Sorry for the unintentional disappearance! As I said, college senior. Please enjoy the chapter!
"But I met a girl with a porcelain name/ Easy to talk to but hard to explain/ What do I do when I'm fallin for you?/ The girl with the porcelain name/ Meets a boy with a cardboard face…" – 4 Door Theater, "Porcelain Name"
Three days after meeting Ron's girlfriend, Sirius was pleased to meet the infamous George Weasley. He was, however, extremely confused by his presence in Hermione's kitchen, slumped over the kitchen table and looking as if he were selling off his first born child. Hermione, however, seemed livid, pacing around and ranting as if her own life depended on it.
"George, this is absolutely not the best solution," Hermione chided, hands on her hips and frowning.
"Hermione, I just can't run the shop by myself," George insisted, rolling his eyes and sighing forlornly at her. "I can't ask any more of my siblings to babysit me, or the shop, any longer. Selling it really is the best option."
"Hellooo," Sirius chimed in, finally poking his head into the space. "Hate to be a bother." Hermione scoffed at this. He loved to be a bother. "Sirius Black."
He gave a half smile, "One fourth of the Marauders, I know." He dropped the smile slowly, "George Weasley." He was a tall, slender man with a pale face and a large array of freckles, the signature ginger hair shaggy and untamed as his own clothes hung off of him.
"I couldn't help but overhear, but it sounds like you have a shop?" Sirius questioned as Hermione side-eyed him. After living together, she was beginning to pick up on his little tricks, and she could no doubt smell this one brewing. "What sort of shop?"
"It's a joke shop," George said with a strained smile. "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, we're on Diagon."
"That's an impressive building!" Sirius crowed before jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at Hermione behind him. "That one wouldn't let me go in, I'd love to take a look before you sell it off!"
"Oh, well, I closed the shop today," George blinked. Sirius eyed the deep purple bags under the man's eyes, and mentally declared that surely the man was so sleep deprived as to trust the fellow prankster. "I guess I could give you a tour."
"Hurry back here and we will discuss your ridiculous idea more," Hermione griped as the ginger man stood.
"Will you please just look over the papers I gave you?" George asked sadly.
She huffed before nodding, pouting as she watched the two disappear into the Floo.
Sirius inspected every square inch and item of the joke shop. He was terribly impressed, incredibly moreso when George announced that he had made every item that was on the shelves.
"Zonko's is just a retailer, they buy all of their products and resell them," Sirius announced as he read the back packaging on the Whizbangs.
"That's what Fred's been saying for years," George scoffed before freezing, almost as if he'd forgotten something. He coughed into his fist and hopped up on the cashier's countertop.
Sirius lowered the box, eyeing the man. "So, why're you selling the place? Business seems like it'd be doing great."
George sighed, staring down at his palms and staying silent for a moment or two before groaning. "I had a twin. Fred. Building this place was our dream, ever since we were in nappies. We opened two years before he was killed at the Battle, and it...hasn't been the same since. It's been three years since that and I'm just getting used to living by myself, but this place…." Sirius set the box back on the shelf and turned fully towards him, settling his hands in his pockets. "We split the project load, coming up with new products, the sales floor, the money stuff, we'd split everything. I can't...keep up. I can't think of new ideas so fast, or keep track of the stock, or do everything I need to do because I'm just one person now."
Sirius hummed, rapping his fist against the counter before leaning his elbow against it. "Seems a shame to see the place go, though."
George settled his head in his hands morosely, staring out at the shelves and displays, "What choice do I have?"
"Could hire a partner," Sirius sniffed.
George scoffed in response, "I haven't found a brain yet that ticks close to my clock, and there's very few people I would trust with this. Short of maybe you, Fred and I were chasing after the Marauder's legacy the entire time we were at Hogwarts."
Sirius grinned back at him, waggling his eyebrows as George slowly caught on.
"You wouldn't want to work with me," George tried to discourage, "I mean, have you seen the workroom?"
"I have, didn't see a thing wrong with it," Sirius said, hopping up on the counter next to him. "What better way to preserve yours and your brother's dream? Keep the doors open and not have to change a thing."
"Look, mate, Sirius, I've been told that since my brother's death I'm a real Debbie-downer," George insisted, "I don't want to have to put you through dealing with me."
"George, listen to this," Sirius said with a bright grin, "All of my friends and loved ones are dead, and I have a horrible blood spell placed on me that dictates I need to find some nameless lady I can stand, slap a ring on it, and procreate or I am to wither away in pain until I die." He scoffed at George's gaping expression, "I win. Supreme downer, all hail the king."
"Is that why you're staying with Hermione?" George asked with a blink, "She's gone mother hen on you, hasn't she?"
"I wouldn't say mother hen," he snorted, "More like smother hen. She's constantly reminding me that I need to find a match quickly, but it's not like there's a Point Me spell I can cast to help me out any."
George chuckled, "That's just Hermione, letting you know she cares and she's worried. For three weeks after I first moved back in, after Fred died, she'd be cleaning everything and knitting these dumb things. I've got a teeny sweater for a mug upstairs in my flat, and for what reason or purpose I couldn't tell you. But, the witch kept me company when I was too proud to ask for it, and I realized that she wouldn't be so smothering if she didn't care."
Sirius hummed, conceding the point, before nudging him in the ribs. "So? Partners?"
George sighed, looking back out at the shop and biting his lip. "Fine," he quirked a grin at Sirius's loud cheer, complete with fake audience fanfare. "But," he insisted, "I don't want you doing dangerous things until after you've solved your blood spell issue." Sirius groaned and began to boo him, even as he chuckled. "We'll bounce back ideas, and I'll show you how to handle the accounts, but no experiments or heavy lifting until I know you won't keel over on me."
"Yessir, Mister Bossman," Sirius saluted, hopping down from the counter and quickly going into a massive coughing fit, doubling over on himself as George was quick to right him. "'M fine," Sirius gasped as he took deep lungfuls of air, "Don't tell Hermione."
"Further reinstates my decision was a good one," George joked as he slowly released him. "Wanna tell Hermione to chuck the papers and share the good news?"
