george weasley (gfweasley) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-03-09 11:34:00 |
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Harry realised that he’d almost been stalking James a few moments into hopping across rooftops and lampposts to keep up with where he was going and he realised at that point that he was being both ridiculous and creepy. He just needed to decompress for a moment. Bother George with his presence, seeing as he’d been invited and as much as he wanted to wallow in self-pity, he knew it wasn’t healthy and he also knew his therapist would be giving him very stern looks from beyond the boundaries of this universe if he didn’t at least try to commiserate and let a friend of his help. He hated being a burden like that. He didn’t want to push himself on others but at the same time, a couple of people had mentioned back home that it felt like he was pushing them away, keeping him at arm's length. He was specifically reminded of a time where Ron and Hermione refused to let him take on the Horcrux quest alone despite Harry wanting to put it all on his own shoulders and while James wasn’t a Horcrux, he certainly felt like a strange artifact from the past. Something Harry had always considered untouchable and unmarred until he’d seen into Snape’s memories in the pensieve and ever since, he’d had very confused feelings about his parents. He seemed nice, though - he’d read through the network comments and planned on checking again as soon as he got to George’s, spotting the open window and taking a careful dive into the room, transforming back and taking his phone out instantly to check. “George? I made it in one piece,” he called, pushing himself up from the floor and brushing off a piece of moss from a rooftop he’d been on. George had been in the kitchen, looking for something to snack on, when he heard Harry call from the living room. It wasn’t unusual to have the younger wizard pop in like this, especially in the recent years. They had bonded over their collective survivor’s guilt. It had been a rough time for both and while George hadn’t had the burden of a whole prophecy on his shoulders, he had lived through the war just the same and had experienced the loss of a sibling. So it hadn’t become unusual for either one of them to lean on the other, when things became too much. Harry had dealt with it better than he had though. Therapy hadn’t been in the charts for George, though he certainly should have looked into it. Still should, really. But none of that was on his mind, as he popped his head out of the kitchen and asked, “Want a beer? Snacks? I was just fixing myself something.” Harry let a relieved smile play on his face when George’s head appeared out of the kitchen door. “A beer, I guess? I’m not really that hungry right now,” nauseous and regretting the pie he’d bought a few hours ago, definitely. He headed over to the sofa and flopped down, running a hand through his hair as he waited for George to reappear, hoping that he could just spend a night pretending this wasn’t happening or at least talking to somebody who kind of understood. It was different, he knew that - he’d lost his father but he’d never really known him. It was difficult to compare that to losing a twin brother you spent most of your time with and while Harry hadn’t really tried to fill that void, he did try to make sure that George didn’t have to spend time alone unless he actually wanted to. It was difficult with everything else, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think anybody could replace those losses. “I’m thinking of starting a betting pool to guess who’s coming next,” he deadpanned once he was finished reading through the latest comments on James’ post, tossing his phone to the side with a sigh. "Don't you dare," George warned, as he gathered the beers and got a bowl for the chips he had pulled out of the pantry. He walked out of the kitchen with items stuffed in his hoodie - a wonderful Muggle invention - and plopped down next to Harry on the couch. Pulling a beer bottle out of the front pocket of the hoodie, he offered it to the younger wizard, followed by a bottle cap opener. "Given our shitty luck, we'd end up getting Snape or Voldemort." He kicked up his sock clad feet onto the coffee table - a true barbarian - and sat the bowl of chips on his lap. He dug around the couch cushions until he could find the remote and when he did, he turned the television on to their Netflix app. "So what are we doing? Talking about it or ignoring it and watching something dumb?" Harry took it and the opener. Sure, he could have used his wand, but there was something oddly comforting about using muggle items for some reason. “Somewhere between both, I guess? Put something dumb on anyway,” he decided, pulling one leg under him to get comfortable with a sigh, trying to ignore the sudden spike of fear at the idea of Voldemort appearing. Snape was something he could just ignore and pretend didn’t existed, but Voldemort? Tom Riddle, for that matter? He really didn’t want to dwell on that possibility too much. “I just… I know I have to say something. It’s just really fucking strange when I don’t know him. I- we talked very briefly once through- just before I went to face Voldemort,” he frowned. “But that was different. I wasn’t even sure it was real for a long time and he wouldn’t remember that regardless. I feel like bashing my head against a brick wall to kill a few brain cells. I might stop thinking about it for a moment that way.” Grabbing the opener back and flipping the beer cap onto the coffee table - with a little cheer because, yes, he impressed himself sometimes, he clinked his bottle with Harry's and took a pull. It gave him time to formulate a plan of attack - be silly to distract his friend or be serious and try to help him figure out how to approach his never met properly before father? In the end, he settled for finding the first dumb looking movie on his suggested watches and queued the movie up. "Well, definitely don't do the brick wall thing. You need to preserve what precious little you have in that brain of yours." Science was still strange and unfamiliar to George, but he had gotten the basics of it through his stay in Dark Vallo. Nudging Harry with a shoulder, he added, "That said, I think you might be overthinking it. Why don't you just try saying hi?" The opening of Two Weeks Notice started, as George started in on the chips. “I would be offended, but I know you’re right. I think Hermione took the majority of the brain cells from our friend group,” he snorted softly, taking a swig from his own beer and pulling back to look at the bottle. “Huh. This is pretty good, actually,” he murmured, looking back up when George nudged him. Yeah, he definitely had a point there. “I guess. It’s just- weird, right? It’s weird. It’s not even a bad weird, just… weird. I don’t want to make it even weirder by accident and then just all of the shit that happened. Like, he can just- look that up, can’t he?” he’d dropped into a bookshop to see if they had anything in the region of how Vallo worked and had quickly balked at the ‘Harry Potter’ books on display and left when he saw a somewhat inaccurate picture of a teenage-him on the covers. The popularity of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was also pretty indicative of how much people knew. “It’s a lot to tell him about.” "It's a wheat beer, mango flavored. Didn't think that it would work, but it does, oddly enough," George explained, as he popped another chip into his mouth. The ginger had vaguely understood that they were considered fictional characters in most other worlds, but he hadn't delved too deeply. His sense of reality was already so fragile, there was no reason to dig deeper and lose whatever grip he had on his sense of self. "The thing is, I doubt you're going to have to tell him much. Between Remus and Sirius, I think they'll have the major points covered. All you have to do is show up and see if you can have a relationship with the man. I know you're brave enough to put yourself out there like that, Potter. You have to remember that for yourself." “Mango flavoured,” he hummed, reaching over to steal a chip for himself even though he’d said he wasn’t hungry. He was vastly calmer with George there providing a surprising voice of reason - or just… common sense that not everything had to be a disaster. “I don’t think it’s brave to run from talking to your own dad,” he scoffed slightly. “Thank you, though. I appreciate you saying that,” he knew George was just trying to make him feel better but it was working to an extent. He didn’t feel… better, but he felt something more akin to not panicked. “I don’t know, should I just… post something? It might be easier than facing him right away,” he took out his phone to look at it again, frowning. “...Not now. But maybe- I will talk to him at some point. I think I’m older than him, though?” The thing was, as George offered the bowl to Harry, he wasn't just saying that. To constantly do things you didn't think you were capable of, just because it was the right thing? That was brave. "I mean it, Potter. You embody that Gryffindor bravery very well. Just because you might also be terrified at the same time, doesn't take away from it. But you're right, there's no reason your first constant with him needs to be in person. Put something on the network, work your way up to it. It's an unique situation, so there's no right way of doing things." After all, the man was a near stranger to Harry. Just because they shared blood, didn't mean they needed to immediately bond and become father and son. Reaching out to ruffle Harry's already messy hair, he explained, "Now quit your chattering, you're going to overthink it if you let yourself. Film's starting, sit back and pretend you're not living the strangest life for the next two hours." Harry sunk deeper into the sofa, batting away George’s hand when it ruffled his hair even though he sort of liked it. He hated to admit it, but he was lonely - not in the sense that he didn’t have friends, but just hanging out with people like this seemed to happen less and less the older he got. A relationship seemed nigh-on impossible and while he wasn’t actively looking for one, it was frustrating that people seemed afraid to casually touch him or treat him like a normal person. Being some kind of societal martyr and the Boy Who Lived had long since outgrown any kind of novelty it had and he occasionally had airs of just giving everything up and moving to the country to become a farmer and a hermit all in one go. Eventually, he ended up slumped even further in the seat, somewhere between dozing because he didn’t find the movie interesting enough and trying to stay awake because it was polite. He jumped at a particularly loud noise, managing to stop short of upending the bowl of chips. In that typical annoying older brother way that George was so good at, he absolutely continued to chase after Harry’s hair to make it even worse. He only gave up because the beer in his hand threatened to spill a few times. He let Harry be, to have his silence and to doze, as he watched Sandra Bullock’s Lucy Kelson come to realize she deserved better. They were part way through the movie when a loud noise had Harry scrambling, and George paused the film as Harry got himself together again. “Alright there?” He asked mildly, taking the bowl and putting it on the coffee table. There were a few beer bottles littering it as well, George having gotten up and gotten a few more drinks as the time had passed. He was feeling nice and warm, but it looked like it might have been time to go to bed for Harry at least. “C’mon, you can take my room,” he said, as he stood up and offered Harry a hand up. “Stay as long as you want, I know they’re probably going to get your dad set up at Grimmauld Place.” “I’m good,” he murmured, rubbing his hand down his face when George suggested he take the room. He took the hand up regardless because sleep did sound good right now, but he did shoot him a raised eyebrow. “I’ve shared with worse. I’m not stealing your bed, George, we can just- charm it to be bigger or something if you want. There’s no point in one of us getting a bad back when all of the beds here are queen sized anyway,” he had a point about James living at Grimmauld Place, though. “It’s getting pretty crowded there. Not that that’s a bad thing, really, with so many people like- alive,” he smiled slightly. Even if he was overwhelmed, it was good to see them all again. He bent down to grab his beer and finished the mouthful that was left, picking up his wand from where he’d taken it out of his pocket. He never really slept without it close by anymore. “Absolutely delighted to know you don’t think I’m the worst,” George teased, pushing the other man slightly in the direction of his room down the hall. “I’m just going to clean up and finish up this movie, but go ahead, get to bed. I’ll be there in a bit.” It was good seeing that while maybe not all of his problems were fixed, at least Harry was smiling about the people that were back in their lives. It was a step in the right direction and hopefully the anxiety over the rest of it would abade at some point as well. “You’re close, but I doubt you snore as bad as half the people I’ve shared a room with,” Harry had no idea if George would spare his back the pain of sleeping on the sofa but he was tired enough to not argue, tugging his hoodie off and tossing it vaguely somewhere towards the corner of the room as he flopped face-down on the bed, sighing. He ended up taking out his phone and writing a few drafts for what he could say to James - his dad, then decided it was far too much to think of and set it on the bedside table, rolling on his back to try and get some well-needed sleep. |