A Master Of Mischief ~ George Weasley Love Story ~ Book 1

Chapter 90

3rd last chapter... :'(

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**Maddie’s POV**

                          

“I can’t believe he’s gone.”

I look up at George. He’s frowning slightly, looking confused. Things between us have been getting better, thank goodness. Alithea is thrilled to have us both back to normal and Fred seems just as happy as she is.

“He always just seemed like the kind of person who’d always be there, you know?”

I nod silently and sigh. All around us are people dressed in black. We’re on the edge of the lake where a white tomb has been placed. People all around us are quietly talking, crying or sitting in shock.

“Mummy?” Alithea asks, reaching up to touch my face. I look down at her. She’s wearing a white dress with a thick black ribbon around the waist. George and I had a huge argument about this. George said she should be in black, but I said a baby shouldn’t be dressed in black. Finally we’d agreed on this. Well, actually, to be fair, George gave in. He’d gotten his way about her wearing black shoes though. Well, he thought he had. I secretly had been planning on her wearing black shoes regardless, but hey, his victory is my victory.

After the funeral the crowd begins to disperse.

“George?”

He looks around at me and I hand him Alithea. I walk through the crowd, right up to the tomb. I feel hot tears fall down my cheeks as I lay my hand on the cold stone. I remember all the moments with Dumbledore. The first time I met him, when he took me to Remus’ house after James and Lily died, the first moment I stood in the Great Hall with Fred and George and he smiled at me as I got sorted, the numerous times I was dragged to his office by Filch and he “let me off with a warning”, the time he asked me if I wanted to complete all my education in one year, when I messed up in the Order with the ministry fiasco. Every single time I made a mistake, every time I had a victory, he’d had some role in it.

I blink hard, sending a fresh wave of tears down my face. I lean close to the tomb and, in a whisper so quiet nobody else could hear it, I speak my last words to the amazing man that was such a key part of my life.

“I’m sorry.”

When I feel the hand on my shoulder, I know exactly who’s it is. I step back into Daddy’s arms and bury my face in his robes. I feel as if it were all my fault that Dumbledore died. I feel my shoulders begin to shake as I sob into Dad’s chest.

“It’s okay, princess,” he whispers, rocking me softly. I pull away and wipe my face on the back of my hands.

“I’m alright,” I say. He looks down at me and smiles.

“You’re tough,” he says, “like your old man.”

“I was raised by tough men,” I laugh. He ruffles my hair up a bit.

“Order meeting next week.”

                            

“Decoys.”

Mundungus folds his arms across his chest and looks around at us all.

“Explain,” Moody demands.

“Well, see what we’d do is we’d have people in pairs, right? One to be the protector and one to be Harry.”

Everyone looks at Moody who is contemplating this.