#so they switch to just ignoring me entirely so they don’t have to reckon w what me and my family are going through | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elianas-cozycorner · 3 years

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𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

Title: “Midnight Confessions”

Author’s Note: One of the final three (3) requests I have from 2018, this particular scenario is something I’ve wanted to write for a while. I absolutely love this plot device, no matter how cliché or overused it may be. I hope you guys enjoy this and have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. To the anonymous requester, I hope you see this. I really wanted to bring justice to your idea, even if it’s more than two years late.

Request: “Could u possibly do something where the reader and McCree share a bed on a mission (or maybe they just get hurt and r resting) and McCree lays w/ them n stuff and while they’re “sleeping” he confesses his love and that he’s scared to love but it turns out they heard the whole thing ? if not that’s fine, thank u! I love ur writing!” - Anon

Rating/Pairing:

Jesse McCree/Reader

Fluff & Brief Angst; GA (General Audiences)

2nd Person, Gender Neutral

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2.2k | Added a “read more” due to the length.

When operations go wrong, there’s little that can be done to reverse the initial mistake. Not only are lives put on the line, but so too are relationships and the foundations of friendship. Being under constant fire, unable to reach backup or safety, really wears down the body and mind. Though some may find a thrill in it, eventually that too wears away.

In your case, you had been pinned down for nearly an hour. Though your position had been defensible, it was on track to becoming more of a hazard than anything else. It wasn’t clear who was to blame for the mishap, everything having happened so fast, but one moment the team you were apart of was working together and the next you were alone with Jesse McCree.

Sighing, you pressed your back to a stone wall. It was one of the only walls that sheltered you from the flying bullets and sniper fire. Jesse was crouched across from you, trying his best to peer around the corner for the next viable bit of cover.

You picked up your earpiece, taking it from the place it had fallen when you had run for cover. Quickly bringing up two of your fingers, you activated the line. “Commander? Commander are you there?”

Jesse spared you a glance, worry in his eyes as he took in your features, before turning back to make sure no one had advanced on your position. There was a faint crackle of static before your attempt at communication was answered.

“I’m here, agent.” Reyes’ voice was rough and you could hear the noise of gunfire through his link. “What’s your status?”

You knew that he could hear the gunfire on your end as you answered. “We’re pinned down, I don’t think McCree and I will be able to get to you.”

Reyes cursed under his breath before answering. “Everyone’s on board. We’re ready to get the hell out of here. This aircraft has taken too much damage for us to wait any longer. We’ll give you as much cover as possible, but you two are gonna have to get yourselves out of there. Figure out how to get somewhere safe, you know the drill, agent.”

McCree, whose communications system was linked to yours, nodded. You could see he was too focused to give a verbal answer, so you kept speaking. “Copy that. We’re ready when you are.”

__________

“We’ll keep in touch, agent.” The words ran through your head over and over again, even opened the door in front of you.

After Reyes had provided enough aerial cover for you and McCree to get to safety, you had both gone to the nearest safe house. Each assignment Blackwatch, or Overwatch, gave its agents was well thought out and discussed. Drop sites that were busy had cheap motels or hostels listed in their information packets, or predetermined safe houses when the locations were more secluded. In this case, it was a secluded safe house. The information sheet you had pulled up earlier made mention of a stocked kitchen, running water, and first aid supplies. What it had failed to tell you was how small the place would be.

It was practically a one room flat in the form of a cabin. Half walls separated the less private rooms, with only the bedroom and bathroom having proper privacy. The rooms were cold, the thermostat untouched for a long time, but it would do.

Flicking on a light switch, you watched as the florescent bulbs lit up the kitchenet and living space nearest the door. A deep sigh escaped you as you finally allowed your body to relax, dropping the small bag on your shoulder near the door. “Well, Cowboy, this is home for the next 48 hours.”

The brunette man behind you had the decency not to laugh as he made his way past you. “Seems so, sugar. You can take the bathroom first, I’ll take a look ‘n’ find somethin’ for-”

“Us to change into. I know. You talked about showering and getting your wounds dressed the entire way here, Jesse.” You said, smiling despite the pain of your split lip, as you went to find bath supplies.

“Wasn’t aware I talked so much.” He laughed, shaking his head and making his way to the bedroom.

“You always talk, Jesse.” You were already halfway into the bathroom, a towel in hand, when you heard him laugh in reply.

You took your time removing your armor and torn, military grade suit. It wasn’t often that you came out of a skirmish so battered, so the shock didn’t fully register until you’d locked yourself in the room alone. Sighing, you focused on getting out of you clothes and tried to ignore the sounds of bullets echoing in your head. It was more painful a process than you’d expected, as you’d gotten grazed by more bullets and scraped by more gravel than you cared to admit.

Just as you let out a hiss, there came a knock on the bathroom door. You heard Jesse’s spurs jangle before he spoke. “You alright, darlin’? I left some clothes out on a chair here.”

You called out, “Just fine, Jesse! Thank you, I’ll grab them on my way out.”

“Sure thing.” He smiled as he spoke, and though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in voice.

It made you smile as well, knowing you had your best friend looking out for you. The longer you thought about Jesse and his kindness, his thoughtful but flirty nature, the more your cheeks reddened and stomach fluttered. You’d harbored feelings for the modern gunslinger for a long time, nearly as long as you’d been friends. It was something you kept to yourself, mainly because of Blackwatch’s strict dating guidelines for its agents. Stepping into the shower, you knew the next 48 hours would be tough to get through.

_________

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, you found yourself staring directly at the bare chest of your cowboy partner. “Jesse.”

“Darlin’.” The smile on his face grew, becoming a large smirk, as he noticed the blush across your face. “Clothes are over there. Mind gettin’ out o’ the way? Man’s got to shower just as much as the next person.”

You shook your head, blinking quickly as you looked back at his face. “You’re the one in my way, Jesse.”

Chuckling, he stepped aside and let you grab the clothes before heading into the bathroom. The image of his bare chest replayed in your mind as you dressed, despite you having seen him that way before. Jesse was built well, sturdy and muscular. His body had definition and flexed with strength when he moved. Slim, muscled, and padded in just the right places, you’d say. Attractive. That’s what it was. Jesse had an attractive body and personality.

Perhaps that’s why you’d spent so long harboring feelings for him, when you could have tried getting over it. Jesse was a good man, though he had his flaws, and he was always kind to you. He had been your first friend in Blackwatch, your first confidant. You’d been thick as thieves for the longest time, attached at the hip. You’d known him for so long, that it hadn’t been a surprise to you that you found his body similarly attractive. It had been painful to watch him go through relationships and flings, wishing one day he would chose you and stay.

Sighing, you tried to get rid of those intrusive thoughts by taking care of your injuries. Knowing Jesse McCree so well also meant knowing his trouble with commitment and genuine emotion. He got scared, you could easily tell, and pushed people away when they got close. He may have been worth it, worth the bumps in the road, but no one else knew him enough to know that. Not like you did.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Your thoughts were interrupted by McCree coming out of the shower, fully dressed, and fiddling with his peacekeeper. He seemed to have taken care of his flesh wounds while in the bathroom, a couple bandages visible beneath the black shirt he wore. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, no hat on his head, and accentuated the small cut running down his temple.

He barely looked up as he stopped in the doorway. “Darlin’-”, He started.

You shook your head, standing to take his pistol from his grip. “Let me look at that cut, Jesse.”

Looking up at you, he gave you a gentle smile. “No need, darlin’, it’s not very deep. Ought to heal like a charm.”

“No, sir, can’t have that getting infected now. Besides,” You glanced at the only, small bed in the room and then at the couch just beyond the doorway to the room. “We can talk about sleeping arrangements as I do.”

Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bed and let you get to work. “You know, that couch is old.”

“Mhm,” You focused on your task, making sure to pay attention to his words nonetheless. “It’ll likely be a back killer.”

“Absolutely. Reckon I should take it.” He moved his head a little, wincing at the pressure you put against the cut.

“I have the better back, Jess.”

“Sure, but we wanna keep it that way. ‘Sides, I wouldn’t be much o’ a gentleman if I let you take it, would I?” His comment made you laugh and he smiled at you, glad to see you so happy.

“Stuck in the West again? Acts of chivalry are rare nowadays, Jess.” You said and pulled your hands away from his face, finished with your work.

“We could share.” His suggestion threw you off, especially when you saw he wasn’t joking.

“You sure?” Your voice was a little nervous as you spoke, something he picked up on.

“As the day I was born. Only if you’re comfortable, darlin’.”

“Yeah. Okay,” You smiled, helping him to his feet.

________

Jesse was wide awake, his thoughts running a mile an hour. On his back, he could feel where your back met his side, he could feel each even breath you took. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you were awake. You lay facing away from him, eyelids heavy, breath even, and mind somewhere else. He assumed you’d fallen asleep.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his hands from behind his head and turned around. He tried his best not to wake you, keeping his chest from being flush against your back. He tried his best to keep his hands from touching you, but couldn’t help it when he reached up to brush some hair out of your face. It caught your attention, but you didn’t move, too sleepy to care. You just listened as he sighed once more and shifted just a little closer.

“Darlin’,” He whispered. “I’ve gotten ‘round to thinkin’...”

He paused, almost as if trying to convince himself to stop talking. “I’ve been thinkin’, and I can’t live without you. I’m scared. I’ve loved you for so long now but I’m jus’ so afraid. I could’ve lost you today. I don’t know what went wrong, I don’t want that fear of not knowing in my heart, but I ain’t strong enough to tell you-”

He took a deep, steadying breath before reaching out to you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and, carefully so as to not ‘wake’ you, pulled you completely into him. “Look at me. Confessin’ in the dark while you sleep, not hearin’ a word. It’s pathetic. Truth is, no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to say the words to your face. I want to look at you and say it, I want to keep you close, but I’m a coward. I’ve never been the type of man to commit to no one like that. I don’t think I’m the kind of man to love like that. Never have been. But damn, darlin’, if I can’t help wantin’ that with you. Want to keep you safe, by my side, always, but... but I ain’t the type of man worthy of you like that...”

He trailed off and you, now wide awake, could feel small drops of water hit the back of your neck. Jesse McCree, the strong, charming cowboy was crying. It broke your heart, so much so that all the words you’d thought to say to him left your mind. He was so worth it, so much more than he gave himself credit for, and you loved him. Just as he was.

Turning around, you watched his face mold from sorrow into shock. He tried speaking, but you didn’t give him the chance, “Darlin’-”

Your lips met his before he could utter any more words. It was a soft, emotional kiss that tasted of salt. His tears fell harder, and you only pulled away to hug him closer. Wrapping your arms around him and locking your legs together, you didn’t have to say much to get him to hear you.

“You are my everything, Jesse. I’ve always loved you.”

#overwatch fanfic #overwatch #fanfiction #fanfic #overwatch x reader #overwatch/reader #mccree x reader #jesse mccree #mccree #overwatch mccree #blackwatch mccree #fluff #friends to lovers #confession #sharing a bed

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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years

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DEAR GEORGE || DIAGON ALLEY

chapter 1 || ten miles farther

chapter 2 || gred and feorge

chapter 3 || diagon alley

description: There was never a doubt in Gwendolyn’s mind that one day she’d be famous. One day she would be known through the United Kingdom as the most skilled Healer. However, she never would have thought that those things would start today.

warnings: none

pairing: george x oc

wordcount: 4K

“I need you to get to work, Gwendolyn.”

Gwen’s brown eyes flickered up from George’s letter towards her father. “I will in a second, Dad.” When George said that he’d write her immediately that night, she hadn’t truly thought that he would. Not that she considered him a liar, but it was exceedingly rare that a patient of hers actually took her advice right away. Usually they continued on in their own way for a while before realizing they needed to listen to her.

Good on him, Gwen thought, he’ll be falling asleep easier if he follows all my advice.

“Gwendolyn!” her father’s voice was sharper this time, and Gwen set down the letter with a scowl.

“Alright Dad!”

She loved her father, she did, but having your father as your boss could be a huge pain in the ass sometimes. Once he retired she’d get to run the shop the way she wanted, which was one of the few things that helped her handle the little moments like this.

They were truly lucky their dream was the same, to open up a chain of apothecaries in their family name. If it weren’t for that Gwen was sure there would be much more clashing between the two of them.

With a small huff, she set down the letter carefully next to the cauldron, cautiously eyeing her father who worked across from her. Something was going on. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was a certain sharpness to her father that wasn’t quite normal.

Granted, most would say her father was already quite edgy, but something seemed new.

Most children would be more deferential to their fathers, however after working so closely with him, Gwen couldn’t help but see him as more of a business partner than a father. She supposed that would seem sad to most people, but it was what she knew.

Besides, it was quite nice to say she was her father’s business partner, rather than she worked in the store. She’d be taking over soon after all.

Gwen’s knife made quick work of the mandrake root, and she didn’t bother to watch what she was doing as she looked up to speak with her father. She’d done this thousands of times after all. “What’s going on?”

If she was feeling cheeky she’d call him Afon, but today didn’t seem to be the day for that.

“I’m not retiring.”

Gwen’s knife fell with a loud clang onto the floor, as she looked at her father absolutely gobsmacked. She didn’t bother to hide the fact that her heart felt like it was falling straight out of her chest.

He wasn’t retiring? That had been the plan! No, that was what he’d promised her. He’d do what his father did and retire before she turned twenty three, so she could take her turn at the helm. Afon would work behind the scenes, coordinating orders and small things, but it would be Gwendolyn who was the front. She would be in charge, it would be her store.

Gwen had to lean forward a bit, her hands rooting her to the table as her knees began to tremble ever so slightly. It wasn’t often that she had to face her ambition head on like this, but now the part of her that had dreamed for so long of proving herself to be the one that would put the family name on the map was roaring about how unfair it was that she was losing her chance.

For a long moment, Gwen couldn’t speak. Her throat seemed too dry, too tight to really force out any words. The ground seemed ready to tilt itself until it was over her head. Finally, under her father’s expectant and ever so slightly concerned gaze, she managed to choke out a single word.

“Why?”

“Don’t panic Gwendy.” It was rare now that he called her that, but Afon whipped it out when his daughter seemed particularly upset over something. He gestured to the knife on the floor that she’d dropped. “You’ll still get your chance, sooner than you think. I found us a storefront in Diagon Alley. I’ll be leading this shop, and you’ll go and run the new one.”

Relief flooded her like a tidal wave, tears of relief pricked at her eyes. “Dammit dad.” Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose, and took a long breath with her eyes closed. “Couldn’t have worded that better instead of scaring the hell out of me?”. Determined to hide the fact she’d almost cried, Gwen picked up the knife and resumed her chopping, fixing a scowl towards her father.

“Sorry about that.” Looking towards Afon it was easy to see that he didn’t seem terribly sorry. He looked rather proud of himself actually. “I figured you’d like the surprise better. You’ll be running the bigger store Gwendolyn. Think about it.”

Slowly, she stopped her chopping and allowed the thought to settle into her. She’d been teased, even by her Slytherin classmates for her ambition. For saying she’d be the best healer in all of Britain. If she hadn’t been consistently top of her class for potions, she reckoned Professor Snape would have mocked her too.

Her family did fairly well in Wales, and many of the wizards and witches in the country came to see them for healing or potions. Diagon Alley would be an entirely different situation. She would be in charge of a shop in the most frequented center in the wizarding United Kingdom. It wouldn’t just be the Welsh, it would be everyone.

“Did you tell Gwendy the good news?” Ada couldn’t help but beam as she walked into the workroom, sitting down across from her daughter with a wink.

Afon kissed his wife’s temple before continuing to stir his potion, “I was just telling her, love.” His eyes twinkled in amusement as the implications of everything appeared to just now be hitting their daughter. “She’s still processing it, I believe.”

Gwen could hear her parents switch the conversation to bookkeeping, and their profits for the month. Vaguely, she was aware that she’d added the mandrake root and was now stirring her potion, but her brow was still furrowed as she thought about what all of this meant.

They’d always talked about opening another shop, it was the goal after all, but Gwen hadn’t thought it would be this soon. She’d always assumed it was something she’d have to do, a torch she’d have to pass onto her children.

Now was her chance though.

“Which store front in Diagon Alley are we using?”

She’d interrupted them, Gwen realized too late after she spoke. Her mother smiled with a small roll of her eyes—Ada was far too used to her family’s priorities at this point to be bothered with things like this. “It’s catty corner to that joke shop…” Ada had been to Diagon Alley quite a few times when Gwen had been going to Hogwarts, but that new joke shop had gone up right when Gwen had graduated. As such, Ada had only seen it once. She looked for her husband for assistance with the name.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” He tried not to chuckle at the look on his daughter’s face. “Would you like to go see it now? I’ve already got the keys. You’ll be able to see your flat above the shop, that should be nice.”

Briefly, Gwen wondered how long this had been going on for her father to have already scouted out a location, and apparently bought the damn thing to have keys. At the moment though it was a bit too hard to find words. Instead, Gwen nodded dumbly and accepted the keys from her father without comment.

Still deep in thought, Gwen excused herself from the room, pausing at the threshold to look back at her cauldron, “The potion—“

“Go, we’ll take care of it.” Afon waved her off, seemingly quite pleased at pulling the rug out from under the daughter. He knew the chance of their shop taking off laid on her shoulders, and he was very happy to give her the chance to do show her skill.

Gwen threaded her finger through the key ring, trying to sort her thoughts. As the seconds passed the shock faded into giddiness. This truly was going to be her shot at greatness. In a rush now she shoved on a jacket and heaved her bag over her shoulder before apparating into the middle of Diagon Alley. She glanced to her left, staring upwards at the large statue of George (or Fred?) that stood in front of their shop. Before the war, he would raise his hat and lower it, but now he seemed to be stuck halfway through the motion, staring blankly at something too far away for Gwen to see.

She tried to ignore the shudder that ran up her back, there was something disturbing about the giant man. With the windows of the shop boarded up, and the alley much less alive now that so many shops had closed, he seemed less like a promise of joy within Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and more of a reminder of times gone by.

It was with a very conscious shake of her head that Gwen was able to tear herself away from looking at the silent giant and turn towards her new shop. The key slid into the keyhole with a bit of wiggling, and with her heart pounding in her ears, the Slytherin took her first step into what would be her home.

The light filtered in through the large windows adjacent to the street, lighting up the particles of dust that danced as the air stirred. The floorboards were painted black, with footprints littering the space. Gwen was able to trace some unknown persons path through her store, and saw that they led towards a black staircase that was attached to the back wall of the store. She followed the path of the stairs up to a trap door that was about twenty feet above the ground.

Presumably, that would be the entrance to her flat.

Gwen let out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding. Her footsteps further into the store seemed to break the spell that she was under, and with a flick of her wand she shut the door behind her. There was quite a bit of black in the store, the shelves that lined the tall walls were all black as well, and with closer inspection she could see small nicks in the paint that revealed the wood underneath was actually a light maple color.

The walls were painted a light dusty blue, and Gwen could already guess her father would suggest they paint them a shade of green.

This seemed a nice color palette though. She’d be keeping it.

She turned her attention back to the wall of windows that faced the street, the shop was absolutely flooded with light. The shop itself was two stories tall, with one wall completely made with windows, and the other three covered completely with shelves. The stairs in the back had a landing on the second story, with a catwalk wrapped around the three walls with shelves so customers could peruse at their leisure.

There was plenty of room for inventory, Gwen thought, before noticing a small door in the back of the shop behind the counter. She ran her hand over the smooth wood of the countertop, digging her finger pads into a nick on the corner.

Gwen paused before opening the door, unsure of what caused the hesitation. There was something special about going to a place the first time. They said first impressions were the most important, but Gwen would argue that the difference between what you expected a place to look like and what it actually looked like was the most important.

She wanted to savor it.

Finally, Gwen rested her hand on the brass doorknob, taking in the cold feel of the metal before turning the knob.

She was met with a narrow staircase that led down towards the work room. Briefly Gwen was reminded of her time spent in the potion dungeons back in Hogwarts. There were three little windows to supply light to the dark space, and judging by the dried wax on the floor, the rest of the light was to be supplied by candles. Briefly Gwen felt a surge of fear of running the shop by herself, this would need a lot of inventory, and she couldn’t imagine supplying it all by herself.

Perhaps she could hire someone else to work with her.

Did Victoria have a job? Maybe she could be roped into the family business.

Gwen shrugged off the anxiety and apparated to the flat upstairs, unsure of what she’d find. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. The walls were half painted, either left in the original plaster white, or the same blue from downstairs. The floors were unfinished, in the maple wood that was painted black in the shop.

It was a small apartment, the kitchen bled into an open space that Gwen assumed was supposed to either be a dining area or a den. There was an open door across the room from the kitchen, and upon closer inspection it seemed to be a bedroom. It was a good enough size, no bigger or smaller than the one in her home now.

She let out a hefty sigh before settling down on the floor, her back against the wall. Gwen didn’t mind the dust that turned her black work pants grey. For an unknown amount of time, she simply let all of the events of the day set in before digging through her bag and fishing out a piece of parchment and a quill. Now was a good of time as ever to respond to George’s letter. Probably better actually, once she got home her father would set her straight to work.

Hello George,

Hello,

Hey,

George,

You’ll never guess where I’m writing from. The empty building catty corner from yours. My father just told me today, it’s where we’ll be opening the second shop. You and I will be neighbors soon. It ought to make writing to each other a bit more interesting, don’t you think?

Sorry if the writing is a bit messy, I’m sitting on the floor writing this at the moment, there’s no furniture in the flat yet.

I really hope you slept well last night. I’m glad to see that you took my advice and actually wrote a letter, you’re already a better patient than most of the ones back in Wales.

I’m sorry the potion tastes like piss, but to be fair Weasley, were you expecting butterbeer?

If it doesn’t work though, I’ll try and find you a better tasting one.

It’s good to hear that Fred’s doing better, and to be perfectly frank, how you’re feeling sounds normal. Many of the caretakers I see tend to invest themselves wholeheartedly into their roles, and when they no longer need to take care of someone, can feel a bit lost. I don’t have a potion for mixed feelings, but once I move into Diagon Alley we can grab a drink. It ought to help the same.

You’re good men for making Concentrating Candies. Already sounds like something useful. They’d probably be quite helpful for students, especially when it comes to a History of Magic.

Let me know about that Quidditch game, that sounds like it’ll be quite fun. Though I hope you and Fred don’t hit me with bludgers again. I’ll spike your potion if that happens, George.

Was it hard to open up a shop?

Of course it was, that’s a stupid question. I know it took a long time to make all of inventory, and to scout out the location, along with coming up with business models.

I didn’t know about this second shop until today. I was working on a potion at the (old) shop when Dad dropped the bomb on me. He said he wasn’t retiring and let me have a small heart attack before telling me it was because we were opening up a new shop here in Diagon Alley.

Truthfully, I’m a little nervous.

Well scared is more appropriate. A good kind of scared. Like when you get onto the Hogwarts Express and wonder what the next year is going to be like.

Was this what it was like for you? I always wondered how you two did it at seventeen.

Though I suppose you two had the benefit of months of planning to prepare yourselves. Dad did all of that by himself.

I hope I don’t sound ungrateful. This is more than I could have ever dreamed for. All I hoped for when I was in Hogwarts was to take over the old shop one day, and figured that it would be my children who got to open the new shops.

People from all around the United Kingdom coming to my shop though? It’s an amazing prospect. I can’t wipe the grin off of my face. If you saw me now you’d think I’d have eaten one of your candies. This is everything I knew would happen one day decades from now, landing in my lap today. Outstanding.

I hope a response before the day is up is quick enough for you. Truth be told I’m half tempted to apparate up to your flat and drop off this letter, but I’d hate to be rude and barge in like that. I’ll send it by owl.

Keep taking the potion! I’m glad it made you tired the first night, and I expect to hear how well you slept with your next letter. You have to keep up with the medication though, don’t just assume you can go off because you start to sleep well. A lot of people make that mistake, and it always ends poorly.

Don’t worry about me hiding away in Wales anymore. It seems like within the next few months I’ll be a Londener like you. Won’t that be fun?

Sleep well.

--Gwen

Lacking a candle to seal the letter with wax, Gwen scrunched up her face in a frown before simply folding it up. She could seal it when she got home she supposed. Briefly she wondered how her father would take to her using the family owl presumably every day until she moved out.

Perhaps this was the time to purchase an owl of her own.

With a shrug she lifted herself off of the floor and dusted herself off the best she could. Apparating back to Wales was the easiest way home, but Gwen didn’t quite trust herself to do it twice in one day. She’d hardly passed the exam after all. The floo at the Leaky Cauldron would have to do.

That goal in mind, Gwen trudged downstairs and out of the shop, locking up behind her. Spinning around to walk onto the street, she bumped into a rather tall man. “Goodness! I’m sorry—“ she cut herself off, taking in the shock of red hair and cane in the man’s hand. “Oh, Fred. Sorry about that again. Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m rather tough.” Fred flashed Gwen a smile, before looking at the building she just left. “Let me guess, checking out the real estate?”

Gwen nodded with a laugh, “You could say that, we’ll be opening up our new shop here. We’ll be neighbors soon.” She resisted the urge to look him up and down like she would a new patient. People who didn’t come looking for medical advice hardly appreciated it after all.

If he was a patient, she’d have him on a pain management potion and something to ease joint stiffness. That would ease the pause in his gate and hopefully wean him off the cane. Just guessing from his original injury, she’d assume that his back probably bothered him, and there was some head trauma. More potions to ease any problems from that.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Fred eyed the shop in surprise, he hadn’t expected his joke to actually be true. True to his nature, a grin spread across his face. “This ought to be fun then, I expect you to be healing Georgie and I whenever we have an accident in the shop now.”

Gwen couldn’t help but laugh, knowing very well that joke would probably become true very soon. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” The thought of George brought the letter she’d just written to the forefront of her mind. She fumbled through her bag, ignoring the slightly confused yet very amused look on Fred’s face.

He eyed the letter she withdrew from her bag with interest. Fred adjusted his weight on the cane, shifting uncomfortably. Most days he could manage fine, but as it got colder his joints began to ache. Regardless, his jokester nature couldn’t be contained. “Are you an owl now? Am I keeping you from flying off to your next delivery?” Fred stepped back a bit out of Gwen’s path, giving her a good natured smile as he bowed a bit before gesturing with his cane. “How very rude of me.”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d be the owl. This is for George. He wrote me a letter last night and this is my reply.” Gwen tidied up the folds of her letter, frowning a bit at how sloppy her handwriting looked from her writing on the floor. “I’m sorry to put you out, but could you pass this along to him?” It made more sense to have Fred do it after all, than to go all the way back to Wales, send an owl, and wait for a response.

It was hard not to smirk, but Fred tried his best. He’d have to tease George about this later. “He mentioned writing you a letter last night. I’m glad you responded with such enthusiasm.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow at Fred’s tone, and let out a very small sigh. She should have known that there’d be some teasing for this request. It was Fred after all.

Everything was in good fun after all.

“He’s my friend. Just like you are—I’d respond just as quick if it was you Fred.”

Fred couldn’t help but grin, he could see where this was going. Just like George to lean into something like exchanging letters every day. “Is that a promise Birdie?”

“Birdie?” Gwen had been called quite a few things in her days. Gwendy. Gwendolyn. Gwen. Chaser. That Slytherin. Birdie hadn’t made the list quite yet. “Why Birdie?”

Carefully, Fred slipped the letter into his coat’s inside pocket, patting his chest where it now laid. Despite his teasing he’d take good care of something meant for his brother. “You’re an owl, aren’t you? So you’re Birdie.” He winced a bit, it was hard to stay on his feet for this long in one place.

If he said that he was in pain and needed to leave, Fred knew that Gwen of all people would understand. She was a healer for Merlin’s sake.

However, there was a thing called Gryffindor pride, and Fred wasn’t about to admit that he couldn’t stay on his feet for very long.

Gwen noticed as he leaned more heavily onto the cane, and noted the white knuckle grip he had on the silver handle. “Well, this Birdie does have to fly off to Wales.” She couldn’t be for sure that he was in pain, but in her experience as a healer, she reckoned it was pretty likely. Either way, it was probably safer to politely excuse herself so Fred could get on his way.

She patted Fred on the shoulder and gave him a smile, “Thank you again for sending along my letter. I’ll come by around soon, we should all grab a drink. I’ll see you later Fred!”

“Bye bye, Birdie.” Fred watched Gwen trudge towards the Leaky Cauldron, a thoughtful smile on his face despite the pain he was feeling. If Lee was there, or hell, even Ron, Fred would have made a bet that by Christmas, the letters between Gwen and George would turn into love letters.

Instead he let out a small chuckle, made his way down the street, and gave the letter in his pocket one last pat for safe keeping.

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