George Weasley fanfic
Emma Thomas was quiet, Emma Thomas was bookish, Emma Thomas was anything but trouble. Whereas her sister, her beloved twin was the complete opposite, she was fun, she was outgoing, she did anything to be in trouble just for the...
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George Weasley is incredibly confused. Not the kind of confused he would feel in transfiguration class. In which while learning a spell that Mcgonagall just taught, had managed to backfire despite the care he had taken to avoid it. Nor the type of confused he felt the first time he flew on a broom as he learned to find his balance while in the air. If anything, it was a new type of confusion he felt as he tried to work out how his mother befriended a very obvious muggle woman with not a clue about magic. A muggle woman who was obviously a single mom that lives across the way from the their special anti-muggle hedge. Nothing was making sense of this situation. No dots connecting, no ah-ha moment. Just pure and utter confusion that had no answer in sight.
Nor did he understand how the face of woman he just met. Completely bare of makeup, hair in a mess on top of her head. Looking the definition of a mess, had manage to cause a small flutter in his gut. The flash of sudden nerves and sweaty palms, an emotion he had not felt in a long time. A first time an emotion other than fear and loss made his heart skip a beat.
Yet, he did not have much time to ponder it as the small child that had awoken in the absence of the woman was now staring up at him.
As George Weasley stares down with his brown eyes filled with confusion. The special emerald eyed little girl laughs as she moves to sit up. Standing on two very obvious wobbly legs, she waves her arms at him.
She tottered back on her small chubby legs has George moving forward with his hands awkwardly raised in the air. If in some way, he wanted to reach her before she fell down. If anything, he feared that the girl would injure herself and he was not prepared on how to soothe a crying toddler.
Yet, the small girl caught herself by grabbing his hands. George instantly begins to panic further as he tried to gently pry off the small girls fingers. The girl though was surprising him with their strength as they refuse to let go.
Disparate, George tries to reason with the girl to let him go.
"Hello little one, let's release my fingers huh? We're not exactly close enough to hold hands right? So go on, let me go now." He coos as he tries to wiggle a hand.
The girl just wrinkles her brow and begins to through her other arm up. Her usual indication to show her desire to be held. George begins to allow his panic to filter through as he realizes the child's incessant demands. He's never been around children as small as the girl much despite his time in the joke shop. Small children like the one in front of him frighten him. He was scared he may end up scaring them or hurting them. His brother was always the one who loved to play with them, the one who made them laugh...
Normally children avoided him, as if sensing his fear. But this one in front of him seemed determine to make him do her bidding. With a wrinkled brow and eyes alight with stubbornness, George gives in and picks the little girl up.
As soon as she got her way, the small one year old child with eyes that seemed to glow green giggled happily. Reaching her small hands up, they begin to grab at his red locks and tugs hard.
"Ow. Ow. Ow." George groans as the small girl pulled his hair roughly. He begins to worry about loosing his hair when Emma enters the room.
George feels himself gulping, and his mouth suddenly feels dry at the sight in front of him. Emma's dark, nearly Auburn red hair hung around her face in soft waves. Framing her face so the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose was noticeable. Her green eyes were darken by the light eye makeup she put on. Her full lip were in a pout as she put on a dark red lipstick that was almost as dark as her red hair. She wore a dark green dress that were tight in all the right places, making George feel warm and needing to gulp some fresh air.
He was so entranced by the woman in front of him that he barely noticed the harsh tugs by the young child.
He eventually snaps himself out of it as begins to think that Emma had to be involved with someone. And that he felt at the back of his mind that he wasn't allowed to feel the way he did.
Emma noticed the strange expression that George had and felt her cheeks warm at the way his brown eyes traced her figure. It was quiet between then. Until Emma took notice of the harsh tugs her niece was doing.
"Evelyn!" She admonishes as she strides over to take the young girl. Holding her close, she wags a finger at the girl.
"We've gone over this young lady, we do not pull people's hair." She sternly tells the one year old who just giggles in return.
Rolling her eyes at her niece, she turns to George and asks with a grin.
"Ready to go?"
☆☆☆
To say a wizards dinner would be interesting is an understatement. The floating dishes that moved around the table. The sudden appearances of Molly's son Ron and her husband Arthur. Ron was shocked at first when he saw me, but just shrugged it off as he made quick work of shoving food into his mouth. Arthur was intrigued by me as he doesn't get much opportunity to ask a muggle about muggle things.
Emma was in the middle of explaining to the man when Ron finally noticed the situation. As Evelyn was mimicking the way he ate through her mashed potato and peas.
"Emma, how old is your daughter?"
The table is quiet as Emma looks over at Ron in slight shock. She understood how Evelyn seemed like her daughter, but very rarely do people say it aloud.
Clearing her throat, she puts her silverware down and begins to fiddle her thumb as she makes eye contact.
"Evelyn's nearly one, and...she's actually my niece." She sighs quietly, and sees George is now looking at her from the corner of her eye.
Ron, not understanding asks a question in a very Ron-like fashion. "Oh? Where's her mum then? Of her dad? I would figure they would be here for this."
Emma goes pale, her eyes now refusing to leave the table. Molly is glaring at her son and is about to tell him to mind his own business when Emma speaks.
"My...sister, my twin...she passed away last May." Her words are like a knife. Slashing everyone to the core as they hear the word twin, death, and last May.
