The Confession || George Weasley

Scene 43- Ice Cream

*George's Prov*

I'm still having a full nose and have to cough sometimes, but other than that I'm feeling great.

I miss those times with a free nose though. If You-Know-Who actually has no nose, then I envy him. He doesn't have that problem.

I cuddle into Anne's belly, hugging her tight while we lie on the sofa, her reading an article in the daily prophet to Fred and I. She is so comfortable to lie on, so warm, so making me sleepy. I shut my eyes and I'm instantly gone off to my dream world.

---

*Anne's Prov*

Today was tough and horrible. I did everything wrong that I could do wrong downstairs, the new assistant Verity did way better than me and the shop was full with people, so me failing at everything just made matters worse.

I could slap myself with both hands and I can't shake of this feeling of me being a complete failure. I can't even get the job right I'm doing since over a month now. What can I even do?

Unaffected by my inner trouble are the Twins. George is sleeping innocently on my tights, pressing his face further into my stomach and Fred lies on the floor counting the savings.

Reading the daily prophet just made me more anxious. I try to breathe deeply to calm my nerves, but that is of no use. Maybe a hot shower would do me good? I can't move though. It would wake up George. So I settle further into the sofa and read the next article.

This will go away eventually.

---

When George gently wakes me up in the morning with a soft kiss I feel a lot calmer than when I fell asleep, which is a good sign. Nothing to worry about.

"How is your nose doing?," I ask when I take the breakfast from him, watching him settle down beside me.

"Good," he grins taking a bite from his pancakes.

"Finally," Fred sighs: "You are a pain in the ass when you are sick."

"Says the right one," George points at his brother.

"I haven't had to deal with you when you're sick, but I'm sure you let out your inner drama queen," I state, looking up from my plate.

"No one asked your opinion," Fred points with his fork at me.

"I'm emancipated enough to answer without being asked first."

"Well do you even know how emancipated is spelled?," the boy challenges me.

"E-M-A-N-C-I-P-A-T-E-D, there you go," I lean back a bit.

"Great because I didn't know that."

George and I look at each other confused. What was that?

"Good? Also you need to figure out the schedule with Lee this week and go with Verity over the sales again, she looked a bit lost yesterday and I'm not sure if I can explain them as good as you do," I tell Fred.

He puts his fork down and stands up: "Don't tell me what to do so early in the morning, I just learned how to spell emancipated, so I emancipate my way out of here."

Then he closes the door behind him, leaving me confused and nervous behind.

"What was that?"

"I have no idea," George laughs.

---

"Excuse me?," comes from three different directions.

I'm torn and already exhausted with the day and it isn't even near the end. I did everything responsibly as usual but somehow I lack the motivation. No matter what I'm doing, I can't shake the feeling I'm forgetting stuff, not making it good. Simply fail at it, even if people go out with full bags.