Songbird ; Fred Weasley

Fifty

I walked into the kitchen, yawning while stretching my arms above my head.

Dad was in the middle of pouring himself a cup of coffee, going through a newspaper that laid out in front of him.

"Is it decaf?" I asked, causing my dad to look up.

"Good morning honey." He offered me a soft smile. "Unfortunately not, no. I don't think we have any decaf, actually."

I groaned and took a seat at the table, rubbing my hands over my face.

"I promised Fred to quit all caffeine."

Dad raised an eyebrow at me as he took a sip of his coffee.

"You've been drinking caffeine?" He asked me.

"Yes, and before you say anything, you can drink caffeine through pregnancy if you cut down on it. Two cups coffee per day." I said. "But Fred worries so I've agreed to stick to decaf for the remainder of the pregnancy."

"Hmm... speaking of Fred, is he still sleeping?"

"Yep." I nodded. "He's not a morning person."

Dad didn't answer but walked over to the medicine cabinet and grabbed a syringe and a bottle of insulin.

"Have you checked your blood sugars?" He asked and placed both things in front of me.

"They're a little low." I said. "But only a little."

After giving myself my daily insulin, I looked at my dad, ready to ask him a question.

"What happens in two weeks when we go home?" I asked. "We can hide from mum and Eric forever."

Dad sighed and leaned his hands on the island where he stood.

"I wish I could tell you, honey." He said, shaking his head. "But there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He walked over to the table, carrying his cup of coffee, and he took a seat across from me.

"I haven't even asked you what you want, and that should've been the first thing I asked you." He said. "If you want to have a closer relationship to Eric... if you want him in your life as more than just your uncle, that's okay with me. Don't feel like you're betraying me or anything. He is—"

"...not my dad." I cut him off. "You raised me, dad. You bought me my first toy wand. You taught me how to ride a bike. You went with me to get my first wand when I was eleven. You helped me get everything I needed for school. You spent every birthday trying to make that day better than the year before. You were there when I was sick or sad. He wasn't. He's not my dad. You are."

Dad let out a small breath, nodding once.

"And he's lied to me my entire life." I added. "Every time he took me on trips, or wanted to spend time with me, he knew he was my biological father. He tried to create a bond with me for one reason and that reason wasn't him wanting to bond with his niece. He was trying to be my dad without actually being my dad, and that I will never forgive him for."

Dad went to speak, but I shook my head.

"I don't want to talk about him. Let's talk about something else. I'm having a girl."

Somehow, Fred and I hadn't told anyone the sex of our baby. Probably because we found out the same day I found out about mum and Eric.

"Oh really?" Dad grinned. "That's exciting. When we found out you were a girl, I was so excited. I love your brothers, but there is something about having a little girl."

"Yeah. But it's so much harder finding names for girls. I don't know what it is, but I like a lot more boys names than girls names."

"Your mother and I had the same issue when trying to name you. It had been so easy with your older brothers, but we didn't have a name for you until after you were born."

I let out a small laugh, suddenly interested in the story of my name.

"Why'd you choose Mavis, then?"

Dad cracked a small smile and shook his head.

"You came out crying like most babies do, but it sounded like you were singing." He said and laughed. "Mavis means 'songbird'. We wanted something that fitted you based on the way you sounded. I found the name in a baby name book while your mother was feeding you. We both thought Mavis sounded cute."

I hummed, resting my chin in the palm of my hand.

"What about naming her after Sophie?" Dad asked.

My stomach turned at the mention of her name, and I looked away, avoiding my dads eyes.

"Maybe as a middle name." I shrugged and stood up. "I'll go see if Fred's awake."

I walked away, too scared that he would continue talking about the one person I couldn't talk about.

I walked into the bedroom I shared with Fred. Surprisingly, he was up, in the middle of pulling up a pair of loose fitting jeans.

I shut the door behind me, earning his attention.

"Hey gorgeous." He smiled as I walked over and threw myself on the bed. "What's up? Something wrong?"

"Not really." I said and lifted my head to look at him. "What are we doing today?"

He cracked a small smile, looking down as he buttoned his jeans, then pulled the zipper up.

"I don't know, but I have been meaning to talk to you."

"Oh c'mon!" I groaned, dropping my head into the pillow so that I couldn't breathe.

I pushed myself up to sit, staring at Fred while my hair was wild and fuzzy.

"My dad said the exact same thing." I sighed. "Spill. What do you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, about us moving in together. I was thinking we should start looking for flats. Not in New York, but somewhere back home, because while I know you really want to live here, I think it's something that needs a bit more consideration."

I nodded slowly.

"I agree." I said, which seemed to surprise Fred as he raised his eyebrows. "We should start with England. Then when she's about two or three, we can start looking for places over here. It only makes sense. That way we can be closer to our families in the first years of her life."

Fred smiled as he walked her to me. He grabbed my jaw in his hand, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips.

"Exactly." He whispered, nudging his nose against mine.

"But I don't want to move into the flat where you live with George. It wouldn't feel like my place. I want us to find something new... together."

"Of course." He nodded, walking over to spray on some deodorant before pulling on a plain black jumper. "I talked to George last night. If me make a list of demands for a flat, he'll look for a few different ones, and show them to us."

"Yeah?" I smiled. "That's nice of him."

"He's probably just excited to have the flat for himself when I move out." He laughed, walking back over to the bed. "So... two-bedroom—"

"Three." I corrected him, and he raised one eyebrow at me. "Our room. The baby's room and a guest room which will also be a room for whenever I get tired of you and have to kick you out."

I was joking, and he knew it. He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest.

"I'm going to ignore you just said that, because you could never grow tired of me."