Don't Give, Just Take | F. Weasley

62 | Epilogue

"S-K-Y-L-L-E-R. Skyller!"

A five-year-old boy cheered as he raised his little quill. His little fingers held the piece of feather the best he could, the side of his palm earning ink marks.

He had soft, curly, strawberry-blonde hair, cut short above his ear. His legs swung as he sat on the chair at the kitchen table.

"Great job, pal!" Fred ruffled the boy's hair, earning a giggle. "You're getting better at this. Tomorrow you'll be helping uncle Forge and I run the shop."

"Really?!" Sky's smile stretched from ear to ear. His eyes sparkled with excitement at the mention of the joke shop. He held the paper in both of his hands and raised it up, feeling proud of what he created.

"Of cour—" A sudden throb hit the side of Fred's face, flinching at the pain.

The moment he opened his eyes again, he saw a foam pellet on the table. He immediately looked at the direction where it came from and found a grinning little girl.

"Bullseye!" She raised her slingshot into the air and ran to a different room.

Her hair bounced at the motion, twin pig-tails sat atop her hair, running faster than one would expect from a five-year-old girl. She wore an old quidditch sweater, the sleeves rolled up her arms, just above her wrists.

"STARREX MIST!" Fred exclaimed, standing up from his seat.

Her giggles echoed in the entire house, heavy footsteps quaking the floor. She would hide behind the sofa, the curtain, the kitchen island, under the stairs, then would run away once more whenever Fred caught up to her.

Fred ran after her like an auror would to a dark wizard, calling out her name once in a while with threat in his voice. By the end of thirty minutes, when he thought she was finally done and spent from running, he stood in front of her with hands on his hips.

"Starrex, what did we tell you about shooting someone on the face?" He heaved, chest rising and falling as if his lungs were about to collapse.

She crossed her arms, pouting. "Don't shoot people on the face because it's bad."

Fred nodded approvingly, "Exactly. You don't want to make Dad look ugly, do you?" He patted the top of her head, squatting down to level with her line of sight.

"No, I don't..." Starrex looked away, giving her father a cold shoulder. She removed his hand over her head and ran away from him.

He could only let out a sigh, feeling exhaustion hit him. Fred wanted to groan loudly, realizing that it was barely an hour since Safe left to go to the market and run a few errands, but the house was already a mess.

"DAD!" Came a shout from the kitchen.

Fred practically threw himself to get there. Anxious and scared of the tone of Skyller's voice screaming for his name. His heart was beating in his ear, making his way to the kitchen with caution due to the mess on the floor.

He could hear Skyller already crying when he reached the doorway, turning to find the boy's face splattered with icing and cake. A cupcake wrapper sat on the palm of his left hand.

Starrex was standing across the kitchen, hiding by the door to the garden. She was covering her mouth to keep the sound of her laughter from ringing in the entire kitchen.

"Starrex," Fred called out softly. "Starrex, come here... I can see you by the door." He motioned his hand, urging her to emerge out of her hiding spot.

She took her hands off her mouth, a little sound of protest coming out of her lips, but she obliged, nonetheless. Her heavy footsteps marched to where Skyller was still crying.