justgeorgeweasleynow

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

"A better question would be if I've ever seen a woman who wasn't interested in Quidditch. I might actually have to think about that one for a minute." George grinned back at her, wondering how long it would take for to her recognize him. Or maybe she had recognized him and was just giving him a hard time. It had been a while since they'd seen each other and he knew he'd changed, but he didn't think he'd changed that much. He was missing an ear now, but that was mostly hidden by his hair. Apart from that, the change was most apparent in the way he carried himself, lacking the confidence and energy he once had.

He could say the same for Katie, although she seemed to have gained energy instead of lost it. For one, he'd never expected to find Katie Bell yelling at a radio in public. On the field, maybe, but even there she had a reputation for being one of the kinder players - or she had, when they had played together. He hadn't kept up with her since he'd graduated, although Ron had told him about the necklace incident- he still hated Malfoy for that, along with a hundred other reasons - and Angelina had mentioned that she was playing professional Quidditch, though he couldn't remember which team she played for. Quidditch was something he'd given up on following since Fred's death. He still went to games with his family occasionally, but he rarely kept up with it beyond when Ginny was playing. It reminded him too much of his twin.

"Mind if I join you? Or would you rather go back to shouting at the wall?" While he and Katie had never been close, he'd once considered her a friend, and he'd rather catch up with an old friend than sit alone with his thoughts.

“Oh, Merlyn’s beard, are you freaking kidding me?” Katie yelled at the radio she had been seated next to. Sure, she had a weekend off with her team, but it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t follow any of the other games that were taking place this weekend. But unfortunately the one team that was right underneath them just won the game and that meant that the team would climb in the table. She was not happy about that at all and if she had to believe the commentator, then it hadn’t been a fair win either.

With a bit more anger than she wanted, Katie turned down the radio and then turned around. She had been seated in a coffeeshop while listening to the radio and she knew that some people would be looking at her because of her outburst. So when her eye caught the first person that was looking at her, she simply raised an eyebrow. “What? Never saw a woman being interested in Quidditch?”

#heyyy! I hope this is ok ^_^ #kxtiebclls

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

hcrrypcttcr

Harry couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, though he shook his head quickly at the last suggestion. He wasn’t much of a drinker. Had never really taken to alcohol. Which was fine. If he had, he wasn’t sure it would’ve done him any favors. Likely as not it would have just made him moodier than he already had been. Nothing that would go well for him or for anyone close to him. “Just cream George,” Harry requested softly, watching as his brother in law prepared the tea.

He found himself wanting to do something to contribute, though he didn’t have the faintest idea what he could do to really add to the situation. George seemed to have it fairly under control. Perhaps it was his way of delaying their conversation. Harry couldn’t blame him for that. It had taken Harry a long time before he had really been able to talk about his own grief. The people that had died during the war, in the years where Harry wasn’t able to defend himself like he should. He still couldn’t forgive himself on that.

So coming to try to help George? Well, he figured it was the least he could do, since he doubted Fred or George would have been quite so heavily involved if they weren’t so close to Harry. Or maybe that was just his guilt again trying to make himself feel worse. What a pair they made. “George…” he started, and then paused as he tried to decide what the best thing to say might be. “I know that talking about this stuff is…well it’s never fun, and it only sometimes helps but…” he shrugged his shoulders. “I do want to try to do something to help you.”

Harry knew that that was something he wouldn’t ever avoid. He wanted to help George. He wanted to be able to be there for every one of his now extended family. Harry was nothing but grateful to them for having taken him in as part of their family. Something they had largely done before he and Ginny had ever gotten together. “So talk to me. What’s been going on with you?”

George handed Harry a mug of tea with cream, as specified, and then leaned back with a sigh. He knew Harry was right, and that he really did want to help. George wanted to let him help, but he didn’t know how. For years, whenever he was upset, Fred knew the reason without George having to say anything. He’d become so used to having someone just know what was wrong, that having to explain his feelings was something he was still getting used to. 

“I don’t know, Harry.” George took his own mug to his desk and sank into his chair, slouching forward. “It’s been four years. Four bloody years. And I still miss him every day.” He brought a hand to his heart and clutched at his chest. ”It hurts. It physically hurts. Not all the time, but a lot. Sometimes I can’t sleep. Sometimes I sleep and I hate waking up because - well,” he shrugged, thinking of the nights he dreamed he was back at Hogwarts, before the war, with his twin at his side, laughing and joking around as if life was all fun and games. Those dreams brought him a sense of peace, sometimes even happiness, but it was always shattered upon waking with the painful reminder that Fred was gone and he’d never be laughing again. It brought tears to his eyes just thinking about it. 

He shook his head as if trying to shake away the thoughts, and glanced back at Harry. Harry had lost more than a brother in the war,  he’d lost his entire family - both parents and his godfather snatched away before he was even of age. And yet here he was, offering support, while George was the one falling apart. “How do you do it, Harry? How do you go on when… when you know no matter what, you’ll never see them again?”

Open

#hcrrypcttcr #harry potter #interactions

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@angecjohnson

His words caused more hurt than any curse ever could have. Words, Angelina had found, could be very powerful weapons. She should have been prepared for some sort of snap at her when she asked what was wrong. When he yanked his arm away, she stumbled back, looking up at George in surprise.

She blinked her eyes, and that anger and frustration that had held his face completely were replaced with regret and something else. Angelina knew he hadn’t meant to snap. Hell, she probably would have snapped too if someone asked her what was wrong. Probably would have dropped Eira’s name, too.

“I’m not.” She replied simply to his unfinished statement. George didn’t have to finish, not when she knew exactly what he was saying. She gave his outstretched hand a squeeze before taking the letter that he handed her.

Angelina had hardly finished the first paragraph when her own face slowly contorted in rage. How dare they, whoever they were. How dare they threaten her friends? How dare they try to crawl back up and bring more fear into the world that they had battered for so many years? It made her skin crawl and her fists clench. She stared at the letter, almost willing it to turn into something else, to become something completely fake, but no such thing happened. She looked up after a long, silent pause looking as if she might explode on the spot, handing him back the letter.

“I’m sorry,” She managed to croak out, still appalled by what she had just taken in. How were there still people treating Voldemort as if he were some hero to be lauded over?

George was relieved Angelina forgave him so quickly. He hadn’t planned on giving her the letter, but it was the fastest way to explain what had upset him. He paced as she read it, glancing back and forth from her to the wall as her expression grew more and more furious. He hated to see her angry, although he knew she had good reason. Part of him was still furious, but the part of him that wanted to comfort Angelina was stronger. 

“Messed up, right?” He folded the letter and returned it to his pocket, shaking his head. “Don’t read too much into it. Probably some sick git’s idea of a joke. I wouldn’t put it past someone like Malfoy to write something like that, just for a laugh.” 

He chewed the inside of his cheek, not wanting to consider the alternative - that it was a real threat. He knew it was a possibility, and he feared it was the most likely possibility, but he didn’t want Angelina to worry. “I just want to make sure Ginny and my brothers didn’t get one.” 

Letters | George and Angelina |

#angecjohnson #angelina johnson #interactions

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

charlie--weasley

“Well, I think it’s brilliant,” he said, watching George stroke the frisbee and toss it onto a nearby shelf. While Percy was probably the Weasley with the most book smarts, no one in the world had a brain like George Weasley–well, not anymore. Even still, the twins had only ever been two of a kind, and they were the most creative people Charlie had ever met in his life. The things they came up with were incredible, and he was immensely proud of George for continuing to invent and create now that he was on his own.

Suddenly, Charlie had his arms full of George, and he immediately wrapped his arms around his little brother, crushing him close to his chest. These were the things that he’d missed the most when he’d been away in Romania, and these were the things that kept him here now. The love of his family, the family that drew tighter than ever after they’d lost a member–George’s other half, no less. Charlie’s heart ached for George even more than it did for Fred. He missed Fred every day, of course. They all did. But he couldn’t even begin to imagine George’s suffering, the pain of losing his twin brother. It must have been astronomical, and that made Charlie even more upset than the loss of Fred, if that was even possible.

He was glad that he’d ended up choosing to visit on a day when the shop wasn’t full-to-bursting with customers, which he’d certainly seen before. Some quality time with his brother was what he was after, and the fewer customers in the store, the better. Surely George could afford to step away for a bit. Charlie reluctantly released his brother from his grip, clapping him affectionately on the shoulder and ruffling his hair. “I’ve missed you, too,” he said earnestly, and it was the truth. Fred and George were the next youngest brothers under Percy, and in many ways he tried even harder with them once he’d given up on Percy ever looking up to him. It warmed his heart that they’d always seemed to like him more than Percy did.

“Have you been busy today?” he asked, smiling brightly. “Thought maybe we could hang out, yeah? Go for coffee or lunch or just laze around, whatever you prefer.”

“I dunno Charlie, I’ll have to ask my boss.” George waited a moment before grinning broadly, “Only joking! One of the perks of owning your own business is getting to get the hell out of it whenever you want. Lunch sounds great! I’ll just get my coat -”

He pulled his wand from his pocket and soon his coat was soaring into his arms from where he’d left it in his office, a mere few yards away. He could have walked to pick it up just as quickly, but where was the fun in that? He still used magic for just about everything, even though Fred was the one who’d initially started using it for the most mundane tasks. It had since become a habit, and one he had no intention of growing out of. 

“Where to?” He asked, slipping into his coat. Despite being well tailored, the coat was old and worn, fraying at the seams. Shopping was something he hated doing since Fred died, and he put it off as much as possible. In fact, in the past year, he had only been shopping for clothes once, because Lee Jordan had forced him to buy new shoes. He still wore the clothes he’d picked out with Fred as much as could.

 “There’s a little cafe across the street, and a few pubs down the road. There’s always the Leaky Cauldron, but that place gives me the creeps.” It occurred to him he had no idea what Charlie liked to eat - he never paid attention to these things at home, and they’d rarely gone out together. As he waited for his brother to make a suggestion, he wondered aloud, “What kind of food do they have in Romania?”

#charlie--weasley #Charlie Weasley #interactions

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

angecjohnson

Nothing was normal anymore.

That was a rather loud thought that had been echoing in Angelina’s mind from the moment that she woke up. Nothing was normal because nothing was the same. There were people missing, places missing, things destroyed, things brought to life. It was as if someone had taken a puzzle, mixed in some pieces from another set and took away some from the original before telling you to put it back together. All the pieces didn’t fit, and there were spaces missing. Not normal. Not right. But now you were left with the puzzle pieces that you had, and you had to learn to make do.

The things that remained the same, she found, were the things that she found the most precious. The people who remained, the memories that lingered, the places that stood unmarked and undamaged. It was like they were an anchor in turbulent times.

If Angelina had known how rocky the waters of the world were becoming, she would have been prepared for the face that she saw on George Weasley’s face, coat barely on as he stormed forward. She had only come for a visit, but all thoughts of a happy visit were gone as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face.

It was as if a thunderstorm had settled on his face and decided to make it’s permanent home there. It was contorted in anger, fear, and pain. Mostly anger. At least, from what Angelina could see. It was as if someone had… Merlin, don’t finish that thought. No more Weasleys could be lost. One was already too many lost Weasleys. Instead of trying to keep a calm composure, she ran over, bubbling up with anger for a situation she knew nothing of.

She practically lunged after his arm as he walked past, trying to get him to stop to talk to her. “George,” He kept moving forward, and she kept chasing after him. “George, what happened- talk to me.” She scrambled in front of him trying to stop the man in his tracks. “George Weasley, tell me what’s wrong, and don’t you lie to me.

George was too concerned about his family to worry about Angelina. Whatever she’d been coming to tell him would have to wait. When he felt her grab his arm, he rounded on her, irritated that she was slowing him down. “What's wrong? Oh, I dunno, Angelina! Maybe that Fred’s dead? Or have you not noticed that?”

He pulled his arm out her grasp and instantly regretted it. The weight of his words hit him and he wished he could take them back. He hadn’t been thinking. He’d just been so angry about the letter and frustrated with recent events that he hadn’t even fully realized who he was talking to. Now that he saw Angelina looking back at him, he reached out for her hand, his anger replaced with desperation.

“Wait. Don’t- “ Don’t leave me, he thought, but held back the words. Somehow over the past few months, Angelina had become his closest friend, and the most important person in his life. She was as important to him as his family, if not more so, and he hated to think he’d upset her, if only for an instant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I swear.” George sighed, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the letter. “This is what’s wrong.”

He hesitated a moment before handing it to her and reluctantly stepping back to let her read. “I just found it on my desk. I don’t know who sent it.” 

Letters | George and Angelina |

#angecjohnson #angelina johnson #{George is having an emo moment XD}

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

Sanctus Plot 001

Hello George,

We see that you are currently working as a shop owner. How is that going for you? It must be nice, or at least much better than being the jokester . So young, and already so successful. We congratulate you on your accomplishments, truly. However, the death of your brother isn’t the only thing you have to worry about anymore. As you may have noticed, this Ministry has made a turn for the worst from four years ago. Foul creatures like werewolves and house elves were kept under wraps, and those muggleborn abominations were removed from our sacred community, either by force or, if they were smart, by their own motivations. This place has become too tolerant, and we have had enough.

During the war, you claimed to be apart of the Order of the Phoenix. You may have survived last time, but we are a force unlike one you’ve ever seen. You and your precious family won’t be safe. You can’t protect them, you can’t even protect yourself, just like you couldn’t save your brother. Do you really think he would be proud of you?

Lord Voldemort had a vision, and it does not die with him; he did not die in vain. He is still here, for as long as we live, he exists through us. We’re here to finish what he started. A new world is coming, a world where the pure flourish, and the impure squirm beneath our feet. We will no longer hide from muggles. We will not allow the weakest of the weak rule our planet. We will take back what is ours, and put them back in their rightful place. Nature is as nature does, the strong will live and weak will die. Natural law is coming to run its real course, and you can try and stop it, but in the battle between will and nature, nature always wins. It is a new dawn for wizard kind, and we suggest you prepare for it.

There was a constantly growing stack of mail in the corner of George’s office. Every morning, he’d flip through the pile of unopened bills and letters to see if there was anything of interest among the previous days’ rejects. He had checked it this morning and found nothing that caught his attention, but now there was a new letter addressed to him, clearly centered on the stack.

Not recognizing the handwriting, he picked it up and checked the back for any indication of who sent it. Finding no identifying marks, he tore it open and read…

…You and your precious family won’t be safe. You can’t protect them, you can’t even protect yourself, just like you couldn’t save your brother…

His breath caught as he read the words for they were true. Even though he didn’t blame himself for Fred’s death, there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t regret that he wasn’t able to save him - that he hadn’t even been there with him. Just thinking about it felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. 

He continued reading, frowning deeply. One thing was clear. Who ever wrote the letter did know him very well or they’d have known Fred would be bloody proud of him for what he’d done with their joke shop and how he’d supported their family. In fact, the only thing Fred would complain about would be the time George spent mourning Fred and feeling sorry for himself. George could just imagine his twin shouting “For Merlin’s sake, Georgie, its been four years! I’m glad you miss me, but get on with your life while you still have your dashingly good looks about you!”

George smiled bitterly at the thought before he remembered what had conjured it. He returned his attention to the letter with a sigh. The rest was just evil wizard babble, as Fred would have called it. Fred would have laughed about it, told him not to worry, and made a joke about how threat letters are just a cowards way of lashing out. But Fred had never lost a sibling. 

George reread the letter twice, and when he’d finished, he realized he was furiously pacing his office. Maybe it was an empty threat. Maybe it was a coward trying to stir up trouble. But he wasn’t about to assume the best when the worst was clearly more likely. 

He pocketed the letter and grabbed his coat. He couldn’t be the only one to have received such a horrid threat. Chances were he wasn’t the only Weasley that had gotten one, considering how involved his family was in the war. He’d visit his family to make sure they were safe, and see if any of his siblings had the misfortune of being on this psychopath’s mailing list along with him. 

#sanctusevent #sanctusevent001 #self para #{If anyone wants to use this letter to kick of a thread message me!} #submission

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@fleur-flowerofthecourt

The one thing Fleur truly wanted was to keep her family safe. Everybody, of course, but especially the ones she knew couldn’t protect themselves: Victoire, the little girl or boy who would soon enter their world. And then there was Bill, who she loved so much, and Gabrielle, who she couldn’t imagine living without, and all the other Weasleys and Delacours. No one should run any type of danger again, not after the war, not after they suffered so much and so many people died. They deserved to have peace, deserved living in a world in which danger was just something they happened to know because of their news, never at their doorstep.

“We can.” She agreed with George, of course, but there was no sign of a smile in her face. Instead, she felt ten times older than usual the day; she was sure it was reflecting her face. “But if something ‘appen and we truly start living in danger again, zhen I’m not sure what I will do with Victoire.” Her expression soon turned to something close to pain, just for a few seconds.

“I don’t want her ‘ere if… if zhere is any risk she might not be safe.” Fleur sighed, letting one of her hands caress her belly; she couldn’t help it now, thinking of her daughter and her unborn baby running any danger was enough to break her heart.

The thought of Fleur and Bill having to send Victoire away pained him. He didn’t want to think of the girl having to grow up estranged from her parents, even if it ended up being only temporary. Worse, he couldn’t imagine them all having to go into hiding. Admittedly, the last time hadn’t been that bad, but Fred had been there and they’d somehow convinced themselves it was an adventure and that everything would work out fine. But he knew now that was rarely case. And for parents with such a young child, the fear must be all the more pressing. 

But this was worst-case thinking. At the moment, there is no war and they aren’t in imminent danger. They can’t spend their whole lives thinking the worst every time some bad news comes around - even if this was the worst news they’d heard in a while. 

"Listen-" he leaned forward, looking her in the eye and waiting until her gaze met his before continuing, "I have no doubt that there's no place safer for Victoire right now than right here, with you and Bill to protect her. And her Uncle George, of course. I might not be as skilled as you and Bill in defense against the dark arts, but I do have some good punch lines I can hit them with.” He grinned, hoping to cheer her up. “I could also through a killer joke or two, if absolutely necessary."

Shell Cottage || Open

justgeorgeweasleynow:

George hated seeing Fleur so worried. He wished he could tell her not to worry, but her worries were justified. He listened to her talk, nodding in agreement, but when she finished he shook his head.“No, it doesn’t make any sense. Any idiot can see that there’s more going on then they’re telling us. Who lets out bloody mass murderers on accident?” 

He remembered Victoire and glanced over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. The hall was still clear, but he could hear her feet pattering around her room. He turned back to Fleur and sighed, his anger dissipated by the reminder of Victoire and her childhood innocence. 

“I’m not going to tell you not to worry - I’d be an idiot if I didn’t admit this was bad - but it might not be as bad as we’re making it out to be. Right now, we’re assuming the worst because - well, we’ve lived through the worst. But maybe this time it’ll be different.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to decide if this was wishful thinking or decent advice. At last, he gave up debating and shrugged. “We can hope, right?”

The one thing Fleur truly wanted was to keep her family safe. Everybody, of course, but especially the ones she knew couldn’t protect themselves: Victoire, the little girl or boy who would soon enter their world. And then there was Bill, who she loved so much, and Gabrielle, who she couldn’t imagine living without, and all the other Weasleys and Delacours. No one should run any type of danger again, not after the war, not after they suffered so much and so many people died. They deserved to have peace, deserved living in a world in which danger was just something they happened to know because of their news, never at their doorstep.

“We can.” She agreed with George, of course, but there was no sign of a smile in her face. Instead, she felt ten times older than usual the day; she was sure it was reflecting her face. “But if something ‘appen and we truly start living in danger again, zhen I’m not sure what I will do with Victoire.” Her expression soon turned to something close to pain, just for a few seconds.

“I don’t want her ‘ere if… if zhere is any risk she might not be safe.” Fleur sighed, letting one of her hands caress her belly; she couldn’t help it now, thinking of her daughter and her unborn baby running any danger was enough to break her heart.

#fleur-flowerofthecourt #fleur delacour #interactions

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

George wasn't sure when Shell Cottage had become like a second home for him, but somehow over the past few years, that was where he'd turn to when he needed peace and quiet from the hustle of London. 

Of course, he could always go to the Burrow, but he never wanted to bother his parents or cause them to worry. He didn't want to intrude on Bill and Fleur either, but they never seemed to mind - in fact, they often seemed happy to see him and he found their mood contagious. It helped to see their daughter, Victoire growing up so happily. She never failed to make him smile.

Just walking up to the cottage felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. The feeling doubled when the door opened to reveal his oldest brother. Despite having gotten used to the scars on Bill’s face, George always hated seeing them. Just another painful reminder that someone he cared about had suffered from the war. He focused instead on his brother’s smile, which was soon matched by his own. 

“Well, I was expecting your lovely wife to greet me, but I suppose you’ll do,” he teased, grinning broadly as he stepped forward to pull Bill into a hug. 

Home is Home||George and Bill

Bill was sitting near a window as he read a book and drank his usual cup of coffee. George have sent him an owl and was trying his best to not put a lot of thought into it. 

It’s been a while since Bill and George have seen each other. For almost a year, George have stayed with Bill and Fleur at the cottage because it was too painful to come back home without Fred by his side. Bill and Fleur understood and they were actually grateful to have another familiar and loved face around. 

George had been there when Victoire was born. He had seen her walk for the first time and even though the kid filled George with joy, Bill could see there was still something off with him. 

No one was the same after the war, not even Bill himself but there were all fighting against that, each one onf their own way so when George said he wanted to come visit the young family, Bill was a bit worried. He just hoped everything was alright. 

On Bill’s side though, George coming here was a relief. After Fleur finally dropping the news he was unsure how to feel about a new born baby. Of course he was excited but this all added up more stress to his own troubled mind. Maybe George could be a good distraction to this twisted mess. 

Bill heard a noise and he looked up almost instantly to the window. He was George coming towards the door and with a smile he got up and walked to meet him half way. 

@justgeorgeweasleynow

#scarred-weasley #bill weasley #no problem - thanks for writing it ^_^

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@angecjohnson

If it were possible to see the past walk in front of you, Angelina was sure that that was what George was seeing as he looked ahead. But the look in his eye was melancholy, and spoke of the loss he felt inside. Angelina was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. She knew that a piece of George died when Fred died.

Something told her to stay close, so she kept pace with the taller boy as best she could. She caught him looking down and offered a smile. She wished she could tell him that it was okay to talk to her about Fred, that she missed him too. That she understood the pain. But it seemed that he already knew that, as he continued to speak. “Too old for silly games.. I think you two mastered the art of silly, you never gave it up. .” Angelina smiled slightly and squeezed his arm gently. “Thirty-two is a good record though. Nice solid number. That, and I’m not sure how many door knobs are left in the Alley…”

George smiled back at her as she squeezed his arm. It was nice to have someone to share these memories with. It almost felt like they were back in school, without all the fear and grief from the war. But of course, if that were the case, she’d have been holding Fred’s arm instead of his. He tried not to think too much about that, and instead focused on enjoying the moment. “Well, we hadn’t made it to Gringotts, which has loads of doorknobs. Probably a lot of security too. On second thought, maybe it was a good idea we didn’t make it there.”

They came to a fork in the alley and George pointed left and then right. “Do you feel like playing destiny today or would you like me to do the honors? Left has a cozy little cafe or two and right has... well, there’s that pub with a lion statue out front and that place Mum likes with all the frilly drapery.” 

#angecjohnson #interactions

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

hcrrypcttcr

George hesitated. He wasn’t inclined to talk about his feelings, but he wouldn’t lie to Harry, who had been there for him through the aftermath of Fred’s death. Harry knew how much Fred had meant to George, and he’d seen how broken George was in the first few months that followed. George hadn’t had the energy to even attempt to mask his grief then.

And Harry, who had lost so much more than George could even imagine, had helped him and his family through that terrible time. Though they’d been friends for years, George hadn’t really thought how much Harry had lost until after the war. He’d known Harry grew up with his horrid aunt and uncle, but he hadn’t considered how lonely that would be, or how deeply it must hurt to grow up without a family - without anyone who cares for you. And then, when Harry finally found people who did truly care for him, so many of them had died. George couldn’t imagine how much that must hurt. He had no idea how Harry had the strength to keep going and live an ordinary life, with a family and a career, not to mention saving the entire Wizarding world.

If Harry want to talk to him, George wasn’t going to turn him away.

George sighed. Despite the fact there weren’t any customers close by, he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it in his storefront. Not when he was likely to start crying at any minute. “No, it’s alright. Let’s go to my office. We can talk there.”

He led Harry through a few twisted aisles filled with brightly colored boxes and shining, spinning trinkets until they came to a red door in the back, which had gold spiraled letters that read “Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley” painted on the top. George had left it that was, partially as tribute to Fred, and partially because he couldn’t bring himself to change it.

Inside, the office was a mix of what looked like every Hogwarts classroom - there was a desk cluttered with potions ingredients, another with stacks of papers, an area for testing charms, a box of odd trinkets for transfiguration, and several locked trunks that occasionally trembled.

“Ignore the mess.” George pointed his wand at a pile of glow-in-the-dark cloaks, which promptly moved aside to reveal a chair underneath. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors.”

George nodded at Harry’s suggestion, moving to fetch the kettle. He knew he could have used magic to fetch it, but he preferred doing it the old-fashioned way at the moment. It took more time and gave him something to focus on besides his thoughts. 

Not having anyone to talk to had been driving him mad, but now that Harry was here in front of him and willing to listen, he didn’t know what to say. Usually when he was upset, there was a clear problem, and the conversation started there. Then it progressed to fixing the problem, but George knew this couldn’t be fixed. Fred was dead and there was no bringing him back. Harry knew that, so what was left to talk about? That George was too weak to cope without him? That it had been four years and George still woke up each morning to the sharp painful reminder that Fred was gone? That his heart still physically ached for his twin more often then not?

Tea was definitely the better subject to focus on. Finding the kettle still warm and mostly full, George took out a large  brightly colored tea pot and two mugs that clashed terribly. 

“You want anything in it? Cream? Sugar? Whisky?” He glanced back at Harry and added, “I was joking about that last one, but I have some if you want.”

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[justgeorgeweasleynow]

#about #{ why are you worrying about you know queque}

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@fleur-flowerofthecourt

He knew that, from all people she could talk to about William, George would be the one to try and get her to calm down, saying things like she shouldn’t worry too much and there weren’t that many reasons to be preoccupied. Still, deep down they both knew there was, and worse, the situation was so bad not even her brother-in-law could deny it after a few phrases. Fleur sighed, finding herself a bit dizzy, before following him to the sofa, letting her body rest on a chair.

“I ‘ave no idea, but I ‘ope whoever did that never enter my sight in the future.” She knew that if whoever let go of those monsters - she couldn’t call them human, people that hated other people for no reason and made them suffer - ever found themself in the same room as her, they would suffer. “I don’t understand, George… How can something like this ‘appen? How wasn’t it avoided? People like.. him… and all the others, those people, they.. they can’t be out there. They simply cannot.”

She couldn’t speak his name, otherwise her hate would be too clear; she didn’t hate Greyback for the scars he left, but for the pain and suffering. She was speaking fast, in a low voice, trying not to be heard by Victoire. “Sure, accidents happen, but one like zis? It shouldn’t! Ever! It doesn’t make any sense.”

George hated seeing Fleur so worried. He wished he could tell her not to worry, but her worries were justified. He listened to her talk, nodding in agreement, but when she finished he shook his head.“No, it doesn’t make any sense. Any idiot can see that there’s more going on then they’re telling us. Who lets out bloody mass murderers on accident?” 

He remembered Victoire and glanced over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. The hall was still clear, but he could hear her feet pattering around her room. He turned back to Fleur and sighed, his anger dissipated by the reminder of Victoire and her childhood innocence. 

“I’m not going to tell you not to worry - I’d be an idiot if I didn’t admit this was bad - but it might not be as bad as we’re making it out to be. Right now, we’re assuming the worst because - well, we’ve lived through the worst. But maybe this time it’ll be different.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to decide if this was wishful thinking or decent advice. At last, he gave up debating and shrugged. “We can hope, right?”

Shell Cottage || Open

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[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@penelcpeclear

“Well, I am stunning, so I suppose I’ll let that pass.” Teasing and joking with George and the other Weasley’s had always been something Penelope enjoyed, but sadly after her break up with Percy, things had tampered out of sorts. She still maintained a casual relationship with them, and Fleur was one of her best friends–but it still wasn’t the same. her break up with Percy, things had tampered out of sorts. She still maintained a casual relationship with them, and Fleur was one of her best friends–but it still wasn’t the same.

Penelope gave him a quick glance over. Noticing his run down appearance and sleep deprived pale complexion almost immediately. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about him–but it was a given that he would still be mourning the loss of his twin.

So she bit her lip and rested her hands on her hopes restlessly, mind going over the bomb shell that had been released earlier, “I’ve seen better days–The last thing I expected when I woke up this morning was to hear about the breakout.

Penelope’s teasing caused George to smile, if only a little, but it quickly faded by her next words. The breakout was on everyone’s minds. He wished he could play it down, but he’d seen first hand how dangerous some of those escaped convicts could be and he couldn’t deny that he was worried about it. If something happened to another one of his family members, he might just lose what little part of himself he was still holding on to. 

“Tell me about it.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I suppose we’ve all seen better.” And worse he thought with a frown. Just because there was an escape from Azkaban doesn’t mean Voldemort is back. It doesn’t mean there’s a war. It doesn’t mean sleepless nights fearing you’ll see the dark mark over your house or having to bury your loved ones - at least not yet. 

Shaking the thought away, he added with a shrug, “Hopefully they’ll catch these gits before they can cause too much trouble.”  

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[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@charlie--weasley

The frisbee came whizzing at him and Charlie reached up on reflex, grabbing it out of the air and examining it for a moment. One of the fangs nicked his finger and he laughed, moving to hold it more carefully. Then, his head snapped up as he looked in the direction it came from, hearing his brother’s loud voice carry through the shop, and he grinned. “What d’you think I’m here for?” he shouted back, laughing and heading toward George. “Sorry I didn’t owl first, yeah? I was in the area and thought I’d drop by when I finished my shopping. Hope I’m not disturbing anything.” Charlie walked as he talked, still holding the frisbee gingerly to avoid the fangs. His hands had enough scars–but really, Charlie was more worried about his gloves. They were perfectly worn in and he didn’t want to have to begin again with a brand new pair.

To say that Charlie was glad to see his younger brother was a gross understatement. As much as his heart ached for Romania, he couldn’t deny that he’d missed his family immensely while he’d been away, and that was one of the main things keeping him here. His family needed him now more than ever–well, not him specifically, of course, but the togetherness of having everyone living in the same vicinity. It was comforting, really, to have his parents and siblings close by, and he imagined that they all felt the same way. Leaving again now would be selfish and inconsiderate, and even if he’d seriously been considering it, the thought of the looks on their faces would have been enough to stop those thoughts in their tracks.

“This place never fails to amaze me,” he mused as he got closer, climbing the stairs to where George stood, overlooking the shop. Charlie couldn’t imagine how it felt for him to be running the place without Fred by his side. Honestly, he’d expected George to close the place down after… well, after everything, and he was so proud of his little brother for pushing through and keeping their dream alive. “This is great, by the way,” Charlie offered, holding the frisbee out to his brother. “When did you come up with these?”

George couldn’t help but grin at his older brother. He never realized how much he missed his family until he saw them and suddenly it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He waved a hand dismissively at Charlie’s apology for not sending an owl. George was never bothered by surprises that turned out to be better than what he had planned, and spending time with Charlie was definitely better than frustrating himself with more charms gone-wrong.

“Of course it’s great - I invented it,” George winked, taking the frisbee from his brother. He wasn’t as good at handling it as Charlie, and it left a small scratch on the back of his hand before he stroked it down the middle, causing it to fall still. “I got the idea from that demented book Hagrid assigned. It’s been... I don’t know a few months, maybe a year or two ago?” He shrugged. His sense of time was murky beyond things occurring very distinctively either before or after Fred’s death. 

“But come here!” George tossed the now quiet frisbee back on the shelf and threw his arms around his brother in a tight hug. It felt like all the times Charlie had returned from Hogwarts, before George was old enough to go himself. He wanted to cling to him and never let go. “I’ve missed you.”

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[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@hcrrypcttcr

His eyes were wide, and it took him a moment to register what it was that George was saying before he snorted. Harry shook his head, dropping what he had grabbed on the shelf again. “Oh I do apologize George,” Harry replied again, though this time he did a little sarcastic bow, a faint smile on his face. Though he hated the ‘chosen one’ title, he also knew that George just liked to tease, to mess with him as they had known each other long enough. It was really the only reason Harry could handle it. Much of what he had gotten with George…and with Fred before was the joking around and nothing being taken too seriously.

“That’s very funny,” he added with an eye roll, taking a step away from the shelf as if it was going to jump out at him. Though honestly, knowing George, there was a certain possibility to that being a main feature of at least one item in the store. Harry certainly wouldn’t put it past him. He glanced around the shop, noting that there weren’t too many customers around. That was good. Harry wouldn’t try to engage George in an in depth conversation if there were a lot of people that needed his attention.

His voice softened and he thought about reaching out to pat his shoulder as some sort of gesture of sympathy. Not that he was sure it would go over well. “You know that’s not what I meant.” Still, Harry wasn’t exactly the first to share those types of concerns or thoughts either. Not unless it was Ron or Hermione. And even with them there were things he hadn’t shared. Couldn’tshare. “But I understand if you’d rather not talk about it with me. Merlin knows I haven’t exactly been the most open myself. But it may help you to feel a bit better.”

George hesitated. He wasn’t inclined to talk about his feelings, but he wouldn’t lie to Harry, who had been there for him through the aftermath of Fred’s death. Harry knew how much Fred had meant to George, and he’d seen how broken George was in the first few months that followed. George hadn’t had the energy to even attempt to mask his grief then.

And Harry, who had lost so much more than George could even imagine, had helped him and his family through that terrible time. Though they’d been friends for years, George hadn’t really thought how much Harry had lost until after the war. He’d known Harry grew up with his horrid aunt and uncle, but he hadn’t considered how lonely that would be, or how deeply it must hurt to grow up without a family - without anyone who cares for you. And then, when Harry finally found people who did truly care for him, so many of them had died. George couldn’t imagine how much that must hurt. He had no idea how Harry had the strength to keep going and live an ordinary life, with a family and a career, not to mention saving the entire Wizarding world.

If Harry want to talk to him, George wasn’t going to turn him away. 

George sighed. Despite the fact there weren’t any customers close by, he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it in his storefront. Not when he was likely to start crying at any minute. “No, it’s alright. Let’s go to my office. We can talk there.” 

He led Harry through a few twisted aisles filled with brightly colored boxes and shining, spinning trinkets until they came to a red door in the back, which had gold spiraled letters that read “Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley” painted on the top. George had left it that was, partially as tribute to Fred, and partially because he couldn’t bring himself to change it. 

Inside, the office was a mix of what looked like every Hogwarts classroom - there was a desk cluttered with potions ingredients, another with stacks of papers, an area for testing charms, a box of odd trinkets for transfiguration, and several locked trunks that occasionally trembled. 

“Ignore the mess.” George pointed his wand at a pile of glow-in-the-dark cloaks, which promptly moved aside to reveal a chair underneath. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors.” 

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[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@hcrrypcttcr

Harry hadn’t quite planned to visit Diagon Alley. He had, like many at the ministry, been working to determine how the breakout at Azkaban had occurred. Just the idea that these individuals were out there had Harry in such a state that he had just had to step away, clear his head a bit. He found himself making his way through Diagon Alley, for a moment taking a look around and reflecting on how it had changed since he first saw it. He shook that off quickly, making his way toward Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes before he could think better of it.

It had been a while since he had visited the joke shop, despite the fact that he was so connected to the Weasley family. His job, as well as his young son kept him from going out. Not that he had done that often even before. Harry had never liked too much attention. He was most content with the family he had built for himself, enjoying quiet moments in the privacy of their own homes. But he found himself in the shop, looking around to see if there was anything he might get for Ginny, or possibly send to Ron.

The days were long gone that any of these things would get them out situations, but Harry was certain that they could at least work for a good laugh. Harry himself hadn’t quite been able to relax since he had heard about the breakout. He frowned, debating over sending his friends some of the candy that Fred and George had invented back when, not quite certain when he felt someone knock into him. Harry immediately tensed, instinct wanting to get him to immediately go for his wand. Instead, however, he straightened up, his muscles relaxing when he heard the familiar voice of his brother-in-law.

“What? Oh no. I’m fine George,” Harry replied after a moment, an awkward smile stretching across his face. “I wasn’t paying any attention. Just…er…thought I might get something.” As opposed to being at work at this time like normal. He hoped George wouldn’t comment on that one. “Are you?” He paused and then added, “okay I mean.”

Of all the people George had expected to bump into, Harry Potter was low on his list. Firstly because Harry he hardly ever saw Harry at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes anymore and secondly because - well, he hardly ever saw Harry anywhere anymore, apart from the occasional family gathering.

His first thought was that something was wrong - that Harry had come bearing bad news about Ginny or James, but Harry’s explanation soon put him at ease. Of course, looking for a joke product was a perfectly good reason to enter a joke shop. George hadn’t forgotten that Harry had loaned him and Fred the galleons to get Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes up and running. In addition to the list of noble deeds Harry had done for his family, George was eternally grateful for the loan that had let him and Fred live out their dream. 

“No, Harry, bumping into the chosen has one has shattered my shoulder. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again.” George forced a smile to show he was teasing. He suspected Harry was asking about him in a more general sense, but preferring not to answer, he deflected it with a joke. It was something he found himself doing more and more often lately. 

Open

#hcrrypcttcr #I haven't figured out tags yet either - I should probably do that #note to self: figure out tags!

[justgeorgeweasleynow]

@fleur-flowerofthecourt

Fleur threw a suspicious glance at him the second George said he might have left it there by accident. She was well aware of how many toys from the WWW had been found on her home by accident, even though Bill never made a big case of it and she herself knew they wouldn’t ever be dangerous. Still, she wasn’t a fan of little Victoire playing with merchandise that could either hurt her or turn her into a mischievous little girl. She wouldn’t ever be less proud or love her daughter less, but she couldn’t help but frown and bit her tongue whenever Victoire differed too much from her and Gabrielle; what most people didn’t see is that those movements could be accompanied by a discreet grin.

“You said exploding?” She asked, her accent as thick as usual, her heart racing even after he told her it was a joke. For a few seconds she thought if it would be a good idea to throw a hex at him, but her emotions calmed down when she realized it wasn’t a possibility for George to hurt Victoire and also how happy she was to play with her uncle (vice versa). Fleur realized it wasn’t her thoughts or emotions at control, but rather the ones caused by hormones; everyone in her family knew just how much pregnancy could affect her mood. Right now, what no one actually knew was that she was pregnant.

“Chérie, why don’t you leave your toys in your room? I promise I’ll let you play with uncle George as much as you want if you do it.” She said, in French, just after her daughter was on the floor again. A smile took over her face after kissing her forehead, letting her fingers caress the hair of the person she loved the most, and then Fleur watched her go. When she was gone, though, Fleur wouldn’t help but let out a sigh, staring at George in a way that showed just how worried she was right now.

[When the war was over, most people were afraid of talking to George about tragedies or anything that could make him sad, but not Fleur. She tried helping him, of course, and be there for him and listen to him, but that was it - he wasn’t made of glass, someone who might break at any minute, even though some people thought so. And adding the fact that they were the closest in age, it didn’t surprise her when they became close friends.]

“I’m worried about Beel.” She said, biting her lips, something she almost never did. It was her fault, part of that worries. She was acting weird around him and she knew he had noticed, but it just got worse after the news of the breakout from Azkaban and just who managed to escape. She created their distance and how she was paying the price for it.

“I am worried that he might not deal with what we just discovered. I know my ‘usband, George.” Her joined her arms just under her chin, as if praying, a gesture most people did when concerned about something; afterwards, she let it go. “Deep down, ‘e is a worrier.”

George watched Victoire run to her mother with a bittersweet smile. He loved seeing the affection between them, but he still felt a pang of sadness when he thought about how he’d never seen Fred that way, as a doting parent, when Fred would have made such a great father. More than that, he hated the thought that the recent breakout could threaten this perfect family his brother, Bill, and his sister-in-law had built for themselves. 

As Victoire retreated, he saw the worry in Fleur’s face that matched his own. Her thoughts weren’t far from his either. The news of the breakout was sure to trouble anyone, especially Bill who had been so seriously injured by one of the convicts. Fleur had every right to worry. Not only about the convicts, but about how Bill would handle it. George hoped Bill would have enough sense not to seek revenge against Greyback, especially with a family dependent on him now, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did. And as for Greyback... George didn’t want to think about the damage the warewolf could do if he choose to seek out those who opposed him.

“Bill, worry? Never.” George tried to ease the tension with his sarcasm, but it didn’t work. His lighthearted smile faltered and he ran his hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I don’t blame him though. Anyone in their right mind is worried.” 

George sunk to the couch in their sitting room, stretching out across it and propping his feet up on the armrest. “A bloody breakout from Azkaban - how could this happen?”

Shell Cottage || Open

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