We Belong III: Moving On

by mj2007

Alf and George have returned from America. For Alf, it's a whole new beginning, as he heads for Hogwarts and new friends. But can George move on from the heartbreak he left behind?

14. Ch 14 Christmas I

Ginny Weasley walked with purpose towards The Burrow. Last night had been quite an achievement, really; it hadn't been easy for her to pull off all the photos, the signs, the invites. But it had all been gloriously upstaged by George and his now-fiancée, and she couldn't be more thrilled about it. Ginny had liked the woman immediately; she had sense. And she strongly suspected that she wasn't one to let anyone push her, or one of her loved ones, around.

Granted, when they had first heard the story of the mystery muggle woman George had fallen for in Salem, there had been concerns. Mainly, that she was muggle and lived in Salem. Charlie had liked her, of course, but Charlie's taste was not necessarily to be trusted. And then there was the awkward breakup, but Ginny had always been more understanding on that than most. After all, she was a woman, and if the man she loved had suddenly and mysteriously run off, she wouldn't have been happy either.

In any event, Michelle wasn't a muggle, had moved to England, and loved her brother enough to proclaim it in front of a room full of people she'd never before met. All of which was good enough for her. And Ginny was going to make damned sure it was good enough for everyone else.

She came through the back gardens, not even noticing that the lawn gnomes ran when they saw her coming, and strode in through the kitchen door. "Mum! I brought hibiscus jelly Danish...thought you could use a little tea break!" She called.

Molly came in from the other room, full of bustle. "Ginny, dear, how thoughtful of you...where are the kids?"

"Harry's got today off, which of course really means he's working harder than normal. I think he was going to take them sledding." She smirked, making tea. "Nice break for me, and for you too, in this case...those sweaters all ready?" She asked, with a sly smile.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about." Molly sat at the kitchen island, opening the bag Ginny had brought. "Pity you couldn't roust something up from George."

Ginny agreed. "He's at the store today, Mum...got his baking done yesterday, but all pies. I'm glad one of us has your culinary skills, and I'm equally glad it wasn't me...I hate the feel of flour on my hands!" Ginny glanced at her Mum with near innocence over the rim of her cup. "Quite an interesting evening at the Cauldron last night."

Molly glowed. "Penny owled me this morning to tell me! Isn't it just wonderful, another baby on the way! Why that will be number ten...not to bad at all, I must say...though a few more wouldn't be unwelcome!" She glanced with meaning at Ginny.

Ginny took the opportunity to work the subject where she was intending. "You know, Angelina Johnson showed up last night."

As expected, this set Molly off into a huffy frenzy. "That...woman!" She exhaled, and bit hard from the Danish. "I know I was angry at Katie Bell, but at least I can understand something you do to protect your child. What Angelina did to George...well, she has some nerve even showing up near him!"

Knowing full well what reaction she was eliciting, Ginny pressed on. "Especially now, after she tortured Alf."

"I...WHAT?" Molly, as Ginny expected, was completely unaware of what had happened. "Ginevra, how could she even get near him? And why...and what...don't just sit there...explain!"

Ginny was too happy to comply. "She's a professor at Hogwarts, mum...was apparently married so her name is changed. Anyway, she took an instant dislike to Alf, and as a way to torment George, no doubt, she used a blood quill on him. First day of school. Heinous, isn't it?"

Molly looked ready to kill. "Barbaric! I can't believe Minerva McGonagall would hire someone like that! What could poor Alfred possibly have done to make her do that to him?"

"He had the audacity to insist that he had the right to call George father. She took exception." Ginny sipped thoughtfully. "Which, after last night, makes everything quite interesting."

Molly blinked uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it was an interesting evening, Mum...lots of old friendships rekindled...and, well, surely you know...though it will be hard for Alf, I'm sure...but didn't George tell you...Mum, he got engaged last night." Ginny sat back and waited.

Molly's reaction was even more priceless than expected. She went pale first, then an ashen gray. "Nooo...Ginny, he wouldn't do that!" And before Ginny could say anything else, she marched over to the fireplace, and to her amusement, immediately called out, "Weasley Wizard Works, Main branch...private office!" Her barking voice shook slightly. A young witch Ginny didn't know responded, but before the poor kid could get a word out, Molly sputtered, "George Weasley, please...tell him it's his MOTHER!"

Oh, boy. Ginny grinned to herself privately. She had nothing but good intended from this, but if in the process she were to have a bit of sport with George, it was quite alright with her. In fact, she rather fancied Fred was laughing his arse off!

George, eyes wide with concern, appeared in the fireplace. "Mum? Is everything okay?"

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" Molly was in full howler mode, and George flinched back in the flames. "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? GETTING MARRIED TO THAT WOMAN!"

"Mum, who told you..." George started, but Molly was not to be put off.

"After she broke your heart like that...after what she did to ALF...ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! She's bewitched you...must have...Georgie, think clearly...Angelina can't be trusted, and I can't bear to see you hurt again!"

George huffed right back. "Oh for the love of...I AM NOT MARRYING ANGELINA JOHNSON. NOT NOW, NOT EVER, NOT EVEN IF I COULD, WHICH I CAN'T, BECAUSE SHE IS MARRIED ALREADY! AND EVEN IF SHE WEREN'T, I DO NOT LOVE HER! AM I CLEAR?"

Molly stepped back, George rarely, if ever, got so angry, and it was startling. "But Ginny said...George, are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure...now I have a store full of harried Christmas shoppers, I'm short on help, and I am trying to close up here at a decent hour. So I am going, Mum...any other accusations can wait for this evening! Good bye!" George's face disappeared with a puff and Molly, wide eyed and stunned, turned around.

"I never said..." Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That it was Angelina he was marrying. Did I fail to mention that his old girlfriend from Salem is actually a witch? And she teaches at Hogwarts? Oh, and she's the one who saved Alf from Angelina in the first place? She marched right in last night, when it became clear to her that Angelina was trying to get George back, and in front of all George's friends announced, to paraphrase, that she would fight to the death before she'd see George and Alf unhappy." Ginny calmly sipped her tea. "Quite a remarkable woman, really."

"I...what..." Molly sat weakly down, and Ginny refilled her tea cup. "Her name is Michelle, right?" She asked, looking perplexed. "And she really is a witch?"

"Quite a formidable one, would be my guess." Ginny passed another Danish to her mother. "Did you know, she was the one who saved Alf's life in Salem? She thought he and George were muggles, by the way...silly how such misunderstandings happen, isn't it?"

"Saved his life? She's a healer, then?" Molly murmured. Then she shook her head. "She followed George here? She likes Alf? She's going to stay in England?"

"Yes, to all of the above. Be a shame if she didn't have a sweater waiting for her tomorrow!" Ginny mused.

Molly, all aflutter, began to bustle back and forth. "Color, though...I don't know what color..."

Ginny smiled, her work here was done. "Green, I should say."

WWWWWWW

George stormed out of the office, nearly running over young CJ in the process. The boy took a step back and braced himself, and that, more effectively than anything, helped to calm George down.

"Are you okay, Mr. Weasley?" CJ asked, quite hesitantly.

"I will be, CJ...my mother does not always bring out my best side." George squeezed the boy's shoulder gently, and felt him relax. "Where's Alf?"

"He's on the third register...he's really good at it." Trace of envy there, George thought. "I feel pretty clumsy trying to use it."

"Not surprising...Alf's done this before, and the time to learn isn't in the middle of a holiday rush." George paused to point a customer in the right direction, and then looked down at his overwhelmed guest. "You know, it would be an enormous help to me if you went to the back storeroom and pulled out three boxes of the charmed candy canes. They seem to be practically disappearing off the shelves. You can find them in the third aisle from the back wall."

CJ nodded, a look of determination on his face. "I can do that, Sir."

George wiped his hands over his head as CJ left, trying to erase his conversation with his mother from his mind. What the heck had prompted that, anyway? And how was his sister involved? And, wait, somehow in that conversation, had he managed to not tell Mum he actually was engaged, just not to...

"Angelina!" George gasped, when he realized who'd walked up to him. Oh, God, Not here, not here...she'll bring down the store. He saw then that she'd been crying, and he was torn. "Ange, I'm sorry." Well, he was sorry at how it went down, now that Michelle and he had finally put their lives together.

She managed a smile. "No, you're not...and you shouldn't be. You were right, George, right about everything you said too me and about me." A customer jostled her roughly, and George pulled her off towards the back office. He saw Alf catch his eye, and he thought desperately, please trust me Alf. Please?

Alf gave him a little nod, and a wry smile.

And then: But I'm coming in after you if you're not out in ten minutes.

Funny. It wasn't exactly telepathy. But they certainly knew what was in each other's minds.

Once in the office, Angelina turned to him, but not with a kiss. She handed him an envelope. "My husband." She offered. "Everything I know about his situation, George. I know it's Christmas, I know you've got a wedding to plan. But you said if I'd come to you for help about Matthias, you'd be there. Well, I'm asking. Not today, not even tomorrow...but if you have any ideas..." Her face crumpled. "I do love him George. I do."

He reached over and gave her a hug, and she burst into tears on his shoulder. "I believe you must love him, Ange. I saw you once take a bludger to the stomach and not cry." He teased. "And I will help...and I'll call Oliver in on it too...we'll all help." He heard a commotion from outside. "Just not today, Ange." He groaned.

She laughed through her tears. "I know, George...And I'm not running any more. Not from this."

"Good job." George opened the door. "Will you be at the party tonight, Ange?"

"If I can convince your fiancée that I mean no harm." Angelina sighed. "I don't want things to be awkward."

Fine time to think of that now. An angry yell came to his ears. "Ange..."

"Go, George. Take care of what you need to. And thanks. For giving me what I really needed...the truth." She finished softly.

George answered with a lopsided grin, as he went back in to the store.

WWWWWWW

CJ looked proudly to George, who came up at the burst of verbal abuse that was getting spewed at him by the rather nasty looking kid he had in his grasp. "CJ? What's going on?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Shoplifter, Sir." He said. And then, moving the kid's robes, six or seven pygmy puffs escaped to freedom. "Caught him by the bins...he knocked over a box of VaniBrushes to distract me. Didn't work."

Just beyond George could hear the hairbrushes talking. "Why yes, you are lovely! Of course it's your natural color! A tad bit more curl would be perfect, you know!" Alf had come over to clean the mess up.

"Alright, kid..." George shook the robes out, and six or seven other items fell from them. "Real smart thing to do on Christmas Eve. You should thank CJ right now."

"Geroff." The glaring boy grumbled. "Not thanking that pratt!"

"You should." Alf came up next to them. "Because the door's spelled against shoplifters. If you'd made it outside, you'd have been stripped buck naked."

CJ groaned. "Wish you'd told me...I'd have let the kid get away."

At that moment, Marcus Flint appeared in the door. "Let Spartacus go, Weasley."

George managed a grim smile. "Gladly, Marcus, as long as we understand that he's not allowed in the store again. Or until he apologizes for his behavior and indicates he understands theft is wrong."

Marcus snorted. "No son of mine is going to apologize to you. And what does it matter if you miss a few useless trinkets?"

CJ had packed up the Pygmy Puffs, who were shaking at having been nearly suffocated in those robes. These weren't useless trinkets; they were living creatures!

"Given your moral values, I'm not surprised." George shook his head. "Just go, and take him with you. Oh, and Merry Christmas, Flint."

Flint's rude gesture in return was not appropriate for children, so George was glad Alf had returned to the register. CJ, meanwhile, was looking with concern at the pygmy puffs. "This one's hurt, Sir." He said.

George came up beside him and looked down. Sure enough, the smallest puff, one that had a nice orange color, seemed to be having trouble recovering. "The puffs are very sensitive to moods, CJ. They can tell when one wants to harm them, and though they like riding, say, in your robe, cramming seven or eight of them together forcibly is bound to injure at least one. And they surely sensed the nefarious purpose they were being seized for. "

CJ looked at him, dark eyes quite sad. "Nefarious?" He asked.

George sighed. "I suspect that young Flint is behind a few stray-cat deaths we've had around here...and those cats were bated with poisoned puffs. We've missed a few in our stores before, but I could never catch him at it. Well done."

"Thanks." The tiny puff in his hand made an almost whimpering noise. "Can't we help it, Sir?"

George rather doubted it. The poor thing was most likely traumatized beyond hope. Still, looking at CJ, he decided to try. "Go sit in my office for a bit. It's quiet there, and warm. Hold him like you are now, and see if you can get him to eat. Here's a bit of celery...it's their favorite. But even if we can't cure him, you can at least be with him let him feel safe until...well, until there's no more need."

With a fathomless blink, CJ nodded once and did as George suggested. George turned about to Alf, who was cashing the last frantic customers. "CJ going to be okay, Dad? He looked pretty upset there."

"He doesn't like to see the innocent suffer." George said. "Not entirely surprising, I suppose. He'll take care of the poor thing." George half hugged his son. "And you're handling yourself excellently, and Angelina is not a problem. Remind me later to kill your Aunt Ginny, though."

"Got it." Alf paused to hand a customer change, then nudged his dad. "I'm sure you've thought of this, but as Professor Fabry is spending Christmas with us, you did get her a gift...right? Other than the ring, I mean..."

Oh, hell, no! George paled visibly, and Alf may have just smirked. "You've got an hour. Aurora can floor manage, Dad. And I'm fine. Go on...you can do this."

George tossed his Magenta work robes off and ran out the door in a dead sprint.

WWWWWWW

CJ waited in the office, enjoying the solitude, and resolutely trying to sooth the whimpering, shaking pygmy puff he'd named Tang.

He'd spent so much of his childhood alone, or with no more than his three house elves and a ghostly brother for company. Hogwarts had been a trial for him at first, and even more so this store. He'd loved it, loved the products and been awed by the sheer brilliance of George Weasley, but the holiday rush meant wall to wall people clamoring, talking, laughing, begging and borrowing, had really rattled him.

"There's a lot of people out there, Tang." He stroked the tiny ball of fluff, and held out a piece of celery. "I don't blame you for being a bit spooked by all the commotion. But you're safe with me. Promise. Please eat something...please?" Tang sniffed a tiny nose, and then dared a bit of celery. CJ felt like it was a huge victory.

"Can I tell you something, Tang? I really like this store." He whispered, and waited for the wrath of his father to somehow strike him dead. It didn't, and he felt safe to continue. "It's cool, Tang...all the crazy products and funny things, things to make people happy. I know my Dad thinks it came from my brother's blood money, but still, there could be a worse legacy to leave behind." He scratched behind Tang's ear, and was rewarded with a little purr. It was shaking less, too, which made CJ inordinately happy.

CJ smiled and yet felt sad all at once. When he was back in that store-room, for a second it was as if his father ruled his brains. He took one look at the cordoned off row of fireworks, and the incendiary supplies that were used to create them, and knew he'd found his starting point in how to bring the place down. A little planning, a little Slytherin cunning, and of course, gaining the trust of George Weasley; that was all it would take. Strangely, the part he'd have thought would be the hardest, getting close to the Weasleys, had ended up being the easiest.

Surely that isn't why Cedric had made sure he got to Hogwarts?

"I'll find a way out, Tang." He said, swallowing hard. "I don't want to hurt Alf and his Dad...I won't do it. There's got to be a way. I can put all that cunning to good use, too, not just bad."

Tang's purr become more pronounced. And with a surprisingly quick movement, the tiny creature scampered up into his pocket, sticking just his head out, and nuzzling against his chest. CJ fought not to giggle. "Hey, you're going to be alright, aren't you? I made you better. I did something right. Go figure." He leaned back in the chair, and sighed; if only his life could be this simple all the time.

WWWWWWW

Michelle had been feeling rather giddy all morning, like she didn't know what to do with herself. Then she'd realized that she had no gifts for anybody, so she'd torn out to Hogsmeade like a bat out of hell, hoping to find something, at least for George and Alf, and for his parents.

George had been easy; the latest and greatest cookbook, one which combined muggle and magic techniques, in addition to a self-cleaning apron. There was also a special photo album, one filled with muggle pictures from their year in Salem, including captions and anecdotes. Actually, she'd planned on giving him that when they finalized everything last June, and fortunately she hadn't destroyed it in a snit.

Alf, too, had been no problem...a special tabletop quidditch model, one that let you act out strategies with actual flying figurines, was perfect. And for Arthur there was muggle book on the middle ages...it really was a hoot at how wrong their historians got everything.

But George's Mum! Oh, lord, she was dead on terrified of the woman!

Not that she really knew so much about Molly. Mostly she'd picked up bits and pieces from conversations with Charlie, and Arthur, over the holidays last year. Of course, she didn't know Molly had been a wizard then. Since coming to Hogwarts, too, Molly had been the subject of stories from Minerva, Filius and Pomona...sometimes as a student, but mostly as a mother, and her fierce protectiveness of her kids was legendary.

Finally, in desperation, she found herself in a place that sold fabrics and yarns; Molly was, she'd heard, a prodigious knitter. Still, Michelle doubted she'd use a pattern book, or anything even resembling one; if she were that good at it, no pattern would be needed.

It was two thirty. Stores closed at 3pm. She'd have to break the engagement if she didn't find something soon!

Behind her, she could here the rather haughty store owner upbraiding another customer. "That's the price...ten galleons a skein. If you can find it at a better price, buy it...but don't count on finding it!"

Michelle was intrigued...what on earth could cost that much?

The owner saw her interest, and turned up her nose. "Hand combed wool from dwarf mammoths in Siberia." She sniffed. "Finer than the most expensive alpaca, and five times as rare. Shorn without damaging or traumatizing the heard, under full moon only. Color range is ice blue to battleship gray, variegated and naturally iridescent. Only the best, most experienced knitter would dare use it; it fights anyone without a natural knack."

Indeed, as Michelle reached to touch a skein, it backed away from her warily. She grinned. "I'll take the lot...that's ten skeins, right?" It totally blew her budget, but she had the money saved up and she couldn't think of a better gift.

The owner was reluctant. "You clearly don't know how to so much as cast on. This is not beginner's yarn to make a scarf with!"

"It isn't for me...it's for my future mother in law, and I have it on good authority that she's quite skilled!" Michelle informed her, counting out the necessary funds.

"And who, may I ask, are we talking about?" The woman insisted.

"Molly Weasley." Michelle said.

She needed to say no more. With her entire countenance melting into a beatific smile, the woman gently packaged the yarn, and gift wrapped it, after throwing in several notions as well. "What a wonderful, dear girl you are!" She beamed. "Molly is about the only person I know with the gifts to handle this...she should have an unlimited supply at her fingertips! Do tell her I'd love to see what she does with it! "

It was with an extra spring in her step that Michelle left, happy to have so completely nailed the gift.

So she was feeling perhaps more magnanimous than she ought to have when, no sooner had she stepped in to the staff lounge at Hogwarts, than she was facing Angelina Morgainne.

Then again, why shouldn't she feel magnanimous? She had George.

"If I congratulate you, will you believe I am sincere?" The other woman unexpectedly asked.

"Probably not." Michelle said promptly.

A sigh. "I can't blame you. What I did was wrong...to you and to George, and mostly to myself. If I told you that in some mixed up way I had come to believe that if I could get George back it would be like going back in time, and I would be as happy as I had been as a girl, would you believe that?"

Strangely, that she could believe. Michelle gave a slight incline of her head, and sat down on the small sofa in her office; Angelina took a chair opposite. Putting her head in her hands, Angelina continued, "I did try, you know...to get Matthias out of Uganda. But nobody there gives me any hope. I didn't know what else to do with myself than come back here. And with no hope, I clung to whatever I could. Even my memory of George."

"And now what?" Michelle finally said. "I know George has offered to help you if he could, but he didn't think you'd let him."

She gave a wan smile. "I changed my mind. After Christmas, he, and perhaps a few others of our old lot, will put their heads together. I have to know, you see...even if Matthias is dead...I can't go on like this."

"Of course you can't." Michelle remembered what it was like when George had simply disappeared. Of course, idiot that she was, she'd had an answer at her fingertips all along; it was not so easy for the woman before her. "Look, Angelina..." The name seemed strange to her, but she had to make the attempt. "To say we got off on the wrong foot is a huge understatement. But I don't want to see you suffer. And I know George doesn't want that either. Whatever assistance I can give, I will...and perhaps, someday, we can consider ourselves friends." She pursed her lips. "Though not quite yet."

"I understand. It's more than I deserve, really." She rose to go, and then looked back at her. "George is really lucky. But so are you."

Michelle watched her walk out of the room, and then shaking the slight gloom that had come over her, she rose to wrap her presents. She just might survive this holiday after all!