InsaneJournal

Who: George, Bilius, and Gideon
What: Seeking wisdom from the Most Revered Elders.
When: Saturday, March 21
Where: Hog's Head
Warnings: Low. Some non-explicit discussion of sex.


On the balance, George decided coming by early was a better idea than trying to hang around late--after all, it was a Saturday in Hogsmeade, so later meant busier at the Hog's Head. Besides, if Fred were coming along (he wasn't sure yet which Weasleys would be there), he would definitely notice if George hung around waiting for their family members to clear out. Fred could always tell when he was trying to be surreptitious about something. Usually that was a good thing, since most of the time Fred was in on whatever he was trying to be surreptitious about, but it would have been inconvenient today.

He felt a little bad about that. Fred had tried to help, and of course George could trust him with anything, but...Fred didn't know what it was like, not really. He wasn't exactly looking forward to this conversation, but at least the uncles had some relevant experience. He might have hung around outside the door of the Hog's Head for a few minutes longer than necessary, but when he finally went inside, it was with a cheerful expression.

"Georgey!" Bilius explained brightly from behind the bar, once more in his usual space. He'd returned during the week, not truly working but pouring occasionally as well as going over the books during the time he'd been away. Wendy and Nana, Bilius' two over-friendly, enormous Old English sheepdogs were, as usual, milling about the pub and rushed over exuberantly to greet one of the younger twins. At this point in the day, the pub was fairly quiet save for a few regulars and even those occasionally clung to the shadows and corners on Hogsmeade weekends.

For his part, Bilius looked better than he had last month. Though his left hand was still lightly bandaged (and his chest more so), it was mostly hidden under his clothes and he looked a bit more like the eccentric Weasley uncle, red curls a semi-tangled mess upon his head. "How goes, nephew dearest?"

George relaxed a little. It was hard not to with two giant dogs making it clear how glad they were to see him, not to mention Bilius looking so much more like his old self. "Hey, Uncle B! Pretty good." He scratched Wendy behind the ears. "You're looking a hell of a lot better. Causing trouble yet?"

"Only a little. Someone has to keep Gideon on his toes." As if two sheepdogs, a pair of pygmy puffs, and an unknown quantity of felines weren't enough to do that. "Get you something to drink?"

Sometimes it was easy to forget their quiet, secluded world within the pastoral landscape of the Yorkshire farm was only ever temporary -- but, of course, there would be Death Eaters and the Ministry, and now real world responsibilities to return to. Gideon worked early mornings and Bilius, late nights. The scheduling and transition would not be easy, but at least, for now, they were slipping back into it in increments. The chill of winter had eased some of his responsibilities on the farm so that he could accompany Bilius to the Hog’s Head today, discretely tucked away into one shadowy corner with various media publications to read (if not hide behind). It wouldn’t do, of course, to be seen watching Bilius like a hawk, assessing any and every wince or grimace.

George’s entrance into the pub could never be a quiet affair -- not with the dogs barking up a racket or Bilius’s exuberant greeting. Gideon’s gaze had been drawn to the door immediately, and he still needed to remind himself to remain calm, that it was okay now. The truth was out there, for better or worse, and it was what he wanted.

“Dreading the day when it comes back in full force,” he said as he abandoned his perch for empty seat at the bar beside his nephew, “Hullo, George. Just you today?”

"Just a butterbeer, thanks," George said before turning to greet Gideon. "As well you should! Just me for the moment. Can't say who will turn up over the course of the day. If nothing else, Ron and Gin will probably be by at some point to say hello. Speaking of causing trouble--" He shifted the bag on his shoulder, digging into it and pulling out an obnoxiously gaudy crown, which he offered to Bilius. "As promised, one Highly Revered Elder hat. Wear it with pride."

"I'm not that bad," Bilius protested at Gideon before pouring three butterbeers - after all, it wouldn't do to start drinking whisky this early. (Not that he hadn't in the past, but he was trying to be better now, especially in front of Gideon.) He still favoured his right hand a bit, the left not yet back to full strength, but after a week of practice in the pub, he could pour well enough with his right without spilling. He set down the butterbeers before glancing at the hat. His face broke out into a grin as he took the hat and placed it on his head. "Excellent. I feel much more wise now. Did you bring anything for my coruler?"

“Of course. Would I pass up an excuse to make my family members wear something silly?” George dug in the bag again, gleefully producing a genuine Beauxbatons-blue capelet. “Courtesy of my very important connections at the French embassy, I have acquired this Cap d’Ancien Respecté, the Cape of the Respected Elder. Treat it with care, Uncle Gideon.”

Utterly bewildered now, Gideon had accepted the capelet before even fully realising what it was. In his hands, the scrap of sky blue fabric looked more like a doll sized bed skirt. Between that and Bilius’s new equally ridiculous accessory, he could only trade a thoroughly confused glance between the two. “What you two get up to when I’m not paying attention….”

"You really should read your journal more often," Bilius chastised lovingly, cocking the crown on his head to look thoroughly disreputable. "Georgie was going on about his wise elders so I said we needed symbols of office."

Bilius glanced between George and the pub. "Want to grab a table in the corner that Gideon's claimed or head upstairs?"

"He couldn't see it," George said, fairly, though Gideon's expression made him laugh. "I forgot to add him to the ward." He looked over his shoulder--things were fairly quiet, but who knew how long that would last. "Upstairs, I guess, if that's okay." It seemed a little overdramatic, but serious conversations were hardly George's forte, and he wasn't sure he could have this one sitting in full view of anyone who wandered in, even if they weren't likely to be overheard.

Bilius nodded, told someone to watch the bar, grabbed his butterbeer and made his way upstairs. The tankard was held somewhat awkwardly and he might have leaned on the wall a bit as he followed the two lumbering sheepdogs up the suite of rooms that had been turned into a flat. Opening the door (there were enough wards on it to prevent unwanted guests from entering), he followed Wendy and Nana into the flat, rolling his eyes when the two of them claimed the sofa.

"Come in, come in, and make yourselves at home."

The move to upstairs was unexpected and lent an air of seriousness to the proceedings that made Gideon wary, but he followed without complaint, ascending up the creaking stairs behind Bilius and the hairy beasts. A fond smile graced his lips as he entered Bilius’s (former) lodgings -- familiar territory now after so many visits under the guise of seeking mutual company. He chose a casual lean against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for George to begin.

George squashed himself in between the dogs on the sofa without hesitation. He liked the girls, but more importantly there was something reassuring about big dogs--and while he didn't want to admit it, he needed the reassurance. "Okay, so. Um." He fidgeted a little--not that that was unusual for him--took a deep breath, and tried to figure out how to phrase the question.

The problem was, there wasn't really any way to say it without implying things about himself--things that he wasn't entirely sure were even true. He carefully avoided looking at either one of them as he spoke, instead focusing on Nana, who was currently covering him in slobber. "I guess I just wanted to ask...when you first...realized you were gay? I mean, have you always known, or...?"

Bilius glanced from George to Gideon. Whiskey. This definitely called for whiskey. And the good stuff. He set his butterbeer down and went to the cabinet, pulling out a good bottle of 25 year single malt and three glasses. There was a small wince as he tried to balance it all in his arms before setting it down on the counter. A few fingers were poured for each of them and he motioned for Gideon to have a seat in the unoccupied comfy chair before passing out a glass to each man.

"Well, I suppose the first time I thought I might fancy a lad was sometime in Hogwarts, but nobody much talked about that back then. So I dated birds. Some lovely ones, truly. You know, go to Hogsmeade or the quidditch match together, snog in hallways and under the bleachers. What every boy does. I was always a charmer, and it was a bit of a different world back then." There was more to the story, but he paused to take a drink.

Taken off guard, Gideon nearly fell into the chair rather than sat in it. If George’s gaze was caught up in Nana, Gideon’s was levelly focused on a scuffed up mark on table. He still wasn’t used to discussing the matter out loud so casually, nevermind to be asked such a personal question about it. In his surprise, he didn’t even notice the liberal amounts of liquid courage being handed out and accepted his almost gratefully, rubbing at his brow as he listened to Bilius recount his nascent school years.

And when the conversation fell silent, Gideon looked up and realised he was probably expected to contribute an answer too. “Uh. Well. I wasn’t. I mean. I didn’t really know. I wasn’t -- a charmer. Not in school. Not...ever, really. More...awkward...um, always.” Surely, by now, his cheeks had warmed.

Thank goodness for Uncle Bilius. George took his glass with relief--he could use the drink, and it was something else to focus on, not that Nana wasn't happy to be the center of his attention. Bilius's answer was--well, it didn't seem that far off from George's own experience. Thinking you might fancy a boy, snogging a couple of girls, that sounded about right. And Gideon had a son, so obviously he'd thought he liked girls once too. Maybe that was just how things progressed?

Gideon sounded as flustered as George felt. He realized belatedly that it might have been an overly invasive thing to ask--he had only thought about it from his side, not from his uncles'. He just...needed some context to make sense of things, and he always kind of assumed that his uncles already had things figured out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I just..." need someone to tell me this is normal, he didn't say.

Gideon studied George more closely. His nephew's whole body was tense and closed in, so transparently uncomfortable -- more so, seemingly, than the recipients of the question. "Why are you asking, George?"

It never occurred to him that they might ask why he was asking. The answer seemed so blindingly obvious he’d just sort of expected not to have to articulate it. “I’m just...kind of...trying to figure some stuff out,” he said to the bottom of his glass, staring into it like the correct answer was written there.

Bilius settled himself into Gideon's lap, one of his preferred positions for difficult conversations and took a sip of his whiskey, relaxing against the taller, darker man. "Sometimes you don't know till you try. My dates with birds went well enough, as did the snogging, but.. it wasn't till after snogging that I figured out something was missing. Or well, not missing, but I rather made a mess of sex with a few girls, and then I was at a club and saw two blokes kissing… and well I went down the rabbit hole pretty soon after that. Realised I wasn't the only one who spent their time having thoughts about guys. And well, after some grope sessions in clubs, kind of figured out things for myself. After that well, there were a few more dates with girls - but nothing really panned out. And it wasn't until I met Liam that there was anything serious.."

Oh. Oh. George might be dying of embarrassment, but that was actually...sort of enlightening. The whiskey was probably too good for this, but he tipped the rest of it back, because it was becoming clear he needed it to make it through this conversation. Still...maybe that was the puzzle piece he’d been missing? He’d fooled around some, but he hadn’t actually slept with any of the girls he’d dated. Maybe if he had, he would have realized he wasn’t that into women?

It seemed like a strange thing to be confused about, but then again, it wasn’t any stranger than his current confusion. So that was probably progress. He had no idea how to communicate any of that, though, or even if he wanted to, so all he said was, “Liam?”

This time it was Bilius who took a long swallow of whiskey, hand searching out Gideon's and squeezing. "Liam was the man I was… involved with… in love with.. for a few years in the first war. First person I actually thought about being serious with because I wanted to, not just because it's what you do. He died during the war, though. And after that.. well, nothing but random shags and snogs until the last few months and a certain rascal."

That startled George into looking up, finally. “Oh, Uncle Bill, I’m sorry--I didn’t realize--” Sometimes it was easy to forget that his parents, his uncles, and the rest of their generation had lives before the existence of Fred and George--even after, but before they were old enough to be aware of it--that he knew nothing about except from stories. He shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow he was--that he could be so completely clueless about something so important. “Sorry, I’m being a prat.”

It wasn’t ever easy hearing that story from Bilius, no matter how many times Gideon heard it before. The parallels to his own history notwithstanding, there was still pain creeping up in Bilius’s tone, even though the man had tried to keep his voice at a steady, even keel. It’s what prompted him, upon Bilius’s concluding teasing remark, to press a kiss to his shoulder -- the first unconscious act of affection he had done before another.

“You’re not,” Gideon assured him, then sighing, because he wished he were better at this -- all of it. “When I was your age, George, I thought I was broken, that something was wrong with me. I couldn’t speak to anyone about it because there was always this expectation of what I had to be, by family and friends. In some ways, I felt I had to conform to it.” To his parents, it was being the firstborn son, the worthy, responsible heir -- the dependable one. To his siblings, it was the role of confidant and co-conspirator, obedient, rank and file supporter and listener. The one whose job it was to keep quiet and to leave the wave-making to others. “I didn’t even know there were other possibilities until I was much older than you are now. And even when I did...finally realise I was…” he still couldn’t say it, the word stuck in his throat until he had to swallow it back down again, shaking his head in near-disgust at his own cowardice still, “I strongly denied it, and then I...proceeded to never tell a single soul. It was so...so lonely. And now, looking back on that time, with all I have now, and all the friends and loved ones who have been wonderful, I know I regret all those years of suppressing and denying a fundamental part of myself.”

George nodded as he spoke. It wasn’t like that for him so much, but he could see it sometimes in the way his mum talked about growing up--there had been roles for each of them, and very specific expectations, lines they weren’t to step outside of. It actually made him kind of proud of them, how each of the Prewetts had broken out of that mold in their own ways. “Things are different now than they used to be, I know. It’s...easier, I guess, for my generation.” Or it should be, anyway. “I just...thought it would be easier to know one way or the other. Everyone makes it sound like it’s so clear-cut.”

At this, Gideon huffed out a small, low note of laughter. “Maybe for some, but most definitely not for all. I’m closer to fifty now and I still couldn’t give you any clear cut answers, George. There has never been some inherent law of the universe that says you only have to be neatly one thing or another, or that you even have to put a label on yourself or...what you like. You’re still...so very young. You have a lifetime to sort yourself out, you know. You’re already far ahead of the game than I ever was. But know you don’t have to be anyone you don’t want to be -- not for us. The only thing we care about is that you’re happy.”

"Sometimes the only way you find out is by trying new things - like trying new food. How do you know whether you like curry or not until you try it? But Gid's right. We'll love you no matter what. Doesn't matter whether you like girls, boys, both, centaurs." Bilius got up to refill whiskey glasses before settling himself once more on Gideon's lap. "You don't have to rush to figure it out."

George had to smile a bit at that. “Sampling people like curry, huh? I’ll have one of the cute girl at table three, two of the blonde blokes, oh and a side of that charmingly androgynous person down at the end to go...” He appreciated the support, and Fred had said much the same thing, but to be honest...he would have liked to figure it out, sooner rather than later. At least he didn’t feel quite so much at sea as before.

Also...there was that both again. “It’s got to be one or the other eventually, right? I mean.” He grinned. “Hopefully not centaurs. But...presumably I’ll...figure out which at some point. Even if it’s not right away.”

Bilius shrugged. "Doesn't have to be. I've known people my age who still 'go both ways' as they say. Or 'the more the merrier'. As long as you're not being hurt or hurting anyone, do what you like in bed. Or in the shower. Or the kitchen."

“I get the idea,” George said quickly, before he decided to tack on any other locations. Score one for Fred, then--apparently he hadn’t been entirely off the mark. It made George feel a little less concerned about the whole thing, for some strange reason. It might not be where he landed, but knowing that both was an option--that some people apparently took--made him feel less like he needed to know right now.

He smiled at both of his uncles across his glass. “Thanks. I’m sorry I...didn’t really know how to ask.” And as uncomfortable as it had been there for awhile, he was glad--relieved, even--that they’d talked about it. In a way, too, he was glad to have seen them in this light--it was clear they were happy together, and if they could figure it out, so could he, eventually. “I know you’ve both got my back. I mean, I’ve always known that.” If nothing else, that’s what their family was about.

Whilst continued to be of use as Bilius’s favourite chair, Gideon return George’s smile with a small, hopefully reassuring one of his own. “You’re still figuring it out. It happens. You don’t need to pick a side right now, George. Not now or ever. There’s no line being drawn in the sand when it comes to something like love or even lust.” They were words he wished he had been told when he was George’s age, instead of being made to feel, as ever, inadequate in all things. “I firmly believe that everything will work out alright in the end so long as you remain true to yourself, and not feel beholden to arbitrary categories.”

"No need to apologise. Our door is always open to you - and besides, we have to make some use of these respected elder symbols of office." Bilius took a long sip of whiskey and smirk. "Speaking of, Gideon is not yet wearing his. We may need to change that."

“Or we may not,” Gideon said, giving Bilius a withering glare.