A Master Of Mischief ~ George Weasley Love Story ~ Book 1

Chapter 68

**George's POV**

The next morning I woke, expecting Maddie to be back to her old self. When I got up she wasn't in bed. I walk downstairs to check the garden. The baby's little grave was still there, but Maddie wasn't.

"Maddie?" I call, walking around the house. I check the kitchen, living room, downstairs bedrooms and bathroom and then walk upstairs again. I stick my head in Alithea's room and see her standing by the window, Alithea wrapped in her arms. She's talking to her quietly and I try to listen, but I can't make out the words.

I tip-toe out again and head to the kitchen. I decide to make Maddie's favourite breakfast: blueberry pancakes.

"Morning," I greet Maddie and Alithea as they walk in. Alithea smiles at me, but Maddie doesn't reply. I grab her face and kiss her anyway.

"I made pancakes!" I announces, "aren't I a good husband?"

She sits down, tucking Alithea into the crook of her arm. I put some pancakes in front of her, but half an hour goes by and she doesn't touch them. Alithea begins to yawn, so I take her and put her in bed. When I return to the kitchen, Maddie is washing the dishes. I take the plate and clothes from her hands and put them aside. I take her face gently in my hands and tilt it so she's looking at me.

"I need you back," I tell her. She casts her eyes down so she's not looking me in the eye. I carefully lean in and press my lips against hers. They're warm and sweet and taste like pancakes. I hide my smile as I pull away.

She did eat them.

Lying in bed that night I feel as if there's a huge distance between us. We used to sleep with our arms around each other and now Maddie lies right on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. I stare at the back of her head, looking at the way the curls fall down her back. I can tell from her breathing she's not asleep yet, so I decide to take action.

I hook one hand under her waist and drag her into the middle of the bed and then snuggle up next to her. To my surprise she doesn't lie stiffly. She lets herself curve into me. I wrap arms around her and bury my face in her hair. It smells like honey and flowers.

"George?"

Her voice is so soft in the silent night, for a moment I think I'm imaging it.

"Yeah?"

"I... I want to go home."

I prop myself up on one elbow and look at her. There's a slight crease between her eyebrows that tells me she's anxious.

"We are home," I reply soothingly. She shakes her head slightly and the crease deepens.

"Where's home?" I ask, "Grimauld place?"

She shakes her head again.

"The Den?"

Shake.

"Your Dad's old place?"

Shake.

"The Burrow?"

Shake.

"Hogwarts?"

Pause. Shake.

I don't know where else she could be talking about. I lie down on my back and stare at the ceiling.

"George?"

"Yeah?"

"I really want to go home."

From her voice I can tell she's crying and for some reason, this makes me feel relieved. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly, letting her cry.

While she cries, I think. Where could "home" be?

Then a memory hits me.

**Flash Back**

"Are you sad that you won't be going home this Summer?" I ask Maddie as we board the Hogwarts Express to go to the Burrow. She laughs at me as if I were being silly.

"Home isn't a place," she tells me, "a little piece of home is carried with you in your heart. To be home you just need to join your piece with friends'. Then you're home."

**End Flash Back**

I climb out of bed and stand a metre away from Maddie, holding my arms out.

"Come home," I whisper. She gets up, wiping her face and runs into my arms. I feel her arms around my waist, holding me tightly and I hold her just as tight. She's still crying, so I keep holding her. Tears of my own are soon dripping into her hair.

After she's all cried out, she steps back, wiping her face on her shirt. I watch her, wondering what will happen next, if she'll just get back into bed and her shell or if she'll walk away from me.

"Sorry," she sniffs.

"Don't be," I reply immediately. She shakes her head and hiccups.

"No, I should be," she says. I try to think of a response that will just keep her talking.

"Why? You haven't done anything wrong."

She doesn't reply for a long moment.

"I haven't done anything right."

I don't know what to say to that.

"You're blameless," I say lamely.

"It... I feel like it was my fault."

"It wasn't."

She sits down on the side of the bed and tucks her knees up. I stay where I am, watching her carefully.

"After... After the healers told me I wanted to die," she says, looking at her toes, "I didn't want to see you. I just wanted to hide away from the world."

She pauses for a moment.

"After I told you, I felt so empty," she continues, "Dad came in, but I couldn't find the energy or the will to talk to him. All I could think of was my baby. After a while I felt angry. I felt so angry that nobody else cared about her. I just wanted someone to recognise that she was gone."

I want to interrupt, to point out that I did care, that I didn't have a mental break down over nothing, but I stay silent and let her continue.

"When you gave Alithea to me, I wanted to hold her, to tell her I love her, but I couldn't," her voice breaks slightly, "it felt so wrong that she could live when she couldn't. I felt so isolated, like I was in a bubble. I couldn't reach anyone and no one could reach me."

I have to struggle not to grab her and show her that I can reach her. I just want to hold her and show her that everything is alright.

"It wasn't until you said you loved her that the bubble broke," she says, "up until then, I thought you hadn't cared and I hated you for it. Then I realised that you cared as much as I did. But you were being brave. You were going on with life, taking care of Alithea, while I was stuck in a moment. I realised I had to accept that she was gone and move on."

She shivers slightly.

"The idea of moving on without her was horrible," she confesses, "that's why I made the grave."

"So we never forget her."

The words are out of my mouth before I've finished thinking them. Maddie looks up at me. Our eyes lock and she nods. I kneel down in front of her so we're at about the same level. She touches my cheek gently.

"I'm sorry," she says. Her voice is lighter now that she's not carrying all the weight alone. I catch her hand and hold it against my face.

"I love you so much," I tell her earnestly.

"I love you too George," she replies, "so much."

She leans over and presses her lips against mine. I'm surprised at the passion behind it, but I respond all the same.

I have my wife back.