Once outside, George stared at the chaos before him. A cart being pulled by thestrals…curse him that he could see them…had crashed to the side. One of the cart's wheels had tumbled off and boxes of pomegranates spilled over. The driver looked to the side, face pale… "I tried to stop…I couldn't…I couldn't…"
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" George screamed, scrambling over the disaster, pushing past a shaken Andromeda Tonks and a crying Teddy.
Alf lay against Olivander's store-front, eyes closed, face gray, and George's world stopped.
Then blue eyes opened, clearly in pain, and spoke shakily. "M'okay, Uncle George."
Fear, anger and relief bubbled over, as George sank to his knees, tugging frantically at his hair. Don't yell, don't yell, don't yell…bubbled over in his mind; he remembered too well being more frightened by his parent's anger than his actual accidents as a child. And somewhere in his subconscious he remembered Fred talking about how insecure Alf was.
Molly was beside him, and she likewise reacted, only she let the anger bowl her over. "What were you thinking Alfred?!" She screeched, suddenly smacking him about the face and shoulders. "You could have been killed!"
George leapt up to protect his nephew, who was accepting the blows while trying to shield something small and wrapped in black beside him. "MUM, GEROFF HIM!" He yelled roughly. "Let him speak!"
"George…you can't let him walk over you like that…you've got to punish him, or he'll end up just like your brother…" Molly started crying herself at that point.
It was Ron…eternally Ron, bless him…who pulled her off, otherwise George would have lost it entirely. 'C'mon, Mum, let George handle this…please, mum…I'll get you some tea and some sherry…it'll be alright."
Andromeda was stuttering out explanations. "He just darted out…I couldn't grab him."
Somebody behind him shushed her, and George took a deep breath; any anger melted away at the tearful and imploring look Alfred gave him. "I'm s-s-sorry!' He sniffed, trying to hold himself together. "I ha- ha- had too! He'd have been fl-fl-fl attened!"
"It's okay…" George soothed, stroking is nephew's cheek gently, letting the warmth of his being alive fill him. "It's okay, Alfred, I'm not angry. Now, what happened? Who would have been flattened?"
The black bundle Alf had been shielding moved at that moment, and an incredibly blond child, with pale skin and light blue eyes, looked up at him with trembling lips. "Mama?" He sniffled, grasping Alf tightly. The boy wasn't more than two years old.
Alf continued, with deep breaths. "Saw the carriage…" Alf said, wiping at his nose. "Teddy and me just crossed the street with his Gran. And then this little guy…his Mum called him from…from somewhere…and he went to f-f-f-ollow her…ran right out in front…wasn't time to tell anyone…I was the only…only one close enough…"
Sweet merlin, I came so close to losing him! George closed his eyes for a moment, and then reached over to kiss Alfred very gently on the head. "I'm not mad." He said, gently. "I was scared to lose you, but I'm not mad. I would have done the same thing," he whispered.
Relief flooded Alf's eyes with tears, and the boy was about to speak when another voice interrupted. "My BOY! Where is my BOY! Out of the WAY!"
It was Draco Malfoy who burst into the circle.
People began to clear away now, seeing that there was no blood spilled. George looked up at an absolutely terrified Draco and felt simpatico with the man for the first time ever. The young toddler held his arms out to his father immediately, and Draco scooped him with a strangled sound that may very well have been a sob.
George remained kneeling by Alfred, and waited for Draco to imperiously accuse him of attacking his child, and threaten to have the law on him. It was what Lucius would have done.
Draco remained soothing the child for a few moments. "There now, Scorpius…it will be okay…it will…why did you run into the street, child?" He cooed, without any of the superciliousness George was used to.
"Mama called me." The boy sniffled. "Have to go when Mama calls!" He said, slowly.
Draco's look was thunderous. "Pansy!" He muttered under his breath. More to the boy, he added, "Your Mama shouldn't have left you alone."
George was glad not to be the former Pansy Parkinson at that moment.
"Weasley." Draco's cool silver eyes appraised him. "This is Fred's boy, I assume?"
"Alfred." George introduced. "Alf, this is Mr. Draco Malfoy. It's his son that you saved." George laid some stress on the "saved" part.
Malfoy, to George's shock, touched his hand to his heart and bowed his head to Alfred. "I am in your debt, Alfred Weasley. Thank you."
Alf nodded shakily. "I'm glad I was there, Sir."
Now Draco was looking over George. "I was…glad for you…" He said, sounding strained. "When I heard about finding Fred's son. You might not believe that, but it's true."
George had been in enough shock for the past fifteen minutes to simply accept Draco's assertion without snide comment. Besides, he'd seen the look on his face when he realized his son was safe. It was very much the same way George had felt about Alfred. Any man who could have that kind of love for someone couldn't be all bad.
"Thanks." George said, quietly. He spotted a woman down the street…Pansy…and saw her teetering slightly. Possibly drunk.
Poor Draco.
"I think your…er…wife…is looking for Scorpius." George said, quietly.
Draco's gaze was unfathomably steady and serious, then it faded to resigned. "Arranged marriages, Weasley." He said, tersely. "Are not what they are cracked up to be." But he looked down at the top of his son's head, and something in him softened. "But there are some rewards, I suppose." He sighed. "Again…I am in your debt." And he turned and walked away.
George stood stiffly and held out his hand to Alf, who didn't move to take it; his nephew was still pale and shaking. "C'mon, Alf…I told you I'm not angry." George coaxed. "And I promise I won't let your grandmother get anywhere near you."
Alf's lower lip trembled. "Hurt my arm, Uncle George. It hurts bad." He admitted, very quietly.
Damned it, how could I not have noticed that! George was back down beside him in a flash. "Where, Alf? Let me see."
Alfred used his right hand to pull his cloak away from his left arm, which was at a curious angle. Not good at all.
George reached down very gingerly, and took Alf's left hand in his, and Alf immediately whimpered, biting his lip hard. "Oh, dear." George said, hoping he sounded soothing rather than freaked out. He ran his hands along the bone and could swear he felt breaks in two places on his forearm and one between his elbow and shoulder. Alf was full blown shaking right now, in a whole lot of pain.
Teddy and Andromeda, calmer now that the two had seen Alf not killed, had come up beside them. George turned around. "Andromeda, do me a favor? Head in to the shop and ask Ron to get hold of Fleur…tell him Alf's been injured, although not life threatening, and I am bringing him up to the apartments the back way." He paused. "If you could manage to do that without letting Mum know, I'd appreciate it."
"Of course, George. Teddy and I will do whatever we can." She patted Alf on the head once, and Teddy gave him a brave smile, and they left.
Once they were gone, George looked back down at Alf. "Can you put your right arm around my neck, kiddo?" He asked gently. Alf nodded, and once he had done so George scooped one arm under Alf's knees. "I am going to try not to move your arm at all, Alfred, but it is likely to jostle some. It's going to hurt if it does, I'm sure. I don't mean to, but it probably will." He warned. And then he moved.
Poor little Alfred, so brave, George thought. The right hand had a death grip on his robes and the boy's head was buried deep against his neck; George could feel the wetness of tears but not a sound from the child. And he moved swiftly, knowing that the sooner he could get the boy stabilized the less it would hurt.
Within minutes he had the boy up through the back entrance and in the small kitchen of the apartment; he sat the lad up on the table and moved to get a towel to use as a makeshift sling.
"This will keep it immobile, lessen some of the pain…" He murmured.
"Un…uncle Geo..George…" Alf struggled out, and George looked down to his graying face.
He accio'd a basin just in time; the boy threw up his ice-cream, and a good portion of lunch as well.
"Chili cheese and black raspberry…not a combination I'd have gone for myself." George observed, and was relieved to hear Alf laugh.
Ron came in, looking worried despite the faint merriment in the air. "How is it?"
"Worse than the injury Harry got when Lockhart deboned his arm." George said, evenly.
"Ugh." Ron wrinkled his nose at the memory. "And I don't have good news…we can't get ahold of Fleur. Nobody home at the cottage…I asked Mum, without letting her know why I was asking, and she seemed to think the whole family had gone into town for a day with Bill's job.
George wanted to moan. Fleur had specialized in healing arts at Beaux Batons, and worked part time in the area hospital near the cottage. Her skills were even better than his mother's, and Mum had been pretty damned…oh, HELL.
"I need Mum, then, Ron." George sighed, and Ron moved to comply.
Alf's eyes grew wide. "No, Uncle George…please…she doesn't LIKE me!" Alf begged.
"She likes you just fine, Alf. That little scene outside was just her absolute terror that I had screwed up and gotten you killed."
"She's angry…it'll hurt." He begged again.
"Alfred…" George put his hands on his shoulders. "We've got to get that arm mended. Now, I know Mum's been hard on me, and she shouldn't have slapped at you just now, but she really is a very good healer…kept me and your dad in once piece for twenty years." Seeing just how scared Alf really was, he sat on the table beside him and wrapped an arm around the boy's chest. "And I'm not going to leave you alone."
Molly came bustling in from the other room in a hurry, with a basin of supplies. George could hear her tut-tuting already, and was pleased to see that Ron's ministrations…or the sherry…had seemed to cure her anger.
Alf, of course, was not adept at reading Molly Weasley, and George felt him stiffen and cringe, shrinking back against his Uncle.
Molly noticed it, George saw. How could she not? There was hurt in her eyes, but really she had brought that on herself, coming out swinging and slapping Alfred around the face for the audacity of saving the life of a child. Some of those blows must have hurt, and none of it could have been good for his broken limb.
"There, now, Alfred…let me see your arm…I'll try not to hurt you…" She soothed. Alf let her…but he kept a tight grip on George's hand with his good one. But when Molly raised her hand to brandish her wand, Alf yelped and ducked his head against George's chest.
Molly gaped, made a slight "Oh…" with her mouth, and finally looked at George.
He spoke calmly to his nephew. "It's alright, Alf…what's going to happen is Mum is going to use the wand to see where the breaks are in your bones…it will let her know where the repairs have to be done. Kind of like a muggle z-ray." He brushed the hair away from Alf's forehead softly.
"X-ray." Alf said, with a shaky smile.
"X-ray…see how smart you are!" Molly said to him, imploring. Alfred looked at her tentatively, still wary, and Molly took a deep breath. "And I'm sorry for how I acted outside. You scared me, and I reacted badly. Will you accept my apology?"
George almost fell over! Molly never apologized. Not that she usually hit them, either…but the occasional rare slapping frenzy happened when she had been pushed to abject terror by a wayward prank. He, Charlie, Fred and Ron had been frequent recipients of the frenzies; George more than any other, and he'd yet to ever hear his mother say she was sorry!
With a sniff, Alfred nodded and bravely held his arm out for Molly to examine; George exhaled with relief. Molly's wand ran over the swollen, red limb, her mouth pursed in a frown. "What did you think outside, George?" She asked, concentrating.
"I thought I found three breaks…two forearm, one just above his elbow." George said, holding Alf's hand.
"Mmmm." Molly nodded. "Exactly right. Not compound, fortunately." She looked up at him. "Did you decide to stabilize him with the towel?"
"Yeah…" George mumbled, waiting for her to disparage him.
"Excellent thinking." George felt fortunate he was sitting down at that point, else he knew he would have fallen. "Of course…you and your brother had your share of broken limbs in your day, so I can't give you too much credit." She winked at Alf, and gave George a tentative smile, which he braved answering back.
Some fifteen minutes later, which Alf toughed through without even a whimper (although George thought his hand would go numb from the death-grip), Molly sighed. "That's a start then." She pushed her hair back, worried. "I sent your brother out for some Skele-knit before I came up here; that should finish it off."
"Ugh." George frowned in sympathy. "Just rejoining the bones wasn't enough?" He asked.
Molly shook her head. "Not with three fractures I won't risk it. They didn't break skin, but they were out of alignment."
Alf was looking back and forth between them. "But my arm feels loads better now, Uncle George." He looked over at Molly. "That was pretty wicked!"
George saw Molly beat back the tears in her eyes, and he was glad that he was behind his nephew; in so simple a statement, he had sounded just like his Dad. But Molly managed a smile at the boy, hiding how the innocent statement hurt her. "I can stick your bones together with just my wand, right enough. But what's stronger…two pieces of wood glued together, or a tree branch that has grown?"
"Tree branch." Alf said. He turned about to look at George. "I take it you don't think I'm going to like this skele-stuff much?"
"Better skele-knit than skele-grow." George said, giving him a squeeze. "But yeah, the stuff's pretty nasty, and, well, kind of painful."
Alf sighed. "Can't be worse than how it felt when I landed on it." He accepted a glass of water from Molly with his good hand, and drank it down; George raised eyebrows when he saw that Molly had also gotten him a bowl of ice-cream.
"Such indulgence, Mum?" He said, sounding serious. "Why am I not surprised?" Molly shot him a withering look even as Alfred gave him eyes wide with hunger. "Well, I guess it's okay, since you just threw up your last ice-cream, not to mention every other thing you've eaten for the past month."
"Shock, dear." Molly said, even as Alf began to awkwardly wolf down the bowl of jelly-worm jiggle. "And George, I can't believe you didn't have something like a butter pecan!"
"Hello, Mum…my name is George Weasley. Apparently we've never met." He intoned in a formal voice, and she laughed…she actually laughed at his joke.
"Oi, there, one bottle of Skele-Grow handy. And yes, Mum, I know you wanted Skele-Knit. Madame Pomfrey happened to be through Diagon Alley this morning stocking up for school year; I'm lucky I got this!" Ron looked between Molly and George, saw them actually acting friendly, and gave them a beaming smile.
Neither Molly or George were smiling, though. Ron had somehow managed to make it through childhood without breaking a limb, but George, as Molly had joked, had broken his leg twice, his arm once, and most excruciatingly five ribs in a Quidditch match. Rebreaking his leg had necessitated Skele-Grow, which gave you the firmest bone recreation, and had rendered the limb much stronger to prevent a future break. George had been fourteen, and the pain had been so bad that he'd nearly swallowed his pillow to prevent from screaming; Fred had actually got up and sat with him all night long.
Molly could see that George remembered the pain well. "I'm sorry, dear, but there's no other option." She said, gently.
Alf put down the ice-cream, looked from Ron to George to Molly, and finished off the water. "I guess we might as well get this over with?" His voice was rather small.
Molly poured out the thick, pea-green potion, which smelled something akin to three year old milk. Alf's face went a similar color, and his lip curled. But with effort he took the glass, set his shoulders, and tossed it back in one gulp.
George held him tightly, in anticipation. For a second Alf didn't do more than make a grimace at the taste of the stuff; then his face paled and he started shaking again. "Ooooooooo…" He moaned.
George immediately hopped off the table and picked him up, walking over the floor with the boy. Really, he was too big to do this with, but he couldn't think of anything else. Alf actually bit down on his good hand hard enough to draw blood, and that wasn't enough to contain the pain. "Ohhhhhhh…" He moaned. "Owwwwwww…." And abandoning all effort, he started crying…
Absolutely the worst sound George had ever heard in his life. He was sick listening to Alfred struggle hard against the desire to absolutely howl in agony, choking gasps of pain against his robes. "S'alright, Alfred, s'alright." Molly and Ron faded into the background; only Alfred existed. "You cry all you want to; the robes are waterproof. Sides, the first hour is the worst; then the pain dulls from scorching torture down into merely excruciating agony…" A sob mingled with a strangled laugh. "…And from there, it's quite down hill to white hot throbbing, and before you know it your at stinging pain." Another choked laugh, before a fresh wave of pain rolled over the boy, and George sat, rocking him back and forth, murmuring gently the entire time.
George's arms were numb and his shirt soaked before the sobs steadied and then stopped, and Alfred's breathing became regular. Exhausted with his torment, he had fallen asleep.
He said nothing; merely carried his nephew into his cozy bedroom and laid the boy on the bed, being gentle with the mending arm. Shaking his own arms out, he waved his wand and the boy's clothes were replaced with pajamas; he pulled blankets up to his chin and smoothed his forehead. With any luck the kid would sleep the rest of the healing off and wake up right as rain the next morning.
He stumbled back into the living room, only to feel his legs give way.
Someone grabbed him and led him to the couch; someone hugged him close as he bent over, head onto his knees, and cried himself.
"Shh, Georgie. The worst is over now. All over now, he'll be fine." His mother let him put his head in her lap, rubbing his upper back between his shoulders. "Easy, now, that's a love. Never even lost your sense of humor, you didn't, and that's something to be proud of. Made him less scared, when you didn't let him see how scared you were." George felt the cool of Molly's hand against his cheek, and he let himself calm down.
"How'd you do it, mum?" He murmured. "Putting seven of us back together over and over again? How did you do it without it eating you alive?"
"That was my job, dear." She said, running her hands through his hair. Then, she spoke more softly. "I'm sorry, Georgie. So sorry for not believing in you. You were wonderful with him. Absolutely wonderful. And he clearly loves you so much…" Molly's voice hitched slightly.
George pulled himself together, and sat up, and gave his mother a long hug, which she returned. "He'll love you too, mum…if you let him see you like this." He said. "Merlin, I can't imagine how I've come to love him so much so quickly."
"It only takes a second…" Molly murmured. Letting him go, she patted his hand and rose. "Fine kitchen you have here, darling. Let me make you some dinner…Ronnie and Percy went home. Think you can stomach my cooking?"
With a wan smile, George let her know it was just fine by him, her staying a bit longer. He leaned back on the couch, exhausted by everything that had just happened, but hyperaware of sounds…sounds from the street, the sound of his mother in the kitchen…at this moment it seemed impossible they had not always been this close…and the sound of Alf, breathing steadily in the bedroom behind him.
A bowl of hot beef stew was in his hands, far better than he could ever turn out. Molly, clearly in her element, was cleaning now, although she was praising him beneath her breath all the same, apparently astounded that he was keeping such a tidy house and had actually stocked his larder so well.
He grinned into his bowl. "I eat much better with Alf around…if you'd come here two months ago you wouldn't have found much more than condiments." He admitted.
With a whoosh, Fleur came through the floo. "George…I have only just now 'eard about Alf's arm! 'Ow is 'e?" She asked, carrying a full kit with her.
Molly might have been smug, but she opted to keep the mood light in the room. "Don't worry, Fleur, my dear. I was able to handle it. I know you could have done as well, but I was on the scene, so…" She shrugged modestly.
Fleur looked from Molly to George, who gave her a comforting smile, and relaxed. "I am glad, Molly. I would have been so very sorry if Alfred had been forced to stay in pain waiting for treatment." She tossed her head, then she saw the bottle of Skele-Grow, and her eyes went wide.
"George…" She whispered. "Molly…tell me…you did not give him this?"
Now Molly began to be cross… "I wanted Skele KNIT of course, because I knew how unpleasant the more powerful potion is…but it was all that we had!" She crossed her arms.
Fleur turned to George, and put her hand on her mouth in horror. "George…but I thought…" She took a deep breath. "Perhaps I am wrong, George…but I have been watching Alf since we found him, and I thought for sure…he is a squib, no?"
George was startled that anyone had realized what he had begun to suspect, but Molly went nuts. "A SQUIB? MY FRED'S SON, A SQUIB? Really, Fleur, what on earth would possess you to make such a horrible accusation! George, dear, tell her…"
Oh, Lord, and things had been going so well. He wiped his hand over his face. "Actually, Mum…I don't know for sure but she might be right."
Molly stood, open mouthed, and Fleur sat, shaking, with her hand over her mouth. George looked from one to the other in total confusion. "I realize it seems impossible for anyone who knew Fred and Katie…but Katie said in the letter…you saw it, Mum, when Percy took it from me?...that Alf was different, and that was why she stayed away from the magical world. Since then, I've been watching him. He hasn't show a single sign of magic, Mum. I was actually just going to talk with the family about it, because I'm not quite sure what to do. Maybe there was some trauma when he was a kid, some kind of accident, but I'm pretty sure Alf is as magic as Hermione's parents."
Fleur suddenly dug through her kit, sending potions flying, and Molly was helping her. "Ipecac! We need the Ipecac."
"'Ow long, Molly, since you gave it to 'im?"
"Oh, oh…two hours at least…" She moaned. "No, this can't be happening…I've KILLED him…I have…they tell you to check, you should always check…but, Fred's son?"
George was feeling the terror build up in him. "I don't understand?"
Fleur turned around, with sympathy, a syrupy potion in her hand. "Skele-Grow, George, has got extract of Egyptian Asp in it…it is what causes the pain. It is highly…highly poisonous to muggles...and squibs!"
The three of them dashed madly into Alf's room then; the boy was deeply asleep. Too deeply.
Fleur looked astounded. "'E still breathes! This is good…" She tried to pour down the ipecac, and Molly stood by with a basin. He threw up some…but not much. And he did not wake up.
George didn't say a word…merely looked at his frantic sister in law, and stunned mother, and turned and walked out of the room.
"George! George!" Molly ran after him, as he grabbed his jacket. "Where are you going?"
George turned and looked at her, eyes dead. "You didn't kill him, Mum. I did. False pride, thinking I could solve his problems by myself. Never told anyone what I was afraid of. I killed Fred's son." His voice sounded strangely dry. "I can see it in your face…he won't be waking up. You were right; I didn't belong within five feet of that boy."
Fleur had heard the commotion and was now anxiously flooing to Ron, and then to Ginny. George ignored it all.
Molly again begged George. "Stay, he'll want to see you…if he were a pure squib, the poison would have killed him immediately…that's something, George…if he wakes up, he'll want you here!"
"If?" George's voice strangled on the word. "No, mum…you were right about me. I'm a first class fuck up, always have been. But never quite with stakes this…high." Choking, he turned to leave.
Molly was terrified; she knew, too well, that if anything happened to Alf that George would never forgive himself for leaving. So she did the only thing she could.
"STUPEFY!"