Title: A Lid For Every Pot, George Weasley
Author: BooksVCigarettes
Summary: Set a couple of years post-war. Still struggling with the absence of his twin, George Weasley needs some time away from the world he grew up in to heal. Alice Clark wants a flat mate who doesn't want to kill and eat her. It was perfect... Except not really. George/OC Ron/Hermione Harry/Ginny
Chapter Twenty - Detritus
Many Years Earlier
Arlene shifted uncomfortably in the muggle clothes that she had worn to detract attention from herself and make her less intimidating to the girl's family. Digging the parchment from her pocket to check the street name against the sign in front of which she was standing, her eyes strayed to the top of the page where the child's name was written and inwardly she cursed her boss once more for handing this assignment to her. His rationale had been that as a woman, Arlene would likely be less intimidating to the child's mother. Nothing to do with Magnus Philpott's desire to spare his more favoured messengers the frustration and complicated paperwork that this assignment would inevitably cause.
The child had been born out of wedlock in a muggle hospital to a mother who had registered her firstborn under her maiden name. Seemingly, she had subsequently married and used the muggle legal system to change the child's surname to that of her new husband's. Were Arlene a cynical person, she would infer from this an attempt to distance herself and the child from the biological father, to put as much space between the child and her roots as possible. Somewhat understandable, given the situation, Arlene supposed. Nevertheless, she was an optimist and as such she chose to hope that it had been an effort to make the child feel as included as possible in the mother's new life.
It had been raining all morning, big fat drops sheeting down from the sky and gathering in the dips in the uneven roads. Arlene hurried toward the house she had been sent to. It was an affluent suburb of London. Tall and beautiful trees lined the road and all of the front lawns were neatly kept. At the gate, she paused. From inside the house came the shouts of children – not gleeful, but taunting. If she strained her ears, she could just make out the cries of 'Freak!' and 'Weirdo!'. Arlene sighed and trudged up to the door, raising a resigned hand to knock officiously on the painstakingly varnished wood.
It took less than a minute for someone to answer. A tall man, thin and narrow-eyed, observed her disinterestedly "Are you selling something?"
Arlene bit back a retort, instead pasting a bright smile on her face "No, Mr Clark. I'm here to talk to you and your wife about Alice."
"Alice?" An equally thin and equally tall woman appeared at the door, the expression on her face seemingly indicating that she had just witnessed a small and unwelcome rodent in her biscuit tin "Are you from the school? What has she done?"
"Mrs Clark, my name is Arlene Appleby. I have been sent here by the Ministry to talk to you and your daughter about her magical education."
The colour drained from Evelyn Clark's face. The three of them stood in frosty silence as Arlene, having now relinquished any hope that she would be invited in out of the rain, suppressed a shudder as a chilly raindrop dribbled from her hair and down her neck.
Mr Clark scoffed "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Phillip," Evelyn said sharply, wheeling around to face him "This is obviously someone's idea of some idiot joke. Go and tell Alice to sit in her room until I tell her she can come out. I will deal with her." She jerked her gaze back toward Arlene, who was vaguely pleased to note that Evelyn looked as though she might be sick.
Phillip Clark grumbled something irritably, but did as he was instructed. Evelyn watched him silently as he sloped off down the hallway, calling for his stepdaughter. Peering past her, Arlene saw a small fair-haired girl with watchful eyes appear only to be herded up the stairs. It was only a glimpse however, as her view was soon obstructed by Evelyn Clark stepping out into the rain and shutting the front door firmly behind her.
"You listen to me," she hissed, bile dripping from her words "Not now, nor will I ever consent to my daughter entering a school for freaks and lunatics. I know that this has to be her father's wish but if he felt so strongly about it then perhaps he should have stuck around for a bit longer instead of leaving me and going into hiding for all these years with the rest of you. I refuse to receive you or any of your kind in my house and would thank you to refrain from ever coming here again."
Arlene stared at the woman before her, shaking with fury, and in spite of herself allowed an iota of pity for Evelyn Clark. The hurt was so clear in her eyes; she had been so betrayed by Alice's father and had allowed herself to be destroyed by it. There was one fact however, Arlene felt it necessary to correct her on.
"Mrs Clark, I feel that it is my duty to inform you that Alice's father is no longer alive. I am truly sorry to cause you any more distress-"
"He- he's dead?" Evelyn Clark groped for the doorframe and leaned heavily against it "I don't believe you."
Arlene reached into her pocket and produced a sheet of parchment that she had requested from the Ministry Archives in order to confirm Alice's paternity "I wish that I could tell you something different…" She said softly, handing the parchment over to Evelyn. The thin woman took it in trembling hands, her glistening eyes roving over the words.
"'Arrest report compiled by Auror Moody'," she murmured, her voice cracking. It began to rain even harder. Arlene watched in silence as Evelyn read the report aloud "'Evan Rosier unwilling to co-operate… unavoidably killed during attempted detainment…'"
Present Day
"Alice, what happened?" George helped Alice to her feet and together they surveyed the living room. Alice leaned heavily against him as she stared dazedly at carnage she had unwittingly caused "I'm not sure. One minute I was-" She mumbled distractedly before stopping short " – and then this." She turned to him "George, is this magic?"
George felt his stomach clench. There was no concealing it from her any longer. What could he do now? How was he ever going to explain this to the Wizengamot? Would the ministry take Alice away and study her? There were no documented cases of Obscurials surviving beyond childhood so there was no question that she was a magical marvel. Would she be put on display like an animal? Would he ever see her again? Would she be safe from people like Nott if he couldn't protect her? George opened his mouth to reply that it could just as easily be a coincidence – just like the kitchen window- but stopped himself before he could speak. It wasn't up to him to keep something like this from her. If nothing else, he owed her that much. She deserved to know who she really was.
"Yes, this is magic," he said softly "Alice, I think you're a witch."
X
It had seemed, upon closer inspection, that very few of the things in the living room were likely to be salvageable. After picking through the first few layers of it with George holding some things up questioningly only for Alice to shake her head morosely they gave in and filled several black sacks with things to be thrown away.
Now, George hovered nervously in the centre of the gutted room, plucking at the cuffs of his suit and praying that he hadn't made a huge mistake in trusting Alice when she had turned to him after they finished stuffing the last of the black bags into the huge outside bin and said "You'll come with me tonight, won't you?"
He had stared at her in confusion for a moment before remembering that she was talking about attending her sister's engagement party "Are you sure that's a good idea?" He'd asked, frowning. It had begun to rain very lightly, finely coating their hair and shoulders.
Alice had shrugged a little too casually and looked down at her shoes "I don't see why not. Mother already thinks we're together-"
George shook his head "That's not what I meant," he'd said gently "The last twenty-four hours have been pretty rough for you. Are you sure you're up to facing your family tonight?"
The look in her eyes had been one of surprise that he should be concerned for her wellbeing. It was the same one that she had given him that night in the bar - a glimpse of the vulnerable person beneath the cheerful and carefree surface. She smiled a little sadly "You're right of course, George. But I can't let Sarah think that I'm avoiding her and Pete. Besides, we both know perfectly well that my absence will only cause Mother to turn up at the flat again and that's the last thing I want right now."
George grimaced as he remembered the one and only encounter he'd had with Evelyn Clark "Fair enough…" he conceded as they trudged back inside, still vaguely concerned that throughout all of this, Alice still did not seem to want to address the fact that she had just learned of the extraordinary power that she possessed. When he'd pressed her for information on what had happened while he'd been downstairs talking to Arlene she had been surprisingly cagey, unwilling to talk to him about what may have triggered her magical outburst.
Back in the present, George replayed the conversation once more in his head before leaning out into the hallway and calling out "Would we have to say I'm your… boyfriend?"
"Why? Are you afraid to have a witch as your girlfriend, George?" Alice called back playfully.
George ducked back into the living room to hide the blush he knew was creeping up his cheeks "You seem to be taking the fact that you're a witch quite well." He remarked gingerly, hoping she wouldn't detect the note of insincerity in his voice.
"Honestly, George? I'm more surprised that you didn't catch on. I mean, you are a wizard after all. Surely you have some sort of radar for other magical people?"
"I guess I've lost my touch..." George cringed inwardly, grateful that Alice was in the other room and therefore unable to see the guilt written across his face. Should he tell her that he had known about Alice's magical abilities for months? That the seemingly harmless old lady in the flat downstairs knew as well and what's more, was there to protect her from people who wanted something sinister with her? Also, what was 'radar'?
"Of course, the threat of a witchy girlfriend might be slightly more fearsome if I actually knew any magic…" Alice said airily, sweeping into the living room. George felt his heart stop inside of his chest. Her dress was black and figure-hugging, clinging to every curve. The back was low, showing off her tanned and smooth skin. She had swept her fair hair into an elegant wavy knot pinned low near the nape of her neck.
"You look beautiful." He managed croakily, his mouth suddenly dry. Alice beamed at him and his heart soared "You look wonderful too, George. Very handsome." She crossed the living room and reached out to him. As she did, George caught her scent and suddenly became very aware of the last place he had smelt such an intoxicating mix of honeysuckle, warm summer nights and fresh writing parchment – not too long ago, in a kitchen not a million miles from where they were standing where the beautiful woman gently straightening his tie had held out a bottle of Amortentia for him to smell.
"Thanks for doing this," Alice said bashfully, dipping her head "I know it's not your idea of fun, but… I do feel safer when you're near me." She looked up at him. Brown eyes met blue. George swallowed hard. Alice's hands seemed to linger a little longer than necessary, coming to rest on his chest. George felt sure she would feel his heart thumping beneath the flat of her palm "I meant what I said before Alice," he murmured "I would never forgive myself if you got hurt."
Alice smiled softly at him, and in that moment something left George, a weight on his heart that he had grown accustomed to in the years since Fred had died - the weight of always feeling as though he was only half as good as he might have been. It was strange that the absence of something could weigh so heavily. It was only for a few seconds before Alice turned away to pick up her bag, but in that brief and precious window of time, George Weasley felt whole again.