Author's note: Thanks again to everyone for the kind reviews. For anybody who finds Molly out of character for the next few chapters, just a gentle reminder that I really do have a plan and an explanation, so bear with me-I promise it will be worth it!

WWWWWWWWW

George finally did extricate himself from Alf's grip early in the morning. He stretched and twisted his head around, rolling his neck. The beds had been comfortable when he was a youngster, and the way Alf was sleeping it seemed perfectly so still for a ten year old, but that ship had long passed for him! Smiling at his sleeping nephew, he headed down the stairs with a spring in his step. The new day was before him, and he was more aware of it than he had been in years.

The kitchen was empty, although Molly had clearly begun to assemble breakfast. George glanced through the window and caught sight of his mother in the garden, probably checking for fresh tomatoes. He smiled at her, though with a slight twinge remembering last night. After pouring himself tea, he turned to the floo, to firechat with Ron.

"George!" Hermione beamed at him. In the background he could hear little Hugo fussing. "You look wonderful."

"Of course I do." George pretended to be insulted. "I am a stunningly handsome man!"

Hermione laughed, placing her hand before her mouth in a familiar gesture. "Of course you are. Please accept my apology if I implied anything else!" She smoothed her hair back. "Ron figured you'd be calling about now."

"Bless me, he's started thinking, has he!" George quipped. "And what did Dear Ron figure I'd be calling for?"

"He's assuming you'd be telling him you'd not be going in to open this morning. Going to head that way himself, open up for you and set up Aurora and Verity." Hermione's eyes softened. "He rather fancied you'd like a day off."

"Always knew he was good for something." George turned, hearing footsteps coming down the creaking stairs. "Look, Mi, tell him to send word if he really needs me, but he more than knows what he's doing." A great relief that. "I want to get everything with Alf settled sooner rather than later."

"Of course you do." A wail interrupted them. "And your youngest nephew is getting pretty temperamental about his delayed breakfast, so if you'll excuse me…"

"Have yourself a grand day, Hermione." George said, and pulled his face out of the fire.

Alf stood behind him, mouth open. He had gotten dressed, simple jeans and a tee shirt, ratty sneakers, but he was motionless in the doorway, running his hands through his hair.

George raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Um…er…nothing." Alf closed his mouth, and headed towards the table. "Um… doesn't that hurt?"

"Not a bit." George grinned. "Although you are not to try it until you learn how."

Alf shook his head. "Nobody I know with a fireplace like that!"

George poured Alf pumpkin juice. The boy eyed it suspiciously for a moment, and then took a careful taste. He grimaced slightly.

"I quite agree with you on that." George sat across from him, slicing from a loaf of bread. "Muggle orange juice has it beat all over, but don't tell my Mum."

"George Weasley, do not disparage pumpkin juice…it's very good for you." Molly came in, a basket floating behind her filled with fresh vegetables. She smiled at Alf. "Good morning, dear." She headed towards the sink. "Had your tea already, did you, George?" She said, sounding slightly forced.

"I have, Mum, thank you." George groaned inwardly. Could they be any more formal?

Molly began chopping furiously with her wand, while with another motion she filled a bowl of oatmeal and sent it over, express to Alf.

"Thank you, m'am." Alf said, politely.

"Pft, I am your Nana, darling." She beamed down at him, then went back to the vegetables. "So, George…I assume you will be leaving Alf here when you leave for work?"

George buttered his bread and reached for the jam. "Not going in to work today, Mum. I thought spending time with Alf was rather more important." He winked at Alf, who beamed back at him. "Besides, as you pointed out, I am not actually prepared to have a young man move in. I'll be needing to get some provisions."

"Hmph." Molly's want flew double time; onions leapt in protest. "Not terribly responsible of you, ignoring your work."

"Advantage of being your own boss." George replied, somewhat tersely.

"Oh, of course, my successful son." She murmured. "Hogwarts dropout."

Alf watched the discourse back and forth more than a little worried. "Uncle George?" He interrupted quietly.

George bit back what he wanted to say…it wouldn't do any good, anyway…and turned to Alf, trying to keep calm. "Yes, kiddo?"

"Are there really lawn gnomes, like Mum told me about?" He asked, hoping to be a distraction from the impending fight.

"Loads of them!" George answered quickly.

"Can I see?" Alf crossed his fingers below the table.

George turned to his mother. "There you go, Mum…I'll just take Alf out and show him how to de-gnome the yard. First time you've ever had it done without the threat of death."

Molly just sniffed. "I hardly think Alf needs to be doing that…I used to make you do it to keep you out of mischief."

"Oh, I don't mind." Alf insisted. "It sounds like fun."

"You'll learn." George said, draining his tea. "But let's get to it, shall we? Out the back door there, go on." Alf scampered away, and George took a few steps behind him, before turning back to look at his mother. Remembering Fred last night, he tried. "Mum…"

"Go on, George, do what you want to…you always have."

He winced at her tone. "Well, anyway…Percy coming back for lunch?"

"Yes." He comes over from the ministry nearly every day, dear boy." Molly smiled to herself.

"Right then. I'll check in with him on what I need to do about Alf…he did take the papers to the ministry, right?"

Molly turned away towards the sink. "Percy…is handling everything."

George sighed. His mother really was never going to forgive him for being the twin who lived. He tried to tell himself that if it had been Fred who survived, he'd have faced the same iciness. He wasn't sure that was true, though. "Okay then…off to de-gnome…call us for lunch!"

After he was out the door, Molly held herself still for a moment. She glanced briefly back at George, and bit her lip. George looked so happy…could she really go through with this? No, she had to, she told herself. It was the right thing; she was really doing what was the best for everyone. Or at least for young Alfred.

WWWWWWWW

Ron surveyed the buzz happening around the shop with more than a little pride. He was amazed, not just at the brisk business, but at the way news traveled in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true? Did you find Fred had a SON?" Seemed to be the question of the day.

"More like he found us." Ron would reply, over and over again.

Several patrons wished George well in particular, which was gratifying. George was popular with everyone; eminently likeable as well as a sound business man. Ron knew that they also felt somewhat protective of him; the surviving Weasley twin with the missing ear. Everyone understood what he had gone through losing Fred, and everyone seemed to wish him happiness. Almost everyone. Ron thought, remembering his Mum last night.

His revelry was interrupted by the sight of a grown wizard gaping at some sight and stumbling over into a bin of pygmy puffs. "Oi there!" Ron called, wondering if the bloke was drunk at 10am. Then he saw his sister-in-law Fleur pass by. "Oh, that explains it. Sorry 'bout that." Such was usually the reaction to his stunningly beautiful, part Veela sister-in-law. Ron had once reacted much the same way. Fortunately for his marriage he'd got over it.

Once he did, he soon decided that despite Fleur's beauty he could never have really fallen for her. She was very feminine and very manipulative, in very subtle ways, and Ron had never really liked subtle. Give him his 'Mione, every time, who would flat out tell him what she wanted, when she wanted it, and why whatever Ron wanted wasn't practical.

"Dear Ron." Fleur looked at him with appeal, frowning. "I feel I must have a word with you in private."

Ron raised his eyebrows. That was actually exceedingly direct for Fleur, and spoke volumes for whatever had her concerned. "This way, then, Fleur." He led her towards the back rooms, and closed the door behind them.

Once inside, Fleur paced, her frown deepening. Ron remembered the first time he'd ever seen a Veela, and how they transformed when enraged into something beyond hideous and terrifying. He hoped he wasn't about to witness a family first here.

"Dear Ron…I have come about your nephew Alf."

"Is he well?" Ron started. He remembered the kid's rather nasty bruises that Fleur had helped cure; perhaps he'd had a bad reaction to the dragon-nettle oil?

"At this moment, he is fine. But…" She sat in the chair, flipping her hair behind her, and looked at Ron with calculation. "Last night, Ron, you seemed to be quite happy for George, that he had found Alfred."

"Alf found us, really." Ron said automatically. "And course I was happy. Shite, who wouldn't be?"

"Exactly." Fleur pursed her lips, the angry Veela threatening to come out. "And you also think it is a good thing, the right thing, that George will have custody of him?"

Ron blinked. "Honestly, Fleur, nothing else even seems sensible to me. He's Fred's kid. Who else should take care of him but George? Surely you agree?"

"Oh, I do, Ron." She nodded. "For Alf it will be good, because George will love him like a son, and he will get to know his father better than any other way. But it will be good, I think, for George as well. He has not been 'appy, Ron; I know this." She looked really angry now. "People sometimes think I am stupid because I am beautiful, but it is not so. I see how much George was hurt when Fred died. I see maybe better than others."

"Anyone who thinks you're stupid is a fool." Ron soothed. "And anyone who can't see George's heart was ripped out is a complete moron."

"So you see why I am angry this morning, then." Fleur laughed bitterly. "It has come as a surprise to me to find I am married to what you would call a complete moron!"

"Come again?" Ron stuttered out. "Bill, you mean?"

"Am I married to anyone else?" She stood once more, and began to pace.

"But Bill knows what George has been through?" Ron started, but Fleur cut him off.

"Then why, tell me, is my husband joining with your parents and with your brother Percy to cut him off from custody?" Fleur met his eyes with a flinty stare.

"I…what?" Ron blinked, and then it set in. "Percy took the papers to the ministry today. He thought by this afternoon there would be a hearing, but…" Ron felt anger rising. "What do you mean they're going to cut George out?"

Fleur nodded sharply. "Your mother…does not believe George is a fit guardian." She waited for Ron to absorb that. "Percy agrees. No surprise there; Percy is family but he is still what you call so charmingly a 'git'. But Bill agrees. And where Bill goes, Charlie will follow, if they get him to come back from Romania. Even your father…he was at our house this morning and I overheard him with Bill…is reluctant to leave Alf in George's care."

"BOLLOCKS." Ron spat out. "You saw last night how George got when he saw how Alf'd been treated! You saw how Alf only trusted George to take care of him. They've bonded to each other already…how could they NOT?" Ron was now the one pacing, under Fleur's approving glare. "If you tell me Ginny agrees too…"

"They do not seem to have contacted Ginny…I understand she was taking little Lily in to the Doctor this morning, and Harry is in meetings with Minister Shacklebolt today. But I think, they have not contacted the Potters because they know that Ginny and Harry will not agree with them. The same reason they have not contacted you and Hermione. The same reason they all shut up whenever I walked into the room!"

Ron came up short. "How'd you find out, then?"

Fleur smiled. "They spoke in front of Victoire. Perhaps they thought she was only a child and would not understand them, but my daughter, like me, like you, is not a complete moron. She in fact was quite upset to think of her dear Uncle George to be so hurt by his own family."

"Over my dead body, Fleur." Ron grabbed his coat. "I'll send owls to Ginny and Harry…Percy goes to the house with Dad every day for lunch…can you find a way to convince Bill to be there as well?"

"You may have noticed I have ways of convincing Bill that what I want him to do is what he wants to do." She smiled.

"Right. We've got to confront this before it gets to a hearing. It's Mum's doing, Fleur; I know that. But I'll not let them do this to George. Yesterday was the first time he seemed fully alive in ten years. I couldn't help Fred, but I'm not letting them kill George again."

WWWWWWWWW

They were only halfway through the massive garden as George wondered if it wasn't nearing time for lunch. He'd left his watch inside. No matter…Mum never had a problem making herself heard.

"Look, Uncle George…I made that one go over the hedge." Alf said, excitedly, watching a gnome he'd just tossed.

"Spot on!" George said, coming up to put his hand on Alf's shoulder. They walked together towards the next infestation. "Can I ask you something, Alf?"

"Course." Alf looked over at him shyly.

"Your dream last night…what was that about?" George decided they should take a break by the Yew hedge. Alf nosed out a gnome, spun him viciously and let go, sending it sailing.

"Stupid, really." Alf shrugged. "You know Mum had cancer?"

"Yeah…that's a muggle…non magical disease, right?" George watched Alf carefully.

Alf went digging for another gnome, not able to look at George. "Cancer sort of eats you up inside. That's what Marky Andrews told me, anyway. Little things eating you up inside till you die. Well, last night I kind of mixed up all the story's mum had told me with her cancer. So it was like Voldemort made her sick, and I had her wand and I kept waving it and nothing happened, and Voldemort laughed at me because if I were as good as Harry Potter I'd be able to cure her." Another gnome went flying. Alf chewed on his lip as he watched it. "Dunno what it means."

George watched Alf, and then patted the bench next to him. Alf shuffled over and sat, slouched back.

"When your Dad died…" George spoke slowly. "I spent every minute of every day asking myself what I could have done to stop it. It was inconceivable to me that I shouldn't be able to save the life of somebody I loved like that." He laughed. "Hell, sometimes I still think like that, and it's been ten years." George crossed his arms defensively over his chest, long legs stuck before him. "Imagine that's what your dream was, really. You wanting to save her, you wishing that if she'd been around magic it would have. And Voldemort, because the cancer is evil, and Voldemort was probably the most evil thing your mum ever told you about." He turned and looked down at Alf, who was staring at the horizon without blinking. "But you couldn't have saved her, Alf. You couldn't have."

Alf blinked, and cleared his throat. "If she'd come back…to this world…to her world…would she have been saved?" Alf swallowed hard. "In her letter to me she said she left this world because of me, and I…and I…" He sniffed.

George wrapped an arm around Alf and pulled him in close. "Alf, she left me a letter too. And I am going to tell you everything honest as I know it, about muggle disease and wizard cures. . Wizards and Witches don't often get cancer, Alf. Mostly because we're so in tune with our bodies, with nature. But as I understand it, if a witch or wizard does get a muggle disease like that, it's pretty easily treated, caught early on. But your mum wrote me that she ignored the signs…too busy, maybe too scared. It happens, sometimes." He raised Alf's chin to look into his eyes. "By the time she found out she had the disease, even magic couldn't have cured her. We had an Aunt who passed of something similar. The disease eats out your magical core, and then the potions and spells, they just don't work anymore."

Alf blinked, and nodded. "Right then." He wiped his eyes, and sniffed once, but held together otherwise. "Why did she have to leave the wizard world because of me, Uncle George?" Alf asked, plaintively. "I know why she stayed away during the war, but why didn't she come back afterwards?"

"Dunno." George was honest, as he was as perplexed as Alf was. "Except that maybe she thought we wouldn't have accepted her after Fred died. Daft, really…but that might be it."

Alf took a deep breath. "Maybe." He grabbed George's hand. "You're Mum's not exactly the most…um…forgiving…person I've ever seen."

"Only when it comes to me." George said, shaking his head.

"Uncle George?" Alf broke the moment's silence, watching as a gnome snuck back into the yard.

"Alfred." George intoned in a so-serious-it-wasn't voice.

Alf set his shoulders and looked up at his Uncle, his blue eyes serious. "Can I stay?"

George blinked and was speechless for a moment, and Alf stammered on.

"I know I said yesterday that I wanted to go back, to the normal…er…muggle world. Even to a foster home. But I think I changed my mind. I…belong here. With you." His voice grew quieter, his eyes imploring. "So can I?"

George came around and knelt in front of Alf, taking the boy's hands in his and looking up into his face. "Alfred. Did you really think that once I had you there was a chance in hell of my letting you go? Do you think I would?"

Alf was studying him, so serious. Fred used to look at him like that sometimes, on their rare occasions of deep stillness. And Alf, never leaving his eyes, nodded once. "But you would, Uncle George."

George balked a little at that, but young Alf went on.

"If you really believed I wanted to go, if you really believed I would be happier there, if you really believed I would be safe there, then you would let me. Even if you didn't want to." Alf gave him a tiny smile. "That's why I want to stay."

George reached over to hug the boy. "You make me out to be far better a man than I am." He said, gruffly, then pulled back and mussed his hair. "But you're right…I would always want the best for you. It just happens that sticking around is what is best." He paused to look down at the muggle watch Alf was wearing.

"Lord, is that the time?" George gaped. "Your Uncle Percy must certainly be back for lunch by now. Why didn't Mum call?" He got up quickly and held his hand out to his nephew…his Alf…and flashed a quick smile.

"Race you to the door!" He smirked.

"No magic!" Alf threatened, then darted quickly past George.

"Oi, do you think you're a ruddy SEEKER?" George called out laughing, grasping and tickling Alf as he did, before passing him.

Alf repaid in kind, so it was perhaps with not quite maximum speed that they made their way back to the house.

WWWWWWWWW

Victoire stood on the porch by the kitchen, watching as her favorite uncle came running up with her new cousin. They were so happy, so very happy; she watched them playing and tackling each other as they made their way towards her. It made her want to cry, because although she didn't understand everything, she knew what was going on in the kitchen wasn't nice at all. And she didn't want to see Uncle George sad again.

"Gotcha!" George called out, laughing, sweeping Alf up off his feet as the boy squealed in mock indignation. Carrying him the last few steps, held over head like the Quiddich cup, George paused as he saw his eldest niece standing there. "Allo, Vicki dear…didn't expect to see you about."

"Mother has come by. So have Papa and Uncle Ron." She said, looking behind to the kitchen, and then pointedly at George. "They are having an argument, all of them."

George slung down a breathless Alf. "And how do you know it is an argument?" He asked, smoothing down Alf's hair.

"Because I cannot hear them." She said simply.

Ah. Alf looked puzzled, but George understood well. In a boisterous household like theirs, the only way you didn't hear a cacophony of voices was if a silencing spell was cast. And those were cast only when there were words that children weren't meant to hear.

"I think…" Victoire continued, staring at George with those silver eyes, "That you are meant to be in there with them, and that I should take Alf upstairs."

"Is everything okay, Uncle George?" Alf asked.

"It will be." He replied, firmly. "Every now and then us Weasleys just have to thump our chests a bit. Nothing to be concerned about. Now, upstairs with you guys…don't worry." He came in to the entry way and watched Victoire grasp a hesitating Alf by the wrist. "And no extendable ears!" He added, to Victoire's answering smile.

Then, steeling himself against the unknown, he went inside.