03/04/2001
The Rousseau's Residence, Kingswear, Devon
¬

[ p r e g n a n t ]

Dear Papa,

I still have your WORLD'S GREATEST DAD T-shirt. If you want it back, you can take it now.

You are clearly the world's best father. You hug me randomly, out of nowhere, saying you love me. You prepare hot chocolate with two side biscuits every time I'm upset. You bake me three-tiers cake on my birthday. When you heard I want to meet the royals, you brought us to Buckingham Palace. You give me secret allowance behind Mama's back. You patiently teach me how to bake and make me the person I am today.

I heard you cuss George endlessly when I fainted, even though I've never heard you say offending words to anyone, even to that shameless beggar by the market who was disrespectful to us two years ago.

I am not your daughter by blood, but I don't know who can be a better father than you are.

You deserve that old shirt, and so much more.

☆★☆

08/04/2001
Hogsmeade Village, Highlands, Scotland
¬

"SO... IS THIS YOUR WAY OF TELLING ME THAT YOU'RE PREGNANT?"

Ellie's eyes widened and she sputtered out, "Wh— What?!"

"World's Greatest Dad," George read the writings aloud and put the washed, neatly folded T-shirt on the table, "Are you saying I'm the dad?"

"I'm not pregnant!" Elinor exclaimed, "And even if I am, how could you be the dad?"

"I blacked out the other night," George shrugged, "Maybe you did something something to me."

Elinor gaped.

"Unbelievable," she scoffed and stabbed her fork into the flesh of her Pancakes.

"You said you've been on worse dates. With who? That Peter guy?"

"No, he's actually better charmer than you."

George leaned back, theatrically showing that he was offended. "How is that even possible?"

"He just... knew the exact right ways to bring butterflies to a girl's stomach," Elinor said solemnly, "The worst one would be... Fourth year? Poe Wilkins. Because I caught him cheating with Romilda Vane that day."

"Romilda Vane..." George rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Ah! She's our number one love potion customer. Ron was poisoned on his sixth year because of her."

"Ugh... What about you? Am I your worst date ever?"

"...No, I have to say Angie was worse than you."

"How come?"

"Once, she cancelled our dinner one minute after the promised time. I'm already in my tux, the candles are already lit, you know, I have a bouquet of roses in my hand. The restaurant owner looked at me leaving like I was the most pathetic person in the world."

"I can totally imagine that," she laughed, "Which reminds me, your birthday gift."

Elinor pulled out the crinkly wrapped box and pushed it in his direction, "Don't open it until you get home. Please."

"Whoo, thanks! I wasn't expecting any gift from you."

"It's nothing. Just a cheap thing I found at the market."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll like it. Thanks, Elle," George grinned, "And I'm sorry for barging into your room in the middle of the night."

"I'm glad you did. Better than knocking some random person's door, right?"

"Yeah..." George shifted in his seat, showing that he was uncomfortable. He diverted the conversation as cooly as possible, "By the way, I have a random question."

"Shoot."

"Other than me, who else could be the dad?"

"Who else... what?"

"If you're pregnant, other than me—"

Elinor groaned audibly, "For the umpteenth time, George, I am not pregnant."

"Yeah, I know," George nodded, "But figuratively, if you were pregnant, who else could be the dad?"

"No— Nobody."

"I knew it!" George slammed his hand on the table, "You're sooooo smitten with me."

"Get over yourself, Weasley," Elinor chuckled. "I'm just preoccupied at the moment."

"Preoccupied by me," he winked.

"By work, my family, your nagging, and preparing myself i—"

"Preparing yourself for what?"

"...in case I die," Elinor admitted stiffly.

"Why would you die?" George raised his eyebrows, "I will personally make sure you don't die."

"I— I'm still not going to St. Mungo's."

George sighed, "Ellie..."

"Watching you perform basic First and Second Year's spells is one thing, but letting a Healer mess up my head with unknown, advanced spells is an entirely different thing."

Right by then, a little boy shuffled over to their table. He sheepishly grimaced as he pulled out a card from his pocket and extended his hand to George, "Hi... I'm Robert... Can you please sign my Chocolate Frog card...? Mr. Weasley?"

"I'll just go," Elinor announced, standing up.

"Wait," George grabbed her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

At his touch, Elinor felt what she hadn't feel in a long, long time —butterflies.

"I— It's fine. I'm going to the bookshop."

George let his hold go skeptically, "O... kay."

"Take your time with Mr. Robert. I'll be back soon," Elinor said, smiling at the little expectant boy.

She went out of the Three Broomsticks and leaned against its wall, thinking about what just happened.

Usually, physical touch and spending time with George had comforting, calming effect... unlike the nerve wrecking giddiness she felt whenever a boy held her hand or kissed her forehead. But when he held her hand, she felt like a foolish schoolgirl again.

She couldn't fall for George Weasley. Not if he was only around to convince her to live and left her the moment she gave in. She would be the lonely adopted daughter, owner of a small bakery in the outskirt of Devon, while he would be a rich business owner, bachelor-of-the-year, decorated war hero with exciting stories to tell his children or grandchildren in the heart of London.

Elinor shook her head. No, I'm too old for this.

She thrust her hands into her outwear's pockets and began walking to Tom's.

"Ellie, wait!"

Elinor looked over her shoulder and saw George running towards her. He stopped by her side and fell into the same snail pace as hers, catching his breath.

"Why are you here?"

"I came here to have brunch with you, not a fan signing event."

"But—"

"It's not fun, anyway. Where do you want to go? Tom's? Aren't you bored of books? Why don't we just go to Honeydukes?"

Maybe it was his crooked nose, his weird fake ear, his visible smile lines, his red hair, or the way he slung his arm comfortably over her shoulders.

Whatever it was, it was too late.

Shit. She had fallen for him.

☆★☆

A/N:
Bonus~