George was aware of voices murmuring; people coming in…frustrated, he tried to break free from his bonds, but to no avail. Molly was an impressive wizard in her own right, as anyone who saw her take out Belatrix LeStrange could attest to. Ron and Percy had moved his stupefied body to the sofa after Molly's hasty explanations as to why she'd resorted to cursing him. Ron had looked down at him with pity, muttering, "Sorry, Mate…but we're not risking losing you."
A tear ran down the side of his face that he couldn't control, or wipe away…he felt it trickle over the warped skin of his missing ear and dance on the side of the hole. It was Harry who came out after half an hour and noticed, wiping it away with a tissue, and putting his hand gently on George's head.
"You're going to get even with us all at some point, I have no doubt." Harry gave him a wry smile. "But we wanted you to be here, in one piece, when Alfred gets better." George felt a flicker of hope mingle with his fear. "He is coming round, you know…and yes, you had quite the scare. Interesting…Fleur tested him and he is showing the signs of being a squib, but he must have some magic core to have tolerated the skele-grow. He probably suffered some injury as a child."
George couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't do more than stare at the ceiling of course. His mind was easier for what Harry told him, but he still felt like an abysmal failure. He had two jobs: to love Alfred and keep him safe. Doing the first didn't atone for his failure at the second.
There was a commotion in the other room, and fear clawed once more at his insides. And above the din, a voice called to him. "Uncle George?" It was plaintive, weak, but frightened. And then it wasn't so weak any more, but insistent, crying out for him: "Uncle George!"
Why, why won't somebody release me? George thought, frantically. He could hear other voices raised and some kind of commotion happening.
"UNCLE GEORGE!" Alfred commanded.
With a forceful burst of power and a noise like thunder, George burst through the confines of Molly's spell and roared upwards. Moving past a shocked Arthur and a room full of brothers and friends, he dove for Alfred, who was thrashing about in his bed, arms reaching for him.
"I'M HERE!" George said, grasping Alf tightly. "I'm right here, I'm right here. I've got you."
Alfred was hyperventilating, breathing hard and sweating profusely. "You were going…I heard…I heard you leaving and I couldn't wake up!"
George wrapped up Alf in an even greater grip, rocking him back and forth. "Well, I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
"No, no, you don't want me, you don't want me, I'm a squib! I know I'm a squib, I can't do magic at all! You'll make me go back, make me leave…I don't want to leave!" He gulped out, in very real terror.
"Alfred Weasley!" George tried his best to sound stern, and must have succeeded, because with a hiccup Alf's anxious cries came to a stop. "Now you listen to me! I was ready to run to Bulgaria with you before I'd known you two days. This has been the best summer I've had in ten years, and that was entirely without you doing any silly wand-waving!" He put both hands firmly on Alfred's shoulders, not quite shaking him, but not letting him move, either. "Remember what we said to each other in the beginning! We BELONG, Alf, you and I…we BELONG to each other and nothing is going to change that!"
Alf seemed to calm down, but still looked at George with wide, trembling eyes. "Th…then why were you leaving? I heard…someone…say you were le…leaving?"
George cursed himself. Molly had been right…Alf needed him here. He'd given up, just thrown things in at the first site of trouble, and nearly broken Alf's heart. "I got scared, Alf." George whispered, easing his grip on the boys shoulders, turning the grasp into a caress. "I got scared that you were going to die because I'd been too stupid to let anyone know you might be different. And I was scared that even if you didn't die, you wouldn't forgive me for putting you in danger."
Alf hugged him. "Don't go…don't ever go. You didn't do anything wrong…but I forgive you if you think you did, anyway." He said, calming noticeably. "I love you." He whispered.
"I love you too, kiddo." George said, pressing Alf in close to him.
George was aware of Arthur shooing the rest of the family out of the room. Only Molly stayed behind, eyes watery. She put a trembling hand on George's shoulder. "Will you forgive me, love?" She asked him. "For cursing you?
George turned wide eyes to his mother. "Forgive? More like thank, Mum. I…panicked. Shouldn't have done that."
Molly seemed on the brink of saying something, but with a sigh she changed her mind. "You get some sleep, Georgie. Fleur is going to stay to see if Alf needs anything."
"Can't you stay, Mum?" George implored, though that was a question he'd not imagined asking her before today. "I'd like for you to be here."
Molly's face lit up. "Really?"
He smiled at her. "Really, mum."
Molly reached forward and kissed him, then pushed him gently so he was laying on the bed with Alf in his arms, and she tucked them both in. "I'll be right in the living room if you need me, son. You could both use a few hours of rest, I'd say."
George smiled at her. "Thanks mum." And, more tentatively. "I love you."
Molly set her shoulders; George saw the strangest look in her eyes and for a minute he was afraid she wouldn't respond. But then: "I love you too."
A burden, larger than he realized and perhaps for even longer than ten years, slipped away in that moment. It was going to be alright, no matter what; it was going to be alright.
WWWWWWWW
George woke up to the smell of coffee and baking cinnamon rolls. Careful not to disturb his nephew, whose color was good and breathing easy, he slid out of bed and went to join his mother.
"Good morning, Dear." Molly smiled at him, and immediately got him a plate. "I know you always favored cinnamon rolls; not sure about Alfred, but…well, I haven't made these in a long time."
Ten years, George thought. They had been Fred's favorite as well. "Heavenly, Mum!" George said, his appetite hitting him with force. "I feel like I haven't eaten in ages!"
Molly chuckled. "I made two batches."
A silence fell over the room, save for the voice of Celestina Warbeck playing from the oldie's station on the radio. George couldn't talk…not with his mouth full off flaky cinnamon buns slathered in butter and oozing with icing. Molly seemed, on several points, to be about to speak, but hesitated. At last, as she removed a second tray of rolls from the oven, she was left with nothing else to do, and she sat across from George, a mug in her hand.
George wiped his mouth on the napkin, and took a deep drink of coffee. "You okay, Mum?"
She gave him a smile, but it was wan. "Not entirely, George, dear. I have to tell you a story…" She paused. "It isn't one I ever thought I'd be telling you." Another pause. "But I think…George, last night I think I let myself be honest with you for the first time in nearly thirty years. And I have some explaining to do."
George reached over and grabbed her hand. "Look, Mum…you don't have to explain anything. If you want to, fine…but I am just as fine with going forward." He smiled and looked at Alfred's jacket, draped over the chair. "I decided to stop looking backwards two months ago."
Molly nodded. "Yes, dear…but for me, you see, I think I need to do this…to tell you this story. It's the story of a very foolish woman whose fourth child ended up being twins." Seeing George about to interrupt, she held a hand. "Dear, please…I was foolish, even if it took me thirty years to know it. Let me get it out, George. I may not be so brave again."
George sat back, in wonder, and nodded to her to continue.
"Not long after I found out I was pregnant, we received word that your Uncles were killed. I know you've heard stories about Fabian and Gideon, my beloved and eternally trouble making twin brothers. It devastated me…and the times were so uncertain, Voldemort about and everyone looking over their shoulders, that I didn't know what to think. Until the Doctor told me that I was having twins…it was a miracle, George. It was the only thing that could make me happy with my brothers gone.
"It was your Dad who suggested that if we had two boys…and I was certain I would…that we name them after your Uncles. But I knew well enough…Fabian had ALWAYS hated his name. It came from a particularly vile relative and he refused to even acknowledge it if you called him by that…he went, if you could believe it, by FANG." Molly laughed lightly, and George smiled at the joke.
"Well, naming my unborn child FANG was out of the question. So to me, at that moment, you became Fred and Gideon. And that's how I started talking to you, while you were still in my womb…Fred and Gideon. Even Bill, who was just seven years old, took up on it. If you lot had turned out to be girls, I don't know what we'd have done.
"But just at my eighth month, the Doctor pulled a long face. He hemmed and hawed before he gave me the bad news. The babies were front to back in my womb, he said. He thought maybe you two were co-joined. What he told me and your Dad definitely though…one baby was strong and healthy; the other was too tiny to live. Fred was going to be just fine, but Gideon, though he was alive, was as good as dead."
"You can imagine what that did to me, George dear. We didn't tell your brothers, how could we? But it was in my thoughts the remainder of my time…the Doctor had scheduled surgery for three weeks down the road. And in private, your Dad and I mourned. Still, I talked to you, talked to you both all the time. I wanted, you see, for Gideon to know how loved he was, if he wasn't going to get to know his family. And I wanted Fred to remember he'd had a twin brother. Foolish, I suppose. But it made me feel better.
"Then I went in for the surgery…I was awake, under a strong potion that numbed me but kept my mind clear. The doctor had wanted to knock me out, but I refused. And then, things got interesting…
Molly held on to Arthur's hand, head propped forward and eyes clear. Molly was no coward; she had already given birth to three babies, and if this time it was a little different, that the babies would have to be removed, well, she would just bear it. But she wanted to be awake.
"Molls, are you sure?" Arthur looked down at her in sympathy.
"Arthur." She spoke clearly. "If Gideon is alive when they take him out, I don't want to miss it. I want to hold him for however long I can. I don't think I could bear finding out he'd been alive and died without his mother ever holding him."
Arthur looked at her with his eyes misty, and they waited while the Doctor began the surgery.
Molly knew this was hard for her husband to watch, but she couldn't feel a thing, and what was a little blood? Finally, the Doctor exclaimed. "Not co-joined…that's good." He said, lifting a child from within her. He was healthy, and pink, and within seconds was howling with perfect lungs at the interruption of what must have been a nice warm sleep. Tears hit Molly's eyes; in the back of her mind she had feared somehow losing them both.
"There's our Fred, eh?" Arthur had said, watching as the nurse quickly cleaned the baby with a wave of her wand, and wrapped him up. "You won't believe it but he has red hair!'
Molly laughed, holding Arthur's hand tightly, and then biting her lip when the nurse called out. "Doctor…take a look at this."
The Doctor left Fred to address Gideon, still in the womb. The nurse assisted him, and Molly heard the Doctor swear under his breath.
A baby larger than she'd expected was pulled from Molly. Not as big as Fred, surely, but still as big as she remembered Percy, no? And then…he cried…not as loud as Fred, nor as piercing…but still with a presence that announced he was here.
"I want to hold him!" Molly cried out, as the Doctor whisked him away. "Please let me hold him before he…before he…"
The nurse rested Fred in her arms, and soothed her. "You'll get to hold him, Mrs. Weasley. I think your boys have pulled a fine practical joke on us!'
Arthur spoke, which was a good thing because Molly was afraid of what she would do if he didn't say something. "Where is my SON?"
The Doctor, looking rather sheepish, brought over the wrapped, pink bundle himself and laid him in Molly's arms. "He's here. He is a perfectly healthy baby boy, just under five pounds. Needs to be fed, but other than that…"
Arthur glared at him. "Do you know what we've been through these past weeks?" He snapped.
Molly grabbed his wrist, as she looked down at her perfect, tiny, second twin. "Arthur, Dear…" She soothed. "Now's not the time for that."
Arthur had come to her then, and the two of them had looked down in amazement at their beautiful boys. The nurse came by with a note pad. "Names, please?" She asked.
"Frederick Arthur…" He laid his hand on the larger baby. "And Gid…"
"No!" Molly said, immediately.
Arthur looked surprised. "But, Molls, I thought we had decided."
Molly shook her head emphatically. "We've been mourning Gideon for three weeks, Arthur. We gave up on Gideon. This..." She cooed down at the tiny babe nestled in the crook of her left arm. "This isn't Gideon." With great assurance, she looked at the nurse. "This is George."
Arthur gave her a smile of understanding, and went off to make sure that the formal paperwork was complete.
Molly smiled at him. "It really should have clued me in as to how much of an adventure raising you boys was going to be, that you pranked us on the way into the world."
George was leaning back now in the chair, arms behind his head, looking in some amusement at his mother. "Quite ingenious of me, if I do say so. Doctor ever tell you how he came to make such a mistake?"
Molly snorted. "He ASSUMED. Assumed that because Fred was hiding you, and he couldn't see you, that because Fred was slightly larger for a twin, that you were doomed. He never knew for sure."
George raised eyebrows. "He is lucky you didn't hex him into the next world, Mum." George ran his hands through his hair. "But I don't see what this has to do with now, exactly…except that I can't imagine myself as a Gideon."
Molly looked vaguely disturbed, but she pushed another cinnamon roll on him and sighed deeply. "I was just getting to that part."
Three months later, Molly was in the back yard at the Burrow, her new babies in bassinettes. Charlie and Bill were at a day school down the road, and Percy was taking a nap. And she had an opportunity to just be with her newborns, cooing and smiling and making faces at them, and watching how they delighted in it.
They had distinctive personalities already, as much as they looked alike. Fred was self-assured, stronger, louder. He commanded and enjoyed attention, and reminded her much of Charlie as a baby. Little George, on the other hand, was the sly one…the one who would steal your heart with quiet smiles and coos. He was smiling at Molly now, her brother Gideon's quiet smile, the one that was steadfast and loving and sweet.
Mothers, she knew, weren't supposed to have favorites. And she loved all her boys with a ferocity that was frightening. Some might think she favored Bill slightly, because she talked about him so much, but really she talked about him because he was the oldest. Bill was doing everything first, and a part of Molly knew that his brothers would always be playing catch-up to him.
But this little one…her George…seemed to have an extra strong claim on her heart. Maybe it was Gideon's smile, maybe it was that he was a tad gentler, or that he seemed to be so purely HERS. He quieted immediately when she picked him up; he seemed to sense when she was tired and he would demand less. He even seemed to sense when she was sad…and in these days, with You Know Who running wild, there were plenty of sad days…and somehow George would do something, manage something, a new sound or a new face…that made her laugh. She knew it wasn't possible for any three month old to be that in tune with the world around him, but she decided to suspend her disbelief.
"Ah, there you are, Molly." A voice called, and Molly looked up to see her Aunt Muriel stepping gingerly over the uneven ground. "There with your changelings, are you?"
Molly frowned. Muriel had never had children and really didn't seem to be able to abide by them; having her here was a sad trial she only endured for the sake of family. "They're not changelings!" She retorted. "Fred and George are perfect!"
Muriel came over and grimaced down at them. "Isn't he…" She pointed down at George. "Supposed to be dead, Molly?"
Now Molly was beyond annoyed, but outright angry. "The Doctor made a mistake. My George is just fine."
Muriel shook her head. "Can't cheat death like that, Molly my dear. You KNOW that to be true. Death will come for the child…you had just better hope he spares the rest of you. Death doesn't like being gainsayed."
"What nonsense!" Molly stood quickly, to get between Muriel and her boys, who were starting to fret from the presence of their harsh Aunt. "The Doctor MADE A MISTAKE."
Muriel snapped right back. "Don't Nonsense me, Molly Prewitt. If your Mother had listened to me, maybe your brothers would still be alive. We can't abide by twins in this family, Molly…seven sets in the past four hundred years, and not one set who both lived to see the age of twenty-one. And in four of the cases, their deaths resulted in family catastrophes. Look at Gideon…getting Fabian killed like that."
Molly was shaking. She knew there had been other twins in the Prewitt line, going back a long time ago, but who kept such track of things? And what was this about blaming Gideon for Fabian's death? "Gideon and Fabian died fighting Voldemort, Muriel."
Muriel smirked. "Aye…but look at the records, Molly…and see if I'm not right that Gideon went charging in to the battle earlier, and Fabian followed. See if I'm not right!"
Molly didn't pay any attention to Muriel. She never had before, why start now? And yet…and yet the fear crept into her heart. After putting both boys down for their nap together (always together; they screeched the house down if put down alone) she looked up the family tree. Sure enough there had been several sets of twins years back, and equally surely at least one of the pairs of twins had died before the age of twenty-one.
It gnawed at her, at first. Though most of those sets of twins, save her brothers, had been centuries ago. And her brothers, she reminded herself, had both made it OVER twenty-one. She considered smugly pointing this out to Muriel, but knew ahead of time what the answer would be: yes, and didn't it get them both killed for defying death?
But time marched on. Molly was a busy mother with five babies. She didn't have time to pay a thought to Muriel's spitefulness. She even made a point of NOT inviting her Aunt to special occasions. Why should the twins birthdays be marred by such fear-mongering? Like living in a world of You-know-Who wasn't bad enough!
But it was hard, she thought…and Arthur agreed…to think of Voldemort when one had Fred and George in the room. By their second birthday the boys had the uncanny ability to make everyone laugh, even Percy, who was by nature a serious child. Fred would announce his tricks and feats with a "bang"; squealing in delight when he made Charlie's hair stand up on end, or when he managed to stack Bill's blocks in an inverted pyramid. George was the subtle one; the one whom you would find very quietly levitating the cat (who fortunately loved it), or, Molly's personal favorite, getting into the healing supplies.
The morning of their second birthday, she lost sight of George for just a few minutes. He found her…swathed in bandages and limping. Before she could fear the worst, George told her proudly… "Look, Mummy…I'm a Mummy too! RrrrRRRR!" He growled. Molly laughed for nearly half an hour, utterly unable to scold the child as she unpeeled his wrapping from him.
That afternoon, the boys were amusing themselves, not realizing the meager celebrathion that would await them that evening. Molly had been very pregnant with Ron, and just didn't seem to have the energy for much more. So it was with surprise that she'd looked up to the window to see Lily Potter waving to her, and she invited the younger woman in.
Now, Molly had barely known the Potters…they'd missed each other at school, with Molly graduating two years before Lily had even started. But of course she knew OF Lily and her husband James. They were in the order, with Gideon and Fabian, and she had seen them at their funeral. As Molly gave Lily a welcoming hug, she realized the younger woman was pregnant with her own first child. And, surprisingly, she came in bearing gifts for the twins.
"Oh, Lily…you didn't have to!" Molly handed the packages to Fred and George, who proceeded to tear through the wrappings like the confetti was more important than the present.
"James and I wanted to do something…" Lily said, pushing her dark red hair out of her face. "Fabian and Gideon were wonderful to us, and we feel like these two are keeping a part of their legacy going on."
Molly had blinked at the unexpected kind words, and knew in that moment that she would do anything for Lily.
The boys, meanwhile, were gobsmacked. For each of them had gotten toy brooms, something which Molly and Arthur had contemplated, but just couldn't afford in duo. Maybe Christmas, if they saved. Shame, too, since Percy had a broom.
The boys were wide eyed. Fred looked at what George held, and George looked at Fred's, to make sure they had, indeed, gotten identical toys. And then they both squealed in delight, clapping excitedly.
Molly smiled, blinking tears out of her eyes. "That was so wonderful of you, Lily!"
Lily smiled back. "Our children will be at Hogwarts together." She touched her swollen belly, and looked over at Molly shyly. "It would be wonderful if they are friends."
It was George who interrupted them; Fred was already trying, with extreme determination, to mount his broom; George had toddled over, clutching his to his heart. He put a hand on Lily's knee. "Tank you, Lileeeee." He turned his head engagingly to one side, and then patted Lily's belly. "Baby?" He asked.
Lily was enchanted. "Yes, George, I'm having a baby just like your Mum!"
George had nodded sagely. "Yes, like Mum." He thought hard for a moment, chewing his lip. "Who you baby's brothers?"
Molly watched as Lily tried hard not to laugh. "My baby is the oldest, so he doesn't have any brothers."
"He?" Molly asked, and Lily blushed, whispering, "I just have a hunch, Molly…"
George looked very grave and concerned. "Baby NEEDS brothers." He chewed his lower lips thoughtfully. "Fred!" He called.
Fred crashed off his broom, laughing, and toddled over. George looked at him and took his hand. "Lilee's baby needs brothers." They looked at each other, communicating in that way that they had. And then, together, they put their hands on Lily's belly. "We be his brothers!"
It was a promise that Molly would remember years later, with bittersweet pride
George was gaping at Molly. "I didn't, really? That's so sweet it's disgusting, Mum!"
"Oh, hush!" Molly said, flicking the dishtowel at George's hand. "It was adorable, and what's more, it's true, isn't it? Even before Harry married your sister?"
George was studying his coffee thoughtfully. "I suppose it was. Remember seeing poor Harry trying to get his trunk up on the Hogwarts express, and we helped him out. Fred and I both thought it was pretty rum, kid having to see himself off to Hogwarts, trying to manage alone…let's face it, 'alone' wasn't really a concept we ever got." George snorted. "Who knew Harry would end up being the ruddy strongest wizard of our generation?"
Molly looked on him with unabashed pride. "Well of course you didn't, you didn't NEED to. You helped him out because you had good hearts, you and your brother, not because you saw any advantage to it."
George smiled, but it didn't fully reach his eyes. "Wish I could have remembered Harry's Mum. He would have liked that." He sighed, then looked carefully at Molly. "Cute as this is, Mum…and as rewarding as it is to know I'm not the only person who finds Aunt Muriel to be a festering boil of a human being…I get the feeling this isn't quite what you wanted to talk to me about?"
His mother sighed. "You are right, Dear. I'm just procrastinating…and maybe I wanted you to know I wasn't always such a terrible mother."
"I never said…"
"Shhh." She soothed, grasping his hand. "Let me get this out."
A year later, Molly was ambling through Diagon Ally. Fred and George were strapped securely into their stroller, both active three year olds being kept amused by new books that made funny sounds and motions. Molly had been relieved to have Arthur looking after one-year old Ronnie, for she was pregnant again, due in about a month with her seventh child. She hoped it wasn't wrong of her to fervently wish for a girl.
She hadn't seen pretty Lily Potter in some time. The Potters had been forced to go in to hiding some time ago, at the suggestion of Albus Dumbledore, and for Molly a visit was out of the question, not with her wild brood. Molly did get a letter…one that announced the birth of young Harry, just a few months after Ronnie. In fact, the boy's birthday was surely just past!
"Mum!" George sang out to her, holding up his book for her to admire. On the page, a dragon flew in circles, blowing fire that caused real smoke.
"Excellent, Dear!" She said, and decided to get the boys ice-cream. A treat that would have been beyond her if she'd had all the kids here…but, well, she reserved the right to spoil her twins once in a while!
So for a few minutes she found herself enjoying a double-butter pecan, while Fred and George exclaimed with delight over Jelly Worm Jiggle. And then a strange woman, looking other-worldly, with wide eyes and oversized glasses, seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Not that THAT was so strange in Diagon Ally, but this was enough to startle her.
The woman played with her copious beads, and looked down at the happily slurping twins. "Doppelgangers!" She murmured, peering over them like they were a science experiment. "Changelings!"
"Can I HELP you?" Molly said, in the exasperation of a pregnant woman just a few weeks from delivery.
The glittering woman tittered lightly. "Muriel told me about these." She tut-tutted; Molly was not angry to see Fred surreptitiously wipe his hands on her skirt. And the woman spoke again. "One is marked for death, is he not? So sad, so sad!"
Molly felt fear grab at her heart, but refused to give in! Clearly this old fraudulent bat had been briefed by Muriel. "Who ARE you?" She snapped.
"Sybill Trelawney…just hired to teach divination at Hogwarts." The glittery woman replied, not taking her eyes off the boys. "Which one is it?" She asked.
Molly was flabbergasted that Dumbledore would make such a mistake to hire this…this evil creature. "Get away from my boys!"
The glittering eyes batted at her questioningly. "But my dear, it is not me you have to fear, but you yourself. Tell me, which one do you love least?"
Molly's mouth dropped. "I…sorry?"
"Surely you have one you love least…of all your children, but of these two as well. You are only human after all, and if you favor one, then you are disfavoring the other, no?"
Molly couldn't speak; she was imagining the particular lilt her heart gave when her George smiled up at her in that gentle way of his.
"Ah." Trelawney said. "I thought so. You must not, you know; you must not favor one. That leads to bad things; the one favored never benefits, never at all. It won't do, for the one favored suffers."
Molly stood and moved to wheel her children away. "I'll thank you." She said acerbically, "To keep your opinions on motherhood to yourself until you have a child."
Trelawney sighed. "I only wish to warn you of the dangers of favoring one." And then a strange trance came over the woman. "One will not live to see twenty-one. As sure as the dark lord will fall tonight, one will not live to see twenty one."
Molly ran away from this frightening woman, not even wanting to yell at George, who flat out threw the rest of his ice-cream cone at that Trelawney creature.
Later that night when all her boys were in bed, Molly sat up, knitting because she was unable to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about what that crazy bat had said about her boys. She alternated between thinking that she certainly didn't favor one over the other, and the more sobering thought that there wasn't anything wrong with her George and it was ridiculous to think that he was marked for death.
Besides, didn't that great fraud say You-Know-Who was falling tonight? As if THAT would happen. Well, she'd know soon enough how accurate her predictions are!
The next morning, Molly Weasley woke up to find that the Potters had been killed, and that Voldemort had somehow been vanquished by a one year old baby. The rest of the wizarding world celebrated; Molly stayed in her bed all day and wept.
Molly was crying now, in George's kitchen. George grasped her hand tightly. "Oh, Mum…I can't imagine what you must have felt at that moment."
She squeezed his hand back. "My Dear…you don't understand…trying not to love you was the hardest thing I'd ever done."
She got up and walked to the window, hugging herself slightly. "You were just a child…how were you supposed to understand? That the mother who used to pick you up so readily now walked away from your outstretched arms? That the mother who you could make laugh with the slightest silly face now snapped at you for the same thing? I could hardly explain that I was trying to save you by not loving you more than your brother. Not when you looked at me with wide, hurt eyes when I would consciously blame you for something you had done with your brother, or even something he did on his own."
Her shoulder's shook as she leaned forward. "So much time I spent pretending to be angry at you, blaming you for things I knew weren't your fault. Pretending that I didn't favor you, not at all. And what happened? I killed your brother instead, George!"
"MUM!" George rose quickly, and came to her side.
"I did! I did! As sure as I tried not to kill you. I went so overboard in loving you less that I never realized I was loving Fred MORE. I signed his death sentence, George! And I can't forget that…these past ten years when I looked at you, I knew I'd taken your twin from you…and me, not able to figure out how to undo the distrust I'd beaten into you every day since you were three years old!" She tapped her forehead against the window pane, crying openly.
George enveloped her into a deep hug from behind, resting his chin on her head. "Oh, Mum." His voice was soft. "Don't…please don't." She turned and hugged him, burying her head against his chest. He continued. "First off, unless you've been obliviating me on a regular basis, I don't you recall ever BEATING me. Occasionally you'd go on one of those ear-slapping frenzies, but you did that to all of us, usually for cause." Molly snuffled slightly. "I know you mean figuratively. And I'm not going to lie to you and pretend I didn't notice, or that it didn't hurt sometimes." He rubbed her back. "But you hurt yourself worse, Mum. Because I know you enough to understand that."
George stood there for a bit, holding her, thinking things over, before he led Molly to the couch and sat her down. "Mum, look at me." He grasped her hands. "Are you telling me that you still blame yourself for Fred's death?"
Molly wiped her eyes. "How can I not, dear?"
"I'll tell you how not. Mum, do you love me?" George asked, intently.
"Of course, dear…I have always loved you." She said, hugging herself.
"And you loved Fred?" Molly nodded, looking curiously at George.
"And you love Ginny…we all saw how you fought Bellatrix…and you love Bill, because we saw how you wept over his injuries. And Charlie…every time he goes back to Romania to be with the dragons, your love is all over your anxiety for his welfare. And Ron, when he was off with Harry…and Percy, when he was absent from the family. You love all of us, Mum."
Molly just blinked at him. And he sighed.
"You loved all of us just the same, mum. None more or less. Not even me…though you can talk now about how my smile was like Uncle Gideon's…I bet if you thought it over you could come up with half a dozen cute, heart-turning stories about Percy or Ron, too." George pushed the hair to the side of his mother's face. "You ACTED differently on the outside…pretending not to love me as much…the same way when Percy was gone you ACTED like it didn't matter. But that didn't change what was in your heart, Mum."
Molly quavered slightly. "But…but Fred's dead…and she predicted it!"
George set his shoulders back. "Okay, so Trelawney got two predictions right out of a thousand…three, if you count what happened with Harry once back at school. But you said that she was spouting off a lot of nonsense about loving one child more or less than another, AND THEN SHE WENT INTO A TRANCE. She predicted that one of us wouldn't live to see 21…and she was right…but she never said that one of us would die BECAUSE you favored us. Wrong on all accounts."
"Ohhhhh…." Molly sank back into the sofa. "How can you ever forgive me, George?"
"Easily. You're my mother." He said, hugging her once more. "And knowing that you love me, it's enough."