Double or Nothing
Chapter Seven
Fox
Dedication- This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful readers! My life would not be complete without you all! A special shout out to- Lilac Rose6, Ellivia22 and rozepoze2000. Without you three this story would have stayed as nothing but a humble oneshot! I love you all!
"Good evening, dear….a word?" The woman asked innocently craning her neck to see the inside of the flat.
George blinked blankly at her for a moment "Sure. You can have a word. In fact you can have two words…Get. Out." With that he slammed the door, none too gently, in her face.
He turned around with the beginnings of a sinking feeling in his gut and jumped violently at the pop that was the unmistakeable sound of Apparating. He spun around quickly and glowered at the witch as she stood in front of the table looking around with a curious expression on her hawk like face. She met his eyes with a broad, sickly smile.
"Come now, don't be difficult." She whipped out a notepad and settled herself in a chair with one leg crossed over the other tightly in the constricting skirt. Placing the notepad on the table she balanced the acid green quill on its end and looked up at George, patting the opposite side of the table.
"I know what you want. I'm not losing my mind." He stated adamantly, shocked as the Quick Quotes Quill already began zooming across the parchment. "Now, Get. Out."
She brushed off his menacing tone and reached into her bag withdrawing from its depths two goblets and a bottle of Butterbeer. "Come now. Just a few short questions. You must know that we at the Daily Prophet are very concerned with the wellbeing of the grieving." She laced thickly, putting on a thick tone that George supposed was meant to be comforting.
"No. Leave me alone."
The weasel stood and began to poke her way around the kitchen, and into the bedroom. She giggled, apparently satisfied that Fred's bed was still messy and crumpled. Then her eyes alighted on the half empty glass of Firewhisky "Ah…so, this is how you cope."
"Ou-What? No!" The last thing he needed was the Prophet proclaiming wrongly that he was an alcoholic.
"Hm." She giggled, sounding remarkably like Dolores Umbridge, and put the glass down, the Quill was busily scratching undoubtedly false notes.
George opened his mouth to order her to leave again but closed it abruptly. It was obvious she wasn't leaving until she got what she wanted. Rita returned to her seat and poured out two goblets of Butterbeer.
"Butterbeer?"
George glared at her. "You are not getting what you want, so get out of my home."
"Now, George, dear. I just want to have a little chat. Don't think so little of me." She giggled and took a sip, drumming her long, violent red fingernails on the table. She raised a thin eyebrow expectantly and lay aside the goblet.
"So tell me…how are you dealing since the death of your twin?"
George stared stonily at her, not saying a word.
"Now, now, don't be shy. We're friends aren't we?"
Rita shrugged and nodded to her quill which began writing almost before she began talking "Never mind telling me then, I can read people very well and you, George Weasley, are on the verge of a breakdown. Could it be that you blame yourself for his tragic end?"
That was it; he was not staying silent anymore. He slammed his palms down on the table violently "Listen you sneaky, conniving, treacherous toad…you are not going to get the story you want here, I'm fine, I'm not on the verge of a breakdown and YOU can bloody well get out of here before I decide to retest some of our inventions!"
She blinked and that same little smirk was ever present on the corner of her lips as she sat completely undeterred by the murderous gleam in George's eyes. Unaware of what he was doing he raised the goblet of Butterbeer to his lips, which was quite possibly the most foolish thing he could have done, and took a deep drink. Never moving his eyes from her.
"So!" She cried brightly "That was not a denial!"
George slumped down in the chair and his mouth began to move of its own accord before he could shut himself up.
"I guess…I kind of do feel responsible for it…if I had stayed with him maybe I could have saved him…"
Why in Merlin's name did you tell her that?! The outraged voice of Fred roared in his mind.
George clapped a hand over his mouth, the Quick Quotes Quill did a sort of happy dance and scribbled furiously. 'I don't know! It just came out!'
"Damn!" He roared aloud.
You complete and utter idiot! There was Veritaserum in that Butterbeer!
George flew to the cupboards pleading with anything and everything that she would not pose another question before he could find the antidote, he wrenched out the contents furiously.
Behind him the snake's smirk was growing rapidly.
"I have come to understand that you have sternly rejected your family. Why have you done so? Do you not want help?"
George knew he would despise himself for ever as he uttered his next regrettable words.
"No. I don't think I want their help…" He paused in his relentless search. It was the question he had been asking himself for weeks but hadn't brought himself to answer and Veritaserum always forced an honest answer didn't it?
He cursed his stupidity and whipped out his wand.
"Accio antidote!" at once a small bottle flew in his hand from an open drawer. He didn't hesitate and ripped off the stopper, taking a generous gulp of the bluish liquid. He fought down the urge to vomit into the sink and replaced the stopper with shaking hands. Without turning around, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his face, he muttered in soft and deadly tones:
"Leave."
Rita Skeeter unhooked her legs from each other and stood, vanishing the Butterbeers with a swish. "Thank you for your time…" the elation in her voice was obvious. She returned her quill and parchment back into the crocodile skin handbag along with a photograph and closed it with a snap. This story was far from over.
She giggled softly and stared at the Weasley's shuddering back
"Feel better." She said jokingly and Disapparated.
As soon as she was gone, George ran the cold water and splashed it over his face. He couldn't stop himself shaking now and he knew he must be horribly pale. He lifted his face and stared out the window. The stars were less bright then they usually seemed, as though they too were refusing to forgive him for his words. He wasn't sure he could forgive himself.
The glass of Firewhisky was looking extremely appealing now and he downed the remainder of it at once.
'Fred?'
No.
'Fred?'
No. I won't let your life be such a mess. If you even have one now.
'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…'
Goodbye, George.
'Don't!'
Goodbye.
"Don't go! I'm sorry! I'm sorry-I'm so sorry…." George slipped slowly to the floor, his back against the wooden bench, rocking back and forth and sobbing into his arms.
He was really messed up…
xxxXxxx
Fred lifted his eyes from his parchment and glared hatefully at the short, pink, frog-like witch who giggled in satisfaction and looked around the room. Sorted throughout the classroom, almost twenty students sat in detention, some sniffing, some wincing and some, like Fred were trying to bite back the pain as their respective lines were carved into their hands. Anything from 'I must not hold hands with a girl' to 'I must tuck my shirt in' to 'I must not cheat' and in the twins' case 'We must respect our superiors at all times'.
Directly beside him George sat with his head down, his left hand twitching as the words embedded themselves there. George's eyes were shiny and he was fighting his hardest not to give Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing him cry from the pain. Fred felt a new bubble of rage beginning to swell in his gut…how dare she make his twin cry. There wasn't much that could do that and yet she had. He hated her. They all did. The foul, evil old gargoyle as Hermione so eloquently put it.
Fred couldn't believe that she actually thought this punishment would teach the Weasley twins a lesson, that was about as likely as Severus Snape awarding Gryffindor points of free will.
An hour later saw them released from her inhumane detention and there was not one among the number that was not holding their wounded hand tenderly.
"Blimey…she's got to go…" George muttered darkly, rubbing the newly healed flesh.
Fred nodded firmly "Yeah…despicable, slimy toad." He paused mid-way up a staircase.
George stopped a few steps ahead of him. "What's up?"
"You ok?" Fred frowned.
His twin nodded "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I saw you in there, you were almost crying, George." He said, concern spreading across his face. "No one makes you cry."
George half smiled "I'm fine. Just hurts is all." He assured Fred, holding up his hand, the identical scars were still oozing blood in a few spots, it certainly looked painful. He lightly shoved his brother playfully:
"Don't fuss, eh?"
"Yeah…you're right." Fred smirked and clapped his brother on the back
They both jumped in unison as the Galleons in their pockets started to burn, and the twins exchanged a gleeful glance as they discovered the time of the next DA meeting. Tonight.
xxxXxxx
"You're all doing really, really well! Fantastic, Luna!" Harry cried as Luna managed to produce a full-bodied patronus and sent her silver hare leaping through the many students as they turned to watch it. George watched it hop happily over his twin's head before shaking his head clear and turning to Fred.
"You wanna go first?"
Fred grinned and nodded "Alright then. Here goes… Expecto Patronum!"
He waved his wand and, to his joy, out of it streamed a silver fox which ran straight around Dean Thomas and back towards the twins.
"Go on. Your turn, Georgie!" Fred grinned as he watched his fox run straight through Ron's terrier. George winked at him and mirrored his wand movement.
"Expecto Patronum." To his disappointment only a stream of silver came from his wand, forming into nothing.
Fred stifled a snicker and nodded "Try again then, maybe you're not happy enough eh?" He elbowed his brother and grinned. George glared mildly at him and shoved him back.
"Shut it….Expecto Patronum!" This time a stronger stream poured from his wand, twisting and shaping itself into a silver meerkat that scampered and twisted through the air and ran a few times around George's head before joining in a race with Hermione's otter and someone's silver cat.
"I do love patronuses. Don't you both?" Luna's sing song voice addressed the twins, her face watching in fascination at all the silver animals dancing about the Room of Requirement. "Oi, look at them." George nudged his twin and grinned, gesturing across the room to where Harry was assisting Cho Chang to correct her wand movement. A few seconds later a swan had burst forth from it and Cho had turned to smile at the very close Harry. Fred followed George's gaze and snickered. Harry blinked and jumped as the fox wound its way around his shoulders. He knew immediately whose patronuses they were and turned quickly toward the source of laughter, his expression somewhere between amusement and annoyance.
"Yeah." They replied in unison, before crying out and leaping to either side as Ginny's horse cantered between them, its mane billowing out behind it in streams of charm.
"Hey, wanna have some fun?"
"Always."
As one they raised their wands and sent their respective patronuses darting toward the flirting couple. Fred's fox reached them first and leapt straight through Harry's chest. The meerkat raised onto its hind legs and squeaked cheekily in Harry's face its big eyes looking remarkably like those of the twins. Cho giggled and took a step away from Harry, watching as her swan soared gracefully around the room and faded.
"Well done, guys. Funny boys!" He cried and grinned, brushing his way through the animals who returned immediately to their casters.
xxxXxxx
He sat there on the floor for hours, pleading with his silent twin to return, to forgive him. Remarkably, he resisted the urge to fetch another bottle of Firewhisky or otherwise for several reasons. Partly, he wasn't sure if he even had any left, and partly because he had no desire to feel any sicker than he already did.
Finally he had composed himself enough to attempt to stagger to his bed, he grasped for the edge of the sink and used it to drag himself to his feet. George squinted at the watch on his wrist which read a little after midnight.
Feeling like crap he took a few hesitant steps to steady himself. It didn't work and he leapt the distance back to the sink, just in time to empty his stomach violently. He groaned and ran the water to rinse the sick away.
"I'm never drinking again…" he murmured to himself and groaned as a fierce headache began to throb and he vomited again.
It was another half an hour of retching and groaning before George deemed himself fit enough to stagger onto his bed.
He collapsed immediately and soon made a vow not to leave the warm covers for a long while.
As he slumbered uneasily but deeply, a shape made its way silently over the covers and settled itself on George's pillow. It left no trace of prints behind it. The silver fox looked almost sad as it pressed it's muzzle into George's shoulder and burrowed itself into the pillow beside his head.
