AN: Come on! One review? That's cold, people. However, I am far too into this story to stop writing. Please review more this time! And thanks to ArcadeFire, whose review I will reply to when my stupid computer lets me.
Disclaimer: Yeah. Right. Sure. Please.
Reddish-purple hair and black dreadlocks bent over a caldron. Lee's robes were disheveled, and his eyebrow was twitching in frustration. He was surrounded by ingredients and half done potions. The hair on his upper lip now shone a bright purple that matched the fading hairs on George's head. Standing just above him, George was calmly relaying instructions to his on-edge friend.
"Exactly. Just use the edge of the knife, see? Now, all you have to do is do that charm I taught you, and look ... pills. Nice, pretty pink pills. All we have to figure out now is the name and the packaging. The pink might make good marketing for the girls, I think."
Lee shook his head, desperate. "It's all fine when you say it like that, but the moment I get back to Hogsmeade I'm going to bugger it up again. I keep thinking that maybe you should've done better in school."
George made a face. "Stop insulting me, Lee, or I'll make that dye job permanent. See if Katie wants to kiss you then. Speaking of, just show her. She's always been more clever than you. Better looking, too. Why is she marrying you, I wonder ...?"
Lee chuckled rather nervously. George's eyes narrowed in warning. Lee plowed on anyway. "You know, Katie ... she's been talking to Alicia lately. Alicia was thinking that ..."
"Keep your nose out of my business if you want to stay it's natural color as well," George said sharply. "You know better, Lee."
Lee shrugged, embarrassed. "Yeah, well, Katie had me promise and all. I tried to tell her you didn't need any help. I saw you with Mia at our engagement party."
A flask of dark green liquid smashed to the floor; at the mention of Mia's name, George started and knocked it over. "That crazy girl who snogged me? I'm more likely to woo the giant squid than I am her. Who is she, anyway?"
Lee looked down forlornly at the arm of his robe – it had disappeared where the potion had splashed it. "Katie's cousin. She lived in America until a few years ago. And I thought you liked it when girls snogged you, mate."
"If you know her, you'd know she's gone off her rocker." George waved his want, and slowly the holes in Lee's robe began to shrink as the fabric crawled towards itself. "Anyway, you know I don't have time for that sort of rubbish. And if I wanted someone, I'd find them myself."
"Except you haven't," Lee pointed out, standing. "I know Mia comes on strong, but at least she's fun."
"And now you sound like my mother, trying to set me up. I like doing what I do. There's no harm in that." George started inching over to the fireplace, hoping Lee would take the hint. He suddenly wanted to be alone in his flat again.
Lee sighed. "If you say so. Think about sending her an owl, won't you? You two ... you have some stuff in common," he concluded lamely. George stared back stubbornly. Lee gave him a long searching look, his eyes clouded. "You can't be alone all the time, Rapier." With that, he took some powder from his pocket and threw it at the fire. He stepped into the leaping emerald flames and disappeared from view.
George stared at the fire for a moment, breathing loudly. With obvious effort, he turned around and walked stiffly to his desk. He began to put things away slowly and carefully, his hands shaking so much that the glass of the flasks clinked, making an awkward sound in the darkness.
Suddenly, a snarl erupted from George's lips. Brandishing his wand, he sent his beside candle smashing into the empty stone where Lee had been minutes before. He could feel the color drain out of his face as the candle's magical flame caught on the logs, becoming a blue and white crackling fire.
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
George poked his food and winced again. He had left his mother an opening, and she had such a look of triumph that he knew it was too much to hope she wasn't going to take it.
"You know what you could do, if you wanted cooking like mine all the time?"
"Come here more often?" George asked, offering up his half-smile as winningly as he could.
"Get a girlfriend! Get a wife! Get someone!" Mrs. Weasley was almost crying in frustration. "Harry and Ginny are getting married within the month, Ron and Hermione just a bit after that, Bill's already got Fleur, Percy's out with Penelope again, even Charlie has ..."
George cast a pleading glance at his father. He'd come for a quiet dinner to visit with the majority of the family, excepting Percy, who had been absent more and more as he got involved in the Paris branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and Charlie, who was in Romania, as always. The last thing he felt like doing was to discuss his love life with Hermione and Harry there, trying to pretend they found the ceiling particularly interesting.
Mr. Weasley saw. "Molly, dear, I think your pudding is burning." He motioned to a pot just behind her, which was issuing a cloud of smoke. This was made rather amazing, considering there hadn't been any fire under it until a moment ago.
"Oh, my goodness! I could've sworn I'd turned off, I just could've ..." As Mrs. Weasley turned around to tend to her pudding, George nodded gratefully at his father.
"Do you know, we've been hearing that the Australians are still trying to figure out how to make your Peruvian Darkness Powder?" Harry asked quickly. George felt a surge of affection towards his brother's best friend. He gave him a quick half-smile.
"If they ever figure it out, I doubt they'll ever use it. You probably wouldn't either."
Harry blanched. "George, I use that stuff all the time. What in the world did you put in it?"
The rest of the meal passed without a single comment about George's romantic status. He actually had a bit of fun, taking time to poke fun at Ron just for the hell of it. He was in such a good mood that he offered to stay after and clean up. He chatted jovially with his father, directing a washcloth to the dirty dishes with his wand. His mother bustled in, her hair coming out of it's place. "Are you two helping or standing about like a couple garden gnomes?" she snapped at the two of them. George and his father ducked down their heads, George deciding not to even point out that her comment hadn't even made much sense.
Mrs. Weasley started to bang about the kitchen obviously upset about something. She muttered things under her breath, such as "They're far too young, don't know what they're thinking," and "Barely twenty-one, the two of them, and then Ginny nineteen." She snorted and huffed, slamming pots back into their cupboards and emptying the extra food into the sink. "So when are you going to go on a date?" she asked loudly, and George realized that she was talking to him.
"Mum, I'm just not interested in a relationship right now. I'm only twenty-three, after all." George was regretting his decision to come. Family was overrated, if you really thought about it.
Mr. Weasley tried once again to save his son. "Molly, even Bill wasn't his age when he and Fleur ..."
"He was when he met her!" Mrs. Weasley was unstoppable. "You act like you have to be a hermit, just because Fr-" She gasped abruptly, her hands flying to her mouth. "George, I didn't ..."
George felt as cold as if someone had shoved ice down his back. "I'll see you at the wedding," he told his parents robotically, then swept out of the kitchen without another word.
He sat up that night, hating his mother for what she had almost said. It wasn't something anyone was supposed to talk about. Angrily, he scratched the scared patch of skin that had once been a hole, until flecks of blood settled underneath his nails and the entire left side of his head began to throb. Oddly, the throbbing abated his anger, and as the pain grew steadily worse, he simply began to feel numb inside. He lay in his bed all night, staring up at his ceiling, head pounding without him caring a whit.
It occurred to him that his mother might actually be right. Hadn't Lee been saying the same thing just last week? You can't be alone all the time ... It had been three years, after all. Maybe it was time to test out the waters. If he hated it, at least he could tell his family and friends that he had tried, that it just hadn't worked ...
Unbidden, Mia's face floated up to the top of his mind. He hadn't seen her since the horrible engagement party, and he hadn't ever intended to. Still, it wasn't like he knew a lot of girls in the first place, and it wasn't like he was going to ask out Stacey, or talk to Alicia again.
By the time morning had come, he hadn't thought of any better solutions. Slightly irritated, George called for his owl, Shadow. Proving her namesake, she appeared on his shoulder, without any noise to notify him of her arrival. Grumbling, George wrote a short note – Leaky Caldron, Saturday, 7:30. George Weasley – and tied it to Shadow's outstretched leg. He ran his fingers loosely down her grey, downy feathers; she hooted softly in approval and shook out her wings. He carried her to the window, and she took off, her shape barely distinct over the dark rooftops of Diagon Alley.
He was almost disappointed when she came back that same afternoon. Once he'd had the time to think about it, he had panicked. He hadn't been on a date since his last weekend in Hogsmeade during his sixth year. He had no idea what to do or what to say. What was expected out of a date, these days? Especially considering he really knew next to nothing about the girl, expect for her obvious love of blue and her total lack of sanity.
He un-rolled the note nervously, half-hoping she'd have said no. Instead, he was treated to the most interesting letter he had ever received.
Dude,
You're about two weeks late. Of course, I never paid you your Sickles.
Mia
George's insecurities about the date only rose. She seemed to be as completely insane as he'd first suspected. He felt stupid, worrying something like this. Where had his sense of adventure gone? He would have found her absolutely hilarious four or five months ago.
He went back to work, wondering what in the hell a dude was.
AN: Interesting, yes? No? Maybe? Eh. Love? Hate? Review!
