Lee Pace’s face appreciation post
Listen to the song as you read.
The store chimed a cheery “Welcome, welcome!” that fell on deaf ears, sounding old and broken. Dust sat here and there like dead weight, coating merchandise they had slaved over until perfection. It felt wrong. Light filtered in through parts of the damaged roof that had never really been seen to, highlighting sections of the store and for a moment - George saw a flash of what it used to be when he was two not one. When the sign outside still carried the apostrophe and s behind ‘Weasley’. When he could still call himself Forge.
He delved in further, trailing his fingers along the counter Verity once sat at, tending. A feeling settled in his stomach, like homesickness and remorse, and his face felt heavy with the onslaught of tears prickling behind his eyes.
‘George?’ enquired Ron softly from behind.
‘I’m ok.’ murmured George, rubbing the dust between his finger tips until it was only particles in the air.
And then they set to work, sleeves rolled up, and prepared to try and fix something that should’ve never been broken.
The shop bustled with life, kids shouting joyous announcements across to each other, parents of the younger children watching with a careful eye. Toys whizzed through the air, and not a spec of silence could be found in the entire building. A mechanical boy leaned over a bucket, upchucking brightly colored candy, and a mechanical girl across the store copied him. Tight-ropes with a befuddled witch wobbled above, and the only light that came in was from healthy charms above. With the popularity of the franchise, the til’s were keeping Ron and Verity busy. Both were glowing with amusement.
George grinned as he weaved through the crowd, moving towards a side of the store where nothing cluttered the space - well, except for the wall. Along it was papers, bright pictures that moved and waved and a familiar laugh stared down at him.
‘Hullo, Fred!’ He stuck up a clipping from the Daily Prophet, exclaiming 13 YEARS LATER and an memorial article below. Fred glanced at it from his picture, then wandered into the clipping to inspect it. After a moment, he turned his head to look over his shoulder and gave his twin a wink. ‘Yeah, thought you might like that.’ said George, feeling a mist in his eyes that he was quick to brush away. He scanned the wall, taking in the other things. Frames of he and Fred, articles depicting the success of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and its branches; the refurbishing of the original after a long few years of mourn, and much more of Fred to make up for the fact he couldn’t stand aside him in the flesh. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to settle George’s heart. For the most part.
He turned and with a flick of his wand - set up a table that elongated and stretched out then into the wall; leaving him a space to sit between the two. ‘Owl Orders for school here, please!’ He announced, offering his best smile to a young boy who trampled up, explaining it was his first year coming, and so on.
Behind George, Fred beamed with pride for his twin and faced the ink of the words again to actually read them.
And to Fred; may you never manage your mischief.