01/04/2001
The Rousseau's Residence, Kingswear, Devon
¬

[ f i r e w h i s k e y ]

"ELINOR, THIS IS MY LAST WARNING. PHONE."

"Sorry, Ma," Elinor grimaced sheepishly.

She scrolled through her strings of messages with George and reread them one last time.

Are we good now?

In my defense, you almost gave me a heart attack.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, too.

Were you worried?

Very.

I'm sorry.

It's cool. I've been on worse dates.

You HAVE to tell me about that next time.

Sure.

Happy birthday!

Wow. Don't feel like 23 yet.

Is it past midnight already?

Yes.

Thanks btw.

You're welcome. Any plans today?

Elinor put her phone down and dug into her dinner disinterestedly. She wondered if there was another emergency at the shop or if Molly was throwing her son a birthday party with the Strawberry Paris-Brest as planned and forgot to invite her.

George's last message was midnight, nineteen hours ago. And he still didn't reply until the next day.

☆★☆

02/04/2001
The Rousseau's Residence, Kingswear, Devon
¬

"ELLE? ELINOR? HONEY!"

Elinor stirred on her sleep and groaned.

Her hand hovered over the nightstand and opened the lid of her flip phone. She opened one eye and squinted at the sudden brightness, looking at the time on its greenish block screen. 01.58, April 2nd 2001.

Maybe she was dreaming.

Another rampage sounded through the metallic garage door, "Ellie, love~ It's your boyfriend! I don't know if I'm really your boyfriend, but—"

Nope. Not a dream.

Elinor rolled out of bed sluggishly and shuffled towards the door. It swung open to reveal George Weasley, grinning wildly with a huge bottle sloshing in his hand, his cheeks naturally bright pink, and his fake ear missing.

"Ellie!" He stumbled forward, engulfing her in a hug. A foul smell attacked her senses at once and she scrunched up her nose.

"George, are you drunk?!"

"No!" he slurred. "I just drink a teeny, tiny bit."

The nearly empty bottle and his current state of consciousness said otherwise.

"Come in first."

Elinor helped him limp to the sofa. She proceeded to lock the door, turn on the lamp, take a clean towel, a bowl of cold water, and a clean T-shirt.

"Elle—"

"Sssh!" Elinor hushed, "Be quiet! Everyone's asleep upstairs."

George chuckled, "O—kay. Why took you so long? I waited outside the door for hours."

"I was asleep."

Bielle absolutely hated the smell of vomit and the idea of getting into bed without cleaning oneself first, so whenever a member of this family came home drunk (cough, Ezme, cough), there was a certain ritual performed. Elinor folded the towel, dipped it into the cold water, and used it to wipe George's face.

"Blegh!" George exclaimed after Elinor wiped the cloth over his lips. "Cold!"

"This will help you freshen up a bit."

She took extra caution when she wiped the gaping hole of his missing ear.

"I'm not happy, George. You woke up me up at two in the morning. Who did you drink with?"

"Why do you call me George? I'm Fred!"

Elinor paused.

"It's fine... People mistake us for each other all the time. We look exactly the same, anyway. Ellie..." he said goofily, "It's my birthday. I'm twenty-three."

"I know. I wished you happy birthday, remember?"

"Oh, yeah... Right!"

She took the huge glass bottle from him and placed it on the table; its label read 'Ogden's Olde Firewhisky'. Then she wiped both of his hands and fingers.

"Weasley, why are you here?"

"I don't know... It's supposed to be a celebration but the flat's too silent. I don't know where else to go. You're pretty."

"Uh... Thanks?"

"You're really beautiful, you know that?"

"Do you always speak rubbish when you're drunk?" Elinor handed him the clean T-shirt, "Go change into this... Fred."

"Awh... Why?"

"You reek."

"Thank you! You smell nice, too."

George stood up from the sofa and pulled his shirt off, right then and there. Elinor looked away and suddenly found her photo with Ezme in front of the Buckingham Palace very interesting.

"Girls would kill to be in your position," George said, slipping into the baggy grey T-shirt with white block letterings spelled 'WORLD'S GREATEST DAD'. It once belonged to Etienne, when he was a tad bit skinnier. Elinor wore it to sleep sometimes (fact: oversized tees are the best pajamas).

"Th— They can have you."

George didn't react to her last sentence and began to curl on the couch instead.

"George?"

"It's Gred. I mean, Forge."

"Do you want to sleep on the bed? I can take the couch."

He just whined gibberish and closed his eyes.

Elinor folded his shirt, placed it on the table, and turned off the light. The room was once again illuminated only by the mason jar.

She crouched beside George's figure. Even with his eyes closed, he was frowning in his sleep.

He must be exhausted, physically and emotionally.

She patted his shoulder rhythmically and sang softly, like a lullaby,

"Happy birthday to you...
Happy birthday to you...
Happy birthday, Fred and George...
Happy birthday to you..."

☆★☆

02/04/2001
The Rousseau's Residence, Kingswear, Devon
¬

"UH... HELLO?"

Elinor was woken up five minutes before her alarm would rang by a phone call.

It was Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' Muggle telephone line. Elinor had saved its number.

When she picked it up, a woman was weeping on the other side. Through the frantic sobs, she could tell that it wasn't Verity the employee. It was Molly.

"Ellie! This is— This is Ellie, right? It's Molly. Is George with you? Did he send you a— a message? He didn't come to my house at all yesterday and when I check on him this morning, it— it looks like he didn't— he didn't even come home! There was supposed to be a— a—"

"Molly!" Elinor interjected before the older woman could crumble even more, "He's with me. He's still asleep."

"HE IS?! Oh, dear, I don't know what I'd do without you! Is he— is he okay?"

"Of course, he is," Elinor frowned, "Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"No... It's just that... I was just... He promised to come for dinner yesterday, but he didn't show up. That's all." Mrs. Weasley sniffled.

Elinor glanced at George's sleeping figure, wondering if she should tell Molly about his drunken 'Fred/Gred/Forge' persona or not.

No, he should tell her herself.

"He knocked on my door last night. I don't know what happened before that."

"His birthday happened, dear. We're all reminded of Fred, but George... George took the hardest blow. They're— they're identical twins, after all. I was afraid he would do something... something stupid."

"He's okay, Molly. I'll tell him to go to the Burrow right now," Elinor said assuringly, "Or the joke shop? Are you at the joke shop?"

"I'm going home right now. Can you please tell him Arthur and I will be waiting?"

"Of course. And if he doesn't show up today, tell me."

She heard a sniffle. "Thank you, Ellie."

"You're welcome. Have a nice Monday."

"You, too, dear. You, too."

Elinor hung up and shook George by his shoulder. She kept on nudging and calling his name until he didn't have any other choice than to open his eyes.

George groaned, sitting up with a hand glued to his head, "What— How—"

"Good morning, princess."

His eyes snapped open, "Ellie?!"

"You don't remember anything from yesterday, do you?"

"...No, not exactly."

Elinor sat on her bed, facing him, "Your parents are worried sick."

A flash of recognition sparked in his eyes and he lowered his head, muttering, "Right..."

"Why don't you take a shower and have some breakfast here first? Do you want some Advil or hangover soup?"

"No, sorry for troubling you." George stood up, searching the room for anything that belong to him. He grabbed his discarded attires and his remaining Firewhisky from the table. "I'll return the shirt soon. I'll leave now."

Elinor caught his arm, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

"You should go to the Burrow."

"Sure, I—"

"Now," she emphasized, "Say you're okay in front of your mother."

"Fine," George grumbled, jerking his arm away from her touch.

"By th—"

Without another word or even a look, he Disapparated, leaving Elinor with the remnants of his stench and a wrapped present hidden behind her back.

☆★☆

A/N:
I JUST READ THE NEWS ABOUT ANSEL ELGORT AND MY HEART BREAKS —ABOVE ALL FOR VIOLETTA :((

But let's keep calm and wait until this accusation is actually proven... though the odds are so not in his favor.

Shame... I used to love him and think that his relationship with Violetta is just goals.

As much as I adore him as an actor, I sincerely hope that he'll get what he deserves —a clear name if he's innocent and a severe punishment if he's guilty.

Also, I'm not changing the face claim for Cameron... simply because it took a really long time for me to look for proper .gifs and it'll take a long time to change everything from the first chapter, too. If I think it's appropriate and neccesary, I will make some time to redo everything. Maybe as I edit this fan fiction.

Let me know of your thoughts here!

Thank you everyone and have a nice day!