Author's note: This chapter is the finale of "We Belong." There will be a sequel coming shortly (probably 3-5 days) as will be evident once you get to the end of this part…
Thanks again to everyone for their support!
WWWWWWWWWW
There were two very important things George had taken care of with Percy over the days immediately following the shipment of Weas-Works to France. One—the adoption—he had been thinking about for some time. The other was something that grew from a comment of Ron's over the fire-whiskey, something that hadn't quite registered at the time, but which became crystal clear in his dreams. Something long overdue.
He'd been nervous about approaching Percy on both items. But the adoption Percy had approved of heartily, although he cautioned that with any adoption proceedings it would be at least a year long process, unlike the relatively simple decree of guardianship. And they would have to ensure that any family Katie still had left made no claim. Still, it made all of Alfred's legal standing, as an heir and a family member, unimpeachable, something that would be of particular importance if he remained without magic.
George's reasons, of course, were emotional, not practical, but he was more than happy to accomplish both.
The second item…George had held his breath before he broached it to Percy…but he was pleasantly surprised at Percy's wide smile. Evidently he thought it was long overdue as well. Percy had taken care of everything on that in short order, bless his little official self. It had been quite amusing, however, to have Percy's staff thanking him. Apparently since the Wo-Wo gift, his straight laced brother had become noticeably warmer.
So now, it was a glorious Monday morning; the shop was an hour from opening, and he was beaming with the thought of the news he would have for Ron once he got there.
In a week, Alfred would be starting at the wizard day school, the one for kids too young for Hogwarts, that focused on basic education, not on learning magic. He'd spoken as freely as he could with the principal, and Alf was okay with it, particularly as Teddy would be there. Alf might be a target of some of the other boys, but as Teddy pointed out, nobody was likely to cross a son of Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes, not if it meant expulsion from the world's coolest shop. George had smirked at young Teddy's ingenuity; his shyness seemed to be fading as his friendship with Alfred grew.
"Careful with that." He roused himself from his musings to admonish Alf, who was carrying a box of Wo-Wos.
Alf faked insult. "Geez, you blow up one box of fireworks and you're branded for life!"
George crossed his arms, eyebrows raised. "One box of fireworks?"
"One…ten…who's counting?" Alfred asked, as he very gently placed the box by the display.
They smiled at each other. They had survived the worst, and survived stronger. What could possibly threaten them now?
With a whoosh the floo came to life; Ron, early for once! George put down his coffee and turned with a grin on his lips to give Ron his news.
"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, BOTH OF YOU!" Ron bellowed at them.
Alf, startled, darted over to George, who grabbed him. The both turned, puzzled, towards the fireplace. "What…Ron…" George gaped. Ron's robes were askew, his face smeared, and his eyes frantic.
"Just do it, George! Apparate to Bill and Fleur's, they're safe…still not on the floo network, still secret."
George paled. "Ron?"
He could see menacing shadows approaching outside the store, and realized that Harry and Percy, looking equally grim, had also come through the floo.
"GEORGE, JUST GO!"
With fear that he'd forgotten for ten years, he felt Alf suction cup himself to his chest. Gripping the boy tightly, he concentrated all his thoughts on Shell Cottage: Bill's house, the one still kept by a secret keeper because of his confidential work with Gringots.
WWWWWWWW
Five hours later, Fleur was tending to both her frantic, and still clueless, house guests.
For about the eighth time, George asked her, "Are you sure you don't know what was happening?"
"George…" Fleur sighed, looking up from her soup. "I wish I did. I know that Ron had news from Draco, and that he needed Bill for…what he called…back up. And that Ron said I should see you and Alf, and keep you 'ere."
"Swell!" George ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it. Obviously there was some kind of attack going on…death eaters? Zombies? And for some reason, they were attacking the shop. So fine, GET Alf to safety…but why the hell couldn't George fight?
Fear gripped him then…what if he lost another brother? He couldn't bear it, couldn't, not at all! "BOLLOCKS!" He yelled, startling Victoire and making Ricky cringe. Fleur gave him a withering look, and he charged outside, to the protected grounds, and stared listlessly to the horizon.
A hand grasped his. Alfred had joined him outside. The boy leaned into him and George draped his arm around his shoulder.
"She said Draco was involved…you don't think he's gone bad?" Alf whispered.
George squeezed him. "I won't believe that, kiddo…he was very serious about that vow."
They were standing there for nearly half an hour before Harry, Ron, Percy, Bill, and Arthur appeared, ruffled but unscathed, causing George relief he could not express, except in the most forceful way.
"WILL SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?"
It was Arthur who spoke. "Son…you and Alfred are in danger…grave danger, I fear." He looked down at Alf, and then to Ron, who immediately chimed in.
"Draco flooed us, frantic. His old man got wind of Alf's situation, and told the Bells. They can't believe that Alfred's been parading about…their words, not mine, mate…as a relative of theirs, and as a squib."
"They're the reason I am one!" Alf exclaimed, hotly. George squeezed his shoulders.
"Right, well, in any event, Draco found out that they…bunch of former death eaters, I suppose…were planning on attacking Alf at the store. Attacking to kill." Ron finished, lamely.
George felt Alfred's knees buckle, and he hugged him close. "WHY?" He lamented. "And why not let me stay and fight?"
It was Harry who spoke as well. "There's a contract out on both of you. Alfred, for being a squib, and you, for willingly harboring him. Besides, they know pretty well what your vengeance would be if they succeeded."
George trembled with rage and exasperation and fear, and Arthur came to him, holding him even as he held Alf.
"We'll get to the bottom of this, Georgie." Arthur said, whispering into his good ear. "We kept the store secure and the Aurors are on to them, but until we ride the full plot to earth, and until Alf gets his magic back, we need to keep you both safe."
George let himself lean into this father for a moment, inhaling deeply to calm himself, accepting the support. Then he set his shoulders and nodded. "Alright, then…what's next? Alf and I stay here? Or isn't it so easy?"
Percy gave him a twisted smile. "Of course it isn't that easy, George…when in the hell has it ever been?'
George bit back a choked laugh. "Right…let's go inside and fill it all in." He looked down at Alfred, who was pale but composed now, studying George and taking his cues from him. "We'll be fine, eh, Alf? With this whole army of Weasleys to protect us?" He gave him a falsely confident smile, and Alf matched it; they both knew this was grave, and they both knew they'd be damned if they'd show it.
WWWWWWWWW
Two hours later, George sat at Bill's table, Alf close at his side. Bill had suggested that Alf be sent to bed with the kids, but George (with Harry's immediate backup) had refused, knowing that the kid deserved to know what was going on; also that whatever Alf would imagine would possibly be even worse than the reality.
Not that reality needed help; this was bad enough.
He had understood that reality to be this: the store was fine, and not too badly damaged. Charlie had come in from Romania to help them earlier and had stayed behind to clean up and guard. Ginny had wanted like hell to join the fight, but with Hermione setting up the escape plan with her ministry connections, Ginny had been watching the kids. Their situation was strange…they knew what was happening, but couldn't prove it without blowing Draco's cover in finding a cure for Alf…and it was important, should Draco need to call in darker connections, that he remain behind the scenes. Harry was confident that he and Hermione could run the culprits to earth within a month or two. And if that would fully solve the problem, it might be feasible to keep George and Alf cooped up at Shell cottage, although even that short a time made both of them cringe at the confinement.
But Bill had his own caution to add: Shell Cottage was safe, for now, but he feared that if George and Alf remained in England they might make targets of the entire family in an effort to draw them out. It seemed, more than anything else, they wanted the embarrassment of Alf out of sight; should that happen, it seemed pretty clear from what they had learned that they would not pursue them. Not that they could take a chance of sending them away without some support.
Exile. Ugly word that was, and yet it was what he was facing. Because the truth, as he understood it, was that Draco felt the counter-potion was completely do-able, but it would take at least a year. And until it was through Alf would continue to be perceived as an embarrassment to the Bell family, and therefore would continue to be in danger, and George with him.
"Maybe I should just go away…" Alf broke the silence that was now surrounding the table.
"Oi!" George looked at him, arms folded, and Alf blushed. "You go NOWHERE without me, kiddo."
"Right, then…" Percy took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Hermione has a lot of contacts through her work at the ministry, she seemed pretty confident she could set something up…"
On cue there was a knock at the door, and seven wands where whipped out. Ron grimaced. "Seems like old times."
Bill addressed the door. "Who's there?"
"Blimey…it's Charlie and Hermione." A voice called from the other side.
"Hermione…" Bill started. "What did you, Ron, and Harry fight in the lavatory in first year?"
"A mountain troll." Was the immediate answer from the other side.
Then Bill grinned. "Charlie…What color did Fred and George turn your hair when you were twelve years old?"
A roar from the other side was indignant. "Ruddy Slytherin green and silver! Let us IN, it's raining out!"
Bill released the locks on the door, and Charlie stumbled inside, shedding water, while Hermione came in perfectly composed, with a stack of parchment. "I offered you an umbrella charm!' She reminded him, lips pursed as she avoided his dog-like shake.
Ron came to his wife's side and kissed her. "Oh, that's to prissy for Charlie."
Charlie, the burliest of the Weasleys, looked over at Alf with a good natured grin, even as he peeled wet clothes off. "Hey, kid. Not how I planned on meeting you, but boy, you're exactly as I pictured!"
George, meanwhile, turned to Bill. "How did you know it was Fred and I who turned his hair?' He asked.
"Who else?" Chorused Ron, Bill, and Percy together. Arthur just chuckled.
Charlie was gratefully accepting a bowl of stew from Fleur. "I never did bloody well get the two of you back for that!" He looked at George sideways
George considered how best to respond, but it was Arthur who had the quicker comeback. "Really, Charlie? Maybe you'd like to make a vow for revenge? An unbreakable one?"
Most of the table looked confused…Ron choked on his butterbeer, however, and George actually laughed, something which had seemed an impossibility ten minutes ago. Arthur kept a straight face, and Charlie turned various shades of red in a row, as he had clearly never put together what, exactly, the twins' act of revenge had been for. "Er, right, then…guess we actually are even, eh?"
"You should count yourself lucky…" George laughed out. "That I was in charge of spelling your shampoo. Fred might have been REALLY vengeful."
Alf looked at him. "Anyone want to tell me what this is about?"
"No!" Ron, George and Charlie said at the same time.
George wrapped an arm around Alfred. "Some day, kiddo…I'm just not ready for that one now."
"Well…" Hermione took a seat between Ron and George, smoothing back her hair. "We've got a plan laid out for you guys. I'm guessing you're up to speed, George?"
George stroked Alf's shoulder as he responded. "If up to speed means I understand that Alf and I need to flee from Katie's nut job family, as egged on by Draco's nut job father, then go on…I'm all ears."
After about ten seconds of stunned silence, the entire group burst into laughter, as George intended. He was damned if he was going to let a bunch of wackos get to them after they'd survived Voldemort!
More relaxed, Hermione squeezed his shoulder gently. "Well done, George." She smiled gently. "We've set up an entire cover for the two of you that I think should work out just fine."
"Bulgaria?" Alf asked. George coughed to cover the questioning looks.
"Um, no…" Hermione went on. "Salem, USA, actually…where the American ministry is located. I've been in constant contact with them for the past few years." Efficiently she pulled out photos of a house and a neighborhood, passing them over to George. "This is where you'll be living…123 Pineapple Street, in the muggle section of Salem."
"Could it be any MORE insipid…" George murmured, then stopped. "Hang on…the MUGGLE section?"
"Well, yes." Hermione said patiently. "It's not likely that the Bells will search you out, but if they ever did, they would never search THERE. Besides, that would be the safest location for Alfred…he's not going to stand out at all."
George understood THAT well enough, but still! "And what about me, Hermione? Aren't I going to look a tad out of place?"
"Only if you do magic." She replied, leaving George speechless. Sighing, she went on, "Look George, whatever you do in the house is fine, but yes, for your own safety, and Alfred's, you are going to have to pass as a muggle. Is it really so revolting?"
"NO!" George ran his hands through his hair. "But how am I supposed to pull it off? I'm not you, Hermione, nor Harry…I've never lived in the muggle world!"
"I have." Alfred piped up, tentatively. "I can help."
George abruptly pulled himself together, and quelled his fears. He couldn't, wouldn't let Alfred think that this was a problem. Hell, he'd pretend to be a friggen sea-monkey if it would keep Alf safe. "Of course you do." He hugged Alf close, and gave a resolute smile. "And we'll be fine. I just didn't expect it."
He felt Arthur's eyes on him and knew he wasn't fooling his father, at least. But Hermione, satisfied, went on. "We have a very sound back-story planted for you, keeping as many details as close to your reality as possible. Your name is George Weatherby…" Percy scowled. "…er…sorry, Perce…and Alfred is your ten year old son."
"Son?" George and Alf said together.
"Yes…The American muggle authorities would look much more closely at the immigration of a Uncle and Nephew, no matter how many people we confound. We're enrolling Alfred in the local elementary school, by the way…fifth grade, they call it. You came to America to get away from your grief, as your wife Katie has just died of cancer."
Alf tensed, and George outright picked him up and sat him on his lap. Hermione's expression softened, but she kept going. "You're an author, by the way…made your money writing expensive textbooks on English mythology, but now you're working on your great novel…"
Charlie snorted. "A writer? I though you were trying to keep this close to reality, Mi?"
George responded first. "Well, I could hardly run a joke shop from there, can I, mate?"
"Right…being a writer is a good reason for George to have a solid income, and yet work from home. Alf can help you with the muggle technology, I have no doubt. This house, by the way, IS on the floo network and you'll have undercover protection from the American Wizard community…you won't know they're there, though…" She kept going through various details, and George kept his arms around Alfred, acting calm and pretending to be listening.
Inside, though, he was panicking. He couldn't do this…not THIS…this he would botch up. And what price a botch up? Would his misstep cost Alfred his life? Both of their lives? How was he supposed to do this? He wasn't as daring has Fred…never had been, even if nobody believed that. He COULDN'T DO THIS.
Something roused him away from his fears, however. "Then there's a matter of the shop…you might want to consider getting some kind of proxy for Ron," She blushed, knowing that as Ron's wife that might come out badly, "…or somebody, at any rate…to make business decisions for you."
Percy started, and stared at him. George gave him a tired smile. "Was going to tell Ron this morning, Perce…never got the chance."
"Ah." Percy said, understanding.
"Tell me what, Mate?" Ron smiled at him. "Am I fired?"
"Quite the opposite." George pulled out the papers and handed them to his only younger brother.
Bemused, Ron read them over…and his face paled significantly. He clearly read them again, shooting George a sharp look between. Then, pale and perplexed, he passed them over to his wife, not speaking. Hermione read them over…and even with her over-abundance of brains, she didn't trust what they said without reading them twice, and then her eyes misted over.
Finally, Ron spoke. "Partner?" It came out as a hoarse whisper. "You must be joking."
"That, alas, is the price of running a joke shop, Ron…people will insist on not taking you seriously even when you are." George grinned. "You had best get used to it."
"You're insane." Ron continued.
"Get that a lot too, mate." George met Ron's befuddled gaze though, and softened. "I'm quite serious, Ron. I realized it the other day, after our little accident at the warehouse…" Alf cringed, and George squeezed his hand. "…you said something about how you didn't own the place. And that reminded me of two things, long, long over due. One, the shop was entirely in my name…has been since Fred died."
Arthur spoke. "You offered Fred's half to the family at the time, George." He reminded him. "And we told you we all believed that Fred would have wanted it to be yours."
"Well, yes…when we didn't know Fred had an heir." George pointed out. "Ron's comment reminded me that to begin with that part of the shop ought to be in Alf's name."
Alf gaped. "Me?"
"Held in trust until you are of age, of course." George smiled at him. "But the truth is, there wouldn't be anything left to put in Alf's name, or kept in my name, if not for you Ron."
Ron just stared at him, as if he didn't dare believe what he was hearing. George reached over and grabbed his forearm.
"After I moped here with Bill for a few months after the funeral, you were the one who stuck by me like glue. You, Ron, were the one who dragged me to the shop and convinced me that Fred would kick my ass if I let it go to seed. You pushed me back into the lab and told me to get my warped brain creating stuff before the public could get bored. You put up with my moods and with the days when I fought you about even getting up in the morning. On days when you sensed I would be heading to the Leaky Cauldron and getting myself sloshed, you dragged me out somewhere…anywhere…else with you. Hell, Ron, you blew off dates with Hermione to drag me to Oliver's Quidditch matches. You have never, ever, not been there for me, Ron." George smiled sadly at him. "Even if I never realized it. So yes, the shop is a third yours…and there isn't anybody I'd trust more to care for it when I'm not there."
It wasn't often that the entire Weasley family was speechless, but George had managed it. Suddenly Ron stood, and George rose as well, and they embraced in a fierce hug.
"You make it sound like it was work." Ron whispered shakily. "It wasn't, you know."
"I know." George admitted. "I'll miss you."
"I'll make you proud." Ron swore.
They pulled apart, and began the process of packing it in for the night. George felt good that there was at lease one thing he could be satisfied with, in the course of this ugly day.
WWWWWWWW
An hour later, George sat on the double bed that Fleur had prepared for them. Shell cottage was small, and this tiny guest room was the best she could offer. Alf was already tucked under the covers; George was pretending to look over the volume of papers Hermione had given him.
Alf suddenly squeezed his arm. "What's wrong…Dad?"
George gave him a genuine smile. "That is nice to hear." He admitted, stroking Alf's head.
"It's nice to say." Alf agreed, but kept going. "And you didn't answer the question."
George permitted himself a little sigh. "I am worried, Alf. Let's face it, this day didn't exactly end as I had planned…we've got a lot of work ahead of us." He stroked the boy's head. "I know that we will get through this together. But I'd be a piss-poor father if I didn't let it bother me a bit, hm?"
Alf gave him a confident smile. "We'll be fine. I'll teach you all about muggle stuff, it'll be fun." George snorted. "No, really…you'll be amazed. We'll go to football matches, and to the movies…I'll show you how to count muggle money…"
George couldn't help but laugh at Alfred's enthusiasm. The kid was now in the envious position of knowing more than his "dad" and he was enjoying it. Well, George would have too. He let Alf go on talking about the amazements of the muggle world, talking himself to sleep finally, and it was then that George let the sheaf of papers slide to the floor with a sigh, and put his head in his hands.
George Weasley was scared.
He had felt alone after Fred had died…horribly, devastatingly alone…but he really hadn't been. As much as it hurt, as much as he ached for his twin, he'd had family. Family in droves, in fact; more family than most people could dream of. His parents, five surviving siblings, soon augmented by in-laws (in the case of Hermione and Harry, friends before being in-laws), and then nieces and nephews. George Weasley had never been alone, never been not in reaching distance of family. Even when they'd been away in school, he and Fred had been at first with Bill and Charlie and Percy, followed by Ron and Ginny.
He was leaving his family for the first time in his life, and he felt rudderless. True, Alf was everything to him. But he'd never not had a support net before, and Alf wasn't supposed to support him, it was the other way around. What would happen if he had some parenting crisis arise, and Arthur and Molly not at hand to advise him. What if he was melancholy over Fred, and no Bill to chew him out? No Ron to bounce ideas off of, no Hermione to ask technical questions, no Ginny to laugh with, no Harry to just flat out be there. No nieces and nephews to spoil, save Alf, now his "son". George Weasley, fifth child of seven, had no clue how to be alone.
The tears surprised him, and he bit his lip, holding the sound in, but shaking with the sobs as he hugged himself tightly.
Arms surprised him; a deep embrace. Arthur, who George guessed hadn't been fooled by the bravado any little bit. "Insulato." He murmured, casting a cocoon of sound-proof air around Alf. Arthur's hand gently made circles on his back, and George realized the familiar gesture he often used to comfort Alfred had actually come from his own Dad's way of comforting him as a child. He sucked in air, suddenly, gasping and trying to stop, but unable to at first.
"It'll be okay, Georgie…" Arthur soothed. "We've survived so much worse, the lot of us, than this crisis. It'll be okay."
"Dad…" George's voice broke, trying to articulate his fears. "I can't bear it, can't bear the thought of being without the lot of you…I'm not independent like Charlie or Bill. Everyone always thought Fred and I were so fearless, but the thought of being away, of not being able to come HOME, scares the hell out of me."
Arthur's quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. "Do you think I don't know that, son? We're all homebodies, us Weasleys, and I don't apologize for that…I am proud of how close my children are, of how much love we all have for each other. Why do you think it ate away at us so much when Percy went away? When we lost your brother?"
George gradually calmed down, letting his father's gentle words ease his fears, and yes, his shame. Arthur was continuing slowly.
"You think I don't know how you feel about family, after what you just did for Ron? Do you think all families would be like that?" He squeezed him.
George sniffed hard. "They should be." He replied.
"Well of course they should, but until they are we just have to be content with being smarter than everyone else." He moved to stroke George's cheek, lifting his head to look at him. "I know you don't think that you're not going to be seeing us for a year, right?"
"Um…" George chewed his lip; wasn't this exile? Wasn't that exactly that?
Arthur smirked, and shook his head. "Young idiot, George. Hermione told you it was on the floo network…who do you think is going to be visiting? Any of us, as much as we can, without raising suspicion. For the love of all that's holy, including your head, do you really think you can keep ME out of a MUGGLE house?"
Laughter escaped him them. Of course he was being stupid! Of course being away from The Burrow didn't mean being cut off from his family! He WAS an idiot.
"That's my George." Arthur said, and he hugged him again. "My smart, funny, brave, loyal George." He said, more quietly. "Who has become quite a father himself."
George hugged him back tightly. "I had a good example."
He expected Arthur to leave him then, but he didn't. There was another soft incantation, and he recognized a spell for sleepiness, one that made him feel like chamomile was in his bones and lavender in his pillow. He recognized it from childhood, when he'd been sick and when Dad would come round to tuck him in to bed, soothing him as best he could. He felt himself drifting of, even as arms rocked him, and was only vaguely aware of being laid down on the bed, beside Alfred, of having warm blankets tucked around him. Dimmest of all, before sleep claimed him, was the gentle kiss on his forehead.
Must ask Dad about that one…Alfred would like that.
And sweet dreams claimed him for his last night in England for some time.