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cherry-pop-elf · 26 days

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Happy Birthday To We

George Weasley x Reader

It’s April 1st. The busiest day of the year, and most traumatic. You figured to steal your husband away, and have a nice little picnic. You, your son, George, and of course…. Fred

Warnings: Grief, Mourning, Talks of self harm, suicidal ideology, hurt comfort, wizarding war angst, lots of angst, dead Fred, Umbridge, hopeful ending ((because reading a story that starts sad and ends sad can be frustration. Spoliery? Kinda, but hey. Heavy topic story with an actual pay off? You deserve it))

“You gotta eat, young man-!” You tsked, but smiled. You knew he went heavy with work. Especially today of all days. April 1st. Not only the busiest day of the year, but also the day of his birthday. A birthday he was no longer able to share. So, he would try and drown himself in work. Make his mind so numb, he can’t feel anything.

“I will I will, after I-“ He tried to excuse, but you waved your wand. Having the box he was carrying quickly be sent into the shelf. He held his hands in mock defeat, as you smiled in victory. You won this round.

“Good boy! I made us a picnic basket and everything! Junior would love some fresh air with you too.” You smiled, as he couldn’t say no to that. A picnic, with his family? How could he resist? Fresh air, fresh food, and his little baby boy? You staked his heart, and he was at your mercy.

“Alright alright. Let me transfer my notes, and schedule, to Lee-“ That had you giddy. Hell yeah, you won this round. That had you proud, as you watched him go and find that good friend of his.

Meanwhile, you were quick to run to the back of the shop. Up the stairs, and into the flats above. Specifically the one where Fleur was, given Bill worked at Gringotts again. Ever since Fred passed, Bill figured being closer to family was wise. Fleur was already packing their bags, the moment he suggested the idea. A Weasley indeed.

“Thanks for baby sitting, the place gets so swamped-“ You wheezes, before you picked up your little boy from the Veela. Those beautiful ginger curls danced in his face, as he reached out for you. Little chubby fingers eager to touch your face. You happily allowed, as Fleur made sure to remind you he should eat soon.

With him safe in his sling, the picnic basket grabbed, you would wait outside of the shop. That way Junior wouldn’t get overstimulated. Was just you, and him. You playing with him, as he babbled away. Your eyes, and his hair. He was just perfect. You loved him so much, and so did George.

George was just enjoying the view. Watching you play with his son. How little Freddy was eager for your attention, and you happily gave it to him. With kisses, and tickles to his tummy. Made him gurgle and squeal so happily. Seeing all that just helped heal him. Like all that pain from the war was worth it. It wasn’t for nothing. Nothing at all.

“My family.” He sighed, as he would be by your side. The way Freddy’s eyes lit up made you want to cry. He was so happy to see his daddy. Out of his work suit, his dress shirt, and tie. Actually enjoying the fresh air on his skin. So many scars, so much ink. So much to his skin, it’s hard to tell the self inflected apart from the war torn. You knew, but you were happy to see them healed over. Finally.

Without another worrying thought, he aparated you three off. There again, to a oh so familiar place. Familiar, and painful, place. One memorized to its core, for George. Even the very ground was indented from his endless visits. The wind seemed to be aware of his presence, and blew. Cooling down the anxiety in his soul.

Across the worn down paths, with the scent of freshly laid flowers next to them. Little Freddy, ever curious, would cooe at all the pretty flowers. Laid for those who have long passed on. You wondered if this was healthy for Freddy. To be exposed to such things so young, but maybe understanding such could be helpful. You would worry about it later, now was the time to see him. See Fred.

His grave was well taken care of. George visits at least once a week, and it was quick to be realized that by the masses. That meant that not only were offerings left for Fred, but George as well. Such as something George had come to love the most.

The grave was that of the familiar W, with its star, and said star would have a little purple and orange beaded bracelet on it. A friendship bracelet, that Luna made. That way the twins could still be twinning, even beyond the grave. Never was there a day you ever saw George without his, and no storm seemed to be able to blow it off the stone. You were surprised no cruel soul tried to steal it, but then again who would want to steal from a prankster who was friends with Peeves?

“Oh, someone seems to need some tummy time.” You giggled, as Freddy was fighting to get free. George was quick to lay the blanket over the grave of Fred, and you were careful in setting Junior down. He was much happier, as he rolled around. Giggling, as he looked up at the cloudy blue sky. Fascinated by the clouds.

While George set up the picnic, and you made sure Freddy didn’t roll into someone’s grave, you have a sight. Reading over the engraving, after moving the endless presents and flowers aside.

Here lies Fredrick Fabian Weasley. Brother, Twin, Son, Friend, Inventor, Prankster, Hero. Your sacrifice promised happiness to endless. Rest In Peace. Mischief.

When the day comes, Mischief will be managed. One day. Maybe times, you thought that day was soon. As soon as Voldemort died even. Not even a chance to get off Hogwarts grounds, did George’s attempts at his life started. You hated how creative he was with it. You couldn’t understand how each one failed. Deep down, you could only imagine it was Fred. Fred, even beyond the grave, found a way to protect George. No ghost needed.

“And I thought I would be the once to space out-“ He snorted, alerting your attention. How embarrassing, but at least you had George there. Funny how he was the one to keep you grounded, right now. Suppose little Junior helps him as well. How his chubby little fingers poked at the stone.

“Ed-!” Junior spoke. “That’s right. Fred. You are named after him.” George encouraged. They say having a kid doesn’t fix all your problems. They are right, but George Weasley was never one for conventional norms. Sure solved alot of his. How he wasn’t bursting into tears was a mystery. Today was such a hard day, yet….Here he was.

“Come here, ya little bugga. You gotta eat, yeah? Ya like grapes don’t ya? Just like yer uncle Fred.” As George said that, you could see the pain in his eyes. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. One Fred for another. The wound will never truly heal, but to say you weren’t proud of how far he came? A total lie.

You would soon rest your head on George’s, and watched him feed your son. Eyes glancing to the many scars on his inner arms. Burns, self harm, battles, and of course the many faded words of Umbridge. You could hardly see the words, but knew them well. How they were forced to write different words, so that they could never be identical again.

No, you had to fight those memories. If you were thinking them, Merlin knows what George was thinking. You fought your tears, so that he knew he wasn’t alone. Seemed to be what he needed, as he leaned his head on yours. Bandaged fingers gentle in cleaning your little boys face.

“I miss him, so much. It hurts, but I guess it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. Does that make me a bad person?” That caught you off guard, as George would play with Junior. Tickling his nose, and making him squeal. As if on auto pilot. Make everyone else happy, not yourself.

You had to sit on that, for a moment, as you looked at the grave. How well taken care of it was. George made sure it stayed such, and you would safely assume others did as well. Seeing that made it clear. So, you kissed his cheek.

“No, you aren’t. If anything, it makes you a better person. We all heal differently, sweetie. What better way to honor Fred, then allowing yourself some joy. Maybe…..Maybe you’ll cast a patrnous again.” Hearing that made George wonder.

With a wand drawn, he looked it over. To his wand, you, Junior, and Fred’s grave. A thought crossed his mind, and breathed. As gentle as the wind in the air, he whispered the incantation.

It was weak, but something was there. A whisper of hope, as the light swirled around Freddy’s fingers. Utter enchainment was in those big eyes, as George’s eyes watered. Spilling down his cheeks, as he smiled. It hurt to remember those happy memories with Fred, but at the same time it felt so good.

You held George tightly, beyond words of proud, as he kissed his cheek again. He was healing, and he was living. Living, not just surviving. Oh you had to rub your eyes to fight the tears. You were so happy.

When your eyes cleared, you blinked. With George busy with Junior, you noticed something. A beautiful bird, standing on the star of the stone. Such beautiful purple hue to its black feathers. Looked so curious, as its beak poked the bracelet. When that moment passed, it looked at you both. Watching, before it flew off. Leaving behind a single feather in its wake.

“A magpie feather. Say, we could turn this into something for Freddy. Like a training quill, since it’s so small.” With your tears falling down your cheeks, you nodded at what George said. What a lovely gift for Freddy. What a wonderful Birthday present…..for Fred.

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