The War left many grieving, those who would never get the chance to tell their loved ones that they loved them one last time. Iris Brown was one of them, her twin sister ripped away from her at just 18, she never got the chance to do the things with...
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George and Iris it would seem would not be the ones to decide when they would reenter the Burrow. For someone else had decided that they had spent too long out in the cold and were most likely going to get sick, even if Iris would tell everyone that it was completely worth it. The one sibling who Iris had not had a chance to speak to, considering they had turned up just before the gifts had been given out, was the one who had come to collect. Bill Weasley was the man who's scars across his face reminded Iris of what could have been in her own case but were a brutal reminder of why she would forever be terrified of Werewolves.
"George, Iris please head inside. It's freezing out here. I've got Fleur to put the kettle on, you don't have to head back into where they all are. Just join us and warm up a little." Bill's words were very convincing and it would take someone who was stupid to argue against him. He very much gave the older brother vibes of which Iris had expected to see from such a close knit family.
"Is that okay Iris?" George had turned for her opinion and Iris felt touched, he was checking to see whether she would feel comfortable with this member of the family. Considering how she had not felt around the rest of them he had checked obviously much more clued in to what had been going on than Iris had first thought.
"We only go in when you're ready George. If you want to go back inside of course we can." Iris only reiterated what she had said to him much earlier on.
"Okay." "Okay." George went to help Iris up from the bench considering he had very much been laying with most of his weight upon her. Going to wordlessly follow his brother inside. And much to Bill's words from earlier the older brother walked them into the kitchen purposely avoiding looking in the direction of the living room where the rest of the extended family had gathered and remained not sure how to respond to the events of which had gone on.
"How do you take your tea Iris?" Bill asked as he was already pouring hot water into the mug she assumed was for George.
"Milk with one sugar." George responded from beside Iris and Iris turned to give him a small smile.
"Your voice is so much deeper than I expected. And a lot less northern." Bill was quick to bounce back and Iris could see that the quick whit and humour very much was a family trait. Though Iris did not respond to his jest rather waiting to be passed the warm beverage she very much needed in that moment, the sharp cold from the outside having much of an effect on her still.
And when the mug was finally in her hand did Iris turn to the woman sat at the dining table. It was almost instantly Iris recognised the woman as the Beaubaxton's champion from her fourth year. Fleur was just as stunning as Iris remembered her to be. With the fair blond hair and complexion that Iris had been so jealous of when she had been a teenager. Iris had since then become more confident and had accepted who she was and what she looked like, but for a fleeting second that jealousy she held when she was 14 came crashing back. It was gone as quick as it had arrived and Iris was confused before she realised that she was being rude by staring.
