A Soulmate's Love

Chapter 70 - Christmas at the Burrow

I had loved every single moment I had spent here, at the Burrow, and dreaded going back home to my family. Why couldn't they be like the Weasleys? Why couldn't my mom love cooking for us and insist I get seconds like Molly? Why couldn't my brothers not put me in the utmost danger whenever we hung out like Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Ron? Why couldn't Don be as interested in me and my life as Mr. Weasley?

I knew that I had passed on going back to France and going to the Denmark chalet, but I was now heavily considering just ghosting my mother and not going to Monaco. What would be waiting for me there? Paparazzi, that give me the biggest anxiety attacks? My mother, who will barely speak to me away from the cameras because of how 'busy' she will be?

I asked myself these questions while wrapping the gifts we would be exchanging tonight, my mind distracted from the shouts of laughter and cheer downstairs. That was another thing I wished would happen in my house - it was so large, and everyone was so dispersed, that you never heard laughter. Throughout the house was an intercom system, and if you ever needed to be present somewhere or made aware of something, you would be told through the buzzer.

This week at the Burrow had been one of the best in my entire life, and I heavily regretted having to part from it. How I wished to just stay with George and Fred forever, and not face my family or other life.

I didn't notice the door opening from behind me and continued just staring out into the open space, having completely forgotten about the gifts. I had given up on wrapping them a long time ago when I realized that this was something I had never done before, and completely sucked at.

Large, comforting hands on my shoulders made me flinch at the sudden touch, but I quickly recognized them to be George's. I leaned my head back and smiled at the upside-down image of him. "Hey, babe," I whispered, smiling as he bent down to kiss me.

Looking back to my organized setup that highlighted my measurements on the wrapping paper that had not wrapped anything, I sighed. I needed to stop doing that; letting my thoughts interrupt my present distraction.

"What's got you down, darling?" George inquired as he sat down beside me, intently looking at me.

I tucked a curl behind my ear and looked at the floor, not wanting to admit that I was being a coward for being hesitant to see my family and all that comes with it. "Nothing really important," I mumbled, brushing off the weight on my chest and shoving it into that bursting box in my mind. 'What were you doing downstairs, hmm?" I asked him, quickly changing the topic of conversation from me to him.

"I was helping Ginny memorize some things for a potions exam she has the week we come back." His deep voice would always manage to make flutters travel down my spine, and I realized how comforting it was to hear.

"Snape is giving them a test first thing after the break? That's just mean." I laughed, shaking my head as I leaned into George's shoulder, laying my head on it and smelling the scent of firewood, mint, and a hint of vanilla.

"Althea love, what's on your mind?"

I shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "I just don't want to go home," I didn't want to burden him with something he couldn't control. Those were my problems, and it would be unfair of me to make them his.

His fingers hooked under my chin to lift my gaze to meet his, and he seemed to sadden a little when he saw that I was upset. "You can be honest with me, love. What are you most worried about?" George always knew exactly what to ask to get an answer out of me.

"My mother, of course," I began, to which he nodded in agreement and understanding, "And the paparazzi. I hate them so much George, and I don't hate a lot of things. They surround me and I have no space to breathe or walk and the flashes of their cameras blind me and I really can't breathe and it's like I'm drowning and they are both spectators and those pushing me under. They follow me everywhere, George, and even when they're not in my face I know that they're there because I can feel them staring at me and I stop breathing out of fear-" I hadn't even realized that I had been ranting and that the speed of my breathing had tripled until George's hands held my trembling ones.