oo1.

[feorge]

[ video || open action ]

[The faces of the passerby's to the device's lens seem to be reflecting a range from distinct lack of interest to mild amusement to extreme confusion. They also appear to be shielding their heads from something, but from the device's position, it isn't quite clear what.

That is, until the throng clears enough for the device to get a good shot of the fountain - and what appears to be an aquatic apparition thrashing about in the center of it all. Wrapped in one of its many tendrils can be seen a man in slightly tattered clothes, though his most distinct feature is the flaming red hair that might be somewhat familiar to select residents of the City. He is also screaming and flailing against the monster theatrically.]

No! No! Somebody, stop this beast! This is no way for a man to go! No!

[As the creature lifts him to its mouth(?), he confines himself to his fate and shouts to whatever observers have stuck around to watch the events unfold.]

Tell my family - I love them!

[But it's too late for him. The monster slips him into its translucent mouth and he can be seen sliding through the watery entrails - and then sliding right back out through the stomach, depositing him just close enough to get a better view of him. His concentration broken, the monster collapses back to its original position in the fountain, thoroughly soaking the man and the other observers in the process. They look annoyed. He looks...disappointed.]

Bugger. Another flop. [He turns to the device with something of a smile, putting his abundant freckles and soft brown eyes into view.] The stomach's supposed to be more akin to jelly, see? The idea was suspension, not lubrication.

[He sighs and gets to his feet, brushing himself off despite his dripping wet state.]

All in due time. Let's go it again. Come on, Georgie.

[He addresses another, though he is quite noticeably alone, and it's only in this that his voice takes a slightly less chipper tone. All that can be seen is his back and the strange, ethereal movement of the water as he walks back over to the fountain and the device shuts off.]

[ /video ]

[ooc; Fred is officially in the City! :D He hasn't quite figured out the device yet, though he played with it for a good while beforehand because that was curious minds do! Feel free to say your character was an unfortunate observer or just happened to pass him by or whatever, really. As a side note, I'm going to be disappearing around 1pm-ish today, so tags may come slow after that, but backtagging is love and I will reply as quickly as possible! Go crazy, you silly kids! ♥]

Comments

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[Pull yourself together, Ginny. Pull yourself together now. She never hugs anyone like this, not this tightly for so long, not unless there's an underlying fear and desperation born out of less-than-wonderful reasons, not unless you think this isn't real or that something will end it before you're ready to let go again. Her brothers know her better than anyone in the world, and she has always been close to the twins - she knows Fred has rarely seen her in this state. Truth be told, no one really has. So Ginny sucks in another breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to gather herself before the cracks show any more than they already are.

It really is a testament to Gryffindor willpower when Ginny finds it in herself to laugh, loud and bright, when Fred's latest invention envelops her in a waterfall. She pulls back from her brother far enough to smack his shoulder indignantly, but that familiar Weasley twinkle is back in her eyes - though something else is flickering behind it, ignore it, it's being buried as we speak - and she's beaming at him. See how she's alright, Freddie? She's perfectly fine. There will be time to dwell later.]

Oi, just when I thought I was starting to dry off! [She tips her head back to look up at the watery creature, pleased and impressed and proud. Only her brothers would be so brilliant, and maybe she's biased, but she doesn't care at all.] Thanks, Fred. Can't say I've ever been hugged by a water troll before.

[And she looks back to him, smile and voice taking on a far more sincere and heartfelt tone.]

I reckon this is the best birthday I've had in a long while.

[She isn't talking about the fountain creature.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

['Perfectly fine' is believable for now, in lieu of her much needed laughter. Fred does not like seeing his siblings upset, but he can't quite go about making a mockery of whatever's doing the upsetting if he doesn't know what it is. He wants to know, might even need to because nothing should ever have her in such rare form, but that isn't the first step to recovery. If she's got it in her to laugh at a silly prank, then it can't be too terrible, right? Right?

No matter. Fred's all grins and laughter anyway, letting his newfound friend sway precariously to the side as he props himself up on his elbows. Even if the water monster hadn't been in the fountain with them, he'd've assumed she meant him, if only because everything is about him, naturally.]

'course it is! D'you have any idea how much trouble I went through to be here for this? Trans-dimensional time travel's no easy feat, I'll have you know.

[Because clearly he came here just for her. Even though he didn't actually come here. There can just be no other reasoning. Family sticks together, so he reaches up to pinch her cheek playfully and let her know he is here. Regardless of everything that's happened in between, he's here now, and as far as he's concerned, that's the only thing that matters.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

This is you we're talking about. I'd say it was a fair amount of trouble and well worth it, too.

[Ginny is shaking her head, a fond grin tugging at her lips, and she finally hauls herself up to her feet, dripping fountain water everywhere. She pushes her sopping wet hair out of her eyes and extends a hand to her brother, jerking her head back to the pavement, suddenly all business. After all, if she focuses on the simple and important tasks like settling him in, informing him of the City, explaining her situation (and hopefully being composed enough to explain his), she'll manage to be alright. No tears, no desperation, no panic. Just alright.]

Come on, then. Wizard or not, you can't wear those clothes and I know a place that has just your size. [The old cabin in the forest has a closet full of the twins' clothes. Merlin, that's weird.] And I promise I'll answer any questions you've got, too.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[That's a bit more like Ginny, taking care of business but not without sparing a moment to make a jab at him, and it's a damn welcome sight. He takes hold of her hand and pulls himself to his feet as the monster crashes back to the bottom of the fountain. Making a mental note to finish work on a treat to dry soaked clothes without threatening to melt the lining of your stomach, Fred shakes as much of water out of his hair as he can, not entirely unlike a dog. Grins abound, little sister, and he tucks his wand back in his pocket.]

Excellent. First things first, then. When the bloody Hell did you become so damned gorgeous? I'm not going to have to interrogate any extraterrestrial boy-toys, am I?

[Arms crossed and eyebrows wagging up and down teasingly, it's rather difficult to know if he's serious or not. Or rather, it would be if Ginny wasn't a Weasley and close enough to him to know better. Obviously this is the most pressing matter after being teleported to a strange new realm and being nearly hugged to death.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

Oh, for Merlin's sake.

[She snorts, wading through the water and clambering over the lip of the fountain before wringing out her vivid mane of hair. She's forming a decent puddle on the street but funnily enough, people aren't really giving them a second glance - mostly because people landing in the fountain seem to be a common occurrence in the City.]

I'm not dating anyone, if that's what you're so afraid of. [And Ginny arches an eyebrow at him, drawing her wand - to dry herself, naturally, but it might look like she's considering hexing her brother for his comment, too.] And I thought I've always been gorgeous, thank you very much. What a thing to say to your favourite sister.

[Fact is, she doesn't know how he's going to react when she tells him she's three years older than he remembers. To be honest, she's a little worried about it. She knows she was fairly distressed by arriving here a couple years back and finding Ron older than he was meant to be. He'd only been here two years... and, Merlin, it looked like she was going to be here for three if her bad luck held out. But she might like to stay a bit longer now that she can have extra time with her brother.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Fred doesn't even bother with drying his battle-torn clothes, merely slips his hands casually into his jacket. It's not as though having wet clothes is going to make him any colder, right? So he watches her instead, that ever constant state of aloofness about him, though he is watching that wand out of the corner of his eye. Merlin knows he'd rather stay in the fountain for the rest of eternity than face one of her hexes.]

Well, that goes without saying. Look who you're sharing genes with; I'm gorgeous as they come. But you were always the innocent, adorable sort of gorgeous. Now you've gone and made yourself all grown up and fancy.

[The words, they aren't making too much sense at the moment. Mostly because he's not even sure what he's trying to say - how d'you put your little sister's unexpected maturity into words without sounding mad? - but also because he's not sure there's any sort of explanation that won't be just as crazy. He's not even sure he really wants one. Following her out of the water, Fred kicks the water from his shoes.]

Ah, well. S'long as I haven't got to beat off a throng of waffling young men fainting in your wake, I suppose all's well.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

I can beat them off myself, you know. I'm not entirely helpless.

[Ginny ducks her head to busy herself with drying off her clothes, wand sweeping with a casual sort of elegance from head to toe, and she doesn't even give it a moment's thought when she points it at her brother and dries his off too. Lazy arse. But beneath this façade of witty, smiling sister is a grimacing, flinching one - especially when he asks so pointedly about her age. Perhaps not in so many words, but she can hear the subtext in her brother's tone and she's usually quite good at reading between the lines when it comes to family.

Damn it. She had hoped she didn't look too different, but three years is a long enough time, and when she looks up at him, she actually looks apologetic without meaning to. She didn't expect to feel guilty. Anxious, yes, but not guilty. Sorry I grew up without you, Fred. Sorry I moved on. Sorry I'm not your baby sister anymore. No, she can't say that. She rolls her eyes, grinning still, even as all this debate is going on behind her eyes, and she reaches out to tug him along by his shirtsleeve so they can find a place to Disapparate from. No Muggle tag-alongs, please.]

And I didn't make myself anything. This is what happens when you get older, Fred. You start to get wrinkles and next thing you know, we'll all be as ancient as Bill and have a sudden urge to wrestle with enchanted mummified cats.

[Deflect with humour. It's something she learned from the twins and she is trying her hardest to be as good as they are at it. There was truth in her words, too, she did admit to being older but... no, they can have that conversation in private, can't they?]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Subtle though it may have been, she does answer his question and affirm that odd fretting in the back of his mind. None of it's outward, naturally; in fact, he makes a proper show of Ginny's drying him, as though he's bathing in the sunlight and enjoying a good breeze. Top marks in the deflection course, Gin, but Fred's busting himself with some comical 'ooh's and 'ahh's as he listens to her speak and contemplates how to respond.

Guilty was not what he wanted from her. Bloody Hell, he can't ever remember a time he'd seen her look so stricken when it wasn't entirely uncalled for or a stretch on someone else's behalf. And that's what it'll be, he ultimately decides even before hearing any sort of explanation. Someone else's fault, same as his being dragged here, and that's what'll make this all easier to bear. He doesn't want to think she's gone and left him, especially now when she's right here, tugging him along as though they're back at the Burrow, seven and three years old and discover her first gnome.

She's still his baby sister. Still ickle Ginny. There's nothing to worry about.]

Don't worry, love. The moment you start going the way of Bill in his old age, I'll be sure to give you a firm kick in the arse, or at least a Canary Cream in your afters.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

Sneak me a Canary Cream and I'll give your bogies bat wings, Freddie. And I mean that in the most loving way possible.

[This she calls over her shoulder with a laugh framing the words, mask firmly back in place until she can organise her thoughts. Thank Merlin her brother has enough tact to not go chasing after her bizarre behaviour; she knows Hermione wouldn't let it alone if she saw her like this (God, Hermione, she doesn't even know where the other witch has disappeared to and it's worrying her sick), and it would be out of concern, but Ginny can't deal with that so immediately. She needs time. She's getting it.

Ginny heaves a theatrical, long-suffering sigh and winds an arm around her brother in a sort of sideways hug, and acts like it pains her to do so.]

We're going to Apparate, now. [Never mind that she had no idea how when she was sixteen.] Don't get offended by being Side-Alonged by your sister, alright? I don't want you getting Splinched trying to get to someplace Unplottable when you just got here.

[On the count of three.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Time's all Fred's got now, and he's in no real hurry to spend it all. Hell, he was in no hurry even in his living hours. There's no prying to be had, no pressing the point of something that could very well end up breaking the both of them. All good things come with time. And they will be good.

Eying her side ways as she hugs him, he rolls them back away and noticeably deflates a little, groaning as he speaks.]

Oh, bullocks. George'll never let me hear the end of this.

[Not that he's here to take advantage of the moment anyway, a thought that hits him rather hard yet again before he reluctantly wraps an arm about her in return. No sense in fighting it; this is her turf. He'll follow her lead as long as he has to.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[George.

In the few seconds until Disapparating, Ginny slants her gaze to her brother and a sharp pang lances through her heart. She'd noticed almost immediately that Fred was without his twin, and she didn't want to bring it up. Obviously it wasn't something to be talked about right away - if ever - because the bond between the twins is something Ginny can never truly understand. She can't replace George, and she'd never try to, but she'll be there for Fred as best she can, as long as she can. That's what siblings are for.

Ginny doesn't reply. Instead, she taps a silent count with her fingers on Fred's arm, twists them around, and after a distinctly uncomfortable few seconds being twisted through space, the Weasley siblings are standing on a gravel path in front of a modest cabin in the forest. A small greenhouse is barely visible around the building, and there's a small clearing off into the trees with a practice dummy for spells. When Ginny reaches out to the door of the cabin and pushes it open, it's clear the place hasn't truly been lived in for a while. It's too neat and tidy. But... ]

Well, home sweet home. If that's what you want it to be, anyway. It hasn't exactly been a home for about a year.

[She steps past the threshold, still trying to go through this outline she's set up for herself. Settle him in. Explain things. Go, go, go.]

Have a seat and I'll go fetch you those clothes, hm? There's biscuits in the cupboard—left one, the right's got potions things—if you're hungry.

[She's channeling their mother, isn't she?]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Fred hadn't meant to say it. As much as everything else about the two, it's just second nature to speak of George as though he's right there with them. He's meant to be, should be, and his absence is more symbolic and meaningful than Fred is at all comfortable with. But he can't let that show, won't, and his grip around her only minorly tightens as they begin to Disapparate. Whether George is here or not, he's got family. He's got Ginny, and that's loads more than he's realistically supposed to have. He can pine over his missing half until this world's Sun explodes - he'll be clinging to his sister and the time they have together all the while. Because that's what family does. It doesn't make sense how or why, may never make sense, but Fred'll stick to it without question.

The cabin, on the otherhand, is a wonder beyond words. He releases his grip on Ginny the moment he sees it, as though he needs his entire being in order to comprehend. His first thought is that it's beautiful, not entirely unlike Hogwarts and its surrounding forests and wildlife. His second is that it's strange, peculiar to have a house out here that's set up and ready - which leads to his third thought just as Ginny says the word herself. Fred hears her, and he knows the word, recognizes the word, but it doesn't quite connect until he notices some distinct parallels. Away from the city, out of view from Muggles, quite unlike a house but cozy in all the ways one should be.

Home. It's just like the Burrow.

Ginny's next words hardly register with him, and he has to blink himself back to reality.]

Hm? Oh, right, yes. Brilliant.

[Clothes. Why are there clothes here for him? No matter, it's hardly as important as observing the cabin at the moment, so he takes the first seat he can find in the place and continues to look around. It's clean - but too clean; the sort Mum'd trade her wand for in their unmanageable chaos of a home. And there's that word again, in relation to this place. This unfamiliar place with all the traces of its former inhabitants, traces of people he knows - traces of the things he will never see again outside these walls. 

That thought pangs particularly strongly deep within him, and Fred unwittingly finds himself filled with the notion that he can't leave this place. He doesn't want to leave, and not just the cabin but the City as a whole. There are no regrets, there is no bitterness, nothing of the sort in light of his death. He accepts that, he was ready for that. Fred was willing to give everything for the War - but that doesn't mean he didn't want those things. It's not like he didn't want to celebrate what he knows to be an assured victory with his family, or to help restart the world the way it is meant to be. Or to watch Ginny grow up into a beautiful woman, to see his git of a little brother finally get together with Hermione, or to grow old with George forever at his side--.

Fred lifts a hand to his mouth, determined to keep it together despite a warmness spreading across his face, clouding his view with a thick gloss. This is it for him. This cabin. This place, here, now, with Ginny. He lost that future, and is trapped in present while surrounded by his past. He's come home.]

Think these biscuits have run a bit foul, Gin.

[He calls through the tightening of his throat as he moves to rub at his eyes, the tin left untouched and undiscovered in the kitchen.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

Sorry! Haven't done groceries in a while for this place. Want to start the tea instead?

[This she calls across the cabin from the twins' old bedroom, where she's busy staring into the contents of the neatly-organised boxes she'd packed herself. She had packed these up so long ago, hadn't expected them to leave the box again, but here she was and as she was pulling a fresh shirt and jeans free, she finds herself wanting to cry. The sensation sweeps out of nowhere, blindsiding her and she has to pause to gather her emotions, to compose herself.

It's so bloody hard.

Fred is here. Fred is here, with her, as alive as she remembers - until she hugs him and can feel the lack of a heartbeat. Ginny thought she had accepted this long ago, but the wound felt as raw and fresh as the day he had first arrived in the City, happily announcing his death for anyone who might happen to hear. For her to hear, for Ron, for everyone else from their world. And George had followed and he never talked about how it made him feel, she never knew -

Pull yourself together, Ginny Weasley.]

Hey, Fred? D'you reckon these'll fit? [She says this as she walks down the hall, voice thick around the edges but ignoring it and hoping Fred does too. Ginny stops to just look at him, really look, and she can't help but break into a quiet smile.] Or did you want explanations first? I'm sorry. I know I'm being terribly mysterious.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Tea is good. Tea is easy, safe from thoughts he doesn't want to linger on, so Fred coughs a little to clear his throat and gets to his feet, venturing to the kitchen. It's simple and mundane, finding the kettle and filling it with water, which makes it perfect for a distraction. Once it's set and boiling, Fred leans against the counter and folds his arms across his chest, eyes beginning to wander again.

Ginny said it hadn't been "home" for nearly a year, but it was still almost immaculate, which leads him to believe she's been keeping it clean just for the sake of it. He sniggers at the thought. Mum should only be so lucky to get this sort of upkeep in the Burrow. And maybe that's part of what makes it different. Rather than being home, where he wants to be but never will be, they have this cabin, and it's theirs. Something to make their own, and he'll just have to make the most of it.

Without George, or Ron, or Mum and Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy. Bloody Hell, they'd just started to be a whole family again. Just the luck of the draw, apparently, and Fred shakes his head with a heavy sigh just before Ginny comes back down the hallway - sounding in much the same state he is. Stuck in a proper flap, conflicted between relief, misery and just all about confusion. He grins a bit.]

No need to apologise, that'd ruin the excitement of it all.

[Playful and excitable, Ginny. The way he always is, as though looking at the world through Omnioculars at that World Cup match years ago. It's but a game full of players - win or lose, the playing's the important part. The uncertainty, the thrill of it all, the fun. Fred's playing, he's always playing, and death doesn't change that. He still aims to win.]

Reckon those'll do just fine, little sister.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

They should do fine. They're yours, after all.

[Yours. Not George's, not Ron's not anyone else's but his. Ginny had been careful to Summon Fred's clothes when she was packing up everything in the cabin, putting them in a box and then George's in another. The same with Ron's, the same with Hermione's, and Harry's too. Luna, Cedric, Cho. Lupin and Sirius. Lily's, too, though she had never known her. It had been depressing work, but she did it with the hope that people would return one day and they'd need their things when they did. And if Fred asks after any of this, she'll answer with as much honesty as she can, without worrying him too much. The last thing she wants is for him to know just how hard it's been.

But she won't lie to him on how long it's been, either. She knows her brother is dead, but he isn't blind. She looks different and she didn't realise it until she saw that difference reflected in Fred's expression. He'd missed three years of her life. Was she even the same person he knew, anymore? She didn't want to think of that.

Ginny brushes past him to get to the cupboards, pulling down two mugs and the tin of tea. She snags two spoons and the jar of sugar, checks the spell-chilled cupboard for milk. It's simple work, she moves through the kitchen with an ease not unlike their mother, and she hops up onto the counter to sit while the water boil so she can look at Fred and smile.]

So, what, no questions? Never took you for the type to just sit back and accept things, unless the Hat put you in the wrong House?

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

['Yours,' and that earlier thought returns as he sets about peeling off his jacket and shirt. Fred gets that he's been here before, it's evident from the way the cabin's set and Ginny's acting as though this is all natural and normal. But he doesn't remember any of it, and that's the unsettling part. Memories are fickle things and easily tampered with, but the idea that you haven't got control over your own? It's more than a bit unsettling.

But more than that, it's the realization that even if he can't recall, Ginny can. Merlin knows how long she's been here, and while he's free to forget that time in between, she's been left to remember all of it, and he doesn't even know how much of it she's privy to. She knows he's dead, that much he can tell, but does she know how? Why? What any of it even means? His eyes absent-mindedly wander down to where he lazily cast aside his old clothes, still tattered and dirtied from the fight despite his playing about the water. The evidence is all there - does she recognize it, and just hasn't said anything?

Once the shirt's on properly, Fred watches his sister mull about the kitchen, every bit the Ginny he knows but still impossibly different, like there's an added step in her gait that he doesn't understand, doesn't recognize, and the difference in age becomes all too noticeable. Just how much time has he lost, exactly? But then she smiles, and it's so very familiar, he has to smile back and shake his head in amusement.]

Can't a man get decent before starting about an inquisition?

[Questions abound, enough to fill a few OWLs, essays and all. But not entirely about the City - Fred did his digging before causing a scene in the fountain. He tinkered with the device, took in the surroundings, found his lack of pulse. Inquisitive nature in any circumstance, he wanted to gain some sort of footing before deciding on a course of action. He can't just outright rely on others to show him the way, he's got to have some sort of hand of his own. The questions he has now all pertain to home, or the family, or things that no one can really explain.

And in the end, every one of them leads back to Ginny. To her, this place, and all of that time lost. So as Fred leans back against the counter, contemplating where to start first, only one question really comes to mind. Quietly, with his head lowered and arms folded, it just sort of...slips out.]

Are you all right?

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[Are you alright? The seemingly innocent inquiry makes her pause, sets her heart pounding a little harder even as she goes a bit cold at the tips of her fingers and in the pit of her stomach. Has she really been that transparent? Half of her is appalled that Fred picked up on her unsteadiness so immediately, but the other half isn't surprised at all; she was damn near tears when she saw him in the fountain, and even if she didn't say anything, her expression and her fierce embraces were enough. It's obvious she knows Fred's fate, and she does know the how and why of it all, but accepting it is another story entirely. To have lost family in a battle she hasn't even fought, to be unable to change the future from where she stands in this City? It's a cruel addition to the cage the deities have built of this place.

Ginny draws in a breath, steels herself for the easy lie as she meets her brother's eyes, and says, ]

Yeah, of course I am.

[But it falls flat. It falls so flat and she can hear it and she knows he can too. Ginny swallows roughly past the sudden lump in her throat and averts her gaze, hands curling into the edge of the countertop, and she's silent for a long moment... and then sighs, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. She'd want the truth, if things were reversed. She'd want her family to trust her enough to hear it, no filters, no sugar-coating.]

Actually, that's... to be honest, I'm not. [She brings up a hand to wipe over her face, laughing, though the sound is half-hearted.] It's... I mean, this is all a bit mad. It's been ages since I've seen family, Fred, and even longer since I've seen home.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Fred watches her closely as she steels herself against the question. The slight fidgeting, the almost unnoticeable shift in demeanor - he wouldn't have caught on if it weren't the sort of thing you'd find in every Weasley (save for maybe the more emotional Ronniekins). He doesn't pay mind to the fact that it's the last thing George said to him before the battle began, or that may well be a question worth avoiding for the rest of days. The only thing that matters is her answer.

And it's just as expected. Not quite broken but far from solid. 'Of course I am,' but when was the last time that was actually true? Fred shifts his weight a little when she sighs, moving his hands to grip the counter tightly under the guise of bracing himself in this new position. It's not out of sudden grief or anger or anything like that, mostly just as something to keep him grounded as he listens with a calm gaze. He can't let the world slip out from beneath his feet if he's got to make sure Ginny's okay. He tries for a sympathetic smile.]

Yeah, imagine that oughta be a bit strange. [For lack of a better word that isn't 'depressing'.] You said 'ages'. Will you be getting wrinkles soon, then?

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[It makes her stomach twist, seeing Fred with less than his usual troublemaking grin, and knowing that she's the cause of it - even a little. This shouldn't be how things are. This shouldn't be how their reunion goes, with serious questions and answers heavy with grim truth. It should be as it was in the fountain and it should carry over to everything else, they should be laughing over tea and stale biscuits, not letting their pasts weigh on their shoulders until the smiles are crushed out of them. Ginny should be telling him of her adventures in the City, of how she's working at a bar and giving people flying lessons; not wondering if she should say anything about the attempts on her life or the years grown apart from home and family. She wonders if Fred is thinking about the war, the battle, if he thinks she has the truth of it or if she's even lived it.

But as Ginny looks at her brother, her heart squeezes tight in her chest, and she sighs in turn. He's asked how long. She won't lie. She can't do that to him. So the not-so-youngest Weasley meets Fred's gaze and murmurs her answer, soft and almost apologetic.]

I don't know. Was Bill nineteen years old when we started calling him ancient? [She braces himself for his response, even as she adds,] I've been here for three years. The last time I was home was... it was the day we left The Burrow for Muriel's.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Fred doesn't like the tension anymore than you, Ginny. He's not used to these serious moments of calmed voices and grim eyes. Even in meetings for the Order, there was excitement and he could drop a joke or two to have even Kingsley chuckling. Even in those late nights when Fred and George would talk deep into the ticking of the clock, they could poke fun at each others' worries and fall asleep feeling dandy. But this is entirely different from either of those scenarios in that this isn't home, where things make sense and there's always a solution if you look hard enough. All Fred's got here are wild speculations and assumptions as he struggles to keep up with everything going on around him. He'd assumed there'd been some time between the Ginny he saw earlier tonight and the Ginny before him now; it being her birthday all of a sudden told him that much.

But three years? Nineteen? That isn't something he could've guessed in all his wildest dreams. How the bloody Hell is that even possible? That's not even the troubling part, the bit that has Fred gripping the counter too hard, knuckles whitening as he looks for words.]

...Blimey.

[He really had missed her growing up, but not properly. Not the way she was meant to, but in some sort of dimensional time pocket that has her somehow months behind him but years ahead, and absolutely nothing about this ruddy place makes sense. The only thing he can think of, the one thought that is painfully clear despite everything else clouding around it - Fred really did miss Ginny growing up. He missed her coming of age, he missed the years that shaped her into the woman she is now. And at the same time, she's still that teen from he's gone and left behind back home. 'Muriel's, which means she hasn't lived the battle yet, hasn't seen the war in its prime and the destruction that's come of it. Destruction of the castle, its grounds, but more than that, its people. Families, friends, that bloody wall coming apart--.

Turning his back to her to rest his arms flat on the counter, hands balling in and out of fists, Fred hangs his head and just breaths. He tries to calm himself, because there are not enough explanations and too many questions and all of it's happening at once, leaving the Gryffindor inside him frustrated and annoyed, the Weasley inside of him hurt and confused - and his own, personal anger just boiling over as time goes on. Not at Ginny, gods, not at her, but at this place and the circumstances and the fact he's got no control over it whatsoever, and isn't that the most difficult part? It's out of his hands. It is what it is, and he can't change that. Can't take back his absence or his death, or the years Ginny's gone without them. It's seeming more and more like he can't do a damn thing.

He slams his right fist down on the counter in the only outburst he'll allow himself before resting his forehead in his hands and exhaling slowly. This is ridiculous, impossible, and he doesn't know what to do. What is he supposes to do?]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

No, it's—Fred, it'll be three in December, it's only been...

[Two and a half. Like that will make it any better. Too late. Ginny wishes she could take back the words the moment she's said them. The sudden deflation in her brother, the surge of anger, knowing for certain now that it was what she said that did it - the regret tears through her stomach and claws up her throat, snatching desperately at the words in the air, but it's too late. Still, she tries to salvage the situation as best she can, slipping off the countertop and crossing the kitchen so she can rest a hand on her brother's shoulder, squeezing it with a firm reassurance even as she ducks her head around to try and meet his eyes again.

Her expression is earnest and apologetic. It says I'm so sorry and please trust me all wrapped up in I'm still me and I love you. Her voice is a low, but fierce whisper, willing the words to make it through the emotional wall they were so good at hiding but all knew was there. Weasleys. Their strength and their weakness is the absolute love and loyalty they have for each other.]

Hey. Hey. [She gives his shoulder a little jostle.] Fred, listen to me. I know what you're bloody thinking, so don't. It's not your fault, any of it, me being here or you not being here, and Merlin knows I'd feel the same way if it was the other way around but don't you dare. If you want anyone to blame, it's the City and its deities, but I've never hated any of you lot for leaving me behind here. Why should I? We're all meant to be home, and if some of you lot got there faster than me, then... fine. That's— [She's losing steam.] It's fine.

[She drags in a breath and it catches on the tightness in her throat, so she shakes her head and gives her brother as tight a hug as she can manage with him standing at the counter like he is. Tall. They're all so much taller than her, she'll never be as tall even as time passes, but this is a constant to them. Her voice gives the tiniest of hitches when she next speaks, and she's suddenly grateful he isn't looking at her for this next quiet admission.]

But if being here means I can be with you for a little while longer, then I don't give a damn how long I'm stuck.

[And there's Fred's answer to his unspoken question. His little sister does know what happens in the end.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[Lost in his incomprehensible clutter of thoughts, Fred barely registers when Ginny comes up beside him. He's got too much to dwell on, too much to sort through, but then she's there, and it's really her. Not an illusion of his sister or some unknown entity claiming her name, but Ginny and that look in her eyes is damn near heart breaking. He wants to look away, to shut his eyes from that hand, her words, the ever nearing emotional wall that they are so loathe to touch, to even acknowledge - but then she's hugging him again, and it's not the same as in the fountain or just before coming here. It's different. Awkward and one sided, yet so much more powerful and then her words hit home and it's a good thing she's holding him because he otherwise would've been floored.

She knows.

She knows, has known this whole time and dammit, that changes everything. There are the physical clues, sure, but he doesn't need to be told that isn't all there is behind such a simple sentiment. Someone's gone and told her that he gets offed, blown away in a fairly literal sense, and she's had to carry that knowledge with her this entire time. He can't decide which is worse: having to cope with the sudden death of your sibling or having said dead sibling drop into your lap for an unknown amount of time? What could be going through the mind of this older-yet-still-too-young girl as she clings to him, hiding her face almost as though hiding from this unspoken acknowledgment? Fred doesn't like it, any of it - and he closes his eyes for just a moment to think.

Hadn't he said the same thing to Claire? That having Ginny with him is Heaven enough for him? This time together is borrowed time, time the "deities" have given them, isn't that all that matters now? He can't think on the fact that she'll enjoy his lovely presence for who knows how long, only to one day go home and lose him all over again - likely for good. He has to focus on the arms around him, the warmth from the young woman that is and always will be his sister, holding him together when he'd much like to fall apart. This is all that's important. With a bit of awkward difficulty, he pulls one arm free to wrap around her and - very rare, such pure unabated affection - kisses her forehead.

'Don't feel guilty. Don't be sad. We're fine. We're together.']

You'll be sick of me soon enough. 

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

[She hopes he will never ask why or how she knows. She hopes he doesn't want to ask it because she is a good liar, but she cannot lie to her brother about his own death. She doesn't want to tell him that he was the one who told her, he was the one who dropped into the City and announced his arrival and his death all in one breath for the whole network to hear. She doesn't want him to know that she wasn't the only one who heard it, but Ron too, and they had to hide their grief from their brother behind locked doors because they didn't want to make it worse. She's known nearly as long as she's been in the City. It's something she's carried with her for two years and it was bad enough, worrying that one day she might return home and finally live that tragedy so it would be real in both worlds for her - but curses made her revisit the fears, too.

Walking through a nightmarish joke shop, hearing her brother's voice calling out to her, finding an Inferi wearing his face—

Ginny squeezes her eyes shut at the kiss to her forehead, something that none of her brothers ever did after she grew up, something that was too sweet, and personal, and vulnerable—and Fred just did it, because words aren't enough for this, and Merlin's beard, she swore she wouldn't cry because she's known for ages but this is so much worse than the first time. She draws in a quick, silent breath, holds it, lets it out, tightens her hug around her brother.]

Too bloody right I will be.

[Her words are the opposite of their meaning, but this is how she speaks to her brothers sometimes, and this is how they speak to her. And today, the meaning is simple and clear: never. What she's thinking is still tightly bottled up. She'll never be sick of you, Fred Weasley, so how could you leave her and the rest of the family behind? How could you?

Ginny disentangles herself from Fred when the kettle's whistle cuts through the air, and the moment is broken as she quickly scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clears her throat, goes about making that long-forgotten tea. Her cheeks might be a little flushed and her eyes might be a little too bright, but she's holding it together as best she can.]

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[feorge]

[He doesn't want to know. No, that's not true. He wants to know everything, down to the last bloody detail. But not now. Not here. He can joke about his death and talk about it like it's nothing more than the day's weather, but only with strangers and faceless voices behind some enchanted device. But here, with family? It's too soon, even for him. He can't talk about Serious Things when it's all too fresh in his mind. It can be saved for when he's not around Ginny or things that can be broken in his frustration and confusion. There are so many questions, so much he needs to know but he's not sure he has the words for it. He's barely got the words for anything, can only hope the small tokens of affection are enough because words are failing him.

It almost feels as though the whole world is failing him. Or maybe he's failing it.

When she moves to tend to the tea, Fred stays with his back to her for a moment to compose himself. He shouldn't be this brash and emotional, but at the same time, he shouldn't be alive to feel any of it at all. This should be a happy moment. This needs to be a happy moment. He swallows down the lump in his throat and goes back to leaning against the counter as though their brief emotional interlude never took place.]

"The City"'s a rather terrible name, if you ask me. I almost feel as though I should be filing a complaint.

he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

You're welcome to try, but the deities are never in their office, apparently.

[The words come out a little too forcibly calm, and Ginny huffs out an irritated breath at herself, hand coming up to wipe at her eyes again. Bloody hell, she needs to get a hold of herself. She can tell that Fred's trying to brush off the past few minutes and she should try too, but her hands have the faintest tremble to them as they fix up the tea and for a moment, she forgets how Fred takes his because it's been so long and she goes still for a moment in trying to remember. No way is she asking. She's his sister, she's family, she should know.

What is... alright, no, it's fine, she's got this. Milk, sugar, tea, mugs, don't forget to charm the mug nice and warm, now. Ginny hands Fred his tea, a little frazzled, but she's smiling again as she holds on to her own drink. She is smiling, damn it.]

But do me a favour and don't hack off the deities, alright? I know, I know, this coming from me, but I've only just gotten you back and I'd rather not have to worry for a few more days yet.