George whistled an old Baba Yaga and the Batutut's tune as he set the last of the wards on the shop. It had been a slow week and he was more than happy to lock up early today. The fact that he and Angelina were going to be alone for the first time in weeks might also have had something to do with his decision to close up earlier than normal.
Lee had skived off an hour earlier and George and Fred had been left alone to straighten up the shop and count the tills. George hated running the numbers with a passion and Fred was more than happy to let George clean up after the few rowdy customers that had come through. Today, however, the shop was nearly in the same condition as it had been when they'd opened, an event almost as rare as Bill winning an argument with Fleur. Not that George was complaining. Especially when he'd be going home to Angie and her famous cherry turnover that much quicker.
With a grin, George headed to the offices at the back of the shop only to find Fred still sitting at the desk in the middle of the room staring at a wrapped box absentmindedly, the receipts barely touched in front of him. Every few seconds his eyes turned to the clock on the wall, an ugly orange cat whose overly large eyes and curled tail swung back and forth every second. Fred had insisted on putting the damn thing up last week, claiming that it would help them stay on task. Since then, George had found that Fred spent more time staring at the damn thing than actually working.
George watched his brother for a few minutes until it became clear that his brother's attention was far removed from the task at hand. "You've got it bad, don't you? Who's the bird this time?" he asked, his voice loud against the tock-tock of the cat.
Fred glanced over his shoulder and shrugged before turning back to the receipts. "What makes you think there's a bird?"
"We all know there's a bird. We've all known it for the past few months," George scoffed as he made his way over to the armchair shoved in the corner by the desk. "Now spill or I'm bringing Mum into it," he warned as he threw himself into the chair.
His brother frowned and turned back to the ledger to begin filling in the day's profits. When it became clear that Fred was using productivity to ignore him, George slipped his wand from the inner pocket of his robe and flicked it towards the inkpot, drawing a short line between it and Fred's right hand. He waited a moment before sending another spell towards his brother, this time aiming at his cheek. The quill paused as Fred rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. George grinned and recast the spell, Fred still none the wise. This time, Fred reached up with his right hand to scratch at his cheek leaving long black lines of ink in its wake.
Biting down a laugh, George slipped further down in the chair to slip the wand back into his pocket. "C'mon now Freddie. We've known each other our whole lives, I know when there's a bird involved. Even Angie's been asking if you've brought her round the shop yet. The only thing I haven't been able to figure out is why you've haven't brought her to Sunday dinner yet. Almost as if you're ashamed of us," he said with a grin. "Or of her."
Fred rolled his eyes and picked up another receipt. "Or perhaps I know you'll do your damnedest to scare her off."
"Moi? When have I ever scared anyone off?" George said with a scoff. He set he feet on the corner of the desk and closed his eyes. "Or are you confusing scaring off with attracting them to the better brother?"
"Sheila was the last one you scared off," Fred said as he began to count off on his fingers just how many George had scared off over the years. "Then there was Nancy who worked at Malkins, that American bird who was here to see her brother, Amelia in sixth year, Babette and Louisa in fifth –"
"A twin should never date another twin Freddie, let alone both halves. I was only saving you from yourself," George corrected.
"Then there was the first Brittany at the World Cup, the second Brittany at the Finals two months before that, that girl Oliver had been trying to set me up with after we reopened, the red-head who worked at the bar, the –"
"Alright, alright, I get it," George said, holding his hands up in defeat. "I'm bad for business. But, Freddie, if I manage to scare them off do you really think they'll last much longer with Mum? Besides, if they scare so easily they're not worth it mate. Can you imagine what they'd have done if they met Bill or Charlie? The Weasley's have always been a package deal. If they can't stand one of us they're not worth our time. Or has all that brewing of that damned Frizz-Bee-Gone shampoo finally gone to your head?"
Fred shoved George's feet off the table and frowned at him. "It's different this time."
Intrigued, George sat up and leaned towards the desk. "Oh? Do tell."
"It's just she," Fred paused and shook his head absentmindedly as he tried to explain the situation. "I mean we aren't really. Well, she's not really aware of. It's just that she's" he trailed off as he stared at the package on the desk. "It's just different, that's all."
George let out a long, low whistle and leaned back in the chair. "You've really got it bad. You're in love with her aren't you?"
Fred gave him a wolfish grin as he slammed the ledger book shut and stood up. "And damn happy about it, too," he said as he grabbed the package. "But if you even think about it near Mum I won't hesitate to tell her it was you and Ange who spiked the punch at Percy's wedding."
"Don't have to worry about Mum with me. She's been pushing the grandchildren angle for the past six months and we've only been married four. I swear that woman has a sixth sense when it comes to her children's lives," George said with a shudder. "But you do have to admit we livened up that wedding like only a Weasley could. Who knew those old stiffs could dance so well?"
Fred laughed as he headed towards the stairs to his apartment. "Give Ange my love," he called out as he disappeared up the stairs.
"And give your bird mine, whatever her name is. But don't come crying to me when she decides to chuck you for not bringing her to meet the family," George called after him as he took the seat at the desk.
xxxxx
Five months later…
George was ecstatic. The entire shop was filled with repeat customers, curious onlookers, and ordinary, run-of-the-mill types. They'd planned this day down to the last detail, strategically placing products in the windows and at eye-level to attract customers to their best selling products. They'd set out flyers announcing the arrival of their new product and the turn-out was better than they could have ever imagined.
This might even be one of the best days of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, right up there with their grand re-opening a few years ago. George couldn't remember the last time he was this proud of a new product, not since they'd first debuted their fever fudge to get out of Snape's class. It was so far above the Dancing Prancing Socks cousin Eunica had so graciously decided to test out for them at her birthday last fall. Merlin's beard, he hadn't had an idea like this in ages. He felt as giddy as the first time he and Fred managed to successfully turn all of Percy's wardrobe into exact duplicates of Aunt Muriel's old frilly robes.
This, this was their moment in the spotlight. On this date, the nineteenth of September, this date would be the one that would be remembered and repeated in hushed whispers all around the wizarding world. This is what would be studied years from now by bored Hogwarts students falling asleep in Professor Binn's never ending class. This is what others would try, and fail, to duplicate for their own homes. This is what would drive them into new markets and solidify their notoriety as geniuses in business for all time.
So where the bloody hell was Fred?
Almost an hour after closing, George was finally finished straightening up the Wonder Witch line of products and was debating on whether it would be easier just to have Lee and Verity come in early tomorrow to finish up. The day had gone brilliantly; they'd sold over 200 of the trick boxes and all 500 of the Need-It-Now Bags once word had gotten out about the product. They had to stay open two hours later than normal just to accommodate the long line of people clamoring to own one.
"Where do you want the rest of this?" Ron asked as he came back to the front of the shop with another box full of product, a smudge of black powder still on his nose.
"In the window there," George told him.
Ron set the box down near the front of the store and rubbed at the powder still on his nose. George couldn't help but laugh as he remembered the look on Ron's face as the Remember-Me-Not Ball blew up in his hands. His brother clearly wasn't expecting the ball to explode when the correct password was finally used and George could tell that Harry was trying not to laugh at his powder covered friend. Ron had been a good sport about the whole thing. Well, as good a sport as he usually was about being pranked publicly. And having Harry demonstrate the usefulness of the Need-It-Now Bag had been a brilliant idea on Lee's part. Nothing like the war-hero of the century to promote your product.
Ron scowled and began to unpack the box, ripping off the lid. "You could have told me that would happen."
"But Ronnikins, if we did that we couldn't give our devoted customers a genuine reaction," George said with a grin. Ron's scowl deepened and stomped towards the window display.
Even if Ron couldn't see it, the ideas for the Need-It-Now Bag and the One-Trick Box really were brilliant. Fred had burst into George and Angelina's apartment late at night about three moths ago waving restaurant napkins around his head and raving about his latest idea. At first the couple had been irritated by Fred barging in, but once he'd finally let them see the notes he'd dashed out on the napkin all was forgiven as they saw the idea's potential. George still hadn't figured out how he'd come up with it, but he knew it had to do something with Fred's mystery woman.
The idea was simple enough: a box or a bag that was large enough on the inside to hold everything a person might need on the go, yet charmed so that all one had to do to find an object was say its name.
The two had begun working on the charms they knew were essential the next day, eventually coming up with a rough prototype for their experiments. Once they'd worked out the basics, they'd begun with small objects, nothing larger than a quill, and once they'd managed to get the box working properly they'd moved onto books and cauldrons. It was at that point that they hit a snag that took them over a month to work around. Oddly enough, the solution to getting larger objects to turn up at the top of the bag had been to move to cloth bags. But once they'd made that move another hiccup in the plans had the bag confusing it's b's with it's t's and it's c's with it's h's. That had been solved after Lee had flirted with the shop girl at Malkins and she'd suggested blue satin rather than the bland terrycloth they'd been using. Her suggestion had worked like a charm and the resulting bag was not only functional but fashionable as well. Angelina and Ginny had both added beads to their bags and Verity had begun playing around with the styles to expand the line.
The Trick-Box, on the other hand, had been a happy accident of Ron's laziness. He'd begun storing old and defective products in the box after he'd found out they were practically bottomless pits. It wasn't until George had reached in to pull out a quill and pulled out a defective box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that he'd found out how his brother had been disposing of old products. George had gone around the rest of the day in a cloud of darkness and the twins had found an easy way to give out samples of their products while making a bit of coin.
The bell above the shop door tinkled and George glanced up, expecting it to be another customer trying to come in after hours. He frowned when he saw it was only Fred coming back looking worse than the wrong end of a blast ended screwt.
"And where have you been all day? Thought you'd be here when we unveiled the bags."
Fred glanced up from where he'd been staring at the floor and winced. "Something came up and it slipped my mind," he said softly.
George raised an eyebrow at that. Fred had never forgotten shop business before. "What would happen to make you forget? We've got posters up all over London. Hell, we even invited Mum this time."
Fred shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, George, I need to tell you -"
"Oi, there you are," Ron called out from the window. "Where've you been all day?"
Fred's mouth snapped shut and he shrugged, not even bothering to look at Ron as he began to make his way to the back of the shop.
"Is he just going to leave the mess to us then?" Ron asked as he climbed down from the window.
"Leave it, Ron," George warned as he watched Fred walk to the back of the shop. They'd have to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him at some point, but for now George wouldn't push it.
xxxxx