A/N: So, first fanfic on this account, but I know the drill, so I'm just gonna put some menial notes for those of you that actually care. This chapter is a bit slow, by my standards, and I made some assumptions about the Wizarding World as I went, what with the hiring criterion and some other aspects – well, some of it's just Ron being lazy as well, but you'll see. Obviously, this is George/OC, but due to the nature it's a lot of hurt/comfort so the romance thing takes a while. Won't be too long though, and I'll throw in some bones every now and again. Updates will likely be infrequent, but I don't really know. Concrit is more valuable than anything, so please drop some by on your way out! Enjoy!
Ambrose bit her lip as she glanced up at the bright purple and orange building, inviting just days prior, but suddenly intimidating as it stretched into the foggy morning sky. Crisp air filled her lungs as she steadied herself, knuckles whitening as her grip tightened around her cheap, elf-made handbag. She knew that she had to enter before the Boarding Day crowd began to form; some people had already started gathering around other stores, waiting for them to open. If she didn't, there was no way she had a chance at the job – or any job, for that matter.
Summing up the remainder of her courage – it was painfully clear to her why she wasn't in Gryffindor at moments like this – she opened the door to the joke shop and made her way inside, careful not to let the heels of her pointed boots click too loudly on the wooden floor. Products were spread all across the room, cluttered and disorganized after the last minute customers rushed through and placed their items haphazardly as they scurried about the shop, trying to squeeze through the crowd. The main room looked odd without a pack of students swarming around and making it nearly impossible to navigate through the shelves and up the staircases. But Boarding Day marked the end of summer, and with it the end of school-age children in Diagon Alley for the next nine months, up until the start of the next summer term.
"Can I help you, Miss?" A bored voice came from the registers, and she felt her heart clench slightly as she remembered her purpose. A redheaded man a year or so younger than herself was using his wand to sort a few Skiving Snackboxes, apparently left over from the beginning-of-the-term-blowout-sale, on a shelf above the cashier's table. She took yet another breath before straightening her black business robe and putting forward her left hand.
"Ambrose Calt, I'm here for the, the open position…" her resolve withered near the end of her sentence, the younger man meeting her eyes and then, realizing that she still had her hand extended, shaking it unsurely.
"Ron Weasley," he replied, releasing her hand. The Chosen One's best friend, she remembered from the papers. Her heart began to thrum loudly in her chest. "Since my brother isn't down today, I guess that I'll be the one to decide whether you get the job or not."
Ambrose nodded, feeling a slight trace of fear creep into the expression she had been fighting to keep calm and dignified. Not only a job interview, but speaking with one of the Golden Trio in person? Ron didn't seem to notice, as he continued talking with the same tone as before. "So, first off, you have some sort of job experience, right? It doesn't really matter, though; the registers work virtually by themselves and business is likely going to be slow for a while – at least until Halloween."
"Y - yes, sir; I've worked at Honeydukes for the last two years," she replied, a bit more at ease from his relaxed nature. She briefly was struck with the question of why they were hiring since their target audience would soon be away at school. She brushed it aside, though; her concern was finding a job away from Hogwarts, not when the key times joke shops should have the largest support staff.
"Did you fight at the Battle of Hogwarts, then?" he asked, looking slightly intrigued. She nodded shortly.
"I did - I wasn't really in the fray, though; I was more making sure that people with injuries – or, um, those who had lost their lives – weren't trampled by the duelers."
"Oh," Ron nodded. "Never really thought about who did that." Though his tone was still light, she saw painful memories flash behind his light blue eyes. But such pain was common whenever the War was remembered; a little over a year had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and it was not nearly enough time to begin to flesh over the deep wounds that it had left. The moment seemed to be shaken out of his head quickly, though, and he continued to question her. "And why do you want this job?"
"I couldn't be so close to Hogwarts," she replied softly, after a slight pause. "I stayed last year to try and help with the rebuilding, to act like everything was normal, but it just felt… tainted. So I decided to come to the alley to get a bit of work. Your shop-"
"My brother's," he corrected almost immediately. As he spoke, Ambrose remembered the Weasley twins, a year ahead of her at Hogwarts, and their widely-admired pranking prowess. Of course it was their shop. She couldn't remember the last time she had been in Diagon Alley clearly, but she knew it was far too long ago. Ron didn't notice her wistfulness, though, and continued without missing a beat. "I'm just helping out here – or at least I was. I'm going to my new job at the Ministry in a week. But, yeah; go on."
"This place seemed quite a bit like my last job, sir, and Flourish and Blotts already had a line starting to form – so did the Owl Emporium – and your brother's shop didn't so I decided to try my luck and also this seems pretty similar to my last job, like with all of the candy," she finished rather quickly, jolting back to reality and scraping up the last of her confidence. She hoped that there weren't too many more questions before the end of her interview, if it could be called that. It all seemed very… casual, to her. Then again, could much more really be expected from a joke shop?
"What house were you in?" he asked, almost suspicious as he moved his head to eye her from the side.
"Hufflepuff. I graduated two years ago," she said, straightening her back slightly with pride. She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn that he muttered, "That explains a lot" under his breath. As he spoke, the grandfather clock behind the counter of registers – magenta and gold lining its woodwork – chimed eight, making sounds akin to the squeaking of a rubber toy.
"Merlin's beard," Ron muttered. "Boarding Day is going to start any minute."
Boarding Day was the first of September, and akin to a tradition in the Hogwarts-attending communities across Great Britain. Every year, the students with menial summer jobs they attained through either family or necessity left for Hogwarts, opening up dozens of positions for those in need of employment. And with nearly every shop having a spot open at the same time, the streets were practically mobbed with jobless twentysomethings trampling each other and store employees for a low-wage job. Most of the shops had measures in place to prevent surges; nearly every one didn't open until ten o'clock or later, making it easier to see who had arrived and let one in at a time, not to mention anti-Apparation policies after a very unfortunate situation in 1674 where three people Apparated into the same spot. Luckily for her, though, she had rented a cheap apartment close enough to walk to the Alley and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes didn't seem to have a late-opening policy in place, as a few students hadn't left for the train yet and might stop in for last-minute treats or pygmy puffs. Not to mention how lucky she was that none of her competitors seemed to have stopped in yet.
"I was here for the last one," Ron continued, groaning as he ran a hand through his hair. "Thought it was just a myth; the streets were dead silent until 'round eleven. Then dozens of them ran through the doors, stampeding like bloody hippogriffs. I'm pretty sure that one Slytherin jinxed a half-dozen of 'em on his way up to the counter." He cast her a glance, as well as the multicolored 'Hiring' sign in the window. "It's likely going to be just as bad this year. New graduating class and all."
Ambrose nodded. The redhead looked towards the door again as if he expected it to burst open at any given second. But knowing Boarding Day, it might.
"Tell you what," Ron began again, giving her an once-over glance. "We've only had half a dozen people trying out this morning – I don't get why more of them don't just walk in, it makes it a lot easier than the rush later on– and you seem to be the most easy to deal with of the lot. And since I don't want to bother with the hundred coming in the next hour, if you can start today and re-charm that sign over there then I'll hire you."
"Absolutely, sir," she agreed immediately, pulling out her wand. She hadn't hoped in a million years that it would be so easy. She quickly cast a simple charm on the sign, hoping for it to be changed to a simple 'Not Hiring, Please Try Again Later'. The sign, however, had different ideas.
Do you like Danger?
Do you like Excitement?
Do you like Candy?
Well that sucks, because this shop Isn't Hiring!
Please go Elsewhere for Easy Money
"Oh, almost forgot," Ron said, barely containing a laugh as he looked at the sign. "George probably charmed it to be an arse to change."
"I'm sure that I can fix-"
"Don't bother, it gets the message across. Now, let's get you set up. The worker's robes are through the wall over there. It's charmed to let employees through and all. Probably won't be too much business today, besides the kids too young for Hogwarts dragging in their parents, so it's a fairly good day to start. You're going to have to watch out for the job-nifflers, though. Some of those buggers out there are persistent," the redhead shuddered comically, and she smiled. "There'll be at least a dozen trying to get in even without an open position. Verity will have to try to keep them out…"
"Verity?"
"Our other cashier. Couple years older than you, I reckon, 'bout yea tall-" he held out an arm, his hand waving at about the height of his nose. "Blonde. You might have seen her around before."
"I haven't been in London in a while."
"Eh, doesn't matter. I'll take you to the back so you can get started, but first, in case they ignore the sign – " Ron waved his wand at the main glass doors, and the words 'NOT HIRING' began flashing in bright orange across them. They were in a relatively sloppy, sloping font, but he seemed to shrug to himself before stowing his wand back into his robes. He gave her a look to say 'I'll fix it later' before opening a swinging door in between two of the registers and motioning for her to go through. She followed, and he walked towards one of the walls. It was a space between two bookshelf-like containers of various potions and cheap trick wands. The area between them was barely two feet wide, the wall a vibrant orange. Ron made a gesture that simply translated to, "you first" and she walked through the wall.
Passing through the barrier of the joke shop was similar to passing through the barrier of Platform 9 ¾ , but there was no rush of open air on the other side, no bustle of Hogwarts students kissing their mothers and fathers goodbye. Instead, there was a simple room, much less bright than the rest of the joke shop, with a small circular table which had a woman –Verity, she assumed - drinking pumpkin juice at it, kitchenette and wardrobe, a few rolls of parchment, what looked like a small loo, and a closed purple door with a golden plaque. Ron pointed his wand at the wardrobe and it allowed him access, seeming to recognize him. He pulled out a bright magenta robe – she couldn't help but notice that his were a respectable shade of black – and tossed it to her. She caught it and slipped out of her black robe, a plain blue blouse and black pencil skirt beneath it, and put on the pink robe. She hated to think how it clashed with her deep auburn hair, but quickly discarded the thoughts.
"You can hang up your robe in here," Ron said, gesturing to the wardrobe.
"Thank you, sir."
"Oh, Verity, this is…" Ron looked at Ambrose quickly, and she supplied her name for him with haste. "Right. This is Ambrose, Just hired her. She seems like she'll be a good fit."
The woman looked up, blue-green eyes roving over Ambrose's form. She almost felt the need to straighten her posture as the woman silently judged her.
"I hope you like it here," Verity said after a second, returning to her copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Thank you," she said with a small nod.
"All right, that probably concludes your initial tour," Ron nodded, and clapped his hands together. "Now all you have to do is learn to work the registers and then you should be ready to go."
"Actually sir, I have a question for you, if that's alright," Ambrose said as she pulled out her wand and transfigured her robe slightly, making the sleeves and back shorter as to fit her tiny frame.
"Shoot."
"Well, not to pry, but if it's your brother's shop… then where is he?"
Ron was silent for a pregnant second, before responding. "Up in his flat. He's probably working on something. It's usually best for us not to bug him."
"Of course."
The Gryffindor boy, though as lazily charming and sarcastic as he was earlier, seemed slightly more forlorn after her question, Ambrose noticed. The look stuck with him for the rest of the day, accompanied by mounting annoyance as more and more rejected witches and wizards from the other shops came in to make absolutely sure that they weren't hiring. But the day went relatively well – or at least, for a Boarding Day, was peaceful - and by its end she found herself content, despite the slight headache from the bright colors of the shop. She grabbed her robe, Verity having already taken her own, and hung the pink one up in its place, a spot the community wardrobe had already marked for her as Ambrose.
"Goodnight, Miss Verity," she said to the other witch as they left the shop, the latter locking the door behind them.
"Same to you, Ambrose," Verity smiled as she walked away, vanishing with a distinct Pop! in the twilight street. Ambrose cast the building one final glance, her new workplace, she reminded herself. The mechanical wizard was going through his regular cycle, as always, but as she looked at his hat being raised, she saw a small window that she hadn't noticed when she walked in. It shone a pocket of light down onto the pavement of the street, and she could see the vague silhouette of a man in it, head appearing to be in his hands, resting against the window frame.
As she noticed it, though, there was a surge of the rejected Boarding Day applicants coming from the high-end area of the alley. She quickly Disapparated, hoping to avoid the crowd and any accidental joint-Apparations that seemed to spark many interesting anecdotes in the after-Boarding lull. One nauseating second later, she found herself in her tiny flat – only twenty Galleons a month with a slight view of the street that leads to the alley.
As she fell into her bed, she thought of the silhouette that she had seen. It had to be George Weasley; his flat was above the apartment, as Ron had let slip at some point while she was reorganizing love potions. She had never talked to him when she was in Hogwarts, he being in a year older than her and in another house, nor had she spoken to his twin. Ron had only mentioned George, though; perhaps the other twin had had a falling out with the family?
She decided it was none of her business as she kicked off her shoes and her robe, closing her eyes as she curled up underneath the light gold covers of her small bed. She was just an employee of the family, nothing more, nothing less. And it was likely that she would never know, she thought with a nod. And in which case, there was no need to think about it.
She fell asleep content, charming her clock to wake her up at six the next day, her dreams full of candy and an elusive figure, disappearing whenever she got close.
I know this chapter was pretty boring and expositional – I hope it wasn't too confusing, too – and I promise that there will be George in the next one, and that it'll get more exciting as I go. Thanks for sticking with it until the end; I barely could stay awake while writing it.
Please leave a review on the way out; it would take about as long as reading this sentence (especially if I make this sentence longer with the use of these handy-dandy parentheses). After all, if you don't, then I don't know whose stories to check out!
I swear I'll update sometime soon!