-

He was officially avoiding his family.

It hadn't started out that way. When his dad dropped by the shop the morning after Alicia came over for Chinese and stayed the night, George honestly hadn't been hungry. He'd been tired. He had jokingly told Alicia that she must add in bed when she read her fortune, but he hadn't known her fortune was "The more you give, the more you will receive."

He had been anticipating her reaction when he read his. All the effort you are making will ultimately pay off.

A week after he declined his father's invitation, George received an owl inviting him to Sunday dinner at the Burrow. He sent back a note saying he'd already made plans. It wasn't a lie. He meant to spend the day with Alicia.

It wasn't until he had opened a note from Fleur and answered her répondez s'il vous plaît in the negative that the truth sank in. George wasn't just avoiding a boring dinner party at his sister-in-law's. He was avoiding his family.

It was almost a relief to admit it. A release of tension to acknowledge that the last two weeks had been blessedly free of his family's concern about his wellbeing. Free of furtive looks laden with unspoken questions. Was he going to bollocks up the business? Drink his way beyond the veil to join his brother? Ever "move on" and accept Fred's death as fate?

"Hell, no" would be his answer, but no one ever asked. George figured they were afraid of hearing "Yes" to the first two.

The day after George sent an owl with his message; Bill stormed into his office. "Désolé?" he growled.

"Yeah," said George. "Doesn't that mean "I'm sorry" in French?"

Bill took a piece of parchment out of his pocket and ripped it in half. He tossed the pieces and watched them flutter down upon the desk. "Sorry isn't good enough. You made my wife cry."

"Fleur's pregnant. She probably cries at the drop of a chapeau."

Billy-boy didn't appreciate the flippant tone. His eyes narrowed into slits. "She wrote the invitation by hand—in calligraphy!"

"She sprayed perfume on the envelope too," said George. "Tell her I said it was a nice touch."

"Tell her yourself."

George lifted a sheaf of papers. "Sorry. I have too much work to do."

"Don't be a gobshite." Bill took a step forward, his expression grim. "That's not the reason and you know it."

George picked up a quill and tapped it against the desk. He hid his unease, saying lightly, "Do I?"

Bill sat in one of the visitor's chairs. "Yes, you do, so come clean and I won't suggest mum drop by for a visit."

Too many card games had been played in the Weasley household for George not to call that bluff. He began to draw upon a scrap of parchment, feigning nonchalance. "There's nothing to tell."

Bill shot to his feet. "I'll be on my way to the Owl Post Office, then."

"Sit down." George threw down the quill. "The last thing I want is mum fussing over me." He raised the pitch of his voice. "How are you doing, dear? Are you eating properly? I worry that you're not eating properly!"

Excellent imitation. He could imagine Fred nodding in approval. I would've made him laugh; not just chuckle, but you got the tone right.

Bill smiled. "Mum can't help it. She's a mother hen with a lot of chicks to worry about."

"One less these days."

In the silence that followed, George could almost hear a sharp whistle. Bit harsh there, weren't you, brother?

"All the more reason for you to come to dinner," Bill said quietly. "Reassure Mum that she hasn't lost another son."

George snatched up the quill and finished the drawing with quick, dark strokes. "All right. I'll go. Your work here is done, so let me get back to mine."

Instead of taking the hint to leave, Bill strolled over to stand beside the desk. "Never knew you were a Breast Man. I admire legs, myself. Who's the girl?"

George flipped the sketch over. "Nobody."

"If she's nobody, why'd you turn the parchment over?" The taunt brought back memories of a boyhood when Bill's smirks hadn't been twisted by scars.

Nostalgia didn't make George want to jinx the smirk off his brother's face any less than he had in the past. It only gave him the restraint not to try. He said, "I didn't want to get you in trouble with Fleur for ogling another woman."

Bill laughed. "My wife isn't insecure."

If you were a Breast Man, she would be, George thought. He shrugged. "I've heard hormones make pregnant women emotional—sometimes hostile—but if you say so..."

"You're not going to bring up the sketch." Bill's wary expression said "Are you?"

"I won't if you won't."

"I'll be damned," Bill said wonderingly. "There really is a girl. Who is she? Bring her to dinner."

George stood up. "Charlie doesn't realise how fortunate he is, living in Romania. I wonder if Bucharest has a joke shop."

Bill shook his head. "Fine. Keep your secret, but keep your promise. I expect you at dinner Saturday."

"Yes, Dad."

A goofy look replaced his brother's stern expression. "Dad. I like the sound of that."

"That's good, because soon you'll be hearing it for the rest of your life." George walked his brother out and rang up a few sales while Caper reluctantly took a break. The elf would happily work all day without stopping if he wasn't literally pushed out of the shop.

At lunch, George could have walked down the alley to tell Alicia about his plans for Saturday. Instead, he went to the post office and sent an owl.

Alicia,

Bill stopped by to guilt me into attending a family dinner Saturday night. I know we talked about doing something on the weekend. How about Sunday?

George

-

When Alicia saw the owl flapping its wings to get her attention, her heart leapt. Was it a message from George? She threw open the window and almost dumped a tin of owl treats onto the floor her rush to reward the owl.

She had to reread the note before the underlying message sank in. George didn't want to take her to a family dinner, but he still wanted to fool around. The part of her brain that tried to get her to calm down before doing anything rash was overruled by hurt and anger. Alicia quickly penned a message.

George,

Sunday is fine. If you bring your Fanged Frisbee, I'll pack a picnic. Meet at the park, one o'clock? I probably won't drag myself out of bed before noon.

Alicia

As she had hoped, he sent a response back within minutes.

Got a wild hen party planned? One o'clock it is. Have fun.

Alicia wanted to tear the parchment into shreds. At the same time, she wanted to kiss it. George was so bloody arrogant, assuming she'd be off with the girls, yet cute, trying to get her to confirm it. In truth she had no plans. She would start making them right after she sent her lover a message.

Thanks. It's a mixed group, which should be fun. I haven't been dancing in ages. See you Sunday!

She stroked yellow-white feathers as she slipped the note inside the carrier case strapped to the avian leg. "Thank you for flying the extra distance. I appreciate it."

The owl clapped his wings together, uttering a low-pitched cry before taking off.

Alicia startled when Zoe ran into the office. "Did I hear the courtship call of the short-eared owl?" the girl asked breathlessly.

"No. You heard a messenger owl preparing to fly away."

"A goodbye call? No. Short-eared owls don't have the vocabulary long-eared ones do," said Zoe, in a how-silly-of-you-not-to-know-that tone. "Males have a chef-chef call when they're under threat, but I distinctly heard Voo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" She sighed heavily. "Orlando, my short-eared friend, expects me to hoot with him during mating season. If I don't...Merlin! There's no living with him."

"It isn't mating season."

Zoe blew a breath that made her long fringe fly up. "Tell that to Orlando! He thinks mating season is nine months long." Her dark eyes widened. "If your owl was human-imprinted too, he may have taken a fancy to your voice. Best start practising your hoots."

It was all Alicia could do not to laugh. "I'm not going to say Voo-hoo-hoo to a species-confused owl!"

"Well, there is one more call you could use, although your neighbours might think you have ghosts." Zoe dropped her voice. "Boo-boo-boo!"

"I have to go run errands. I'll be back in less than an hour." Alicia rushed out of the shop with Zoe's "Short-eared owls are diurnal, you know! They like to hoot day and night!" ringing in her ears. She was still giggling when she entered Flourish and Blott's.

"Alicia, up here!"

Vicky was shelving books on the first floor. Alicia begged the pardon of an elderly wizard as she squeezed past him on the stairs, quickly joining her friend. A customer was browsing nearby. She waited until the woman meandered down a different aisle to ask, "What are your plans Saturday night?"

"That's two days away. You know I don't plan that far ahead. Why?"

"I want to go dancing."

Sandy-blonde eyebrows shot up. "I thought you didn't want me to set you up with David?"

"I don't," Alicia said, "but if he came along with a group of friends, I'd talk to him."

Vicky smiled like a pixie. "And dance with him?"

"Since you never let me lead—ouch!" Alicia rubbed her arm, even though her friend's pinch hadn't really hurt. "Sure."

"Fabulous!" Vicky shelved the book in her hands and hugged Alicia. "I've been waiting for you to come out of your hermit phase. Maybe now the rumours will die down."

"What rumours?"

Vicky blinked. "Did I say rumours? I meant—oh, Hades, stop giving me that look." She held up her hands. "I've told anyone who'll listen that you're not in mourning for Fred Weasley, but everyone knows you and the twins had lunch regularly until...the battle, and somehow it's got round about that time you and Fred snuggled up after Quidditch practice. People wonder if you two were having a secret affair."

Alicia was the one blinking now, in shock. "We weren't snuggling. He fell asleep! I was nice enough not to push Fred off my shoulder." Actually, she had seen the looks George threw her way and hoped to make him jealous. She said, "Who do you mean by people?"

"Oh, the usual gang of young and underpaid shop employees. Whoever doesn't show at the Gnome and Jarvey on Fridays after work becomes the topic of conversation. You know that," Vicky said chidingly. "It's tradition." She paused, and then said, "They might stop gossiping if you give my cousin a chance."

"I said I'd talk to him and dance with him."

Vicky's expression lightened. "So you did. Brilliant! I'll owl David and spread the word tomorrow night at the pub."

Alicia smiled, but the voice of reason she'd ignored earlier asked if she knew what she was getting herself into. Of course I don't, Alicia thought. But since when has that stopped me?

-

Fleur was an excellent cook. George knew better than to praise the Chateaubriand with Béarnaise sauce too highly. His mum's lips tightened whenever Dad, Bill, or Percy complimented a dish. He did tell his sister-in-law that perfume on the invitation was a nice touch.

Bill's snort received a frown from his wife. "Why do you do zat?" Fleur's eyes welled with tears. "You do not like my parfum?"

George smiled innocently when his brother glared at him.

"I love your perfume," Bill said. "It's your skin. Everything smells good on you."

"En vérité?"

"La vérité absolue,"said Bill.

While his brother reassured his wife that he spoke the truth, Percy and his girlfriend Penelope smiled into each other's eyes. George looked away from both sets of lovebirds. His dad was smiling indulgently, but his mother wore an expression that reminded George of Ginny. Mum seemed ready to mime gagging over her Chateau potatoes. When her eyes met his, he winked.

She surprised him by winking back.

After dinner, the group moved down to the basement to play darts. Percy suggested they play "Killer," a family favourite. George hit two when it was his turn to throw. He looked forward to hitting his number five times and becoming a "killer" who could take away other players' lives by hitting their numbers. He knew who he would take out first. Percy, Mr. Unlucky Thirteen.

It was easier said than done. George tried to keep his mind on the match, but it was useless. He kept thinking about Alicia, out with her "mixed group." What was she wearing? Who was she dancing with?

Fleur giggled at some comment of Bill's. George scowled. Was some bloke whispering in Alicia's ear, trying to make her giggle—hoping to take her home?

He jumped when a hand patted his shoulder. "It's your turn, son."

Everyone was staring at him in concern. George backed away. "Sorry. There's someplace I need to be." He smiled at Fleur. "Thanks for dinner. It was delicious."

"Where do you need to be at this time of night?" his mother said sharply. "You're not still doing business with Mundungus, are you?"

"No, Mum."

"But you are meeting someone," said Percy.

George made a mental note to send an office-warming gift to his brother's office: something smelly. "Yes, I'm meeting someone." As soon as I track her down.

"Who?" Bill's voice dared him to tell the truth.

George had never been able to resist a dare. "My lover," he said, right before Apparation.

-


A/N: Bet the rule about gossip goes for Weasleys, too. Whoever isn't there gets talked about. :D. Since Muggles are known to give pubs animal names like the Duck and Dog, I decided to go mythical. The Jarvey (resembles an overgrown ferret) chases gnomes. If anyone's wondering, the stuff about human-imprinted owls isn't fiction. Truth is much stranger, sometimes! (hums People Are Strange by The Doors)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story last chapter...40/16, alatariel5079, Albus Severus, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Born Mischievous, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, Eruaphadriel, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, GraysonGirl , High Snow Lord of the Blowland, lbf1412, Lieu of Flowers, Lillith Evans, lyin', Machiavelli Jr, MBP, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nanda Weasley, Nesha227, RahNee, sofia666, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, and worldsapart.