Waiting Game☆George Weasley

Unconditional

Author: hi all! Sorry it has been awhile. I believe I stated this in the past, but this story takes awhile to craft. But hey, do you like The originals? Twilight? Other harry potter fanfics? Then check out my profile for my other works *wink wink*

Emma Thomas understood that unconditional love was the purest type of love in which you accept everything about a person. From their mistakes to their accomplishments, you love that person through everything; unconditionally. Love has many forms in which it ties you to another. For Emma, her unconditional love tied her to her sister. She loved her through everything she did and is still tied to her despite her sisters untimely death. To best explain that tie, it would be colored green like the color their eyes the twins shared. It would be as thick as ones thumb with knots found along its length. But it splits off in a unknown darkness, with a single thread hanging loosely.

Emma is also tied to her sisters dear daughter Eliza. It was the reason she got up in the morning, the inspiration to her stories, the tug boat that carried her through rough waters. A rope colored the rose pink of Eliza's favorite toy Emma bought her, but very pale. Not yet quites ettled on one particular color. But made with a braided style one can find attached to anchors. Strong yet woven in a eye tracing pattern.

It was unconditional love that got her through everything she faced. Woven of different colored thread, braided a certain way, and filled with memories that are irreplaceable. At least that's the words Molly wanted to tell Emma. That there is a life after the grief. But, she knew that the girl was not ready to move on. Reminding her much of her still grieving son.

Stagnation, unable to move on, and overwhelming grief.

Molly understood that such things were not easy to move on from. But if her hard life has taught her anything, the words of those still here. Wanting to be here, to help heal you was the medicine to it all.

But there was another way to heal, and Molly had plans brewing as she waited for the arrival of a certain red headed child of hers.

The sudden pop that can only be associated with apparition was heard from the front yard before the door opens to reveal a tall figure and flaming red hair.

"Mum?" George's voice was heard from the front door and Molly let's a secretive smile cross her lips before she schools her features.

"In here darling."

George enters the living room and spots his mum working on her newest knitting work in the colors of emerald green and a golden E was beginning to form. He stops in the hallway as he waits for her to hit a stopping point.

Molly wraps the loose thread to hold her place. And sets down the new sweater she was working on. Turning to her son, she watches him for a moment as he fiddles by the entryway. Ever since the loss of his brother, George has become uncomfortable in his family home.

"George."

He looks up at his mother's voice. His sad brown eyes looking into his mother's. She knew what she had planned was worth seeing something other than sadness in those depths.

"I need you to go pick up some people for me dear." Molly explains as she goes to stand up.

"Who?" George asks in curiosity, titling his head. Wondering who she could have possibly invited that needed assistance in coming here.

Molly just smiles mischievously at her son. A type of grin that her children inherited when they were up to no good.

"Just some neighbors from over the hedge."

"Over the what?"

...

Emma was humming as she sits on the couch while her niece slumbers away in the portable crib that sits in the living room. Emma's humming has always been the way Evelyn would fall asleep. The soothing sounds calming the child into a deep sleep. Emma is working on the laundry that managed to build up that week. Most of it being Evelyn's, as the baby could be quite the mess maker.

Humming, Emma folds some of her laundry and places it over the back of the couch. Keeping the small load of mostly intimates away from the massive pile that was Evelyn's clothes in the basket.

A knocking can be heard that has her pausing in tune and looking up to the front door. Curious, Emma looks at the time to see it was nearly the set time for the dinner she agreed to. Guessing it must be Molly at the door, Emma quietly mutters under her breath at her inability to pay attention to the time. She smooths out her simple navy dress she changed into that was more comfortable, she stands and heads over to the door.

Opening it, she smiles sheepishly as immediately begins to request her to wait while she got dressed. "Sorry Molly, I was not paying attention to the time. I hope you don't mind waiting a bit, I still need to get changed..." The words die off as Emma processes that the redhead in front of her was nearly another head taller, standing tall, and was staring at her in curiosity did she realize that this was not Molly.

"You...are not Molly." Emma let's out after a short but horribly awkward-filled pause that was the space between them.

George lets out a chuckle as the girls freckled face blooms with a blush. He was surprised as he realized that this girl was the first in awhile that was able to elicit a laugh from him.

"No I am not. I'm George Weasley, Molly's son actually. She sent my to collect you and company. At your service." He half-heart attempt at a joke. Making Emma laugh at his silliness. 

"Give me a moment then. I need to get changed and wake up Evelyn." Emma waves him in. His eyes trail around the room and pauses at something on the couch. A blush covers his face and lets out a sound as he attempts to clear his throat. Emma seeing where his eyes went, went read as well. Rushing forward, she grabs the intimates she just washed off where it was stacked on the back end of the couch. 

"R-right, I'll be just a moment." Emma hurries to her room. Ignoring her rushing heartbeat as she quickly changes into the outfit she had picked out for the night.

In the living room, George wanders around. Rubbing the back of neck, hoping to ease his own rushing heartbeat. His mother didn't warn him about the girl. Nor expressed that her piercing emerald green eyes would make him feel something he hasn't felt in months. When a sudden rustling sound and the soft cooing can be heard.

Looking down, he spots the small portable crib. Where a sleeping redheaded infant was resting. Her curious and wide emerald eyes, just like Emma's was staring up at him as she sucks on her hand.

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