SIXTY FOUR

"WHY DID YOU THINK this was going to be a good idea?" Fred sighed. Emily was in his arms, crying loudly, something Rory had never heard her do.

"Oh I dunno!" Rory snapped, "Sorry for wanting my parents to celebrate Cordelia's birthday away from a crying child! I'm being a good sister! Besides, this will be good for us. One day we'll have a child of our own — a very long time from now — and we'll be glad we had the practice!"

"There's the Rory I know and love, always looking at the bright side," Fred rolled his eyes and slowly bounced the baby in his arms. She only cried louder.

"Maybe try the rocking chair?" Rory suggested with a weak shrug.

Fred begrudgingly sat down on the small rocking chair in the corner and slowly rocked Emily, but no success. Rory sighed and handed him the warm bottle and he ungratefully accepted it, placing it in the baby's mouth. With her small but powerful arms, she whacked the bottle away and it hit the ground.

Fred glared at Rory and she sighed and carefully took her sister from him.

"Why don't you sing to her?" Fred asked.

"That'll just make her cry more," Rory rolled her eyes, "I'll try. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine —" Emily wasn't a fan of that either and fruitfully hit Rory in the face with her flailing hand. "Ouch! This girl is impossible."

"Well she's definitely your sister."

"Oi! Fuck off, Weasley! Maybe we should go downstairs and turn on the Telly for her!"

Fred hesitated, "I have an idea."

Rory huffed and sat down on the rocking chair, Fred handed her the bottle and kneeled in front of her. He got his wand out and pointed it above Emily. Gold whisps shot out and circled around, taking the shape of small animals and began moving about. Emily's cries slowed down and she let out a small giggle. Rory placed the bottle in her mouth successfully and the child drank the contents.

"Freddie!" Rory whispered, "You did it!"

He smiled softly, "Impressive, right?"

"Now we just need to get her to sleep," Rory sighed. "Dunno why people say the phrase 'sleeping like a baby'.... Cory says Emily wakes her up every few hours to eat!"

"Poor woman," Fred shook his head, "alright, I think she'll be fine now if I —"

Emily began crying again as Fred put his wand away. He sighed and got it back out, once again sending out a whirl of golden animal figures, circling above her head.

Rory and Fred groaned softly in unison.

"I'm going to put her in her crib... and you can do that until she falls asleep," Rory whispered, getting up slowly from the rocking chair.

"You're going to leave me here alone with her?"

Rory gently placed Emily down and rolled her eyes, "Sorry unless you'd rather make dinner?"

"Yeah, alright," he sighed, "I'll be fine with her."

She smiled and left the room, preparing the dinner Andrew had left for them in the kitchen. Rory's cooking skills were improving, although the recipe was fairly easy. But still, as long as the house wasn't in flames she was doing a good job. After cooking up their mini pizzas, she left them on the counter and went upstairs to tell Fred, not wanting to shout up the steps and upset Emily.

She crept into the nursery, Fred stood by the crib and was still waving his wand softly. Rory smiled and stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around him.

"I got her to sleep," he whispered, smiling. Rory looked down and saw Emily with her eyes shut, looking peaceful.

"You did," Rory smiled, getting on her tip toes and giving him and kiss on the cheek. "Dinner's ready."

He slowly put his wand away and they walked out of the room, making sure to not make a sound and wake up the baby. Once they reached the bottom of the steps, it was like they could finally breathe and they triumphantly high-fived each other and ate their meal.

After dinner, taking advantage of the time Emily was still asleep, Rory turned on the television and they sat together on the couch.

"I think I'd be a good dad," Fred nodded.

"I think so too," Rory smiled.

"If we had a baby, what names d'you like? I think Lydia is pretty, for a girl."

"I like Elizabeth. It's a bit boring, but think of all the nicknames. Eliza, Libby, Ellie, Elle, Beth, Liza, Betty... so then, she would get to pick her own name basically!" She beamed.

Fred smiled, "And what about for a boy?"

"I really like your dad's name, Arthur," Rory shrugged.

The boy nodded in agreement and brought the girl closer to him.

There was a moment of sweet silence which Rory broke by saying, "But we aren't having kids for a long time."

"'Course not," Fred quickly agreed.

Rory gave him a peck on the lips, "Good. Well, we have about an hour or so before she starts crying again. Let's enjoy it."

"Let's explore the house," Fred grinned.

Rory nodded and got off the couch, grabbing Fred's hand as they embarked on their mini adventure. Rory led him up the stairs and stopped when she reached the top. She looked at him with a mischievous smile and looked up at the attic door. He nodded and pulled down the string slowly, a set of stairs softly hit the ground. They looked at each other with wide eyes and froze, hoping Emily wouldn't wake up. She didn't stir and they sighed in relief.

Rory went first, whispered "Lumos" as she entered the dark attic. The floorboards creaked slightly as her sock clad feet stepped in. Fred came in after her, having to hunch down from the low ceiling. It was a pretty standard attic, cobwebs, boxes everywhere.

"Want to look through one of these?" Fred asked, nudging his head towards a stack of cardboard boxes.

"How about this one, says Dad on it," Rory smiled, getting on her knees, pointing her wand at one of the boxes. Fred nodded and joined her on the floor.

Rory eagerly opened the box, coughing slightly as the dust flew around in her face.

"Whoa," Fred whispered, "Is that your grandad?"

On the top of the box was a picture of a man in black and white who looked eerily similar to Rory and her father. The date at the bottom of the picture read 1950. The man looked about in his early twenties, around Rory's age.

"Yeah, that's him," Rory smiled softly, "He was a Muggle, died when my dad was a teenager. He's said great things about him though. I wish I could have known him."

Fred shrugged, "Let's keep digging through this box and maybe you will... what's this?" He pulled out a small stack of papers, tied together by twine.

Rory shone her wand on them and examined what they were. They appeared to be a collection of letters.

For my Marjorie,

Please tell Andrew how much his father loves him and misses him. I wish not to be away from you for much longer, however I'm very much enjoying New York City so far. The students are as well, they're learning loads and we're playing great tunes on the bus radio. Everything here makes me think of you. The city lights at night shine as bright as your eyes and the music we've been hearing is as harmonious as your voice. There isn't a moment the two of you aren't on my mind. I'm not myself when we aren't together and I know you feel the same. I hope you and Andrew are holding up alright and he isn't causing you too much trouble. I wish I could write more, my love. However, it's time for the symphony at Carnegie Hall! How exciting!

All my love,
Kenneth

"Wow," Rory sniffled, "What else is in the box, Freddie?"

Fred peered inside the cardboard box and pulled out a dusty black binder. He opened it and raised an eyebrow out of bewilderment.

"What is it?" She asked, setting down the letters.

He shrugged and handed it to her. It was sheet music, annotated thoroughly in his messy handwriting.

"He was a music teacher," Rory said, "these must have been part of his lessons. He taught this to his students... isn't that amazing?"

"The notes are all over the place," Fred said.

Rory rolled her eyes, "That's because it's jazz! That's the whole point — is that a photo album?!"

Fred handed Rory another artifact he had dug out, a leather bound book. Rory opened it and saw more photos of her grandfather. Pictures of him with various instruments, at dancing clubs with her grandmother, on his wedding day, with her father as a baby. The images were mostly all still, only a few were taken with an enchanted camera. She adored everything about each image. The fashion, the smiles, the genuine looks of happiness.

There was an image of her grandmother on her wedding day, wearing the same ruby earrings Rory had been gifted on her first Christmas with her father. Her grandmother looked beautiful, timeless. Bright eyes with porcelain skin and dark hair.

"I sort of remember her," Rory said softly, "She died when I was five, same year my dad... got kicked out. She didn't look much different than in these pictures. She was kind, that's for sure."

"Was this jacket his too?" Fred asked, pulling out a very dusty brown jacket. Embroidered on the breast pocket was K. Harrison in gold thread.

"I would assume so," Rory said with slight sarcasm, "Wonder why Andrew doesn't walk around wearing it."

"I dunno, you should, though — oh, shit. There's something in the pocket," Fred handed Rory a small square of paper.

"I think he had been wearing it, look," Rory turned over the paper, "It's a picture of me and Aaron. The first time I held him when they came back from the hospital. I guess maybe when he wasn't thinking so clearly after losing us, looking at this gave him a reason..."

"Try it on," Fred smirked. Rory shook her head softly, but pulled the dark but heavy fabric over her small frame and stood up. Fred pulled out a photo from the album and held it up, comparing the two.

"Love, I literally cannot tell the difference between the two of you," he joked. Rory looked at the photo he was holding up and froze, Fred was right. They did look identical. She took off the jacket and neatly placed it back in the box, as she ventured inside the cardboard, she noticed a book sticking out and grabbed it.

"Of course he has To Kill a Mockingbird in here," she sighed, flipping open the book. It seemed each page was written on, and small notes stuck out between pages.

"What's How to Kill a Mockingbird?" Fred asked, looking at the literature in her hands.

She giggled, "Just To Kill a Mockingbird. 'Called that because it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."

"Why?"

Rory cleared her throat and attempted her best American-Southern accent, "'Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy... but sing their hearts out for us' maybe I'll ask Andy if you can borrow it and you can read it. You can read a Muggle book for once!"

"I don't even read Wizard books, Ror," he scoffed, "but for you, I would."

"Of course you would," she said in a sing-song voice, "I wonder what else is up — you've got to be kidding me!"

From below them Emily began crying once again.