Gift fic for L3petitemort!
Title: Five Ways George was Different From Fred
Author: ????
Recipient: l3petitemort
Pairing(s): Gen
Word Count: 2,820
Rating: PG-13
Summary: George was not completely identical to Fred
Warnings: A little bit of Weasly self-love
A/N: Thank you to my wonderful betas and friends for their help with this. l3petitemort, I hope you enjoy these vignettes and a glance at what makes George different. Thanks to the mods for letting George get some love and attention!
Five Ways George was Different From Fred
George Knew When to Apologise
The door moaned in protest at being opened so slowly. The intruder proceeded carefully, knowing he could not risk waking the only sleeping occupant. A small strip of light from the lamp in the hall revealed that the snores filling the room came from the cot in the corner, and that the stifled sobs originated from the orange lump in the single bed.
George quietly approached his younger brother. "Ronnie," he whispered cautiously. The three year old hidden under the faded Chudley Cannons blanket refused to answer.
"Ron?" he tried again, a bit louder. Ginny made a loud snort from her cot and rolled over.
"She sure can snore, eh Ronnikins?"
"Don't call me that," the lump grumbled.
George laid a tentative hand on Ron's small shoulder, which was promptly shrugged off. "Go 'way Fred."
"I'm George," he explained, sighing.
"You the same," Ron pointed out with a sniffle.
George was momentarily taken aback. Sure, he and Fred looked alike, but they weren't exactly the same inside, were they? No!, George decided emphatically, they were not exactly the same. After all, he was here trying to apologise to Ron, while Fred fell asleep with a smile on his face, still laughing over Ronnie's "girly" screams when his favourite stuffed bear was replaced by a giant spider.
"I...I just wanted to say I'm sorry that Fred- that we hurted you."
When the traumatized toddler didn't respond, George continued. "I brought you summat to cuddle..." George reached over and placed his own well-loved stuffed dragon under the covers with Ron. "Just for tonight, mind," he added, lest Ron think it was a permanent gift, "til Dad gets home and sets Mr. Bear to rights."
"Mum says he can't be fixted." Ron's small voice broke, as he tried to hold back his tears.
George patted Ron's shoulder again; this time he wasn't rejected. "If anybody can, it's Dad." Ron just sniffled and nodded his head as he tucked George's dragon under his chin.
Before he stood to leave, George leaned close to Ron's ear and whispered, "One word of this to Fred and spiders will be the least of your worries."
George Wasn't Afraid to Ask for Help
George was waiting patiently for the Common Room to empty out. Ron and his best mates, the girl with the hair whose name he couldn't pronounce and Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' Potter had finally left for their dormitories. They had been huddled around a table in the corner, whispering furiously over some matter or other - though George couldn't imagine what could be so earth shattering to a bunch of ickle firsties.
Fred and Lee finished their epic game of Exploding Snap and tried to drag George upstairs, but he had made an excuse about waiting for some girl and they had eventually left him in peace, not without taking the mickey first of course.
A short time after 11:00 p.m. the entrance to the Tower swung open and the Gryffindor George had been waiting for at long last appeared.
"Why the long face there, Perce, didn't catch anybody out of bounds tonight?"
"Not now, George." Percy trudged past the table where George had spread out his work. George was secretly impressed that Percy was the only one to never confuse him for Fred. "It's been a long day and rounds were exhausting," Percy explained as he started up the stairs. "It isn't easy being a prefect, you know."
George suppressed his natural inclination to make a smart-arsed retort. He jumped to his feet and called after his older brother, "Percy, wait!"
Percy turned with an exasperated sigh. "What is it?"
"I...I was wondering if, maybe...if you wouldn't mind..."
Percy took the few steps back down into the Common Room. "George?"
"See, the thing is...I need some help."
"Honestly! I have told you and Fred repeatedly, I cannot interfere with the punishments set by other prefects-"
"It's not that," George interrupted. "It's this." He picked up one many the parchments strewn across the table and waved it.
Percy took the paper from George, his eyebrows rising high above his horn-rimmed frames. "Potions?"
George nodded, not meeting Percy's incredulous stare.
"You want my help with your Potions assignment?"
"Yeah, if...you know, it's not too much trouble."
"No." George's shoulders slumped before Percy continued. "No trouble at all, George."
"Thanks, Perce." The two Weasley brothers sat together, Percy reviewing the work George had begun.
George cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a few moments. "Um, hey Perce, can I ask you something?"
"You just did," Percy replied dryly.
"Ha Ha, and they say we're the funny ones. Seriously, Percy, I was kinda wondering how," he paused as if to gather courage, "how is it you can always tell me and Fred apart? I think you're the only one who's never called me Fred."
Percy looked at George, stunned. "I...I'm not sure really. You're just different. You may look identical, George, but you are not the same person." He looked back to the parchment in his hand, "Oh dear, this won't do, not at all! If someone were to ingest this, as you've written it, they would suffer from an immediate nosebleed!"
"Really?" George asked, his interest piqued. "Hmm, interesting idea. Thanks, Percy."
George Liked to Keep Private Matters Private
When Fred Weasley wanked, everyone knew about it. If he even bothered to close his curtains, he certainly didn't silence them. He wasn't embarrassed about his nocturnal activities and, once his dorm mates realised this, they stopped teasing him and just made sure their own curtains were closed so they wouldn't be subjected to Fred's ramblings. See, Fred liked to talk when he wanked... a lot. George would never admit it to Fred, but he was embarrassed by Fred's behaviour; he definitely preferred to keep his thoughts and fantasies private.
After the Yule Ball, once the rest of the dorm had settled into sleep, Fred let out a deep sigh. "Hey George, you know what I was thinking?"
Oh hell, here we go, George thought. It seemed like every wank Fred had started with that question. Why can't he just toss off in the shower like the rest of us?
Fred didn't wait for George to answer; he never did. "You know who was looking good tonight?"
"Who, Fred?" George could hear the rustling of bed covers and pyjamas as Fred prepared himself.
"Granger...she cleans up right nice."
"That's disgusting!" George cried indignantly. Usually he let Fred go on with his perverted musings, but this was too much.
"Whuh?"
"Number One - she's like fourteen..."
"Fifteen," Fred interrupted.
"Number Two," George continued, "she's like our little sister and Number Three - Ronnie'd kill you for talking 'bout her like that, you perv!"
"Well, who'd tell him?"
"Sheesh mate, c'mon. How you gonna feel on their wedding day, knowing you tossed off to thoughts of his wife?"
"Ron and Hermione? Married? Yeh think?"
"Mark my words."
"Yeah, guess you have a point."
George rolled over to his stomach and tried to sleep, hoping Fred had reconsidered his plans for the evening.
"Hey George, you know-"
"What Fred?"
"That Fleur Delacour...she's effing shagtastic!"
George mumbled his agreement but otherwise said nothing, knowing Fred was talking more to himself than George really.
"She's like sex on legs..."
George could tell Fred was starting to enjoy himself, his voice was getting ragged, his breathing heavy and the others sounds of pleasure were undeniable.
"Mmmm, that hair, love to wrap my hands in it...that husky voice..."
George could feel himself becoming affected by Fred's words as he pushed himself into his mattress.
"And Angie...she looked incredible tonight, yeah?"
"Uh-huh," George agreed reluctantly. Truth was Angelina had looked amazing at the Ball, but ogling your mate, who's also your brother's date, isn't on, like wanking to thoughts of the girl meant for your baby brother wasn't.
"Man, her tits are brilliant...and her arse, I'm telling yeh, firm and-"
George couldn't take it anymore, he tossed his covers aside and jumped out of bed.
"Where yeh goin'?" Fred groaned.
"Loo - gotta spend a Knut." He rushed to the boys' toilet and with his back against the sinks, he swiftly yanked down his pyjama bottoms and dealt with his own 'problem.' Images of sleek blonde hair and ample chocolate breasts and the memory of his own date, soft and sweet smelling in his arms, had him quickly finding release.
When he turned around to wash his hands, the mirror couldn't resist a cheeky comment. "Nice evening, I take it George?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, watching his ears burn red. "How'd you know it was me and not-"
"Easy - you have less freckles on your bum."
George Had Friends Outside of Fred (well, at least one)
George's final year at Hogwarts wasn't turning out quite like he expected. There was no Quidditch (not for him, Fred, or Harry anyway). Umbitch had banned all their WWW products and confiscated hundreds of Galleons worth of goods-seriously cutting into their profits. Dad had been hurt something awful and Percy had turned on the family.
At least there was the D.A., George mused as he snuck through the corridors on his way to a meeting. A chance to rebel and yet do good at the same time - kinda made him feel like that Muggle hero his dad had told him about, Sparrow... no, Finch... that's not it... Robin maybe?
George's thoughts of medieval Muggle rebels were interrupted when he turned a corner on the seventh floor and found two of Umbitch's minions, Montague and Warrington, harassing some poor student up against the wall. As he got closer, George realised it was Luna Lovegood they were threatening.
"C'mon Loony, tell us what we want to know." Montague reached up wrap a strand of her dirty blonde hair around his meaty finger. "We'll make sure you're well rewarded."
Luna stared back at him unflinching, and said firmly, "No thank you, I don't care for any rewards."
Montague slammed his palm on the wall beside her head and Warrington took a step closer behind him, in an obvious attempt to appear intimidating. "Tell us Loony!"
Even if Luna didn't seem afraid, George was becoming more concerned for her safety. "Oi, you two - leave her alone!"
Warrington turned quickly (as quick as the sloth-like bloke could) and trained his wand on George. Montague sneered at him, but didn't move away from Luna.
"This doesn't concern you, Weasel," Montague snarled.
"That's where you're wrong; this very much concerns me."
"What? She a friend of yours, or something?" Trust a Slytherin to make the word 'friend' sound like a disease, George thought. Luna observed the entire scene with what, George would later reflect, appeared to be indifference.
"Yeah, she is. Now leave her alone." George made a subtle move for his wand, as Montague pulled his own. Before a duel could break out, Fred, Lee and Angelina suddenly appeared. Faced with the possibility of a four-on-two fight (five-on-two, if Luna should decide to show an interest in the proceedings), the two members of the Inquisitorial Squad backed off.
Looking Luna up and down, Montague scoffed, "Figures the only bird a Weasley could pull is a loony slag like this." George's anger snapped and he lunged at the Slytherin. Lee and Fred held him back.
"You twats better scurry back to the dungeons," Fred warned, one hand on George, his wand in the other.
After assessing the situation, the two Slytherins turned to leave, but not before issuing a warning, "Watch your backs Weasels!"
Once they disappeared from sight, Fred released George and slapped him on the back. "What have I told you about getting into a kerfuffle without me, eh? You know I hate to miss the fun!"
"Sorry, mate, wasn't my intention," George said weakly, his eyes still on Luna.
"Well, anyway - what's done is done. Let's get a move on before we're late and we miss Ronnie getting hexed." Fred started to walk away, with Lee and Angelina in tow. He stopped when he realised George wasn't following.
"Forge?"
"We'll be along in a mo." George nodded toward Luna. "We'd best not all go at once."
Fred gave him a quizzical look, but left anyway.
"Are you all right there, Luna? They didn't hurt you did they?"
"Oh no, I'm quite fine, thank you."
"Oh...good."
George didn't know quite what to say but he was spared from thinking up small talk when Luna spoke. "You know George, you really shouldn't lie."
"Whuh?" he stammered. She made him feel slightly uncomfortable with her unblinking gaze. "Lie? About what?"
"You told those two boys that I'm your friend."
"You are," he insisted, but she continued to stare at him serenely, as if she saw straight through him. "Er, um...at least you could be, if you wanted."
"Thank you, George. That would be lovely." A slow smile spread across her face that made George instantly feel warm inside.
"All right, um, now that that's settled, we should get going I reckon."
As they made their way to the Room of Requirement, Luna entertained him with tales of Nargles and other fantastical creatures. As their chatter filled the corridors, George realised that Luna was the first friend he had ever made that was his alone. He liked that for some reason.
George Had a Hidden Talent
George had found a quiet spot of sunlight by the window in the otherwise dreary sitting room. He could hear his mother fussing at someone and was glad it wasn't him for once. The double doors suddenly flew open, causing George to shove what he had been working on into the cushions beside him.
"Oh," a shrill voice called out. "I thought this room was empty. Everywhere I turn, there's another one of you."
"Sorry, Auntie, I can go..." George started to rise but was waved back down by his Great Aunt Muriel.
"No, no, stay there." She pulled her wand out of a pocket in her long brown skirt and bid the doors to close. She then turned a critical eye on George. "Which one are you again?"
Before he could answer, she interrupted. "You only have one ear - that makes you George, right?"
"Yes, Auntie," he said with a forced smile.
"What have you got there?" She pointed a bony finger at the cushions where George sat.
"It-it's nothing," he lied.
"Dragon dung! Show it to me, boy." She used her wand to Accio his book before he could register what was happening.
She leafed through his parchments carefully. "What are these?"
"Nothing. I told you." George strode across the room and reached out to take back his work. "They're just... sketches."
"I'm not blind, young man. I can see that they are sketches. Whose are they?"
He mumbled a reply.
"Speak up," she snapped.
"Mine!"
She arched an eyebrow at his tone.
"I said they're mine," he repeated quietly.
"What are they for?" she asked, her voice infinitesimally softer.
"Ideas, mostly - for designing packaging and stuff."
"For that blasted business of yours?"
George laughed, "Yes, Ma'am."
She leafed back further into his sketchbook, and her wrinkled mouth formed a silent 'O.' "These are not for your shop," she said finally.
"No," George admitted. "Just doodles of friends and things I wanted to, you know...remember."
"Can the other one do this?" she asked sharply.
"Who? Fred?"
She nodded curtly.
"Hell no! Um, I mean, no Ma'am. He doesn't even know I can, I don't think."
"Very well then." She stood abruptly and started for the doors. "Follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"To my late husband's art studio."
"Your husband?" George asked incredulously.
Muriel turned and glared. "Is it so hard to believe I was married?"
"Yeah...I mean no, I mean...I had no idea, I..."
She silenced him with a weathered hand. "Stop boy, before you hurt yourself. I forbade mention of my late husband; it's is still too painful - even after all these years."
"I'm sorry," George mumbled, staring at the floor.
"We married young; he died too soon. He was an artist. I've kept his studio as he left it. No reason for it, quite impractical really." She stood silent for a moment, staring off into the past, a faint smile on her face. "Anyway - never a good idea to dwell on the past, remember that my boy."
"Yes, Auntie."
"Come along then." As she made to open the doors, Muriel looked over her shoulder. "Don't worry, George, your secret is safe with me."
George would swear for the rest of his life that she gave him a wink at that moment, but he knew no one would believe him.
Author: ????
Recipient: l3petitemort
Pairing(s): Gen
Word Count: 2,820
Rating: PG-13
Summary: George was not completely identical to Fred
Warnings: A little bit of Weasly self-love
A/N: Thank you to my wonderful betas and friends for their help with this. l3petitemort, I hope you enjoy these vignettes and a glance at what makes George different. Thanks to the mods for letting George get some love and attention!
Five Ways George was Different From Fred
George Knew When to Apologise
The door moaned in protest at being opened so slowly. The intruder proceeded carefully, knowing he could not risk waking the only sleeping occupant. A small strip of light from the lamp in the hall revealed that the snores filling the room came from the cot in the corner, and that the stifled sobs originated from the orange lump in the single bed.
George quietly approached his younger brother. "Ronnie," he whispered cautiously. The three year old hidden under the faded Chudley Cannons blanket refused to answer.
"Ron?" he tried again, a bit louder. Ginny made a loud snort from her cot and rolled over.
"She sure can snore, eh Ronnikins?"
"Don't call me that," the lump grumbled.
George laid a tentative hand on Ron's small shoulder, which was promptly shrugged off. "Go 'way Fred."
"I'm George," he explained, sighing.
"You the same," Ron pointed out with a sniffle.
George was momentarily taken aback. Sure, he and Fred looked alike, but they weren't exactly the same inside, were they? No!, George decided emphatically, they were not exactly the same. After all, he was here trying to apologise to Ron, while Fred fell asleep with a smile on his face, still laughing over Ronnie's "girly" screams when his favourite stuffed bear was replaced by a giant spider.
"I...I just wanted to say I'm sorry that Fred- that we hurted you."
When the traumatized toddler didn't respond, George continued. "I brought you summat to cuddle..." George reached over and placed his own well-loved stuffed dragon under the covers with Ron. "Just for tonight, mind," he added, lest Ron think it was a permanent gift, "til Dad gets home and sets Mr. Bear to rights."
"Mum says he can't be fixted." Ron's small voice broke, as he tried to hold back his tears.
George patted Ron's shoulder again; this time he wasn't rejected. "If anybody can, it's Dad." Ron just sniffled and nodded his head as he tucked George's dragon under his chin.
Before he stood to leave, George leaned close to Ron's ear and whispered, "One word of this to Fred and spiders will be the least of your worries."
George Wasn't Afraid to Ask for Help
George was waiting patiently for the Common Room to empty out. Ron and his best mates, the girl with the hair whose name he couldn't pronounce and Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' Potter had finally left for their dormitories. They had been huddled around a table in the corner, whispering furiously over some matter or other - though George couldn't imagine what could be so earth shattering to a bunch of ickle firsties.
Fred and Lee finished their epic game of Exploding Snap and tried to drag George upstairs, but he had made an excuse about waiting for some girl and they had eventually left him in peace, not without taking the mickey first of course.
A short time after 11:00 p.m. the entrance to the Tower swung open and the Gryffindor George had been waiting for at long last appeared.
"Why the long face there, Perce, didn't catch anybody out of bounds tonight?"
"Not now, George." Percy trudged past the table where George had spread out his work. George was secretly impressed that Percy was the only one to never confuse him for Fred. "It's been a long day and rounds were exhausting," Percy explained as he started up the stairs. "It isn't easy being a prefect, you know."
George suppressed his natural inclination to make a smart-arsed retort. He jumped to his feet and called after his older brother, "Percy, wait!"
Percy turned with an exasperated sigh. "What is it?"
"I...I was wondering if, maybe...if you wouldn't mind..."
Percy took the few steps back down into the Common Room. "George?"
"See, the thing is...I need some help."
"Honestly! I have told you and Fred repeatedly, I cannot interfere with the punishments set by other prefects-"
"It's not that," George interrupted. "It's this." He picked up one many the parchments strewn across the table and waved it.
Percy took the paper from George, his eyebrows rising high above his horn-rimmed frames. "Potions?"
George nodded, not meeting Percy's incredulous stare.
"You want my help with your Potions assignment?"
"Yeah, if...you know, it's not too much trouble."
"No." George's shoulders slumped before Percy continued. "No trouble at all, George."
"Thanks, Perce." The two Weasley brothers sat together, Percy reviewing the work George had begun.
George cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a few moments. "Um, hey Perce, can I ask you something?"
"You just did," Percy replied dryly.
"Ha Ha, and they say we're the funny ones. Seriously, Percy, I was kinda wondering how," he paused as if to gather courage, "how is it you can always tell me and Fred apart? I think you're the only one who's never called me Fred."
Percy looked at George, stunned. "I...I'm not sure really. You're just different. You may look identical, George, but you are not the same person." He looked back to the parchment in his hand, "Oh dear, this won't do, not at all! If someone were to ingest this, as you've written it, they would suffer from an immediate nosebleed!"
"Really?" George asked, his interest piqued. "Hmm, interesting idea. Thanks, Percy."
George Liked to Keep Private Matters Private
When Fred Weasley wanked, everyone knew about it. If he even bothered to close his curtains, he certainly didn't silence them. He wasn't embarrassed about his nocturnal activities and, once his dorm mates realised this, they stopped teasing him and just made sure their own curtains were closed so they wouldn't be subjected to Fred's ramblings. See, Fred liked to talk when he wanked... a lot. George would never admit it to Fred, but he was embarrassed by Fred's behaviour; he definitely preferred to keep his thoughts and fantasies private.
After the Yule Ball, once the rest of the dorm had settled into sleep, Fred let out a deep sigh. "Hey George, you know what I was thinking?"
Oh hell, here we go, George thought. It seemed like every wank Fred had started with that question. Why can't he just toss off in the shower like the rest of us?
Fred didn't wait for George to answer; he never did. "You know who was looking good tonight?"
"Who, Fred?" George could hear the rustling of bed covers and pyjamas as Fred prepared himself.
"Granger...she cleans up right nice."
"That's disgusting!" George cried indignantly. Usually he let Fred go on with his perverted musings, but this was too much.
"Whuh?"
"Number One - she's like fourteen..."
"Fifteen," Fred interrupted.
"Number Two," George continued, "she's like our little sister and Number Three - Ronnie'd kill you for talking 'bout her like that, you perv!"
"Well, who'd tell him?"
"Sheesh mate, c'mon. How you gonna feel on their wedding day, knowing you tossed off to thoughts of his wife?"
"Ron and Hermione? Married? Yeh think?"
"Mark my words."
"Yeah, guess you have a point."
George rolled over to his stomach and tried to sleep, hoping Fred had reconsidered his plans for the evening.
"Hey George, you know-"
"What Fred?"
"That Fleur Delacour...she's effing shagtastic!"
George mumbled his agreement but otherwise said nothing, knowing Fred was talking more to himself than George really.
"She's like sex on legs..."
George could tell Fred was starting to enjoy himself, his voice was getting ragged, his breathing heavy and the others sounds of pleasure were undeniable.
"Mmmm, that hair, love to wrap my hands in it...that husky voice..."
George could feel himself becoming affected by Fred's words as he pushed himself into his mattress.
"And Angie...she looked incredible tonight, yeah?"
"Uh-huh," George agreed reluctantly. Truth was Angelina had looked amazing at the Ball, but ogling your mate, who's also your brother's date, isn't on, like wanking to thoughts of the girl meant for your baby brother wasn't.
"Man, her tits are brilliant...and her arse, I'm telling yeh, firm and-"
George couldn't take it anymore, he tossed his covers aside and jumped out of bed.
"Where yeh goin'?" Fred groaned.
"Loo - gotta spend a Knut." He rushed to the boys' toilet and with his back against the sinks, he swiftly yanked down his pyjama bottoms and dealt with his own 'problem.' Images of sleek blonde hair and ample chocolate breasts and the memory of his own date, soft and sweet smelling in his arms, had him quickly finding release.
When he turned around to wash his hands, the mirror couldn't resist a cheeky comment. "Nice evening, I take it George?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, watching his ears burn red. "How'd you know it was me and not-"
"Easy - you have less freckles on your bum."
George Had Friends Outside of Fred (well, at least one)
George's final year at Hogwarts wasn't turning out quite like he expected. There was no Quidditch (not for him, Fred, or Harry anyway). Umbitch had banned all their WWW products and confiscated hundreds of Galleons worth of goods-seriously cutting into their profits. Dad had been hurt something awful and Percy had turned on the family.
At least there was the D.A., George mused as he snuck through the corridors on his way to a meeting. A chance to rebel and yet do good at the same time - kinda made him feel like that Muggle hero his dad had told him about, Sparrow... no, Finch... that's not it... Robin maybe?
George's thoughts of medieval Muggle rebels were interrupted when he turned a corner on the seventh floor and found two of Umbitch's minions, Montague and Warrington, harassing some poor student up against the wall. As he got closer, George realised it was Luna Lovegood they were threatening.
"C'mon Loony, tell us what we want to know." Montague reached up wrap a strand of her dirty blonde hair around his meaty finger. "We'll make sure you're well rewarded."
Luna stared back at him unflinching, and said firmly, "No thank you, I don't care for any rewards."
Montague slammed his palm on the wall beside her head and Warrington took a step closer behind him, in an obvious attempt to appear intimidating. "Tell us Loony!"
Even if Luna didn't seem afraid, George was becoming more concerned for her safety. "Oi, you two - leave her alone!"
Warrington turned quickly (as quick as the sloth-like bloke could) and trained his wand on George. Montague sneered at him, but didn't move away from Luna.
"This doesn't concern you, Weasel," Montague snarled.
"That's where you're wrong; this very much concerns me."
"What? She a friend of yours, or something?" Trust a Slytherin to make the word 'friend' sound like a disease, George thought. Luna observed the entire scene with what, George would later reflect, appeared to be indifference.
"Yeah, she is. Now leave her alone." George made a subtle move for his wand, as Montague pulled his own. Before a duel could break out, Fred, Lee and Angelina suddenly appeared. Faced with the possibility of a four-on-two fight (five-on-two, if Luna should decide to show an interest in the proceedings), the two members of the Inquisitorial Squad backed off.
Looking Luna up and down, Montague scoffed, "Figures the only bird a Weasley could pull is a loony slag like this." George's anger snapped and he lunged at the Slytherin. Lee and Fred held him back.
"You twats better scurry back to the dungeons," Fred warned, one hand on George, his wand in the other.
After assessing the situation, the two Slytherins turned to leave, but not before issuing a warning, "Watch your backs Weasels!"
Once they disappeared from sight, Fred released George and slapped him on the back. "What have I told you about getting into a kerfuffle without me, eh? You know I hate to miss the fun!"
"Sorry, mate, wasn't my intention," George said weakly, his eyes still on Luna.
"Well, anyway - what's done is done. Let's get a move on before we're late and we miss Ronnie getting hexed." Fred started to walk away, with Lee and Angelina in tow. He stopped when he realised George wasn't following.
"Forge?"
"We'll be along in a mo." George nodded toward Luna. "We'd best not all go at once."
Fred gave him a quizzical look, but left anyway.
"Are you all right there, Luna? They didn't hurt you did they?"
"Oh no, I'm quite fine, thank you."
"Oh...good."
George didn't know quite what to say but he was spared from thinking up small talk when Luna spoke. "You know George, you really shouldn't lie."
"Whuh?" he stammered. She made him feel slightly uncomfortable with her unblinking gaze. "Lie? About what?"
"You told those two boys that I'm your friend."
"You are," he insisted, but she continued to stare at him serenely, as if she saw straight through him. "Er, um...at least you could be, if you wanted."
"Thank you, George. That would be lovely." A slow smile spread across her face that made George instantly feel warm inside.
"All right, um, now that that's settled, we should get going I reckon."
As they made their way to the Room of Requirement, Luna entertained him with tales of Nargles and other fantastical creatures. As their chatter filled the corridors, George realised that Luna was the first friend he had ever made that was his alone. He liked that for some reason.
George Had a Hidden Talent
George had found a quiet spot of sunlight by the window in the otherwise dreary sitting room. He could hear his mother fussing at someone and was glad it wasn't him for once. The double doors suddenly flew open, causing George to shove what he had been working on into the cushions beside him.
"Oh," a shrill voice called out. "I thought this room was empty. Everywhere I turn, there's another one of you."
"Sorry, Auntie, I can go..." George started to rise but was waved back down by his Great Aunt Muriel.
"No, no, stay there." She pulled her wand out of a pocket in her long brown skirt and bid the doors to close. She then turned a critical eye on George. "Which one are you again?"
Before he could answer, she interrupted. "You only have one ear - that makes you George, right?"
"Yes, Auntie," he said with a forced smile.
"What have you got there?" She pointed a bony finger at the cushions where George sat.
"It-it's nothing," he lied.
"Dragon dung! Show it to me, boy." She used her wand to Accio his book before he could register what was happening.
She leafed through his parchments carefully. "What are these?"
"Nothing. I told you." George strode across the room and reached out to take back his work. "They're just... sketches."
"I'm not blind, young man. I can see that they are sketches. Whose are they?"
He mumbled a reply.
"Speak up," she snapped.
"Mine!"
She arched an eyebrow at his tone.
"I said they're mine," he repeated quietly.
"What are they for?" she asked, her voice infinitesimally softer.
"Ideas, mostly - for designing packaging and stuff."
"For that blasted business of yours?"
George laughed, "Yes, Ma'am."
She leafed back further into his sketchbook, and her wrinkled mouth formed a silent 'O.' "These are not for your shop," she said finally.
"No," George admitted. "Just doodles of friends and things I wanted to, you know...remember."
"Can the other one do this?" she asked sharply.
"Who? Fred?"
She nodded curtly.
"Hell no! Um, I mean, no Ma'am. He doesn't even know I can, I don't think."
"Very well then." She stood abruptly and started for the doors. "Follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"To my late husband's art studio."
"Your husband?" George asked incredulously.
Muriel turned and glared. "Is it so hard to believe I was married?"
"Yeah...I mean no, I mean...I had no idea, I..."
She silenced him with a weathered hand. "Stop boy, before you hurt yourself. I forbade mention of my late husband; it's is still too painful - even after all these years."
"I'm sorry," George mumbled, staring at the floor.
"We married young; he died too soon. He was an artist. I've kept his studio as he left it. No reason for it, quite impractical really." She stood silent for a moment, staring off into the past, a faint smile on her face. "Anyway - never a good idea to dwell on the past, remember that my boy."
"Yes, Auntie."
"Come along then." As she made to open the doors, Muriel looked over her shoulder. "Don't worry, George, your secret is safe with me."
George would swear for the rest of his life that she gave him a wink at that moment, but he knew no one would believe him.