the painter // george weasley //

2

 Looking in a Mirror, Elisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, 1787

The Second Wizard War had been over for a little over a year now, and for the most part, life had returned to normal. Routines were picked back up and time had simply started to move on.

But George felt stuck.

He couldn't shake the nightmares; keeping the house up with his screams. He couldn't face opening the shop up despite everyone's best attempts at pleading. They said it would bring happiness back, but George lost his happiness. He lost Fred and Maeve.

He didn't have it in him to laugh.

Not without Maeve's intoxicating laugh following after.

He couldn't look in a mirror.

Not without seeing Fred.

He felt broken; as if something vital within him snapped in two the day he avoided the winged clutches of death, but lost the two most important people in his life. Without them, he was just a ghost.

"GEORGE!" A shout outside his door, and loud pounding on the door, filled the quiet apartment, "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

It was Ginny.

George got up from his couch and walked to the door, he went to turn the knob, but stopped. A small thump was heard, Ginny had placed her forehead on the door.

"Please, Georgie.." She sobbed, "I need my big brother."

Biting the inside of his cheek, he opened the door to find his baby sister, who had grown up way too fast, standing in his doorway. Bloodshot eyes and stained cheeks.

"I miss them too.." She looked in his eyes, "and I miss you."

He wait straight to her and engulfed her in a hug.

"I met that painter today." Ginny said, as she walked deeper into the apartment, flopping on the couch. "She was the one who painted Moody's portrait."

"Really?" He finally spoke

"Yeah, and she's American." Ginny smiled

"American?"

"Super thick Boston accent." She laughed, "she kept calling the living room, 'Pahlah'"

"A what?" He kind of chuckled

"She can't say her 'R's" she giggled, "She says wicked, like you."

George made himself comfortable on the couch, looking over at Ginny. She was hugging a pillow on her stomach, picking at the fabric.

"How was it?" George asked, "Has she started the paintings?"

"No, she actually wont start for awhile.."

"Why?"

"Turns out, wizard portraits are usually made before the person dies. And it's the person who teaches their portrait how to be themselves; so she sits down with the families and learns about them so she can make them as authentic as possible." She looked over at George, "She's doing everyone's portraits.."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, she's finished a bunch already."

"She must be good then.." He said

"You should of been there.."

"I know..." he sighed

"She was asking questions, questions you and only you who could give the best answers.."