Not seeing his mum at the stove or kitchen table, he laid the flowers on a clear bit of worktop and headed for the sitting room, calling, "Mum? You around? Your favorite son's decided to visit..."

Sitting in her favorite squishy armchair by the fire, Molly was at work knitting Weasley sweaters. With her family not growing in actual blood relatives, but in 'honorary members', she would be hard pressed to finish all the sweaters if she didn't get dedicated to the cause. Hearing Fred's voice, she broke out into a smile and put her knitting down. Seeing him enter the sitting room, she crossed it quickly and captured him in a hug.

"Fred, dear!" she said. "How are you? I've missed you. Why didn't you let me know you were coming? I could have cooked..." she trailed off, as she realized she was carrying on.

Grinning despite himself, Fred wrapped his arms around his mother, resting his chin atop her head for a moment and wondering for possibly the millionth time when he'd gotten tall enough to do so. Drawing back, he greeted, "Hi, Mum. I'm... well, I'm here, any road." He chuckled at her offer of food. "I missed you too, and I hadn't quite planned to visit, just realized I needed to when I went to s-... I was in the churchyard."

"You were-oh, dear. I could've gone with you if I knew you were going." Molly looked down at the floor so she could pull herself together without Fred seeing the tears in her eyes. It absolutely devastated her to see how he was still suffering after all this time. For Molly it was as if part of her heart had died the day she lost George, but she realized that for Fred, he had lost even more. Busying herself to keep her tears at bay, she started making Fred a plate of leftovers in the kitchen.

"Mum..." Fred called, trailing after her into the kitchen. He hated making her upset, even though it seemed to be a particular talent of his; he knew she worried, and wished she wouldn't, or not so much. "I'd like that, sometime," he offered, moving to lean against the cabinet next to her, "but today I just wanted to think a while." Nodding at the flowers he'd left on the worktop, he added, "I found some daisies while I was walking up past the pond... thought you might want them for the table."

"They are beautiful! What a sweetheart you are to think of your mum." She set his plate down on the table and gave him a peck on the cheek. Looking through the cupboards for the large, homemade pottery vase Fred and George had made for her as children, she let out an 'Aha!' when she found it. Filling it with water, she brought it to the table and placed the daisies in it. "Still one of my most favorite things, this happy green vase. As more time passes, the more precious it becomes."

Fred set his fork back down before the bite of potatoes on it made it to his mouth, watching his mother move the vase to the table. He'd sat in the same seat fifteen years earlier, covered in clay as he and his twin painstakingly shaped the coils of sticky earth, patting them together so that the finished container would hold water. They'd broken one, Mum's favorite crystal, badly enough that the repair job left it leaky, and had decided, in their seemingly infinite ten-year-old wisdom, to replace it. The result was a bit lopsided, but sound, and they'd painted it a cheery verdigris, hoping to smooth things over.

"Terrible pottery job, really," he said quietly, chasing a bit of roast around his plate with his fork, "but we meant well." He was glad she still had it, that the brittle, uneven thing had survived so long in their often chaotic house. Managing a brief smile, he set to eating a few more bites, knowing she would fuss if he said he wasn't hungry.

"It may not be up to the world's standard of perfection, dear, but I've never seen anything more beautiful." She smiled, remembering how proud the twins had been when they presented her with the vase. "Now, how have you been and what have you been keeping yourself busy with? And how's the shop?" She bit her tongue so as not to pepper him with questions.

Shrugging, knowing his mother didn't really want details of what he'd been up to, or wouldn't once she got the gist of the topic area, he volunteered, "Spent some time with Katie, now she's back in the country, which has been great. You know already, but there's Gin's clinic... Gods, Mum, I'm thrilled for her," he admitted, a full grin appearing. "She's been so nervous and excited that I've tried to give her a bit of space, but I'll have to bother her soon, as my brotherly duty." Kicking his chair back to balance on two legs, he waved his hand vaguely in response to her inquiry about the shop. "Business is good... I finally finished a project I've had in the works for ages. He patted his pocket for a second, then fished out a Whirlagig and set it spinning across the table with a flick of his finger.

Following the Whirlagig with her eyes across the table, Molly couldn't resist clapping as a little child would. "Fred! This little thing! It's amazing! How wonderful!" she said. "I am so impressed with the way your mind works; you're so creative!" Smiling broadly she said, "Do you have one for your mum?"

With a grin he actually felt at her glee, Fred nodded. "It's called a Whirlagig, and that one's yours if you want it. I'll owl a few over for Dad, since I'm sure he'll want to take them apart." Sobering, he admitted, "It took forever to get them right, as they'll still spin sideways and not fall... or upside down if you're really clever about it. Would have been a lot easier with George." He swallowed, thinking of the nights he'd left the lab so frustrated he'd had to walk for hours or risk smashing things he'd need later. "He's- was so much better at that sort of thing."

"Your father will appreciate that so much. Of course, then he'll Floo you when he can't get them back together the right way." Molly paused, the tears coming to her eyes once again. "Fred, I know only time will help ease the pain you feel, but I see parts of George in you, not just physically, and it makes me miss him a little less," she said, reaching out for Fred's hand. "I know it's difficult to visit and be surrounded by the memories, but thank you for coming here today. I really appreciate it."

Fred wrapped his mum's hand in both of his, squeezing gently. "I'll always visit," he promised, "though you know I'd not give any kind of schedule." He paused, sucking in a breath as he felt heat prickle behind his eyes. "I just wish I could see what you see," he muttered, the ache he carried suddenly sharp, stabbing; missing his twin was a fluid feeling that never quite went away, just changed shape as time passed, as memories cycled through his conscious thought. "Never being here would be just as bad as being here all the time, I think. It's too much after a while, in either case, and I'd miss you and Dad besides."

"Whenever you can be here is often enough for me, my dear. You need to do what's right for you. Just know that your father and I love you more than anything." Her eyes shining bright, Molly smiled through her tears.

"Love you both, too," Fred allowed, then cleared his throat. He released his mum's hand and fished out a pocket handkerchief for her, a small package dropping onto the table as he handed it over. "Don't cry," he sighed, picking up the little box and turning it over in his hands. It was incredibly unfair when females cried; there was no right thing to say or do, most of the time. He drew his wand and resized the box, remembering what it was. Smiling wryly, he offered, "Lousy timing, sorry, but... Happy birthday, Mum," and set her gift on the table in front of her.

"Thank you for the birthday wishes. Truthfully, I about forgot until your father asked me out to dinner tonight," she said. Molly opened the package carefully, smiling at what she found inside. "Fred, it's beautiful! I can keep my tea in here. I've always just kept it in a glass in the cupboard, but this is so pretty I can leave it right out on the table." She gave Fred an enthusiastic hug. "You've always been such a thoughtful boy."

Hugging his mother in return, Fred smiled. He liked picking out gifts to give, making sure it was something the person would really enjoy and make use of. "Glad you like it. You ought to have pretty things now they're not so apt to get broken all the time."

"How very right you are," she said with a wink. "Please feel free to pick me out something pretty for Christmas as well." She laughed so that Fred knew she was joking. She'd never been one for material possessions, even thought the Weasley family budget had a lot more give in it than it ever had, Molly and Arthur were still quite frugal.

"I will," Fred promised. He'd meant what he said; it was only fair for his mum to enjoy part of having her children out of the house by being able to live in it as she liked. "Maybe just for you, though, not for the house," he hinted, having found her Christmas present weeks previously. "I may find Dad some new muggle gadget, too. Then he can tinker when he's not trapped all hours at work. You'll tell him I said hello, I imagine?"

"Of course I will. He'll be upset he missed you. And here, take this," she said, pushing an overstuffed bag of home cooked goodies into his arms. "I wouldn't want you to go home empty-handed. I love you, Fred."

{Summary: Fred comes home for a visit.}