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Chapter Four

The Dreamseeker Deluxe

A little over two weeks had passed from the first time George had awoken from the new, different dream. It had come every night since, and George found that with each following morning, he remembered more and more.

He remembered the three, cloaked figures as they crossed the bridge; he remembered the significance of Harry and You-Know-Who mentioning the wand. He remembered the old-fashioned, jerky visions, and the precise, fluid memories of the other half of his dream. He remembered a stone…

It was still not enough to make sense of it all.

More than anything, the ability to recall more pieces of the dream led him to become increasingly, desperately curious to find out something- anything- as to what the dream might mean. His brain searched and foraged through any and all bits of information he had stored in the back of his mind, looking for anything that might indicate some sort of significant connection.

He hadn't had much luck, as of yet, to say the least. In fact, George doubted that he alone could ever manage to relate the dream to his future, if that was the purpose of it, anyway.

Still... that didn't mean he was ready to give up, just yet.

It was now the day of Christmas Eve, and Verity and he were just closing up. They were a bit late. Well… they were really late. When Closing Time had come, they had been prevented from doing such by a line of people that still was out the door for the register. It was surprising how many witches and wizards had arrived to top off last-minute shopping. The store had made the most Galleons in this one day than perhaps it ever had in a solitary day since its start.

George had managed, with the help of Verity, to whip up a few simple holiday products to go on sale. These included Everlasting Snowmen who insulted anyone who tried to take away their scarves or top-hats, a new breed of red-and-green pigmented pygmy puffs, and Tricky Tree Lights that spelled out funny holiday greetings on any conifer they were placed upon. Most of them had been imagined by both Fred and George ages back, stored in a safe notebook, saved for a holiday when no other, better inspiration came.

Seeing as George hadn't invented anything on his own for quite a while, he had figured that this was that special holiday.

He could tell that Verity was tired and anxious to return home. However, that didn't stop the brightness flooding from her eyes as she conjured away the realistic snow they had bewitched to fall from the ceiling. George himself was exhausted, and it wasn't just from the constant sales that had gone on endlessly the past 10 hours or so (although that certainly had not helped, either). His constant wonderings about the dream had made him increasingly lethargic.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was go to the Burrow for Christmas Eve Dinner.

As if reading his mind, Verity piped up. "I'm sure it'll be quite fun to go back home for Christmas. I mean, you haven't seen all of your family in a while."

George snorted. She had no idea.

Verity frowned. "No, really, George!" She pressed. "From what I've heard of your family, at least your Christmas Eve Dinner is bound to be a bit more exciting than mine. It's just my parents, my ancient great-auntie, and I! And they're all Muggles! I'll probably be asleep before we even get to the main course."

George gave her a weak smile. He couldn't manage much more.

This was going to be his first Christmas ever without Fred. It seemed unimaginable, unreal. George hadn't even been able to pluck up the imagination to get creative with gifts this year. He had never had to give gifts on his own before. He and Fred had always chipped in together, thought of witty, funny things to give… From Fred and George. It has always been 'From Fred and George.' Now… 'From George'? It sounded alien, foreign, wrong… The numbness, maliciously intent on making a full comeback, was starting to wind its way like an icy vine through him.

"Well…" Verity sighed. They looked around. All was done that was needed to be done. "I guess, with that, I will take my leave."

George watched as she made her way to the door, twirling her sky blue cloak around her. She opened the entryway, but then paused.

"Oh!" She popped back in with a smile. "Almost forgot…"

She pulled out of nowhere a small parcel, wrapped in paper and topped with a tiny bow. She thrust it into George's hands. George was speechless. He felt awful, for one, that she had gotten him a gift and he hadn't even thought… Well. He had thought, but he had thought it would make things at work complicated somehow. Now he just felt lazy for not getting her a gift, and embarrassed…

"I… thank you, Verity." George stammered out, holding the package up to eye-level. He could feel his ears begin to burn red. "I'm sure that, whatever it is, it's wonderful… I… I'm sorry, but I've been so busy and everything, I hadn't thought…"

Verity just waved him off. "Don't worry about it. I just figured that I'd better start sucking up to you now that I call you George, as opposed to 'Mr. Weasley'."

"No, really, I swear, I am going to get you a gift, no matter how late, if it's the last thing I do…" George promised. She just rolled her eyes.

"Just so you know, I am wholly expecting a pay raise after the Holidays. I'm sure we made quite enough just today to manage that along with hiring another assistant." Verity grinned, winked, and made for the door.

"This wrapping paper is from the store, though! That's definitely coming out of your raise!" He called after her, teasingly, and then she was gone.

As soon as she had left, George found himself delicately unwrapping the gift. A small, glass sphere, no greater than the size of a snitch, was resting in his palm. A note of the tiniest proportions was now stretching, growing in his hand, the writing becoming increasingly legible. It was Verity's own, tidy scrawl.

Hello, George! For Christmas, I've decided to get you one of these. In case it doesn't look familiar (which it probably doesn't), it's called a Dreamseeker Deluxe. It kind of works like a Remembrall, only instead of turning colors when you've forgotten something, it changes when something that can help you seek out your dreams is near. You're probably not familiar with it because it's the only one out there; I made it myself. I must say, I'm not too sure how reliable this thing is at actually functioning; my magic is nowhere near as great as yours or your brother's. It's quite possibly even vaguer than a Remembrall itself. I mean, really, anything can relate to dream, right? But… I figured that a man so focused on his dreams could use at least a little help, even if the only help it gives is false hope (which is better than despair, at least). So, I hope you find a good use for it (even as just a small paperweight, maybe?), and I hope you have a very Happy Christmas, Oh Great Master- I mean, Boss! -Verity

A feeling of warmth spread through him. George had read through the note twice, and glanced back down at the shining, smooth contraption in his hand. A clear, glittering smoke filled it, swirling gentle and neutral. It was brilliant! He felt like hitting himself over the head. Verity had made him- actually, physically created for him- such a wonderful gift. And even though even he had his doubts as to its reliability, the fact that she had noticed- had cared… And George hadn't gotten her anything.

All of a sudden, his instincts seemed to take over. The numbness was banished. He had an unmistakable urge to run out after her, which is what he did despite the cold and snow.

"Wait!" George found himself calling out. He couldn't see her, but he knew where she'd be. Waiting in line for Floo travel at the nearest fireplace; at the café next door. George rushed in at full speed, despite the glances he stole from passerbys.

"Verity!" He called again, spotting her. She was standing at the very front of a line consisting of about five wizards and witches, green flames already glowing in the brick. Verity had turned around, looking confused but beautiful, and George was now trotting up to her. Much to her surprise, and just as much to his, he found himself stepping through the queue and leaning in to…

He stopped before he could kiss her. Logic had finally gotten the best of him. Couldn't make things complicated, remember? Verity was one of the few people he was happy around. She was his… employee. He couldn't make things complicated. Stupid, stupid, stupid git…

However, Verity seemed to have already realized his original intention, and was now eyeing him warily.

Awkwardness seemed to fill up the air like an awful, thick potion.

"Um…" George bumbled. "I… just… Happy Christmas, Verity."

"Happy Christmas, George." She replied, somewhat cautiously, but with a coy smile on her face.

"Happy Christmas to all of yeh!" exclaimed the elderly wizard carter who was next in line. "Now couldjoo Floo home already? I've got fourteen grankids and a meal to get home to!"

Verity gave George a blushing smile, a quick wave, and with that she vanished into the flames.

Fred would have kissed her… a voice in his head surged before he could stop it. Immediately, George's face fell.

No, another piece his mind argued. Fred wouldn't have gotten involved with the shop assistant in the first place- "bad for business," he'd say.

Who knows what Fred would have done? The most sinister part of George's mind yet seemed to hiss. He's not here and he never will be again. Never, ever, ever...

George forced his brain to shut up.

His happy mood had sunk down to the deepest fissures and pits of the earth. Instead, he began to feel the fuzzy, freezing effects of having left his cloak in the shop. Could he ever get anything right? He had messed up his usual numbness, he has messed up keeping things un-complicated, and he had messed up with Verity.

Especially after that last bout of awkwardness, he was not looking forward to Christmas Eve Dinner at the Burrow one bit.