But Dad... Who: Alex Weasley, George Weasley, Roxanne Weasley Where: Weasley house When: 1 July, 2024 Rating/Warnings: Language Summary: Alex tries to talk to his father again. Status: Complete
"Because I told you. You're going."
"But Dad..." Alex looked over at his father, then shut his mouth. Obviously arguing wasn't going to be effective here, but damn, he'd like to be listened to sometime... "Can you at least tell me why?"
"Because your mother and I think you need something to do over the summer besides running wild."
"But I thought I'd be working in the shop. Helping you out, remember?" Alex pushed a wave of hair off his forehead, looking across the table at his father. "I was really looking forward to learning more about the potions stuff. And the charms..." He traced the outline of his name on the form that lay on the table, then looked up at his father again. "I'd stay busy. Really..."
"Doesn't much look like it," George said shortly, gesturing vaguely at his son. "Enough spare time right now to steal your mother's makeup."
Alex flushed. "I told her I was sorry. And I replaced it..." He'd actually apologised to his mother more than once, and had replaced both of the colours he'd tried. Well, and bought another for himself...
"It doesn't excuse taking it in the first place."
"It was only a fucking pencil," Alex muttered defiantly, folding his arms.
"See what I mean? If it suits you, Fred, you think it's not a big deal, even if it's wrong. And watch your mouth."
"Don't call me that."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't call me that. My name is Alex."
"Your name is Frederick Weasley," George said tersely, standing up and putting a firm hand on the table in front of Alex. "I know, because I named you myself."
Alex stood and faced his father, shoving his chair aside. "Then you'd know it's Frederick Alexander Weasley, and I haven't gone by Fred since I was five. Everyone else in the family calls me Alex... I'm not your fucking brother. I won't ever be like him. I don't know why you can't just let me be me!" He headed for the door, then looked over his shoulder. "I try, Dad. I swear. But I can't be like him..."
"Then maybe you're not trying hard enough."
Alex looked at his father for a long moment, then turned and walked out of the room, a whispered fuck you on his lips. He didn't bother to go up the stairs quietly, and let his bedroom door slam as he threw himself onto his bed.