RP: So I should be... how old? Who: Gideon Prewett, Rose Weasley, anyone else. (multiple trees are love) Where: The Burrow When: 14 October, 2024 (WTF?) Rating/Warnings: None Summary: Gideon tries to catch up on current events
"It was great, Molls," he said, standing and gathering the dishes from Molly's excellent lunch. It still felt odd, looking at her. He supposed it probably always would. She was five years older than he, birthday-wise, but she was in her seventies.
He was twenty-five. Forty-three years he'd been... dead.
It didn't seem possible, but somehow it was. He rinsed his dishes, then poked his head out into the scullery. "I'm going to take some of those books and stuff out on the porch," he said. "Try to catch up on things, if that's okay?"
"Of course, love. I've sent owls around too, so you never know who might show up to keep you company. I'll just fetch your laundry too."
Gideon laughed. "I've got three sets of clothes right now. There's nothing dirty. But help yourself." He knew Molly wouldn't be happy unless she was fussing, and he headed for the sitting room. Molly had set out a stack of news clippings and books from the time he'd been gone until now, and he was determined to figure out just what the hell had gone on the last four decades. He poured a cup of coffee and headed out onto the porch, and was lost in an account of the war within minutes.