| back to black | {g. weasley}

[ two ]

They roll down the crowded lot of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Feet keeping in pace with one another's, trailing behind Percy and Ginny and Mrs Weasley, Ron and Harry and Hermione a ways behind. Loki sits on Evelyn's trunk as the trio wheels through a thinning throng of witches and wizards, his tail once again flicking in anticipation much like my stomach. The buzz around the platform is almost as magical as the beings that fill it. You can feel the back-to-Hogwarts excitement climbing with each second spent regrouping and loading supplies and kissing guardians goodbye for the time being.

"You know who I'm excited to see?" Evelyn asks suddenly.

Fred and George look at one another other over the head of the brunette. Their blond brows raise curiously. "You mean besides us?" Fred questions.

"Besides you," She confirms. George looks down at her now. She keeps her head straight and the corner of her pretty pink lips turned up ever-so-slightly. "I'm excited to see Nell."

George looks back to his brother, "That one hurt."

"Really," Fred sighs. "I mean one minute it's all 'WeaselB's and Evie-hugs and now we get bloody nothing." Their smirks play up as Evelyn straightens her posture and keeps her acute facial expression unmoving.

Flicking his gaze back down to her, still refusing to turn her attention to either one of them, George tisks his tongue and continues with the badgering. "I mean, look at 'er," he gasps in fau-astonishment, "Not even a shake of the head."

"She's forgotten about us already," Fred adds.

"The next we see her is when she has kids."

"Maybe not even then."

She tucks the corner of her lip into her mouth in attempt to keep her smile contained. He knows that move of hers all too well. They're close to breaking her. Given, it doesn't take much to do the trick. She's a laugher, Evelyn Wyre. Her humorous spread makes her vulnerable to a fit of chuckles at any sort of joke. Even after nearly 10 years with the kings of laughter, she can't seem to control her micro-expressions.

Fred continues to badger her like she's not there. "It'll be all, who are they again?"

"Oh," George continues breezily, tone thick with disappointment, "I think it's those Gryffindor boys."

"Ah yes, the one's I knew for a while... those twins."

"I think they pulled some rubbish when we were in school."

"That's how I remember them."

He leans closer to her and mockingly ask, "What are their names again?"

"I know it started with something along the lines of... D... E, F, G... oh—"

"Don and Edgar, maybe?"

Fred shakes his head. "No, no... not that."

"Faren— drat... Glen?"

"Closer..." he nods.