Lover ; George Weasley

Sixty-seven

"Tell me about your childhood."

I sighed and pulled my leg up on the sofa to rest under my opposite thigh, my hands resting in my lap.

I had no idea what to say about it. There was so many things and I didn't know where to start.

"I—" I gulped. "...it's wasn't—"

I sighed again.

"Try and describe it with three words."

Three words.

I closed my eyes, thinking back to my childhood.

I saw six-year-old me stand there, staring up at my father who stood tall and scary, looking down at me with his angry eyes.

Then he raised his hand.

"Scary."

I opened my eyes and shortly looked at doctor Dominic Hornbeam, the therapist Dove had payed for.

Then I looked out of the window, taking a deep breath as I saw my dad grab my arm and open the basement door, pushing me through it with so much strength that I fell down the stairs and landed at the end, crying at the pain.

"Dark."

Then I looked at the floor. I thought back to a day when I had been playing in the garden with my invisible friends. I didn't have any real ones so I made some up and I played with them in the garden.

I decided to climb the cherry tree and I fell and I scraped my knees, ruining my trousers.

My mum found me, sighed, grabbed me by my arm and dragged me inside. She ordered me to sit in the sofa and then my dad came and she told him what had happened.

He yelled and he wouldn't stop yelling. When I started crying, he hit me.

"Cold." I finished, looking at doctor Hornbeam.

"As in temperature?"

"No. Their eyes were cold as they looked at me." I said. "My sister's eyes were warm but theirs weren't. I learned from a young age that they were incapable of loving me. They loved my sister, they even loved my brother but not me for some reason... they were mad when my sister didn't get sorted into Slytherin but they still loved her more than me and I made Slytherin. I never understood that."

"Dove told me a little about why you're here." He said. "Told me a little about your parents. Dahlia... some people just aren't meant to be parents and I know that doesn't help anything because they made your childhood a living hell, but you should be proud of yourself for surviving."

I looked down at my hands.

"Did I survive?" I asked. "Because it doesn't feel like it. Inez helped me cut my mum out of my life but I can't— it still feels like I need her. I don't know how to let go. I don't know how my brother did it."

"It's hard, but with support from the right people and with some strength, you'll get through it." He assured me. "It gets easier with time."

"But the thing is—" I ran my hand through my hair. "...I don't want to feel like this at any time. I keep thinking that if I just apologise to my mum, this feeling will go away and I'll go back to normal."

"True." He nodded. "But they'll be replaced by the same feeling you got every time she'd talk down to you, make you feel small, make you feel like a child again."

Dammit.

"Inez seems like a great friend." He said, tilting his head.

"She is." I said. "C'mon, you know she is."

Dominic chuckled.

"She's my sister-in-law. You see her differently than I do."

Dominic is Dove's brother. Maybe why she paid for him. She knew he was a great therapist.

"Yeah." I breathed. "She's a great friend. They both are."

"When you were in school with Dove and Inez... did you tell them back then? About what happened at home?"

I shrugged.

"I told them a fraction of it."

"What did you tell them?"

I sighed and sat up straight, looking at him.

"You already know what I told them, Dominic." I said. "Dove is your little sister. Inez and I stayed with your family one summer. I've told you about my life... I've told you what I've told them."

"But we aren't here for my sake." He said. "We're here so that you can come to terms with what happened to you — so that you can move on and be happy with yourself."

I leaned back on the sofa again, looking at him with my eyebrows raised.

"I told them that my dad got angry if I didn't get top grades. I told them that I was scared of getting him angry and I told them that the bruise on my arm after the summer between fourth and fifth year, was there because my dad got angry with me and pushed me into the bookshelf."

I licked my lips as I looked out of the window again.

"I told them that he pushed me into the basement when I didn't act like he wanted me to." I said. "He locked the door and he left me in the dark. He knew how terrified I was of the dark and that basement. When I was little, I could hear screams coming from in there."

"Screams?"

"He's a death eater." I stated. "A disgusting, foul death eater who kept muggle-borns in that basement. He tortured them before he killed them. In our home! In the home where he had children! Who does that?!"

"A psychopath."

"Exactly!" I exclaimed. "A fucking psychopath! And it makes me so mad to think about that I am related to someone like that. You'd think that growing up in that, I would share the same opinions, but I don't, and still I get fucking compared to him! I am hated for my family and that's not fucking fair!"

Dominic smiled.

He looked proud which confused me.

"What the fuck are you smiling for?"

"You're giving in to the therapy. You're getting your anger out."

I scoffed.

"Who're you angry out besides your father?"

"My mum."

"...and?"

"Malcolm." I breathed. "I'm angry at Malcolm. I'm angry at George's sister for judging me and I'm angry at his ex-wife for leaving their kids because guess what— his kids are fucking wonderful!"

I let out a chuckle and ran my hands into my hair.

"This is so fucked. What did I ever do to deserve all of this shit? Why could I not have had parents who loved me? Why could I not have had a brother who tried to come back for me or a sister who didn't fucking die!"

I felt myself tear up. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I miss Nadine so fucking much. It's been fourteen years and I still miss her more than anything. She didn't deserve to die at twenty years old, and I didn't deserve to lose a sister when I was nearly thirteen." I said. "None of it is fucking fair."