"GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY! IF YOU'RE NOT IN FRONT OF ME IN ONE MINUTE, I SWEAR I'LL HEX YOUR OTHER EAR OFF TOO!"
Her face red and her eyes narrowed in rage, Angelina Weasley was definitely a force to be reckoned with when she lost her temper, and it was general consternation to pity the person who bore her wrath, who was mostly her husband, and right now, she was furious him, which wasn't really a rare occurrence in the Johnson-Weasley household at all. Their home was a lively one; too lively, in the opinion of some of the other members of the family. Of course, being the household of George Weasley, unexpected explosions of pranks were definitely a given, and Angelina Weasley nee Johnson, being the quick-tempered person she was, ensured that her shrieks, too, were a part of their daily routine. If the other Weasleys had considered their home a little risky before, it was downright dangerous to visit them since the birth of Roxanne and Fred Weasley. Both of them, it seemed, had inherited their father's love for pranks, and the mischievous trio ensured that no moment was a dull one in their lives.
However, her husband's penchant for continuously annoying her wasn't the reason for her fury this time, oh no. It was her children who were responsible for it. She had woken up that morning to find both her children puking, with a high fever and she'd been worried out of her mind, especially when they, who seemed to continuously be hungry, had refused to eat anything. Imagine her surprise and fury, when she realized that they had just been using a newly developed product of their father's, which they'd apparently sneaked out from his workshop, to escape having to visit their Aunt Hilda, who they claimed was 'as evil as Rita Skeeter'.
"GEORGE!"
"What, Angelina?" George asked, his face tired, though his eyes still sparkled, coming down the stairs. He caught sight of the two little children standing behind his wife, their heads bowed, and sighed. "What have they done now?"
Angelina narrowed her eyes at him, "Oh, just nothing! They just scared the hell out of me all day, because I seriously thought they'd caught some serious disease, only to discover that they had been pretending to be sick all day! And they sneaked something out of the workshop."
George just stared at his children, his eyes narrowed.
"What have I told you about going into the workshop?" he asked them, glaring at them.
"That we're not allowed to." 5-year-old Roxanne answered in a small voice.
"And since you decided to completely disobey me, both of you are grounded for the next month, is that clear?"
Both the children nodded, their eyes downcast, as they realized that what they'd done must have been very bad, for even their fun-loving father to scold and punish them.
"Now go to your rooms. "
As the two children quietly exited the room, Angelina, her anger extinguished, put her hand on George's shoulder. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," he sighed "I just wish they understood how dangerous meddling around in the workshop could be"
"They're children, George," His wife said gently "and most importantly," her voice gained a teasing edge, "they're your children. Do you really expect them to follow rules?"
He grinned, "I really shouldn't, should I? But Angie, I can't imagine anything happening to either of them I want them to understand that life isn't all about jokes and pranks. Had me and Fred grown up a little sooner, maybe he wouldn't have…" his eyes were far away now, lost in the possible things that could have happened, that he could have changed. These moments weren't as common as they used to be, but when they happened, it was very difficult to drag George back from his musings.
Even though everyone in the family hoped for Fred's return, George never did, because he could't even bear to think what he would feel like if his twin didn't come back, and he didn't want to spend his whole life waiting for a miracle to happen. He wanted to live, like Fred would've wanted him to, and so he did. He worked hard to make Weasley Wizarding Wheezes a raging success all over Britain, and had expanded their franchise into about six shops in Wizarding Britain. He had got married, and had children, and made sure that they knew about their Uncle Fred. But no matter how many years had passes, no matter how much had changed in the past years since the war, the one gaping hole in his heart, along with the hole he sported instead of his left ear, had never healed.
It was late in the afternoon, when the fireplace whooshed with green flames, signaling someones's arrival at Grimmauld Place. Ginny Potter, who had been keeping a strict vigil on the sofa in front of the fireplace, had immediately jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing with anger, yet her heart filled with worry and concern, as her husband stepped out, brushing off soot from his robes, his expression happy, but turning meek and submissive at the sight of her own furious one.
"Harry. James. Potter"
"Hey, Gin" he said weakly, in a placating voice.
"Where the hell have you been all morning?" she asked, her face calm, though Harry knew her well enough to know that it was the calm before the storm. The calm before a very terrifying storm, as he knew.
"Um..I was, er-"
"Where. Were. You." She demanded, her nose flaring, and her face a Weasley red, warning him to do what she wanted before she unleashed her famous Bat Bogey Hex on him.
"I, er, was a Hogwarts, Gin. There was a…situation there." He answered, his bespectacled eyes twinkling.
"And what, pray tell, was so important, that you missed breakfast, which you never miss, and didn't even tell me that you wouldn't be home?" she asked, her volume growing with every word she spoke, until it had turned into a near-shout quite reminiscent of her mother's.
It was at that precise moment, that the fireplace flashed green again, and a tall, lanky, red-haired, and freckle-faced man stepped out of it, grinning cheekily at the red-haired woman, who was staring at him like she'd seen a ghost.
"Jeez Gin, you sound exactly like Mum."
And then, darkness filled Ginny's vision as she descended into unconsciousness.
