Chapter 4: Change
I've watched you change
Into a fly
I looked away
You were on fire
I've watched a change in you
It's like you never had wings.
"Mr. London, are you stalking me?" Brody asked playfully as she strode up to the bench that George was seated on.
"Actually no, I was just looking for another random girl that would spend my money and leave me stranded in the streets of an unknown city to find my own way home," he smirked and she shoved his shoulder playfully.
"I really am sorry about that ," she said. "I was late. You did find your hotel though eventually?"
"I never did, I've been wandering these streets alone since ten am," he said, casting his eyes down forlornly.
"Oh god I feel terrible now! Let me- wait, you're such a liar you changed clothes!" She shoved him and he laughed. "Ass hole."
"I'm sorry, I had to, it was too easy," She hit him again and he grabbed her wrist. "What are you doing tonight?"
"I was planning on heading home, I'm kind of tired," she let him hold onto her wrist for a moment before pulling away reluctantly.
"Maybe I could buy you some tea? Or coffee I suppose if that's what you prefer."
"I've had a hard day, I'm kind of ready to go pity myself," she said, not knowing why she continuously tried to decline his advances.
"Than a drink perhaps," He raised an eyebrow and for a fleeting moment he thought she would say yes, but her eyes flickered to the left of him where a subway station sat and he knew the answer. "Don't worry about it, you don't have to say yes," he sighed.
"I'm sorry George, it's just been a really terrible day," Brody sighed, wishing that he didn't look quite so rejected.
"No, its ok, really, I'll just have to stalk you again tomorrow," he joked and she laughed in spite of herself. "I hope your night gets better," he waved awkwardly and turned, mentally kicking himself for not attempting a hug or some sort of physical interaction.
"Wait George," Brody called after he had gotten a few feet away, she rushed after him and he turned towards her. "Let me give you my phone number," he raised an eyebrow. "You know, just in case you get lost again while you're out here," she added hastily and he smiled knowingly.
"Of course, no ulterior motives what so ever," he chuckled.
"Do you want it or not Mr. London?" she chided, halting from searching her bag for a pen.
"I wasn't complaining!" She pulled a pen from her bag and grabbed his hand, it was calloused and rough but still warm and slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous. She wrote her number quickly across the back of it, the black ink contrasting sharply with his ivory skin.
"So, just give me a call then, you know, if you need directions or something."
"Right, for directions." He nodded laughing slightly.
"Ok, well have a good night then," she said with a nod and waited for him to turn but he didn't.
"Um, Brody," he said after a moment. "Can I have my hand back?"
"Oh, right, sorry about that," she blushed a deep red that clashed with her piercings, making her look like a little girl that was playing some sort of punk rock dress up.
"Sweet dreams Brody," George said, backing away.
"Have a goodnight Mr. London," she smiled as he turned his back and disappeared into the night.
He began walking, and with some hope to see her before he had gone too far, he turned around. The corner that he left her on was empty, however, she must have walked quickly, he thought, it was as if she had disappeared into thin air. The excitement that he had felt at her arrival subsided quickly, allowing his original glum mood to overtake him again. Besides three hours of getting lost on the subway and watching a homeless man play what looked like a piano but emitted animal noises, his day had been uneventful. He supposed that if he was more like his father who could spend hours marveling at anything muggle made he would have enjoyed it, but he had only confirmed that the muggle world was unnecessarily complicated, boring, and smelled funny. He did not feel like continuing his stay in America but going home would be so much worse.
In three years, the family had changed more than he was comfortable with. Percy had become a sort of leach which followed each of them around incessantly, as if in an attempt to make up for lost time and a sort of apology for the pain that he had caused the family. He could usually be seen helping his mother with chores or holding her during her daily crying spells. George had never been close to Percy but it seemed like a waste of talent and ambition for him to have quit his job at the ministry and instead work at Flourish and Blotts so that he could be closer to his family.
George had gotten his personal fill of Percy within the first six months after the battle of Hogwarts. He kept apologizing to him, as if he had been the one that had thrown the curse that killed Fred. He felt responsible for his death and George never made any attempt to assure him otherwise. As much as Ginny had chastised him for it, he blamed Percy for Fred's death. It was much easier to find a person to hate for it as if it had been a premeditated action as opposed to a simple battle casualty.
Ginny was the only person in the family that really talked to George very much, she seemed to be the only one that could stand the change from the playful joking to the sarcastic, sometimes cruel wit that he now spoke constantly. She had changed though herself and it seemed that some of her independence and strength had left when she had started seriously dating Harry. It wasn't as if she was some sort of subservient girlfriend, but he had once regarded her as much like a boy in her reckless nature and crude humor, he now thought of her for the first time as a little sister who was capable of getting her heart broken by some boy.
It also didn't help that she constantly insisted that Harry and George attempt to be friends again. After an embarrassing incident when George had walked into Ginny's room without knocking, his protective brother instinct had caused him to rip the naked boy off of his sister and break his nose before promptly throwing him and his clothes out of the house. George was happy that his parents had been vacationing for the week because he shuddered to think what they would have done to both him and Ginny for the incident. Harry had tried to apologize to him once he had gotten over the anger of it but George had refused the apology and disliked him since. Ginny hadn't talked to him for a week after that and it had caused a substantial row between Harry and Ron as well.
Ron had been a bit off since his marriage with Hermione four months ago and had taken to almost pitying George, constantly telling him that he would find a mate someday, even when the topic of Hermione hadn't been brought up. He thought Ron a great prat for this and did not hesitate to tell him so. Ron just would shake his head, pat his brother on the back and walk away. He no longer fought back when George insulted him, just looked at him with that same expression, as if he felt like it would be wrong to insult his twinless brother. Sometimes he would try to get George to talk about what he was feeling, no doubt because Hermione made him, but the conversations always ended with Ron being told to stick something in an uncomfortable place and tell George how that feels.
The family had allowed George to be a melancholy ass hole for the past three years, never wanting him to bring up Fred's death when they reprimanded him for something that he had said. So he had grown apart from them, spending less time at home, less time at the shop, and more time with whatever bottle and company he could get.
His relationship with Alicia Spinnet had brought a bit of happiness to his life, given him somebody stable to hold onto for six months. She soon grew tired of his personality change, however, and after an attempt at getting him to seek help for what she called depression and alcohol abuse, had left him, putting him back in the same position he was before.
No, while America was boring, it was much better than home at this point. In America he didn't have the pitying back pats and the knowing glances from his concerned peers. In America he wasn't asked occasionally to tell the story of that night. But most of all, in America, he had a room that wasn't also occupied by an empty bed, still imprinted with form of his fallen comrade, his best friend, his brother.
He tried to not think about how lonely he was as he wandered the street, brightly lit by the many lamps that surrounded him. When he thought about that, he thought about Fred, and the cycle started over again, resulting in a bottle and a hangover. He instead turned his attention to Brody, the only person he had talked to since he had arrived in this country, but while these thoughts were pleasant, he soon passed a pair of young, brunette twins who were pulling at each others hair with their tiny toddler hands, screaming at one another, and he was pushed back into his melancholy state. His destination now became numbness and he ducked into the first bar that he found, quickly devouring a shot of rum.
----------------------------------------------
When Brody apparated into the kitchen of her dingy studio apartment, she was still kicking herself for not joining George for the night. She liked him, but that is what scared her. Ever since Ayden had walked out on her sister because he couldn't deal with her condition, Brody had vowed to never date, never marry, never let a man get under her skin and break her as he had done to Ametti. To her it seemed easier to live alone than in constantly wondering weather her heart would be broken that day.
She ached to think of Ametti- Ametti who had taught her how to hold a wand, who had read her bed time stories, who had enchanted her stuffed animals to move and make her laugh when she was sick. Ametti, who was now becoming a muggle because her mother's jealousy and curiosity had ruined her forever. A nausea filled her stomach at the thought of her mother- her mother who had ruined the life of her husband and her daughter, her mother who had- no, it was too hard for her to think about, too twisted. Her mother was sick, sick in the head. She was a terrible person.
The old emotions of unendurable anger and pain filled her once again and Brody was fully awake, knowing that any attempt at sleep would result in her sitting for hours in the dark, rolling he details over in her mind and stewing in her own bad mood, making it worse. No, what she needed was something that made her stop thinking, something that made her stop feeling. She knew that she had been resorting to this too much lately, but it was so much easier to be numb than to be constantly thinking about it.
She dialed the number quickly, knowing that he would answer, he always answered, and after a hurried conversation she left the house in the direction of his house only three streets away.