George Weasley (all_ears) wrote in afic, @ 2011-04-01 21:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !completed, !solo, character: george weasley, player: sarah |
WHO: George Weasley Solo (with Molly & Arthur)
WHEN: [backposted] April 1st, 2 a.m.
WHERE: The Burrow
WHAT: Happy Birthday, George
RATING: G
George stood at the edge of the wards around the Burrow, gazing up at his childhood homein the silver moonlight. He took in all its uneven angles, and the shadows it cast on itself and the yard around it. There was a light on in the kitchen just as George knew there would be—it wasn't the first March 31st that he'd come over to visit his mother, but it was the first one that was actually April 1st. He couldn't bear France any longer, and the inability he'd had at assuaging himself from his indecision and guilt.
And he knew, most of all, that he couldn't actually spend his birthday anywhere but England.
This particular birthday, George knew he couldn't be anywhere but home.
He let himself in the unlocked backdoor, locking it bhind him and strengthening the wards. He saw the warm bread on the kitchen table and the glass of milk, shaking his head at his mother. He'd owled her earlier, letting her knew he'd be taking an international portkey home that evening. He left the food where it was, knowing his mother's stasis charms would likely keep well into morning.
Climbing the stairs of the Burrow, he knew exactly which ones not to squeak. He skipped the fourth, tenth, and twenty-third on the way to the landing where his parents' room was. He quietly opened the door, and slipped end, hand going to his mother's arm in a comforting way when she jolted away at a creaking floor board.
She knew he was coming, and settled when her sleep-filled mind recognized who it was. She reached up both arms to hug him tight when he knelt beside her side of the bed. She didn't let go for a long moment, and only loosened her grip at his quiet and pleading, "Mum, I'm tired." She kissed his cheek and shooed him towards his old room.
"Clean sheets on your bed. Go on, get some rest. I'll make you eat in the morning," she said, too knowingly, and watched him until he left the room. Arthur snuffled in his sleep and rolled towards Molly.
"Dear?" he murmured, starting to open his eyes and sit up.
"Go back to bed, dear. Shh," Molly whispered, patting his shoulder before slipping from bed. She slowly made her way to Fred and George's old room, and paused in the doorway when she saw George, already collapsed, face down, in his old bed. She walked over to him, not saying a word, and gently began to run his back. She didn't say anything when he started to cry in earnest, just shifted until she could hold him, head in her lap. She stroked his hair silently, thumb moving slowly over the scar where his ear had been, where she had tucked his hair behind his ears so many times as a child.
She cradled his head until he fell asleep, and even then, she held him until she thought it was alright to leave him. She slipped from the bed, pulling off his shoes and tucking a blanket up around him. She stroked his hair away from his forehead and pressed a kiss to his temple before shuffling back to her bed.