Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.
A/N: Written for The Sibling Rivalry Competition at HPFC. I always imagined Charlie being good with kids...no idea why.
"A-bump-it-e-bump-bump-bump...bridge out! AHH!" George let the two-year-old Victoire fall between his knees as she squealed with laughter. Playing "Hogwarts Express" was what he looked forward to every Sunday when everyone met at the Burrow for dinner. George loved being an uncle; he never knew how much fun little kids were until Victoire came along. He could spin her through the air, give her Hippogriff-back rides around the house, and even teach her to steal Grandmum's reading glasses. George always considered himself the "cool uncle." Charlie lived too far away, Percy was too boring, and Ron was too awkward. George always thought that he was Victoire's favorite—at least until she piped up in the middle of "Hogwarts Express."
"Where Unca Chawee?"
George stopped bouncing his knees. "Uncle Charlie? He's all the way around the world right now. But Uncle Georgie's right here!"
"Unca Chawee come back?"
"He just left, remember? He stopped home for Uncle Ronnie's and Aunt Hermione's wedding. He'll be back for Christmas."
"Unca Chawee come back soon?"
"Uncle Georgie doesn't know, Victoire. December's pretty far away."
She frowned. "I want Unca Chawee."
"But you've got Uncle Georgie!"
"I want Unca Chawee!"
George sighed as Victoire collapsed onto his chest. Nothing can break your heart like a two-year-old can, he thought. George thought for a moment that absence made Victoire's heart grow fonder, but it was quickly dashed when he realized how much Victoire favored Charlie. On the occasional times Charlie visited, he was always greeted with flying hugs from Victoire, who tugged on his pant leg and bawled inconsolably when he left. Charlie was the one who helped Victoire open all her Christmas presents last year, bought her a Pygmy Puff from George's shop, and kept her company at Ron's wedding as Bill and Fleur danced at the reception. All George did with Victoire was play all the fun stuff he missed as a kid. Come to think, he probably roughhoused too much for her liking. He still felt bad about letting Victoire fall off his old, rickety KinderComet and bruise her shoulder. Fleur swore loudly in French at him over Victoire's howling, and he could do nothing else but mutter a sheepish apology. He never knew the French had so many swear words.
"I've got an idea." He picked up Victoire and carried her to the small writing desk in the corner of the living room. "How about we write Uncle Charlie a letter?" George sat her down on his lap. He lifted up the desk hatch and pulled out a sheet of parchment, a quill, and a tin can full of dull crayons.
"Unca Chawee in there?" She pointed inside the desk.
"No, but you can help me write to him!" George handed her a purple crayon. She furiously began to scribble on the bottom of the parchment.
"Me jaw Unca Chawee daggon."
"Okay. You do that and I'll write." George kept one arm around Victoire and leaned over her to start his letter.
Victoire says she's drawing a dragon, but it looks more like a swarm of doxies exploded on the parchment. Gotta give her credit for trying, though.
I'm writing this because she keeps asking for her "Unca Chawee." I tried telling her that you'll be back for Christmas, but I don't think it's getting through. Victoire wants to see you now. You think you can make it home for Halloween? I'm sure she'd love to see you cast a Pumpkinhead Jinx on me.
I don't know how you do it, mate. I don't know how you can only see her three times a year and have her clamor for you when she's sitting on my lap. I admit defeat, comrade. I hereby concede the "favorite uncle" post to you. Not like I ever had it, though.
Maybe you can send Victoire a photo of you while you're away. I'm sure she'd like that, but then again, I don't speak toddler very well. I think next week I'll take her to Honeydukes and buy her all those sweets Bill won't let her have. You may be her favorite uncle, but I'll try to do my best to fill in while you're away.
"Give it a kiss for Uncle Charlie." He held the letter to Victoire's mouth and she gave it a sloppy toddler kiss.
"Unca Jojee kiss?" She pointed to the parchment.
"Eww, I don't wanna kiss Uncle Charlie." He sighed. "Well, okay." He puckered his lips hugely and lightly kissed the parchment. "BLECH! I've got Uncle Charlie germs!" He wiped his lips on Victoire's shirt sleeve as she giggled hysterically.
As if on cue, Errol flitted over to the desk and held out his leg. George rolled the letter into a tight scroll and opened the window to the calm autumn air. "Safe flight, Errol. Don't get lost in Germany again!" He lifted Victoire and held her to the window. "Say bye, Victoire!"
"Bye-bye!" She waved her tiny hand at the owl.
George and Victoire watched Errol disappear into a speck in the sky. "You know what Uncle Georgie's gonna do? He's gonna take you to Honeydukes' next week and let you pick out all the sweets you want. Fizzing Chocolate, Singing Sours, Lemon Dragons—"
"Unca Chawee like daggon. Unca Chawee come back soon?"
George sighed. "He will. I promise."
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