My darlings!
I wasn't going to update this soon, I really wasn't...but then Dalliance hit 400 reviews?! Which is bloody mental. MENTAL I tell you. So this is a little early as a gift. I'm going to be insanely busy this week, I have so much schoolwork ugh. So I'm sorry if you don't see any updates from me on a whole. The only thing may be the final chapter of It Was Her Ginger Hair, because I've been chipping away at it slowly when I can.
THANK you for all of your reviews, seriously, they are AMAZING.
Many of you guessed where Ron went ;) and you shall now see how that little bit of fun turned out.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
As always, for Sable and Lais xxx my loves.
This chapter is dedicated to Anoriel Thiliedis, Calebski and DrWho. WhereAreYou, and to everyone else who reviewed on the last chapter, just thank you. You definitely help make writing this all the more enjoyable xxx
Sunday, April 1st, 1979
April Fools
Frederick and George Weasley's 1st Birthday
Looking back, Ron has to admit this isn't his best idea.
A few days ago, whilst Remus and Charlus were out running errands-gathering supplies for the household, acquiring potions ingredients, stocking up on anything that was running low-Ron had asked Charlus if he would pick up a gift for his brothers.
Were they his little or big brothers now? Little big brothers? Ron shakes his head and dismisses the errant thought, it's trivial at best.
Charlus had come back with a pair of faux wands-the only 'magic' it was capable of was letting out harmless sparks of various colours depending on the user's mood, and two navy blue jumpers (of course small enough to fit two one year olds).
Ron had thanked the man profusely, and Charlus had gone a step further and gotten a box big enough to house it all in, and some wrapping paper with cartoon brooms that chase after quaffles, snitches and avoid bludgers.
Ron had put in a painstaking amount of effort into neatly wrapping the gift. Handwriting a short note-he'd tried to get it right countless times, the rubbish bin next to his desk in his room was filled to the brim.
Happy birthday to two of the brightest lights, and to the boys who bring joy into the lives of all they meet.
RW
Which is how he ended up in Ottery St Catchpole. In front of the door that he has entered numerous times, a door that is as familiar as the back of his hand.
Ron's fingers run across the smooth wrapping paper, and he takes a deep breath.
He squats down, and gently places the gift on the doorstep in front of him. Okay, right, brilliant. Now I can leave, Ron tells himself with a heavy sigh.
However, just as he stands up, he hears an all too familiar voice behind him. "Arthur, dear. I'm back! I cannot believe I forgot to go to Gringotts before today."
The afternoon sun is shining against the side of his face, and he knows that he looks a lot like his Father did at this age, but as soon as she looks at him head on, she'll know that he isn't Arthur.
Ron's frozen, not sure what to do or say. If he says anything, she'll hear a completely different voice from that of her husband.
It never gets to the point where he has to explain that he isn't Arthur, because Arthur opens the front door with a bright smile.
That smile fades in the blink of an eye, and Ron can hear that Molly's footfalls have halted-no more dirt crunching under her feet, no more whistling from the grass.
The footfalls begin again, and he feels something thin and hard point into the middle of his back. Molly's wand.
"Who are you?" Molly asks coldly, it's an inflection in her tone that he's only ever heard used against Sirius or anyone else trying to injure her cubs.
I was once one of those cubs, Ron thinks wryly, and he reluctantly meets Arthur's gaze.
"That's a long story...Mum."
Molly's finger is tapping the table incessantly as she stares at Ron with a perplexed expression.
Molly's hair is terribly long, much longer than he's ever seen it-hitting the middle of her back. She's dressed in a simple knee length dark chocolate brown dress, with a square neckline, and thick straps, she's also wearing a beige cardigan. Her bright brown eyes are narrowed at him, and she looks strikingly like Ginny in that moment. There's a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Ron's heart had squeezed painfully a few minutes prior when Charlie had run into the living room, a muddy mess. The young boy had looked at Ron with curiosity but nothing more. To him he was still a stranger, and older person that, "looks a lot like Daddy."
Molly had scolded Charlie for tracking mud into the house, and told him to make sure that Bill wasn't getting into too much trouble. The young lad had nodded his head fervently before flying back out into the backyard.
Molly had waved her wand and vanished away the muddy footprints as soon as he was back outside.
"This is ridiculous," Molly shakes her head, looking directly at Arthur. "Ludicrous. If any of what you just said is true, then that means my husband has known about you for almost two sodding months, and hasn't uttered a peep."
Molly is looking at Arthur scathingly, and he can only smile sheepishly back.
"Well...we didn't really talk, and it was quite an intense afternoon," Ron smiles tightly. "Not that many people know outside of a select group, and I didn't want to show up out of the blue…" Ron trails off, not really sure what else to say.
"Why did you come today then?" Molly asks softly, her hard stare melting into a much kinder expression. The chair she's in squeaks when she shifts slightly. Arthur is standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his trouser pockets.
"It's my big brothers' birthday," Ron laughs harshly, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heels of his palms to them for a brief moment. He takes a deep intake of breath and then removes his hands, when he opens his eyes, the edges of his vision are blurry and bright, multicoloured spots are dancing in front of him.
"Fred and George…" Molly trails off.
"Forge and Gred," Ron laughs. "Frederick and George Weasley, pranksters and joy bringer's to their core...and two of the best people in the world," Ron chokes on the last bit, fighting the brimming tears that threaten to fall with just one, hard blink. He sniffs loudly.
"Are you okay?" Molly asks, her hand moving to reach out to him, but she falters, instead clasping both of her hands tightly in her lap.
"Yea...I guess…" Ron shrugs. "It probably won't happen, or be the same as my dimension...since things have already changed...but I haven't seen Fred in months, and I hadn't seen much of George...so I'm a bit of a mess I spose."
"What do you mean, haven't seen Fred in months?" Arthur asks, and Ron knows that it's an innocent follow up question, that they have no idea, but everything inside of him just bursts. The dam that he had erected months ago about how he truly felt about his brother's passing, snaps, breaks, cracks and crumbles.
"HE'S GONE," Ron snaps violently, hands moving to grasp his head, short fingernails digging into his scalp. He doesn't have any more tears. Just anger. Anger that Fred died, and he lived. Anger that George was irrevocably broken beyond understanding or comprehension. Anger that in his dimension, his parents have now lost two children.
Ron doesn't know how time travel and parallel universes work, but if he's here, then he isn't there.
He knows what this means, he knows that this is a second chance. A chance to fix everything. A chance to ensure that Fred lives. That Sirius lives. Remus. Tonks. Mad-Eye. Even that manipulative old coot, Dumbledore.
"Fred's gone," Ron says reticently. That's when Molly gives into whatever Motherly urges she has, and she surges forward. Pulling him tightly against her breast. Making soothing noises and rocking him back and forth.
In a small voice Arthur asks, "and George."
With all of the emotion that's charging the air, Ron doesn't know how he manages to respond, but he chokes out, "broken."
Molly holds him for a few moments, and as if they could both sense that they were needed. Fred and George are crawling into the house. Stopping every now and then to peer at things in fascination. Their chubby arms and legs moving remarkably fast as they take everything in.
Fred and George are identical, but Ron doesn't even need to look at the knitted jumpers with their initials on them to know who is who.
George stops by Arthur, sitting on his bum and grasping at his Father's leg.
Molly lets go of Ron as she hears the happy gurgling beside her. Ron watches as Molly stoops down to pick up her son, cooing at him before walking back towards Ron. "Do you want to hold him?"
Ron swallows thickly. Blue eyes blinking rapidly. He gives her a small nod. Molly smiles as she hands him the one year old, and suddenly, all of his anger and pain seems to just melt away. A knot that he didn't even know existed simply unravelled itself.
Everything fit again.
The little boy has short ginger hair, bright blue eyes, and a radiant smile. His chubby fingers reach out to pull on Ron's lip, and he finds himself laughing. Unabashedly. It's a joyous sound, and Fred himself starts to make a happy sound in response.
Fred lets go of Ron's lip, and Ron stands up, spinning the boy in a quick circle.
"Even as a little boy, you're a mischievous rascal, aren't you?" Ron laughs, shifting so that he's now hugging the boy to him, one arm under his bum to hold him up, the other on his back. Fred drools on his shoulder, but he frankly doesn't care.
This is the happiest he's been in a long time, and living with the Marauders and Potters had been extremely uplifting to say the least.
"Do...do you want to come round more often?" Arthur suggests, uncertainly rubbing the back of his neck, and Ron's smile freezes in place. He never thought he'd hear that, and he fears his heart will burst with joy.
"Can I?"
"I don't see why not," Molly says softly, strolling over to her husband-who has George in his arms-and kisses his cheek.
"I'd love to," Ron says, a happy tear running down his cheek.
"Then, you're welcome to anytime," Molly smiles warmly.
Ron hugs Fred a bit tighter for a moment before bending down and carefully placing him on the floor. "I best be going. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, I had just planned on dropping off the gift and leaving."
Molly's eyes widen and she claps her hands together, "you aren't leaving without some cake! I made plenty-"
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Molly's look alone shut him up, "-and you can carry some for your friends as well. Dorea has a sweet tooth if I recall correctly!"
Molly bustles off into the kitchen, leaving Ron, Arthur and the twins alone. It's a touch awkward as neither wizard knows what to say.
"Sorry, uh, well that is. Sorry I didn't tell her about you," Arthur says, looking a modicum uncomfortable.
"It's fine. To be honest, I dunno how I would've reacted," Ron says in a reassuring tone, shoving his hands into his pockets.
A few minutes later, Molly returns with a basket, and nestled inside on a plate are several pieces of decadent looking chocolate cake. There is a thin, white netting secured on the top to help keep it protected against any flies etc.
A couple minutes after that, Ron's walking away and Molly, Arthur, Fred and George are waving goodbye.
A weight feels like it's been lifted up off of his chest, and it feels like he can breathe again, properly just breathe.
The last rays of sunlight are reaching for the sky as they sink below the horizon, and Ron apparates away with a smile on his face.
Hands clasped together, elbows resting on his thighs, arms lax. Sitting on one of the starch white porch steps, his feet resting on two steps down. Unruly raven hair, hazel green eyes, smile lines etched into the corner of his eyes are around his mouth.
For some reason Ron is immensely glad it's him waiting for him, and not one of his kin. He's especially glad it's not Hermione waiting for him, something tells him she'd hex him without a second thought.
"So you've returned...did you find what you were looking for?" Charlus asks, face impassive, but the mirth in his eyes is ever present.
"I'm guessing by that statement, you figured out where I went," Ron smiles wryly.
"You would be correct-" Charlus smirks, "-the others insisted on going to look for you, Harry of course was going stir crazy since he couldn't join in the effort. Hermione and Remus are the only ones still out."
"Normally I'd make a joke...but knowing Mione, she's probably really worried," Ron says soberly, his mood not as featherlight and cheerful as before. He had acted rashly, and hadn't thought about how the others would react to his sudden disappearance.
"What's that?" Charlus asks, and Ron can tell he's trying to defuse some of the guilt that is starting to cling to Ron's conscience. Ron looks down at the basket in his hands, and smiles softly at Charlus. "Mu-Molly, sent some cake for everyone."
"She always a nice girl-" Charlus grins, "-she finished Hogwarts before James and the rest started, as did her younger brother Fabian-he graduated the year before they started. Gideon being the youngest was in his fifth year when began their first year," Charlus comments randomly, seeming lost in his musings.
"Yea...after Uncle Gideon and Fabian died..." Ron swallows, he hadn't even thought about them in all of this, though it made some sense after all, he'd never met them, they'd died a long time before he was born. Plus his Mother didn't like talking about them, or rather she couldn't without bawling her eyes out. "Anyways, she named Fred and George after them, in their honour. Her two younger brothers that were taken too soon," Ron says morosely.
"Did she still name your twin brothers after them?" Charlus asks with a deep frown.
"Yea. Why?" Ron asks.
"Cause they didn't die, they were both badly injured, having taken on five Death Eaters all by themselves, but they lived. Ron. Your uncles are still alive."
I certainly wasn't expecting that, Ron thinks, absolutely floored with the new information that has been thrust upon him. It seems there are more differences in this dimension than they thought.
Thursday, April 5th, 1979
Potter Manor
The Full Moon is in exactly one week, it's the only thing that Hermione can think about. It only makes the pressing urge to finish becoming an animagus even greater.
She's passing by the Foyer, about to head up the stairs to her room, when she hears a polite knock at the door. She frowns deeply. Anyone that can get within the wards doesn't need to knock. They are as comfortable here as they would be their own home.
I should talk to Dorea about those blood wards, and tightening security. It seems we're still slightly exposed, Hermione muses thoughtfully. She'll have to remember to bring it up at lunch later.
Then she catches a whiff of it, Lemon-since resuming her training, her senses are extremely heightened, and she doesn't need to open the door to know who is on the other side.
Hermione has to stop herself from growling when she brashly pulls the door inwards. Exposing their unwanted visitor, and she glowers darkly at him.
His long silver beard is tied a few inches from the end with a pair of small silver bells, he's wearing a pointed black hat, velvet, silvery blue robes that seem to glimmer and shine in the sunlight, on his feet are curved, black, enclosed slippers, his half moon spectacles are halfway down the bridge of his nose, and that damn twinkle in his eye is sparkling away as it normally does. There's a silver rope sash tied around his hips. She can't quite discern what he's holding in his hands, but she smells it, and this time she actually does growl.
How dare he! Especially after what happened last time.
"What do you want?" Hermione asks gruffly, no niceties, no pleasant formalities. Dead and narrow, straight to the point.
"Hello again, Miss Granger. Is Mister Lupin home?"
