It's Better If You Do

After a few minutes, Rose began to calm down and pull away, wiping her tears away quickly on the back of her left hand. In any normal circustance, she would have used her right hand, but this wasn't any normal circumstance. George noticed and tenderly took it in his hands, glancing up at her to make sure he hadn't hurt her. He made a soft tutting noise to himself, and sighed. The bruise remover paste wasn't going to be able to handle this, he thought with a small frown.
Even though he knew a few minor spells he could perform that would heal it up, he didn't want to take the risk of something worse happening.

Chewing on his lip thoughtfully, George thought of the one person, from his experience, who could fix all cuts, bruises and the like without much problem. After hesitating for a moment, because he didn't think this would be the right way to introduce Rose, he shrugged and told the blonde, "I'll be right back. I've just got to go tell the customers that it's lunch break."

"Alright," she said softly, her blue eyes downcast. As he began to walk away, she called after him softly, "George?" He turned, and she had to smile at the bald patches that still remained on his head. I'll get Bellamy on that potion when we all get back, she thought.

"Yes, Rose?" he asked, his voice full of patience that he, on most days, would never possess. She stood and walked over to him, kissing him quickly on each cheek. He was taken aback, and she smiled softly.

"Merci," she said, and he smiled impishly, giving a large shrug of his shoulders.

"It's nothing. After I get done with the customers, we're going to go get your wrist looked at," George told her and then he dissapeared behind the curtain into the front of the shop. Rose's lips slipped into a frown, and she sat down at the table slightly confused. Where would they go? She didn't know of any wizarding hospitals in London, and she was sure that George wouldn't take her to, Merlin forbid, a muggle hospital. She wasn't so uppity-pureblood about muggles, but she didn't even want to think about what those people they called doctors would do to her. Bellamy'd told her horror stories of people being cut open when they were little, and it'd haunted Rose ever since. No, she decided with a firm shake of her head. George wouldn't do that.

Looking around, she noticed the cauldron of Hate Potion and she scowled at it, wondering what she had done wrong with it. Her exams had gone extremely well, but it seems she must have been heavy handed with an ingredient, or she and Fred wouldn't have reacted the way they did. This further proved to Rose that this entire mess was entirely her fault, and she sighed, thinking of how upset Fred was when he left the shop. She hoped Bellamy had caught up with him by now, wherever he might be. After a moment or two more, she noticed George push back through the curtain with his normally cheerful expression. He bowed to her and held out his arm pompously and she laughed, her eyes becoming considerably brighter.

"Shall we, madamoiselle?" he asked, and she took his arm, tilting her head as she looked up at him curiously.

"Where exactly are we going?" Rose asked, and he shrugged, an mischevious twinkle in his dark brown eyes.

"You'll just have to wait and find out," George said loftily, and turned on the spot. Before Rose even opened her eyes, she knew they were outside simply by the overwhelmingly bright sunlight, smells and sounds around her. Carefully, she raised her left hand to shield herself and opened her eyes slowly. To her surprise, they were standing in a front yard in front of a very odd looking house. It was atleast six stories high, with chimneys scattered across the roof, which was lopsided. It was crooked, and more than likely held up by magic. The grass was growing rather long, but she found it appealing, especially the small flowers that formed in clusters in some spots. Rusty cauldrons and Wellington boots littered the yard, and a half-hazardly put up sign announced that this place was: "The Burrow".

Rose had never seen a house like it, and she could see George's expressionless face watching her very closely. This was why they didn't care if they slept on the floor, and why they were so humble. They hadn't grown up with very much, and with five other siblings, their already small house was crowded. But, there was nothing wrong with that, she thought. Families consisted of love, not money or material things.

But Rose soon became distracted as she saw a fat brown chicken sneaking across the yard to the back of the house and a smile lit up her face as she began to slowly creep up on her. Quickly, she snatched the chicken up underneath her wings, holding her securely even while she clucked and protested at having been caught. Rose put herself eye to eye with the bird and smiled, though her tone was scolding.

"You know better, little miss," she said sternly, and the chicken lowered her head, seeming to be a bit ashamed. Rose turned around to smile triumphantly at George, but noticed that he was doubled over, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. A small pout turned down the corners of her mouth, and she sniffed, feeling her pride being poked at. Her mother had let her have chickens when she was small, as to teach her a lesson, and she'd always had a fondness for the birds. Walking towards the house, she set the chicken down with the rest, and dusted her hands off on the back of her jeans, wincing as she twisted her wrist a small amount. Keeping her tone stoic, she asked, "Where are we, George?"

"My parent's house, or The Burrow," he said, still snickering to himself. "Have you always been good with birds, or is this just a new found talent?" Rose sighed, shaking her head slightly and George took the hint, shrugging to himself, though the impish smile still stayed. "A story for another time, I suppose. C'mon, then. My mum'll fix you up." This statement caused Rose to become very still, and her eyes widened. Their mother? But... she wasn't supposed to meet her until Sunday. She was nowhere near prepared, and... Rose bit her lip, now looking doubtfully at the house. George saw her clam up, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine, Rosie. Our mum's nice, promise. She's not going to eat you for lunch."

"So you say," Rose said with a small laugh, and George smiled ruefully at her weak attempt for humor. Nudging her forward playfully, he pocketed his wand and began whistling happily. He really was glad to be home. His dad wouldn't be there, but a meal from mum was worth the visit. Fred'd probably be mad when he found out, but George honestly didn't care too much at the moment. Stepping up to the back door, he didn't bother to knock, but stepped right in. Sure enough, his mother was standing at the sink, preparing lunch. Several pots and pans were bubbling on the stove, and a knife was dicing carrots on it's own. Molly Weasley held a potato in her hand and was washing it quickly, singing along with the radio, which he recognized with a small chuckle to be his mother's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck. At the small sound, Molly turned around and gasped, dropping the potato. It would have fallen to the floor, but Rose had quickly pulled out her wand and levitated it back into Molly's hand.

"George! What are you doing home? I got your letter yesterday, but you aren't supposed to be here until Sunday!" she scolded, quickly crossing the kitchen to pull him into a bone crushing hug, before pulling him to arms length and scowling. "You aren't getting enough to eat! You're skin and bones and what have you done with your hair? It's missing in patches-"

"It's fine, Mum, it just got burnt off while handling the shop and I'm eating plenty. Bellamy's feeding me three times a day," George protested, but his mother simply clucked her tongue as if she didn't believe him.

Rose smiled at the exchange, and Molly seemed to sense that she was there for the first time and smiled at ehr warmly, before asking, "Is this Bellamy, or Rose? Well, whoever you are, dear, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Molly Weasley. Why don't you sit down, and I'll fix you a plate." Rose immediately did as she was told, and looked around the kitchen. It was small at best, but it was cheerful, but maybe that was because of Molly. The short, plump woman made Rose miss her own mother, but in a good way. The unruly red hair falling out of her bun and the wand sticking out of her flowered apron made Rose like their mother immediately.

"I'm Rose Lefebvre, Mrs. Weasley. I've heard so much about you," she said, and Molly shot George a stern look that showed she didn't think much of being talked about by her sons.

"Really now?" she asked and George shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"A bit here and there, about our wonderful mother who is an amazing cook. Though, I hate to tell you, Mum, Rose's sister is trying to take your place. Her cooking is superb," he said in an awed sort of voice, and Rose laughed quietly to herself.

"Where is your sister, Rose?" Mrs. Weasley asked, and Rose bit her lip, looking at George. She didn't know how much she was to tell her right off the bat, but George launched into the story for her.

"Well, Bellamy is currently off finding Fred, wherever he ran off to. He was a bit upset, you see," George said, and this was all it took for Molly to turn around and glare at her son, putting her hands on her hips.

"You had better tell me what happened, young man. You may be of age now, but I am still your mother-" but George cut her off with a lazy wave of his hand.

"Of course you're still my mother, mum. It's not even a big deal. Rose was making a Hate Potion for the shop, and Fred walked in at the wrong time. The fumes got to them, and they had a row. That's all. Fred just got upset about it," George explained easily, and Mrs. Weasley immediately deflated, turning back to the food on the stove.

"Oh, that potion is so volatile. It's so easy to get wrong, not that I'm saying you did, dear," she said, fixing the two of them plates. The roast chicken, diced carrots, and boiled potatoes made both George and Rose's stomachs growl, and they dug in. Almost immediately, Rose closed her eyes and hummed happily, savoring the bite. George grinned and nodded, as if to say, 'What did I tell you?'

"Mrs. Weasley-" Rose began, but she was cut off.

"Call me Molly, dear," Mrs. Weasley said and Rose bobbed her head.

"Molly, this is amazing. How did you learn to cook like this? I've never had anything like this. Even my own mother can't cook this well," Rose gushed, and Molly smiled widely, her cheeks turned a faint pink. She waved Rose off, and sat down at the table.

"You're sweet, but it's just a every day meal," she said, and Rose shook her head and continued eating. George chuckled and gave his mother a knowing look.

"Just accept the compliment, Mum. Your food is bloody good," he said, and Molly scowled at him over her glass of tea.

"Watch your mouth, George," she admonished, and then turned to Rose. "How exactly did you and your sister come to London?" Rose chewed as fast as she could, and gulped down a bite of roast chicken.

"I'd just graduated from Beauxbatons, and my sister was unable to find any work, so I convinced her to come here, just for a change of scenery," Rose told her, and Molly nodded, then an odd look crossed her face and she gave the stairs a quick glance.

"You don't happen to know Fleur Delacour, do you?" she asked, and Rose's eyes narrowed slightly, but kept her face mostly expressionless as she stabbed a bite of carrot onto her fork.

"She was a year ahead of me, but yes, I knew her. We weren't exactly friends," she said and this seemed to brighten Molly's mood considerably. George could practically see what was going through his mother's head: If this girl doesn't like Fleur, then she must be nice and respectable.

"Well, that might be a problem, then," Molly said after a moment. "Fleur was just taking a bath, but she'll be down in just a bit, I suppose-"

"If she isn't too busy staring at herself in the mirror," Rose grumbled under her breath, and Molly laughed heartily, now looking at Rose with a strong sense of fondness. George mashed his lips together to repress his laughter. Fred would be absolutely delighted, he thought with an inward chuckle. Mum adores Rose already, who was blushing heavily and apologizing, "I'm sorry; that was uncalled for."

"It's perfectly fine, dear. She isn't the... easiest person to get along with," Molly said grudgingly, and George smirked mischeviously.

"Well, atleast you won't be alone in sharing the delight, Mum. Ron and Ginny'll be home for the summer holidays in a few weeks," he said as he finished off the rest of his plate with a flourish and stood up for seconds. Rose tilted her head and wondered when she'd get to meet the two younger siblings.

"Well, if you and Fred hadn't skipped out on school, you two would be coming home with Ron and Ginny," said Molly in a menacing sort of voice, and Rose ducked her head closer to her plate, sensing an arguement coming on. George, well aware of where this conversation was turning, sighed heavily.

"Mum-"

"You and Fred should have gotten a full education! Yes, the shop is doing well, but what happens if you ever want to move on to something else, like the Ministry?" Molly asked loudly, her voice rising tremendously the longer she kept talking.

"We will never work at the Ministry, Mum. Ever. We've never been cut out for the kind of work, and you know it. We're doing exactly what we're meant to do-"

"You're only eighteen! How would you know that already? You couldn't!" she shouted and Rose had to admire George for being able to sit there, cool as a cucumber and completely unafraid. She was afraid, and the yelling wasn't even directed at her.

"Charlie knew at eighteen he wanted to work with dragons, and he's been doing that ever since, no problems. Bill's been at Gringrotts only to be closer to-" he paused and said quickly, "home." This confused Rose, but she didn't let on. This seemed to pull Molly back down from her heighth of motherly anger and she nodded, though didn't say anything. There were glances exchanged between mother and son, and even a few directed at Rose, who pretended to not notice, though this had her mind reeling. What was so secret? This was the same thing that Fred had mentioned before, about "friends of the family", she was sure of it.

Absentmindedly, she finished her plate and sat back in her chair, holding her wrist gently in her left hand. It was very tender and hard to use, which was why she had taken such great care to eat slowly and precisely. Suddenly Rose was shaken from her thoughts by a loud, "What on earth is the matter with your wrist?"

Molly stood and quickly came over to Rose, taking her wrist into her own hands lightly, examining it with a frown, and the blonde grimaced, and said, "Well, when Fred and I were having that row, he grabbed my wrist. It wasn't his fault at all, but he wouldn't listen to us. That's why he ran off in the first place, because he was so mad at himself..." she trailed off, and Molly watched her face closely, when George piped in.

"That's actually why we stopped by, Mum. I didn't know how to get rid of the bruise, and I knew you could fix it," he said and Molly nodded, before crossing the kitchen and pulling a worn book off the shelf that George could identify in his sleep, The Healer's Helpmate. She began flipping through it until she was open at another familiar page, "Bruises, Cuts, and Abrasions". Pulling her wand out of her pocket, she walked back over to Rose and ran her finger down the page and stopped at a certain line. Molly then traced her wand along the outline of the bruise and it slowly began to heal; Rose could tell immediately because the soreness was letting up considerably with every second that passed. After a few more moments, the bruise was gone and Rose flexed her wrist to test it out, before giving a small sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Mrs- Molly," she said and Molly patted her hand.

"It was no trouble at all, dear," she assured, crossing the room to put the book back on the shelf. George watched her put it back and then stood with a stretch, yawning loudly.

"Well, Mum, we better get going. We're supposed to meet Fred and Bellamy at Ollivander's about now, and we wouldn't want Rose to have to run into Fleur, now would we?" he asked and winked at Rose, who merely rolled her eyes and smiled. Molly nodded and pulled George into a hug.

"I'll see you four Sunday, then," she said and when she let go of George, she pulled Rose into a hug as well. "Don't you worry," she whispered with a bit of humor in her voice. "I'll get Bill to take Fleur out when you all come to visit."

Rose laughed, and said, "That would be much appreciated, Mrs. We- Molly."

"You two be careful now. And send Fred my love, George!" she called as they walked out the back door. Rose couldn't wipe the smile from her face, and she looked up at George with a raised eyebrow.

"Your mum is wonderful," she said sincerely, and George nodded, smiling as well.

"She can be a bit much at times, but it's all out of love. Well, here we go again," George warned as he and Rose linked arms, and they disappeared from The Burrow with a faint pop.