Embers of the Heart ; George Weasley

Fourteen - 2.0

We won the war.

I slept through it, but I woke up to the good news, and people cheering. Then ever so slowly, people were being transported to St. Mungo's, and I was one of the first ones, seeing as how much blood I'd lost.

As I laid in the hospital room, getting a blood transfusion while my daughter slept peacefully in her cot, George was staring out the window of the hospital room. He was completely silent, which was a stark contrast to his usual personalities. I hated this. I hated that he lost his twin brother.

I looked over at the baby sleeping, wondering what to name her. But the thought only lasted a second before my mind went back to Fred, and George, and how one of them were dead and would never live to see the day he got children of his own. He wouldn't see Freya grow up, and maybe that was selfish for me to think, but Freya loved her uncle Freddie. I couldn't imagine telling her the news.

As that thought passed my mind, there was a knock on the hospital door, earning the attention of both George and I. A nurse walked in, holding the hand of little Freya, my big girl. She was twenty-one months old, almost two years, and it was incredible to see how much she'd grown in those two years.

"An aunt Muriel dropped her off." the nurse said. I nodded, thanking her while holding out my hand for Freya. She took it, and I helped her climb the bed.

Her dark curls bounced slightly as she settled in, her small face a mixture of curiosity and concern. I reached out, pulling her gently into my arms, feeling the warmth of her tiny body against mine.

"Hey there, sweetheart." I whispered, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Did Aunt Muriel take good care of you?"

Freya nodded, her big eyes scanning the room as if searching for something or someone. "Auntie Muriel gave me biscuits." she said softly, her voice tinged with the innocence of childhood.

I smiled, relieved to hear that Aunt Muriel had managed to bring some comfort to Freya amidst the chaos. "That was nice of her, wasn't it?" I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me.

Freya nodded again, her attention briefly shifting to George, who stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the outside world. His shoulders were tense, and his usually cheerful demeanour was overshadowed by grief.

"Where's Uncle Freddie?" Freya asked suddenly, her brow furrowing in confusion.

George's breath caught at the question, and he turned away from the window, crossing the room to sit beside us on the bed. He reached out, drawing Freya into his lap, holding her close as he struggled to find the right words.

"Uncle Freddie..." George began, his voice thick with emotion. "He's gone to a very special place, sweetheart. He won't be able to come back."

Freya's eyes widened, her lower lip trembling as she processed George's words. "But why?" she asked softly, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and curiosity.

I took a deep breath, my heart breaking for my daughter who was too young to fully understand. "Sweetie." I said gently. "Sometimes people have to to away, and we don't get to see them anymore. But we always carry them in our hearts."

George nodded in agreement, his arms wrapped protectively around Freya. "We love Uncle Freddie very much." he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Freya's head. "And he loves you very, very much."

Freya leaned into George's embrace, her small hand resting against his cheek. "I miss Uncle Freddie." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the tender exchange between father and daughter. George held Freya tightly, his own grief palpable as he tried to comfort our young daughter who was struggling to make sense of the loss.