If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 2

THE GOODBYES dragged on for what seemed like ages. Her mother wept, promising to send an owl at least once every two weeks, and her father pulled her into another tight hug. They both reminded her that it wasn't too late to change her mind, and that if she grew to miss them too much, she knew the address. That the floo network or simple apparation were viable options if for whatever reason, they couldn't come get her. Eleanor refused, though.

Of course she would miss them, but she had grown tired of their coddling. Of their constant worrying and overbearing tendencies... And truthfully, she had known that she'd be better off without them, even on the off chance that she'd end up having a miserable time here. It was still better than the alternative.

And although her mother had found her way back to the car not even a moment after saying goodbye, her father decided to linger, stealing another moment to chat with the Weasley's while his wife waited impatiently in the passenger seat, idly tapping her fingers against the dashboard... And Eleanor lets out a sigh as she watches her from the window. The bored look upon her face made it painfully obvious that she could not stand to be here for another minute. This was typical of her, though. The impatience, and the not-so-subtle looks of disapproval the moment that she noticed something she did not like. Her father, however, did not seem to be bothered as he hugs Eleanor one last time, reminding her again to write to them just before he heads out the front door.

She watches from the doorway as her parents drive off, clouds of dirt kicking up with the turning of the tires as the car struggles to take flight. Her father was never the most talented wizard, but he had just barely managed to successfully charm the car, and the engine sputters for a moment before it ascends into the air, vanishing into nothingness as it passes through the clouds.

A weight lifts inside of her as she watches them disappear in the sky, though she cannot figure out why. She hardly even has time to consider it before Mrs. Weasley pulls her back inside, insisting on giving her a more thorough tour of the house. And even though she had seen much of it already, Eleanor accepts her offer in appreciation of the kind gesture. It was clear that Molly was doing her very best to ensure that she felt right at home, and already, she did.

This was nothing like home, though. It was more magical and quaint. More charming with more quirks about it. And according to Arthur, even the teapot upon the stove had been cleverly charmed to brew at two specific times during the day. The only magical thing about her home were the house elves that dusted and cooked every now and then.

For a moment, she considers rejoining the group outside, but eventually decides on helping Molly as she prepares for dinner. A part of her was still feeling anxious, out of place, and she did not want to interfere with whatever the group had been laughing about outside. It was likely that they'd be coming inside soon, anyways. She would talk to them then.

But for whatever reason, as she sets the table, she thinks of the way that one of the Weasley kids had looked at her. George was his name, and although they had barely spoken, she could not shake the smile that he had given her when she told him her name, and how he repeated it back to her. Teased her with it. She shakes her head at the thought as she reaches for the silverware.

Mr. Weasley, who was sat at the dining table reading a copy of The Daily Prophet, looks up from the pages to fixate his eyes on Elle as she makes small talk with his wife. "Settling in alright?" He asks, tossing the copy upon the table, and she nods while glancing past him to the window, catching a glimpse of the golden-orange sunset that decorated the sky. It was strange; that even the sun seemed to shine brighter here.

"Yes, thank you." She smiles, and takes a seat across from him after Molly insists on it. "It really is lovely here." The words are genuine, and Molly smacks her lips in flattery from where she had been working in the kitchen.