Breaking the Code

Rated "T"

George contemplates breaking the "no-exes of brothers and friends" rule with Angelina

I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, nor am I making any money. I'm usually all about Ron and Hermione (with a little Harry and Ginny on the side), but I've always been curious how George and Angelina bridged the gap between shared grief and sharing . . . more. Still working on the "Magical Mystery Tour de Force" series, but I had to get this out. Reviews are greatly appreciated

There's an unspoken code among men, and George being a man (possibly more than most being one of six brothers and having only one sister) knew this code very well: you don't pursue your mate's ex-girlfriend – or your brother's.

It's one of those things any decent bloke wouldn't do.

But here she was, standing in front of him, looking more comely than ever: glowing chocolate skin, large eyes darker than midnight framed by lashes that went on forever, hair cascading abundantly down her shoulders, and her perfectly rounded arse he'd frequently stare at during quidditch practice. . . no, no, don't think of that, he told himself.

It was then he wondered silently if the statute of limitations expired when aforementioned mate or brother died.

"George?" she said softly while touching his arm. "Are you alright? Maybe I shouldn't have come . . . today of all days."

It was the first of April, his and Fred's shared birthday, though for the first time, Fred wasn't there to share it with him. It was also April Fool's Day, the equivalent of Black Friday in the muggle world to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and as much as he'd considered hurling the alarm clock against the wall and drawing the covers completely over his head, George knew he had to open the shop and conduct business as usual. He could almost hear Fred in his head: "This is the one day a year that makes or breaks us! This is no time for a lie-in! Move it!"

"No, no, it's fine . . . better than fine, actually," George replied. "Sometimes my feet are here but my head is somewhere else. Sorry about that. Now, how many dungbombs did you want for your nephew?"

"Three. If I get any more than that, I think my sister will stop speaking to me. Though, come to think of it, that might be a good thing."

"Why is that? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"She's always on about how it's time I settled down, got married, had a couple of kids, not let myself get so wrapped up in work. She just doesn't understand how hard it's been since . . ."

"I understand."

The two began to gently push through the crowd. George thought Angelina was right behind him, but after a couple of minutes, he heard her call after him. He turned and saw her unable to push through the snaking queue.

George elbowed his way to her, shouting as he went, "Excuse me! Pardon me! Need to get through!" and finally found himself looking down at her luminous face.

"I have an idea. Come with me," George said while taking her hand gently at first, but tightening the grasp as they wended through the crowded shop.

George let go of Angelina's hand and unlocked the storage room door. She was surprised how much and how quickly she missed his touch when it was gone.

"It's a bit more private back here. Go ahead and pick out whatever strikes your fancy."

"I'll still have to pay."

"Nonsense! You're covered under the 'Friends and Family' discount – 100 percent off."

Angelina smiled at this.

"I'll only accept it on the grounds that when you decide to upgrade your quidditch supplies, you let me do the same."

"How is the owl-order sporting goods thing working out for you?"

"It's been a bit of a slow start, but Johnson's Quidditch Supplies is starting to make a name for itself. Right now we're negotiating an exclusive supplier contract with the Grodzisk Goblins."

"Ah, the team that produced Josef Wronski-"

"Who in turn gave the world the Wronski Feint."

"That'd be quite a feather in your cap."

"I know, it could really help the business take off!"

The two began animatedly chatting about recent trades made in professional quidditch, when Verity told George a customer was arguing about the price of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs.

"Just go ahead and fill your basket with whatever you like. I'll be back in a minute."

Angelina nodded and began to scan the enormous selection of pranking essentials. She spotted some reusable hangmen, which she thought might placate her sister since her nephew needed to improve his spelling. She didn't want to use her wand to get it down, knowing when she was depressed (like today); her magic was sometimes a bit off.

"Guess I'd better do it the muggle way," she muttered while starting to climb the ladder.

George made his way back to where he'd left Angelina. Her basket was there, but she wasn't. He scanned the aisles until it occurred to him to look up.

"Ah – there you are!"

George's sudden appearance startled Angelina, which made her lose her grip and fall 30 feet. Panic-stricken and not having time to reach for his wand, all George could think of to break her fall was to catch her. She landed on top of him, flattening him in the process.

It had been awhile since any woman had been on top of George – nothing kills the libido like grief. For the first time in a long time, George let out a hearty laugh.

"What's so funny? Are you alright?"

"Aces," George replied, trying to catch his breath. "Just thinking how if Fred was here, he'd make some inappropriate remark."

Angelina let out a small giggle. "Yeah, something like, 'What are you doing underneath her? That's my job!'"

The smile ran away from George's face as quickly as it had come.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to – I just keep putting my foot in it today," Angelina said as she started to move off of George.

When George thought of this moment later on, no matter how many years later, he never really could articulate what came over him. George placed his hands on her cheeks and let himself look into her eyes the way he'd done in his dreams back at school.

"It's all right."

They stared at each other, not moving and almost forgetting to breathe.

"What are you doing Saturday night?"

"I was thinking of doing inventory. Quarterly taxes are due in a fortnight."

"I'm doing that Monday – shutting everything down for the day. Join me for dinner instead."

It was hard, looking into eyes she hadn't looked into for so long. Angelina remembered hearing once that even twins weren't identical in certain ways: fingerprints, voiceprints, and retinas. She was searching George's eyes now, trying to find how they were different than Fred's. She vacillated between trying to remember Fred and trying to forget, not knowing which one would make it easier to move on. Did moving on include having dinner with her first love's twin brother? Years from now, when anyone would ask her about the moment she gave herself permission to leave Fred in the past, she would remember this very scene.

"Where?"

"Here. I could make . . . something. Not as good as my mum's, but better than beans on toast. I promise."

"What time?"

"Is seven all right?"

"Seven is . . . perfect."

Their eyes remained locked for about 20 more seconds when they were broken out of their mutually-induced trance by Verity, who was visibly embarrassed by interrupting.

"Mr. Weasley, your Dad is here – should I tell him you're . . . indisposed?"

Angelina leapt off of George, hurriedly dusted herself off, and dashed out of the storage room. She'd left in such a hurry that she'd forgotten her selections. George ran his hands over his face, got up, and brushed off his clothes. As he pulled down his waistcoat, he went back into business mode.

"Please tell my father I'll be there in a minute. After that, would you please put these items in a gift basket and send them to Ms. Angelina Johnson in care of Johnson's Quidditch Supplies?"

"What should I put on the card?"

"The what?"

"The gift card, sir. You can't every well send a gift without a gift card."

George thought a moment before answering.

"Lovely to see you again. Please don't run away. Hope to see you Saturday night. George."

"Certainly, sir."

Once Verity was gone, George ran his hands through his hair to make himself presentable to his Dad and the customers. George went out to greet his Dad and ushered him back into the office.

"How're you doing, son?" Arthur Weasley asked his son as the two men sat down.

"Hard to say," George said. "On one hand, I miss Fred terribly."

"Of course – it's to be expected."

"On the other, I just had a very interesting conversation with Angelina Johnson." George couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth curl upward a bit, even though it had ended in a less-than-ideal way.

A smile spread across Arthur's face, causing George's eyebrows to furrow.

"What?" George asked.

"You're thinking of breaking the code, aren't you?"

"DAD!"

"What? You think I didn't notice the way you looked at Angelina whenever she was around? You don't think I saw the green-eyed monster rear his ugly head when Fred put his arm around her or give her a quick peck? You've always had a thing for Angelina."

George sank slightly into his chair.

"I didn't think I was that obvious."

"Maybe not to the untrained observer, but I grew up with two brothers and raised six sons. I know something about why men act and react the ways that they do when it comes to love."

"And?"

"And I think Fred would be fine with it."

"I'm not so sure. Feel like a bit of a vulture."

"Nonsense. Look, I understand why you feel this way. I'd be worried if you didn't show some signs of guilt by contemplating pursuing Angelina, after everything that's happened. But you can't forget to live, son. I would tell him the same thing if it was you who'd died and he was here."

"I'd want you to tell him the same."

"So give him some credit. Don't you think he'd feel the same way?"

"I suppose."

"C'mon. Your mum has fixed all your favorites. She wants to make this birthday the best she can."

"I'll be along in about 20 minutes. I need to take care of a few things before I leave the shop for the day."

"Okay – mind if I use your floo upstairs? I've too much paperwork to apparate comfortably."

"Certainly. I'll unlock the flat door for you."

After seeing his dad off and giving his staff closing instructions, George grabbed his cloak and other overnight items so he could head for the Burrow. This was one night he didn't want to be alone. But he'd have more company than he'd intended.