If He Lived | Fred Weasley

Chapter Seventeen - Changes

"That was - " Fred stopped short. Running the experience through his head again was very painful.

"I did not expect to run into professor Dumbledore, though," Ginny said,  taking off her coat. "He looked so defeated."

"He would, after all. Families are important." Harry looked down as he removed his shoes. He felt tears in his eyes. Molly Weasley ran up to him and gave him a big hug. "Mrs. Weasley, I - "

"I know, dear," she said, and hugged him tighter. He felt the warm, motherly embrace penetrating his heart.

"Drinks to warm you up?" George asked from behind his mother.

"No, we met Aberforth," Ron said, without any preamble.

"And what? You drank him? Was he warm?" George had that funny twinkle in his eye.

"He gave us drinks, obviously." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Ah," George said. "Seems like I missed a party."

"Trust me, you did not." Harry went to his own room, and Ginny followed him.

"What is he talking about?" George asked, looking at Harry's disappearing figure. "It's always party with old Ab."

"Not exactly." Fred and George went to their own room.

George dropped his amused expression and frowned at Fred. "Hey mate, what really happened? Why do you look like you've been attending hundreds of funerals lately?"

"Because we have." Fred stared at George with a blank face.

"Ah, well," George said, lowering his eyes. "I'm very thankful that one of them wasn't yours. I apologize, man. I've had a good date, so forgive my behavior. What about Ab, though?"

"Aberforth looked devastated, I could not bear to make jokes even. You know what almost losing family is like." Fred tilted his head. "You know the gossip, Georgina from Witch Weekly. We've seen it in the Pensieve."

"Of course, Mr. Fred." George looked distant, as he thought about his date with Angelina. He was fortunate to have her with him, now.

"How is your Angel, mate?" Fred was cleaning his room using magic. George looked at Fred with raised eyebrows, but didn't say anything. A pair of underwear landed on George's head, the pink colour clashing with his red hair.

"Short for Angelina," Fred said, still not looking at George.

"Angelina is great! Keeps asking about Harry, the poor twat. She's so sad she couldn't be here, she had - " George removed the underwear from his head. "Hey, its pink!" he yelled with a barely suppressed grin. "Oh dear Frederick, stole this from Umbridge, didn't you?"

Fred turned as pink as the underwear.

"Is this your style?" George asked, eyeing the plain underwear. "I thought you were flamboyant. You let me down, you little pansy." Saying this, George waved his wand hand. The underwear was now bordered with light-pink colored lace.

"Ah, Fred," George said with immense satisfaction. "This is definitely yours."

Fred made a motion to grab the underwear from George's hand, and George ran down the stairs with the underwear, being chased by a very embarrassed Fred who was muttering curse words under his breath in the speed of light.