A/N: I decided to go ahead and start calling Fred 'Freddie'. It's a bit confusing to write with calling her 'Fred' and apparently it's confusing for anyone reading. I want to thank HPFanFictionFan for suggesting the name change. Just to be clear though, Freddie still prefers to be called 'Fred' and that is what George is going to call her when talking to or about her.
Oh, and I think I should mention that the only books I have here are the 2nd and 4th. The others are with my sister in Kentucky so I'm mostly going off what I can remember and what was in the movies. If I get anything wrong could you please tell me?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, do you really think it would've taken me until now to figure out why the Weasley's house is called "the Burrow"? Why, yes, I am stupid sometimes.
:Nothing Left Of You:
:3:
Three weeks had passed since Freddie's first time at the Burrow. Since then she had shown up every day just as the sun was setting. The first few times Ginny or his parents would have to call George down from his room when Freddie arrived. After the first week he would know to meet her outside. If his timing was just right, which it usually was, he would open the door just in time to see Freddie landing in the garden. Regardless of the weather Freddie always flew to the Burrow from where ever it was she was staying the night before. George asked her one spring afternoon why she flew threw rain the way she did and why she couldn't just apparate or use floo powder.
"I'm afraid to apparate and I'm terribly claustrophobic," she answered absentmindedly as she picked petals from a daisy, "Well, that and I just love to fly." Freddie, who had been lying on her stomach, tossed the now petal-less daisy aside and rolled over onto her back. Her hair spread out around her head like a halo of fire, and the sun shining through the leaves of the tree they were sitting under only made the illusion seem more real. George sat with his back against the tree. He was looking out at the horizon. The tree was on the top of a hill surrounded by relatively flat land so he could see pretty far. The view was wasted though as George wasn't really seeing what he was looking at.
"When I fly I forget everything," Freddie said a few moments later, "It's like I'm not even me anymore, but not in a scary "Who am I?" kind of way. It's really refreshing."
"I wish flying could do that for me," George said, "It would make things so much easier if I could forget."
"Why do you say that?" Freddie sat up so that she could get a better look at George. There was a look of concern on her face and it made George regret speaking up. He didn't like to see her upset.
"It's hard to find someone in Diagon Alley that didn't lose a loved one in the final battle against Voldemort," George explained. In a previous meeting Freddie had told George that because she had been born and raised in America, she really didn't know much about what had been going on with Voldemort. Of course, she knew about him. Her father had talked about him when she was young but until his return Freddie had thought of him more as a monster from a fairy tale dreamt up to scare children than a man that threatened the lives of innocent people half-way around the world.
"Did you lose someone? A friend? Or family?" Freddie asked, "If you don't mind my asking…"
"I lost the closest friend I ever had along with many others," George said. Again, he chose not to tell Freddie about his other half. She'll find out about him sooner or later, George thought. He just hoped it would be later rather than sooner.
:x:
For two months Freddie flew to the Burrow and from there she and George either went to the café or they sat in the shade of the tree. It may have seemed monotonous to someone on the outside but George looked forward to seeing Freddie each day. He loved their time together, but of course nothing stays the same forever.
One day when it was raining unusually hard Freddie landed in the garden just like she always did. The only difference now was that she appeared to be soaked through to the bones. In the past Freddie had cast a spell on herself to keep the rain off. What could have caused her to forget something so important? George wanted to ask her, but questions could wait. He had to get her inside where it was warm and dry.
George led Freddie into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was busy making dinner. She nearly dropped the bowl of mashed potatoes she was holding when she saw Freddie standing in the doorway. The poor girl looked even worse now that she was inside. Her shoulder length red hair was stuck to her face and her clothes were plastered to her skin. She was shivering and she was rubbing her arms trying to warm up. It wasn't working. "Freddie, what happened to you?" she asked in a tone only a mother could use. Even though Freddie had introduced herself to Mrs. Weasley as "Fred" and George never called her "Freddie", Mrs. Weasley refused to call her "Fred". Freddie didn't mind but that was only because she didn't know why Mrs. Weasley couldn't bring herself to call the girl "Fred".
Freddie smiled sheepishly. "I guess I just forgot to cast a spell to keep the rain off," she said.
"You forgot?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Freddie couldn't tell if she was angry or concerned. "How could you forget with how hard it's been raining?" Mrs. Weasley asked, "Oh well, it doesn't matter now that it's been done. You'll need to dry off and get out of those wet clothes though. I'll go see if Ginny has anything you can borrow. George, dear, keep an eye on the food will you?"
Mrs. Weasley sat the bowl of mashed potatoes down on the table and left to find Ginny. George took advantage of his mother's absence to interrogate Freddie. "You forgot?" he repeated his mother's words.
"Yeah…" Freddie said, "I guess I just wasn't thinking about it."
"What else could you have been thinking about?" George questioned, "How could you think about anything but the rain?"
"I was thinking about the dream I had last night," Freddie explained, "It wasn't a normal dream."
"What was so strange about it?" George asked as he crossed the room to stir a pot of something that was about to boil over.
"Well, I was playing quidditch and that's normal enough, but in my dream I was a beater playing for a team that I didn't recognize," Freddie said trying her best to recall all the finer details of the dream. "I think you might've been in it," she added a moment later, "Yeah, you were and by the way, apparently you look great in dark red." Freddie began laughing but it turned into a coughing fit.
"You're probably sick now from flying through that storm," George said when Freddie finally stopped coughing.
"I can't get sick," Freddie said, "If I get sick I won't be able to fly and if I can't fly I can't visit you."
"Anyone can get sick, Freddie," Mrs. Weasley said as she returned to the kitchen. She handed Freddie a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. The pants had tiny brooms and golden snitches all over them and the tank top was black with the outline of a golden snitch. They were a gift from Harry, no doubt. "These should fit you. You look to be about Ginny's size. You might be a bit taller though," she said, "You can dry off and change in the bathroom. It's just up the stairs and to the left."
:x:
Mrs. Weasley was right about Freddie being taller than Ginny unless, of course, the pants were supposed to stop just above her ankles. George had never seen the pants on Ginny so it was a possibility. It was unlikely, but it was a possibility all the same. Freddie now leaned against the wall just inside George's room. She was considerably drier than she had been when she arrived, but her hair was still rather damp. Freddie twisted her hair up into a bun and fixed it in place with a pencil she took from George's desk.
"Aren't you supposed to ask before you take things?" George asked. He didn't really care about the pencil. He just didn't like the awkward silence.
"Yes," Freddie said, "But I figured you wouldn't mind." A few stray locks of hair fell across Freddie's face and she brushed them back behind her ear. George had never noticed before but she had six silver studs in each of her ears.
"You're right, I don't mind," George admitted, "I was just making conversation which is more than you're doing."
"Well maybe that because I'm still thinking about my dream," Freddie replied, "It was so strange. I don't even think I could play as a beater."
"I don't think there's anything strange about it," George said. He was almost defensive of his position. He'd never actually played any other role on a quidditch team so anything else would have seemed strange to him. "I'm a beater, you know."
"I didn't know that," Freddie said, "Oooh, maybe I'm psychic or something." Freddie laughed but it only caused her to start coughing again.
"If you were psychic you wouldn't have flown through the rain unprotected like you did," George said dismissing the idea of Freddie having any psychic powers. It wasn't as unlikely as he made it out to be though. Actually, it made sense. How else could Freddie dream about playing as a beater for the Gryffindor team if she had never played as a beater or saw the Gryffindor uniforms? It couldn't just be by chance that she subconsciously knew those things.
"George! Freddie!" Mrs. Weasley's voice carried up the stairs and tore George away from his thoughts, "Dinner's on the table!"
"We should go," George said getting up from where he had been sitting on his bed. It was still strange for George to be seen outside his room. He had been making a great deal of progress in his recovery since meeting Freddie, but George Weasley still had a very long way to go. If it weren't for Freddie being there he wouldn't have bothered to go down to eat with his family. He would've waited and avoided them just as he had since his Fred was killed.
:x:
Dinner passed with minimal discussion. It was still strange to see George at the dinner table so things were a little awkward. At least, they were until Mr. Weasley came home. He had heard of Freddie, and she of him, but the two had never met before. Aside from Freddie's first visit, she had never spent much time inside the Burrow. Mr. Weasley didn't waste any time before he began drilling Freddie with questions about everything from the how American witches and wizards lived to how the muggles lived.
"I can't really speak for the whole country," Freddie answered as best she could, "My family is a pretty decent mix between magic and muggle though. We've been leaning more towards the muggle side of things though."
"Oh, really? Why is that?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Well, after my dad died my mom swore off of magic," Freddie explained, "She wouldn't allow me or my brothers to use magic in the house so we had to adapt to a muggle lifestyle. My little brother, Jacob, didn't mind. He's an amazing young wizard but he just didn't take to magic like he took to music."
"Is your mother muggle-born, then?"
"No," Freddie answered, "Neither is my father. My parents both come from pure-blood families."
"Pure-blood? I thought Americans didn't put any emphasis on whether someone was muggle-born or pure-blood," Mr. Weasley said.
"Most that I know don't, but my dad grew up in Ireland," Freddie explained, "My family kind of operated differently because of that."
"Is that why you came to Europe?"
"No… I'm still trying to figure out what I'm doing here," Freddie said. All the questions were starting to make her nervous and George could see that. He wished his father would just leave Freddie alone.
"Where are you staying then?" Mr. Weasley asked. George silently wished for that to be his last question.
"I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron," Freddie told him. She gave George a look as if to say 'Is this ever going to stop?' George shrugged.
"Well that just won't do," Mr. Weasley said, "You've been flying out here from London every day through all sorts of weather?"
"Oh, I don't mind it. I really do love to fly and-" Freddie began.
"No, as long as you're going to be visiting every day you should just stay here," Mr. Weasley decided. Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to argue but she wasn't going to say anything in front of Freddie.
"Umm… Okay…" Freddie said. She was startled, to say the least, that Mr. Weasley had invited her to stay with them.
"Great," Mr. Weasley said, "It's settled then. You can get your things from the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow and we'll move you into Ron's old room."
:x:
You know, I wasn't paying much attention to length but I think this is the longest chapter yet. I'm sorry if it sucks. I wrote the first half right after I put chapter two up, and I only wrote it then because I was really upset and I needed to distract myself. To be honest, I was pretty depressed the whole time I was writing this. I'll try not to let my emo-ness affect my writing in the future.
Oh, and I really can't decide, should I have George and Freddie fall in love or something? The story can go either way and the ending I want will still work. I just want to see what y'all think.
P.S. – I must be an idiot or something because I can't figure this out… Can anyone tell me how to edit the first two chapters? I thought I figured it out, but it didn't work so… I don't know.