24/04/2001
The Rousseau's Residence, Kingswear, Devon
¬

[ f i g h t ]

"WHAT'S THE RUSH, LOVE?"

In any other situation, Elinor would let herself daydream about the way George referred to her as 'love', no matter how unreal it was, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"We're having a double date?"

"What?"

Elinor crossed her arms. The wind was uncharacteristically strong that night, despite the three layers of clothings she had on. "A double date with Ezme and Cameron this weekend? Because the three of us don't know anything about it, but surprisingly your parents do."

George frowned, "Wait. You talked to my parents? How?"

"Is that even important right now?" Elinor exclaimed, "They said we've been having Saturday dinner with my family for weeks. Which you and I both know is a lie."

"Alright..." George scratched his head, "That's not exactly a lie—"

"How is that not a lie? You rarely take me to the Burrow anymore. You never said anything about some big family Saturday dinner invitation. Last week I wasn't even in Devon, two weeks ago you kidnapped me to your joke shop, three weeks ago I was here at home. Just how many times have you been using my name to be your excuses?"

"In my defense, you can't even act properly in front of Harry! You won't like the invitation!" George replied, equally raising his voice bit by bit.

"Tell me the real reason of your disappearance. Why don't you want to go?"

"It's nothing! Just thinking maybe you're not ready to face that many magical folks at once in the same room. Too much pressure."

Elinor scoffed, "But you took me to Three Broomsticks. Right."

"Merlin's— Can't you just take it as me being considerate?"

"No. Tell me, George, why are you avoiding your family?"

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"So, what?" George exploded. The prideful, egoistic, hidden side of him was probed by her and he couldn't just leave her unscathed. "Yes, I don't like family gatherings! So I've got issues. You have issues, too! What is it with you and magic, exactly? Why are so afraid of something you've been taught to control? Why can't you form one coherent sentence in front of Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Huh? Answer me, Elle!"

"BECAUSE!" Elinor screamed, cutting through his ramble. A pounding headache began to form against her skull and she felt like crying, "Because I don't know how to act around your folks! You know how I initially felt with this kind of stuff!"

"Why? Why are you so afraid of magic, Elle?"

"You know what, this is ridiculous," Elinor took a deep breath to calm herself down. She turned around, but George kept shouting over her shoulders, "Stop running away, Elle! Badgers are nice and cute, but they can bite, too, you know! Are you just going to RUN AWAY, LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO—"

Elinor turned around again and stomped towards George. Her patience was running incredibly low right now. "FINE! A lot of people I know died because of magic. And me, I couldn't save them, even though I have the same magical ability as their murderers. It's too— too powerful, but at the same time powerless—"

"That's why you should've been more involved, back during the war! Me and my family? We've been through a load of shit storm and we had to sacrifice—"

Elinor scoffed,"Do you think I don't want to fight You-Know-Who, join the secret DADA club or the freaking Order of the Phoenix? Guess what, Weasley, not just me but a lot of us really, really do. We just didn't have the connection! We didn't get the invitation or the needed information! So we tried fighting our own way and we tried forming a different hands-on practicing group, but that wasn't enough, was it? All we could do was wait around, hoping, praying that we'll have our turn soon."

"We—" George stuttered after being verbally attacked, "We suffered—"

"We fucking suffered, too, you bastard," Elinor wiped her right hand vigorously on her jacket, leaving concealer stain on her T-shirt, and lifted it till it was on George's eye level. Under the dim light, it was almost impossible to see anything, but after a few seconds of adjusting, George could see the faint, neat writings he recognized as hers.

I must not tell lies.

He reflexively took her hand and caressed the fading scar with his thumbs. Umbridge's psychotic work was permanently etched in her hand, too.

She pulled her hand away and crossed it again over her stomach, "Imagine watching the war between life and death raging before you, threatening the life of your friends and families, but all you can do is helplessly watch from the sideline. That's painful, too, George."

"Ellie..."

"And maybe you lost a lot of people like Fred, Professor Lupin, Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore... But there are people who lost everything. Including me. So, one advice, don't take your family for granted. Spend time with them while you still have the chance. Make some memories."

"Elle—"

"George, you're not the only one hurting from Fred's death."

The two were engulfed in a long, agonizing silence before George spoke up, "You're right. I'm sorry I used you to cover up for my thing. I just need some time away, alone, because whenever my family gathers... I keep seeing Fred. He belongs in that dining room, too, you know. I just don't want to be near anything that reminds me of the War —you should be able to understand, with your real parents and all—"

Elinor's body tensed and she felt like a slab of stone being poured by icy water. "Wait, what?"

"What? What did I say?"

"My real parents. What— What do you know about my real parents?"

"Huh? Nothing!"

"Oh my God, you've been digging up dirt on me, haven't you?" Elinor whispered softly. A thousand invisible needles pricked on her skin and heart as she came to term that this was the thing she had been hiding from. She had been burying this deep in the dirt and George Weasley came, digging it out, scratching the scab of her drying scars along the way. And through her expression, George could read how betrayed she was feeling.

"Ellie..."

"You have, haven't you?" she gasped. Tears were now flowing down her cheeks. "Is it your Ministry brother, or father? Did you— Did you tell them everything I told you?"

"No!" George answered quickly, "Of course not! I don't even know much! Just a few legal facts like what generally happened and your name, Elinor Sif—"

Elinor felt her legs gave away and she stumbled back. That was a forbidden name.

Sif was a forbidden name.

"Ellie, are you okay?"

She shakily jerked away from his touch and shuffled backwards, eyes wide, staring at him in disbelief and distrust.

To think that she was becoming a witch again.

"Leave me alone, George."

"Elinor!"

And then she turned around and ran, as fast as she could —afraid that if she ran any slower, all those past secrets of hers would catch up with her, strangled her with its darkness, and ultimately killed her.