, Ei, it can't really have been much of a relationship? You're here, he's there…you saw him for just a few weeks over Christmas, and you'd have seen him for what, a week over Easter? I mean, that's not really dating."
"I know." She admitted, shrugging. "Actually, Alf, mostly I forgot I had a boyfriend. But it was nice…I was the only girl in my year in Hufflepuff who had a guy. I mean, it was a big deal with the other girls." She frowned suddenly. "I've never understood why it's always bothered Teddy so much though. Why does he always have to be such a wise-ass about it?"
Alf felt his face grow warm, and he reached over and squeezed her arms. "Eileen…you can guess, I'm sure."
She turned puzzled eyes to him, her lips pursed in thought. "No, actually, I can't. Do you know, Alf?"
Alf's face went even redder, but he met her eyes with great calm. "I suspect. Eileen, I think he's…well, kind of, um, fond of you."
It took her a few minutes to process what Alf was saying. Then she blinked as it settled in. "Fond of me? Like a crush?" She said, never taking her eyes from Alf. "You think…you think HE has a crush on me, Alf?"
"I do." Alf nodded, breaking her gaze, which for some reason hurt him. "I've thought so since September. I mean, I know we've all kind of half laughed behind his back that it would end up being him and Victoire no matter what. But still, he took Prescott pretty personally. You know that. Not like CJ and I; I think we got over the initial shock rather quickly." He gave a half hearted smirk to the water, and tossed a small rock into its depths.
A sigh came to his ears. "I don't love Teddy, Alf." Eileen said. "I wouldn't want him to be hurt."
Alf shrugged. He remembered all the little squabbles that Eileen and Teddy seemed to have, and thought she might not realize that she loved him yet, but that didn't mean it might not yet happen. "Personally, I think it's stupid of any of us to be talking about love, and none of us even fifteen yet. Dating is one thing, but really, how possible is it that we're going to find our soul mate at our age?"
He finally forced himself to look at Eileen. "Your parents didn't meet until your Dad was in his forties. And look at Dad and Miss Shell. And Professor Morgainne and her husband…heck, Dad and her would be married if you had to find your soul-mate at school."
Eileen gave him a little smile. "But what about your OTHER parents, Alf. Fred and Katie, I mean."
"Yeah, and look how well that worked." Alf gave a little sigh. "They broke it off so badly Mum never even told him she was pregnant. Besides, there was a war on in those days. Uncle Harry and Aunt Gin, Uncle Ron and Aunt Mi, they're products of what they were living in. They had to grow up fast." He gave her a kind look. "We're lucky, really. We can grow up in our own time."
"I suppose." Eileen sighed. "I'll miss my new found status within the house, but otherwise, well, Prescott could be rather full of himself, sometimes. And we have Owls to think about next year. Probably all in all a good thing."
"There you go." Alf sat back against the tree, the two of them settling into a companionable silence. He got a wicked glint in his eye. "Want to scare the hell out of CJ? Got any bruise powder?"
Which is why, half an hour later, CJ nearly had a heart attack at seeing Alf with two black eyes and his hand over his nose, ostensibly gushing blood, while Eileen stood by triumphantly, waving her wand. Then, as CJ realized he'd been had, he hit Alf with a flying tackle, and somehow when the dust was settled, they managed to each have real black eyes.
"Boys." Eileen sighed, as suddenly CJ and Alf started laughing and comparing the damage.
Teddy had come up beside her, as they watched their two friends digging up bruise cream from their robes. "Um, Eileen…I'm really sorry. That I was an ass, I mean…I can't be sorry that we're rid of Prescott, and it wouldn't work for me to pretend otherwise." He stood cautiously off to her side, keeping an eye on her wand hand.
Eileen threw him a smile that was almost kind. "It's okay, Teddy. I understand."
Teddy blinked. "You…what?"
"I understand." She gave him a very quick pat on the arm. "You're very sweet, but you know, it was all for the best. We're too young to be dating."
"Right. I've said so all along." Teddy stuttered out. "I mean…you're going to curse me when I'm not looking, right?"
Eileen just gave him a very gentle glance, and a sweet smile, and then looked at her watch before heading off to her next class.
WWWWWWW
May, 2013
"What's up with these fireworks, George?" Ron murmured, looking around his brother in the midst of a mass of powders and plans. "Do you really feel compelled to do 200?"
"It's what I pitched." George rubbed his head vigorously. "And it's due in August, and I don't know what I'll do with myself between now and then."
Ron looked about. "I thought it was the Eastern European Centennial. You couldn't have made do with 100?"
George gave a rueful laugh. "Stupid me, having listened too much about the whole mess in Europe from Percy. It's the 100th anniversary of the formal ratification of the constitution that set up the alliance. But the actual declaration of their independence from the Russian Federation was a hundred years earlier."
"Touching off a 100 year war…I didn't sleep through ALL of the History of Magic." Ron crossed his arms, and looked about the messy room with a sigh. "But with Michelle pregnant and a baby at home George…this just may not be possible."
George sat back. He hated to admit it, but Ron might actually be right with this one. Though Michelle's pregnancy seemed to be going fine, there was still an active baby at home who was coming up with new and unusual ways of getting in to things, not to mention the wildest beast of a lab-mastiff mix of a hound that had been his wife's Christmas present.
"The boys will be home in a few weeks." George murmured, thinking with great welcome of having CJ and Alf back for the summer. Easter had passed by much too quickly. "They'll help out, I know. And maybe Teddy, too…he's at an age when a part time job wouldn't be a bad idea." George roused himself and looked over at his younger brother. "How's the Ware-majal coming?"
"Stupid contractors." Ron murmured. "But the foundation's set, at least. It really will be a good thing, George." He said, with just a hint of defensiveness. Although George had been nothing but supportive of the project, several of their other employees, and most of their family, had regarded it with pure amusement.
"George…are you there?" Percy's voice crackled through the fireplace.
"Oi, Perce…" George dusted his hands of and came around to the floo to firechat, Ron coming up beside him. "Hell, Perce…what happened to your face."
Percy was sporting a rather large and conspicuous bruise. "Bad meeting. I'm okay though." He quickly went on. "I have a request for you from Minister Filipowski."
"Please tell me he's not moving the deadline UP?" George's voice went up half a decibel.
"On the contrary." Percy gave him a kind smile. "It's been pushed back, about eight months. They want to move the fireworks to June 1 of 2014."
Ron's muttered, "Thank goodness" was drowned out by George's "WHAT?"
"Perce, not that I'm complaining, but the Centennial is in August. Heck, even if you were considering Bi-Centennial, that would be September. Why is the celebration in March…of the following year?"
"You know Filipowski's been having some trouble, George. June 1 is the date of the death of the Martyr that is worshiped by the opposition forces. I think he's hoping if he ties everything together, he can use it to help quell the uprising." Percy met George's eyes with a glance filled with meaning. George knew Percy had reservations about this whole thing,
"Well, I'm going to require it in writing." George said, still shaking his head. "I'm not complaining, but I'd like to know what exactly I'm now creating a celebration for."
"Understood. Filipowski's anticipated you. You should have something owled to you by the time you get home." Percy gave a little nod.
Ron, meanwhile, was still looking Percy's face over carefully. "Those are curse bruises, Perce. What have you been up to?" Ron mused.
George noticed that Percy may have blushed…though it was hard to tell in the midst of a firechat. "It's nothing, Ron. Really. I'm fine."
"Accio bruise powder!" George called out; a small jar whisked its way off the shelves into his hand, and he passed it through the floo to his brother. "Take care of yourself, Percy. Don't let those desk jockeys get to you."
Percy's return smile was rather grim, George thought. Was Percy up to something, after all? Percy?
Nah.
WWWWWWW
"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Absolutely George's favorite greeting met him as he walked in the door that evening. Freddo was peaking around the corner of the doorway, holding on to the giant mutt they'd adopted by his ears, which fortunately he didn't seem to mind.
"Freddo, one of these days Hagrid's going to get tired of that!" George warned, getting down on one knee and holding his arms out. Freddo giggled and toddled forward to him, "Hagir gooo." He mumbled in what was beginning to be his own personal language.
"Wuff." Hagrid said, coming over to lick George's face, making both father and small son laugh.
"I know Hagrid's good. But even the most patient of us has their limits, Freddo!" George got up, holding his son high, and the dog leaned hard against him.
Michelle, as George had predicted, had been thrilled with the idea of adopting a dog, and just a few days after Christmas they'd found themselves in a muggle animal shelter, with Michelle, and CJ, both wanting to adopt pretty much every animal there. In the end, though, this gentle giant, part golden lab and part mastiff, had stolen their hearts, simply by coming forward and laying his head on Michelle's lap, and looking at her balefully.
There had been two snags. First, introducing the dog, then unnamed, to Rufus, Alf's cat. Rufus had for once acted like a cat, arched his back, puffed up his fur, and tore around the house hissing and spitting. For about five minutes. Then he came forward, clouted the dog on the nose just once; the dog had flopped over on the floor in submission, and Rufus proceeded to curl up on top of him and go to sleep.
"Only your cat…" CJ had muttered to Alf.
The other issue had been the dog's name, which was Amos. Just like CJ's father, and so obviously not a name that George wished to have bandied about the house. So for a couple of days they just called him "dog" while debating ideas for names.
On the last day of the break, they'd gone over Ginny's for dinner, and the dog had managed, while playing patiently with James, Albus, and Lily, to knock over a book-case, Ginny's Quidditch trophies, and get cornered in the garden by a lawn gnome.
"I haven't seen anything that awkward since I first saw Hagrid!" Harry had laughed, and the name stuck.
Michelle followed in to the kitchen, now some six months pregnant, although rather larger than the last time, not that George would ever be daft enough to say anything. "You're in early."
"Contract got moved back…meaning I have something resembling a life back." George came over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "Did you make dinner, or should I throw something together."
"Your Mum dropped a casserole by, actually; it's in the oven. She knows how we've both been working, and I think she likes out-cooking you every now and then." Michelle went to get the dishes for dinner, as George settled Freddo in his chair. "Oh, and an owl came for you." She nodded towards the high dining hutch that kept things somewhat out of Freddo's reach.
"I'll look at it later." George murmured. "It's the contract from Filipowski, I have no doubt." George washed up, while Freddo used his silverware as a one-man band. "How are you feeling."
"Ah." She came up beside him. "I had a doctor's appointment, George."
"Shell!" He came up short. "Why didn't you tell me?" He sounded just a bit wounded. "I know I've been working hard, but I still would have been there."
"I know you would have. This was an added appointment…I started suspecting something this weekend." She paused.
George felt fear clawing inside of him. "Is the baby alright?" He stuttered out.
She gave him a determined smile. "Give me your hand, George."
Deftly she guided his fingers over her extended middle. He could feel the kicking, rather a lot of it, more than he remembered with Freddo it seemed. "Baby feels fine." He said, exhaling. "Although we have a real tap dancer on our hands."
"Right. That's just it. I woke up this morning and just wondered, you know…it seemed like an awful lot of arms and legs going on. So, I went to the doctor…" She repeated, and stopped, flustered, then took George's hand. "Here." She moved his hand to the right, to a particularly hard, round spot.
"The baby's head." George said, with an understanding smile.
"Right. But…here…" She moved his hand to the left, to another such spot.
George frowned. "But…that's…not possible?"
"It is." She said, and reached forward and kissed his nose. "If you're expecting twins."
Twins.
Huh?
TWINS?
"I do understand they run in the family." Michelle quipped.
A thousand emotions filled George, at once, and he gave a gasp of surprise, and then pulled Michelle close. "Are you sure?" He asked, trying to feel the baby… babies… between them..
"The doctor is positive. We don't know boys or girls…" She added.
"Or it could be one of each." George said, quickly. He was trembling slightly. "That's…amazing. Amazing." And then, he broke in to a giggling laugh, that broke out louder. "Amazingly perfect!"
"Mummmm…" Freddo held his cup out expectantly. "Mum?"
George turned with a giggle back to his son, as Michelle went to fill his glass. "You are going to be the luckiest big brother in the world, Freddo…two new babies to boss around. Two babies!"
"Baaaaaaaaaaaaabbbbby!" Freddo agreed, pointing at his Mum's mid section.
Twins.
TWINS.
It was wonderful.
It was.
Right.
WWWWWWW
Two weeks went by. The word went round the family, earning shouts of joy and laughter, and owls from Alf and CJ that were filled with excitement. Everyone seemed so thrilled. Names were suggested left and right, all of them variations on F's and G's. Ron offered to design a high security crib; Charlie began warning Freddo of the various hexes he was going to need. It was all perfect.
Yet George still felt unsettled about it all.
Which might be why, on the day he was to go in to London to meet the boys home for summer, he found himself first at the Burrow, visiting his brother's grave.
Though for once he was at a loss for words. It was hard for him to articulate even to himself the strange tumble of thoughts that filled his head once he found out he was to be the father of twins. Absentmindedly he fiddled with the dirt in front of Fred's grave, pulling out weeds here and there. He was going to have twins.
Twins who would, as soon as they could talk, have their own language A language predicated on not always needing words to communicate. They would at times just look at each other, and smile, and understand each other perfectly, and chuckle to themselves because nobody else would know what was going on.
Only, of course, their father would. George would know perfectly well what was happening because he understood the language of twins. He knew what it was like to have somebody who could finish your sentences before you had even started them. Somebody who you didn't have to touch to know they were there. Somebody who was always present, always around, always relied upon.
Until one day they weren't anymore, and then you had to figure out what to do with yourself.
Of course, his twins wouldn't know that. Oh, someday they would understand that their father had been a twin too…and privately they would murmur to each other how awful it must have been, because neither of them could EVER live without the other, clearly, and how had their poor father done it? And at the same time they wouldn't see him as a twin; he would be just George to them, just their poor old father who thought he knew what was in their minds without ever quite getting it.
And George would watch, as an outsider, the perfect circle that he used to be a part of continue on in his children, and he could never quite fit in.
And somehow it didn't seem fair. Yet at the same time it seemed petty, and he felt a fool for being strangely jealous of his unborn children because they would have the gift of something he'd lost.
"George, dear." His mother's voice startled him, and he turned to look back up at her, from where he sat by the gravehard. He blinked and put his hand up; he hadn't realized he'd started crying.
Molly came down and sat next to him, reaching over and pulling him close to her, letting him lean against her. He knew, somehow, that he didn't have to explain anything to her; Molly would understand well enough what was churning through his muddled head right now.
Sure enough, she eventually began to speak.
"Your Uncles died before you were born. And as elated as I was when I found out I was having twins, it seemed strange at first, like I was replacing them in some way." She snorted. "And of course your Aunt Muriel being a harbinger of doom didn't help at all. Georgie, please tell me your not thinking about those stories she told me, and not thinking that your babies are doomed."
"NOT." He said, managing to give her a wan smile. "That's not what's bothering me, Mum."
"Ah. So it is just the wistfulness, hm?"
Wistfulness? George didn't speak. That was one way to put it, he supposed; sometimes it seemed a lot less benign, the white hot jealously that would crop in to his heart when he least expected it.
Molly continued on. "…You're imagining a lot right now, love, most of which is never going to happen. You think that in some way they are going to take the place of you and Fred in the family, but they won't. Not any more than Alf replaced Fred in our lives. He's a continuation of Fred, but he is wholly his own person, George." Molly kissed the side of his head gently. "You remember when Harry was young, how mad I would get at Sirius because he kept seeing Harry as James? He didn't do it always, but he did it sometimes, and it made me mad."
"I remember." George said, wondering where she was going with this.
"Well, what Sirius didn't really accept, but I learned early, is that a child isn't really a copy of their parents. Look at the lot of you, so different. I see pieces of me in each of you, in different ways, the same as I see pieces of your Dad, but yet you're each quite your own person. You, George…you have Arthur's temperament, and my cooking skills, and Uncle Thatcher's voice, apparently, and all other sorts of bits and pieces that came together to be you."
George took a deep breath. "I know that's true with Alf. Sometimes I see Fred in him, and sometimes me, and sometimes Katie…but I stopped looking for the parts a long time ago. He's altogether so much more than all of that."
"Well of course he is, dear, and so will the new ones be, once they get here. You won't be looking at them and seeing you and Fred…you will be seeing your children, for the new and wonderful people they are." She squeezed him gently. "It will be alright, Georgie."
George wrapped his own arm around her back, and sighed, breathing in the smell of fresh dirt and hazy sunshine that was hovering about Fred's grave right now. Yes, it would be alright. This was not the reincarnation of Fred and George, but new life and new horizons to be conquered. That was all.
And quite suddenly he realized, that was enough.