Obsidian & Bronze {Fred Weasley}

25. A new sense of home

(A/N) Hey everyone, firstly I want to thank you all for the love on this story and the hilarious comments. I barley thought this story would reach 100 views, let alone 20 thousand, and I am beyond grateful. 

I apologise for the lack of updates over the past week or so, I have been crazed with exams, but I am back on track with regular updates and can't wait for you all to see what I have planned for future of O&B. 

Please vote and comment if you enjoy this or any other chapters and if you didn't know I have an account over on tiktok (same handle as here) where I post updates and clips of furies chapters and where you can get to know me slightly better. 

A reminder that my messages are always open and without further ado I hope you enjoy he new chapter <3333

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Christmas was never the exact definition of a 'holiday' as it were. It never consisted of leisure or recreation, but rather was a blatant reminder that Remus and I were in fact alone, together sure, but ultimately alone, neither of us having quite mastered the ability to retain relationships that stretched beyond one another.

It wasn't as though we didn't try, we did.

Countless attempts to mask the gaping whole Sirius had left in Remus's life, or the detrimental reality that in a picture much greater, Remus and I were nothing more than orphans. Two people desperate to go home, to a place that felt enough, to somewhere inviting as opposed to repelling, somewhere that acknowledged our broken pieces and used it's shelter to mend us, and although we had no knowledge of such a place, we longed for it nonetheless.

Although as time would soon tell, that place I once ached for was not one of imposing size or one that housed riches, it was not a place of order or tranquility, often built upon injudicious decisions and impulse, it was not a place of serenity, in actuality it was the furthest things from. It was, however, a small burrow in Ottery St Catchpole, Devon. And it was starting to feel like home.

"What's with the face?" George questioned me as I sat upon the twins bedroom floor staring aimlessly at the endless piles of clothes, most of which only consisted of blacks and burnt scarlets, scattered around, a disgruntled expression etching its way across my features.

I didn't respond to his question, just released a forced and overly dramatic groan before slumping down into a sweater that lay dormant behind me, briefly intoxicated by the scent of Fred laced within the cotton.

A low and throaty chuckle was let slip by George as he briefly enjoyed my toddler like a tantrum, before making his way onto the floor, mirroring my movements by reaching for a t-shirt and placing it below him like a pillow, copying me as I stared up at the ceiling.

"Talk to me" He whispered, absentmindedly reaching for a pair of trousers on his right and folding them neatly, before resting them on his chest, then grabbing another article of clothing and doing the same as he awaited my response.

"Nervous" I muttered shyly, not liking the admit of defeat, or at least that being the way I viewed it, the honesty of emotion always provoking a sense of weakness.

George sighed deeply, placing the now three folded pieces of clothes on the floor beside him and shifting his weight so he was facing my side, pulling my wrist and forcing me to roll into him and burrow my head in his chest.

His scent was so similar to Fred's, rough and ashy, but it held a unique innocence, something slightly more floral and delicate, something calm.

"Why are you nervous?" He asked gently, whispering into my untamed hair that was likely suffocating him, as he rested his chin upon my head, although he didn't seem to mind. And when I didnt respond he added, "It's okay if you don't have a reason"