onlyholey | 1 Mischief Managed

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1 Mischief Managed - [Video]

[The camera opens on the video feed. Not much can be seen, as what appears to be a hand is covering most of the camera. There is a THUNK as the device is thrown onto a hard surface and skids slightly until it settles, setting up a clear view of the edge of the fountain. A young man is standing waist-deep in water, drenched to the skin. He pushes his fiery red hair out of his eyes, and peers towards the device with what may be an extremely familiar freckled face.]

Look, if someone’s trying to make a point here, I have bathed today.

[He’s seemed to have worked out that the device is broadcasting, and is nonplussed by it. He hoists himself out of the water and sits of the edge, trying to shakes the water out of his sleeves.]

And Ron, if this is another one of your misguided attempts to ‘cheer me up’, I must say that you’ve reached a bit of an all-time low. Dropping me into a fountain, really? Absolutely no finesse at all. In fact I’m considering disowning you on the spot. And I have water up my ear-hole.

[He tilts his head over and gives it a smack to try and dislodge the water. Wear his left ear should be, there is simply a dark hole in the side of his head.]

If the water seeps into my brain I am holding you personally responsible. I don’t need to be brain-damaged on top of being horribly disfigured.

[He hops to his feet and scoops up the device, holding it level with his face as he turns around, surveying his surroundings.]

Now. Where in bleeding hell am I?

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Fred...

[He can feel his brother starting to shake against him. He clings onto the back of Fred's shirt, bunching the fabric so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if he breaks it. There are tears welling in the corners of his eyes and he wipes at them hastily, a strong back-hand across his face.

He notices how cool Fred is against him, how his own heart is hammering up a storm all on its own. But at the same time, Fred is solid and real against him. It's more than he could even hope for. All of those nights falling asleep alone in their empty flat, praying for even a wisp of his brother to show up again. Just to hear his voice. And now... a mixture between a laugh and a sob comes out of him before he can stop it.]

Maybe you should've.

[Oi, none of that now. What a mangled imitation of a laugh, Fred's taught you better. But he does smile, just the faintest bit, before shaking his head against George. He won't lift his head; he refuses to be seen like this, falling apart when he's finally whole again. The roughness in his voice and weak tone might give it away anyway, but he's trying. Merlin's beard, is he trying.]

Couldn't've had all that genuis horded in one place, the rest of our lot would've been utterly hopeless.

[Overstating their worth, as per usual, but there's some truth to it as well. Much as Fred may carry a certain weight with him, he still has no illusions or regrets over his death. He resents what it's done to his family, his loved ones, but he knows its purpose, it's importance. They weren't there on just another of Hogwarts' unusual lessons; they had a mission, and it called for the one thing Fred is so very loathe to do: split up from his twin. An unfair sacrifice, an unfair price, but it had to be done.

But he's already dead now. Fred's not letting go of George again, for anything.]

[George still has his hand in a fierce grip on the back of Fred's shirt, and doesn't quite feel like letting go yet. He keeps needing to remind himself that this is real, and happening.

Something selfish flares hot in his throat, nearly choking him once again. It was all very well and good for Fred to make a heroic sacrifice. To go down fighting. It was over for him. George just -

He kept going.

Merlin, Fred had no idea. How pointless everything was now with him gone. The shop, their friends, even their family... why should he care about any of it on his own? There was no one to share it with anymore.

He can't stop the tears from starting now. It's been so long since he's cried about anything. The back of his hand goes across his eyes again and he clears his throat.]

I, uh... I haven't really known what to do with myself since you've been gone, Fred.

[And then, just for good measure.]

Prat.

[Snorting at the heart warming addition, Fred finally sits back up to face his brother. His eyes are beyond bleary, red as their hair and cheeks blotchy as ever, but Hell if he'll ever admit he was crying. There was an irritant on George's clothes, certainly. It's not from the mutual clinging or the emotional trauma they've subjected themselves to. Or that hearing of his brother's loss of direction does awful cruel things to the way Fred's heart wants so desperately to beat again. Or even that there's still that joking air between them, despite everything that's happened and everything that's still to come. Fred won't admit he's cried.

And the denial knows no bounds.

He knocks George lightly across the chin with his knuckles before clambering to his frets.]

That's because you're bloody useless without me. [He offers a hand to help pull George up.] Reckon that means I've still got a few tricks to teach you before--.

['Before you leave this place - and me - behind.' No, Fred can't let George know that. Can't let on that he'll never be going home or that this is it for him. That George could be taken back at any moment while Fred's forever trapped here. He can't--.]

--before you run our good looks and good fortune into the group.

[He'll forgive your 'clearly not crying' appearance if you forgive him his, bro.

He takes the offered hand and is clambering to his feet. He doesn't really want to let go of Fred yet. The longer he can feel him the more real this whole place gets for him. So he compromises with a hand on his shoulder.

He looks up and locks eyes with Fred's during the pause. Talking has never been his strong suit, especially next to Fred. So he tries to pour everything into that look that he desperately wants to say aloud.

I'm not going anywhere.

Then he smiles.]

Really? 'Cause I always reckoned you were doing a fine of that on your own.

[Seems to be a lot of that going around lately. The knowing glances and the lingering touches. The Weasleys have never been good at expressing their emotions verbally, or without physical expression turning into the row they had just a few moments ago. There's so much, so much, that Fred wants to say - but George's look says all of it and he honestly can't stand it. Two halves of a whole, and they've always been appalling good at reading each other. There's no understanding another better, and George understands. He knows, with nothing more than a glance and a jab.

Fred laughs, but he kind of feels like he might cry. What a bunch of girls.]

D'you knock a few screws loose in that holey head of yours when you fell in the fountain, you berk?

It might explain some things, if I had. Although you still seem too real for me to be hallucinating.

[He laughs as he says it. George still isn't certain what this is. Hallucination, or dream, or if everyone really is telling him the truth and this is some sort of parallel dimension where Fred is, if not alive, certainly well and HERE.

Whatever it is, he hopes he's staying here for a good long while.

His hand is still on Fred's shoulder, and he uses it to pull his twin towards him and hugs him. Properly this time. It feels like it's been years.]

Can't all be having the same fever dream, mate.

[The hug smarts a bit, his back's going to bruised and Georgie's going to have Hell to pay for that one later, but there is hugging happening and Fred can't be assed to care right now. He all but squeezes the man, going right back to his former clinging as he keeps his brother close and assures himself, reminds himself that this is actually happening. There's more than enough pain to prove it, both physical and emotional, but he needs this embrace more than that. More than anything, really, because they'd barely had a chance for it before the battle began. Before he was--.

Fred pulls him in even tighter, clapping his back once or twice just to get a better grip on his shirt. Those are definitely balled fists against your back, George. He's not letting go just yet.]

You're probably right about that. Best not to fight it.

[He breathes into the hug - holding tightly for a long as he can. He feels how strong Fred's grip is on him, and he's not in any rush yet to break it just yet. When he thinks their ready he pulls back, sniffing slightly. But only 'cause he got water up his nose.]

How long have you been here, then?

[There's only the slightest hesitation when George starts to pull away before Fred claps a hand to his brother's arm and shoves his hands back into his pockets. No more shaking, no more uncertainty. He's here. George is here, and everything's okay. They're okay.]

Bit over two weeks. Got here on Ginny's birthday, if you'll believe it. I'm officially the best birthday present known to mankind.

[Boastful? Yes. Yes he is.]

[George finds he's ready to let go as well. Fred really is here to stay after all.]

You lasted two whole weeks without me? I'm impressed.

[There are so many jokes he could say. "It was quieter," "I finally had a room to myself," or any variation thereof, and they are all the immediate thoughts to come to Fred in response. But this moment means so much more than that, and in a rare show, he can't say it.]

Wouldn't quite say that, mate.

[He tries for a smirk of sorts, but it rings loudly with how much he has missed George.]

[The rare moment of honesty doesn't go unnoticed. George catches his eyes and smiles back, genuinely this time. He knows what Fred must have gone through without him. Merlin, does he know. And he hopes that Fred understands, too. His hand goes back to Fred's shoulder without even thinking about it.]

I reckon I know what you mean.

[Now after that touching moment... George reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and pulls out a silver flask, a much nicer version of the one Mad-Eye used to carry around. He takes a long pull from it before wordlessly handing it off to his brother.]

[He understands. More than that, it's the thought that's always at the back of his mind, the thought that keeps him up at night and leaves him irritated because he doesn't know how to grieve. Or maybe he just won't let himself.

Taking the flask curiously, Fred gives it a whiff before considering it, then blinks and pulls it away with an incredulous - and highly amused - grin.]

Bloody Hell, Georgie. Trying to give Mundungus a run for his money?

[It's simple enough to understand its purpose, but that doesn't mean he can't tease him for it. He takes his own pull, not quite as deep as his brother's, then hands it back with a satisfied sigh.]

Shut up, prat.

[Witty as usual, of course. But large chunks of George's brain are still alternating between panicking or throwing a party, so he thinks he can be forgiven.]

[He'll be forgiven this time around only. After this, though, Fred retains all teasing rights.]

Right, then. Let's get you decent. Shall we head home?

[Ah, he hadn't meant to--. Home isn't--. Fred's really grown on the cabin and it's home for him because he's got nowhere else to call it anymore. But it's not George's; it's hardly even Ginny's. It's theirs, but not--. He keeps a playful smile on but eyes his brother almost warily to measure his reaction. He's not sure what to expect.]

Alright then.

[He notices the hesitation after Fred's words, and glances over at him curiously. He figured Fred must have somewhere to live here, so that where his brain had gone automatically. Besides, he always reckoned that home is just where ever they end up together.]

[George doesn't seem upset, or hardly even startled, which sends an unfamiliar sort of warmth through his chest. Home for Fred is with George, and it's a heavy breath of relief to see it's still the same in reverse. He grins a little wider now.]

The cabin's Unplottable, which means you get the privilege of being Side-Along escorted by yours truly.

[No mentioning the fact he had to Side-Along with Ginny to get there. He'll just loop his arm through George's very proper-like.]

Blimey, don't tell me Ginny's managed to make anywhere unplottable? Did she take three more NEWTs since she's been here?

[He grumbles about having to be escorted there, but grips Fred's arm back anyway.]

Nah, couldn't have done. There were loads of others ages ago; I'll bet they did it. But she's smarter'n she ought to be. Reckon they gave her lessons.

[That's the only logical explanation he's come up with, at least.]

If her Bat Bogey-Hex has got any more lethal I am staying on her good side.

[He won't... but you know.]

[ooc: Daaaaaaamn that icon /swoons. Also, assuming now-ish is when they transitioned into the log post?]

Good luck on that one, mate.

[He grins, taps a silent count, and they're gone with a pop!]

[ooc; IKNORITE i'm so happy with it. /stares at it forever And yes! Figure this should be the bridge into the log. ^^]

[ooc: Awesome. This has been beautiful, bro.]

[ooc; Absolutely. ♥]

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1 Mischief Managed - [Video]

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