George was walking briskly through Diagon Alley, his cloak billowing behind him, his right hand in his pocket, clutching his wand. He couldn't help but let his eyes dart every which way, into every shop window and at every passing witch or wizard, walking just as quickly as he was.

Diagon Alley had changed. No longer were there carefree shoppers eagerly looking at the newest racing broom, or delighted witches pondering on pink or blue dress robes. Now, there was desolation and wretchedness etched into every brick in every building. Dark, chilly mist loomed over the streets, filling everyone with feelings of gloom and fear. The knowledge that a Death Eater could appear at any moment made things all the worse.

Of course, his and Fred's shop was the light of the Alley, attracting even the most cautious and frightened of wizards. The way he saw it, people needed a laugh more than ever in these dark times-and he and Fred were just the chaps to deliver it. Although, he couldn't pretend that he was able to sleep in his loft with perfect ease every night, what with so many other wizards being dragged away by Death Eaters. Ollivander, the wand maker, was one that had disappeared most recently, causing other business owners to shut their doors. George couldn't pretend that that accident didn't shake him.

Rounding the corner onto his street, he could see Weasley's Wizard Wheezes down towards the end, the day's last few customers exiting hurriedly to get back to their homes.

George raised his arm to run his hand through his hair, but suddenly, he froze. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise with anticipation and fear, and his heart began to race, each beat so loud that he willed it to be quiet. Someone was following him.

He exhaled slowly, his hand tightening around the wand in his pocket, and whipped around with quick preciseness and yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

There was a loud shriek and bang, as a figure in a dark blue cloak collided into a pile of owl cages stacked up outside an Owlery shop. The yell was the sound of a girl's.

George did not lower his wand, but proceeded towards the girl slowly and cautiously, his face hard and impassive. Surely it wasn't a Death Eater, as she seemed to have been following him with little stealth. Still, it was ludicrous to think that following anyone in these times was a smart thing to do.

He was within feet of her when she sat up, and viciously began to kick away the few cages on top of her, muttering in annoyance. She pushed he hood back to reveal a head of long blonde hair partially tied back, and a soft, pale face.

"Bloody hell," cried George, dropping his wand and throwing out his hand to yank her up to a standing position. "Are you mad? I could have killed you!"

Katie Bell stood, clutching her wrist with a pained expression.

"I'm pretty sure you just sprained my wrist," she said irritated.

"You're lucky that's all that happened!" George shouted incredulously. "What were you thinking, following someone like that? You completely freaked me out there for a moment."

Katie frowned, still rubbing her wrist. "That was not my intention. I just wanted to make sure that no one met up with you along the way to your shop, you know, like Fred."

She dropped her hands down and slouched to one side, her head hung so that she was talking to the ground. "So that I could talk to you, you know, just you. I wanted it to be alone." She set her mouth into a half frown, half smile, her eyes turning soft as she looked up at him.

George exhaled sharply and put his palms to his eyes, wishing more than anything that he could just disappear behind them. This was one night that he did not want to have to handle this.

Dropping his hands, he looked at her dully. "Why not just, 'hey, George, can I have a word?' instead of stalking me throughout Diagon Alley like a mad woman. I mean, use your head, Katie. We're risking our necks just being out here."

Katie bit her lip, and looked past George and down the street, her expression tentative. "Well…perhaps, we could go inside then?" she asked. "I mean, so we don't get killed. I don't fancy being thrown into a pile of cages again."

George looked down at her, annoyed. "I think that would be the least of your worries."

They stood awkwardly, not speaking for several seconds.

"Alright," George said, pained. "Quickly."

Katie looped her arm through George's, and the two walked as hurriedly as they could until they reached Weasley Wizard Wheezes. The store assistant, Jeanette, was throwing on her cloak and hood as though in a rush. She darted past George and out the door, seemingly oblivious to Katie's presence directly to his left.

"Good day, Mr. Weasley! So sorry-must go-"

George led Katie swiftly through the shop, maneuvering around product that was cluttered thickly on large, tightly knit shelves. He caught Fred's eye from behind a pile of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and gave a quick, agitated shake of his head. Fred drew his lips in and cast his eyes downward, trying not to grin.

They headed to the very back of the store where a small, golden door stood slightly ajar, revealing a narrow set of wrought-iron, spiral steps. They walked briskly up the stairs as Fred gave a quick wave of his wand to shut and lock the door behind them. Katie had her fingers loosely grasped onto his as they climbed, until they reached a large, emerald green door, with a silver-plated G in the center.

With another flick of his wand, the door clicked open to reveal George's room, untidy but comfortable with posters of the Ireland Quidditch team pasted on the walls, experimental product spread out on the floors, and a large, un-made canopy bed. In the corner on a small desk, sat a large framed portrait of his entire family, the Weasley's, all smiling and waving while on a family trip to Egypt.

George shook his fingers loose from her grasp as soon as they entered the room in an attempt to put immediate distance between them. He turned around to face her, just as she threw herself into him, her arms wrapping around his neck and her lips locking on his. Caught completely by surprise, George stumbled back several steps, Katie glued onto him, her fingers tangling in his hair. He grabbed her hands and pushed her slightly away, only managing to say "Katie-" before she grabbed onto him and pushed her mouth onto his again, desperate and needy. George stepped back once more, only to hit the bed behind him, where they both fell, Katie on top of him, kissing him with a passionate madness that held George in shock.

With one swift movement, George rolled Katie onto her back and pinned her by her wrists to the bed, her arms above her head. Breathing heavily, they both stared at each other for several seconds without saying a word. She had the palest blue eyes that he had ever seen-piercing and adventurous. He noticed her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her cloak had become unfastened.

He closed his eyes. Walk away, he said in his head. Just get up, walk away.

He had barely loosened his grasp on her wrists when she said sharply, quietly, "Don't".

He stared down at her again, and saw her expression turn to one of distraught and pain. He could see the tears beginning to well up in her eyes before they actually appeared-he had seen this reaction too many times before.

He sighed.

"Please," she whispered. "I-I'm afraid." She closed her eyes.

Tears began to leak out of the corners, streaming sideways into her hair.

"I don't want to d-die alone," she cried. She turned her wrists around in his hands, to join her fingers with his. "I need you."

Her breathing slowed, but Katie kept her eyes closed. George stared down at her, his head screaming at him to get off of her, to tell her he was sorry, to tell her to leave.

He wondered if he really knew what love was. Katie was infuriating, clueless, and dramatic. She knew where his strings were-she knew which ones to pull to bring him back to her. It filled him with hate when she drew him back in, but he came nonetheless. He knew, that no matter how much she begged him and told him that she needed him, that it was not love. They were a massacre of conflicting and torturous emotions; lust and hatred, and perhaps the ghost of a love that may have once existed, but there was no love in its true form.

He thought of Hermione, pure and tantalizing. His heart seemed to sink further into his chest.

He tightened his grip on her hands, and she opened her eyes.

"Please stay with me," she whispered, her eyes wide and her voice pleading.

His chest seemed as though it were tearing in two different directions.

"This was what you wanted to talk about?" He asked quietly.

"I just-" she began.

"Why Katie?" George interrupted. "Why do you do this? Why can't you stop? Don't you know what this does to me?!" His voice began to rise, and she flinched.

He leaned his forehead down and pressed it against hers, their mouths inches from each other. His eyes were shut tight, his heart beating frantic.

"Plea-", she began to whisper.

He pushed his lips onto hers, uncontrollably and fervently. They kissed madly and wildly, pulling each other as close as possible. Rolling on top of him, Katie pulled George into a sitting position, her legs wrapped around him. George could taste her tears, could feel how badly she needed him to be there in that moment.

George knew he was channeling. Anger and frustration flowed through him and into her.

He gripped her hair and thought of it differently. He imagined it curlier and thicker. He imagined brown eyes. He imagined himself taking off a different cloak, another shirt, and kissing another pair of lips as desperately as he was Katie's. He thought of kissing a different neck, and of another voice moaning into his ear.

He felt weak. He couldn't stop.