Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

Monday 9th November, 1998

Another busy day at Weasley's Wizard Wheezers, and George had not yet had the opportunity to tell Ron that he thought he just might have cracked the problem with the permanent sticking charms.

Really, you'd think that with school in session, things would have slowed down a bit – and certainly it was slower than the two weeks directly before school started, but it could hardly be called quiet. This might or might not have something to do with the fact that more parents than normal were choosing to educate their kids at home.

George could understand why, he really could, but a part of him thought that they were doing the wrong thing by their kids. Still, that wasn't for him to say – if he was a parent he might think differently on the matter.

Today he wished it would slow down just a bit. Hopefully in the afternoon it would. Angelina was coming in today, only the third time she'd been to the shop ... and despite the fact that things have been cleared up (more or less) between them all, she still seemed particularly uncomfortable ...

Most of the time it didn't worry him that much. He supposed that things would work themselves out on their own, all in the fullness of time and that sort of thing.

Other times it drove him nuts.

Harry, bless him, wasn't any help at all. Never one to hide his feelings, he readily admitted he had no clue what bee might be in Angelina's bonnet.

Ron, damn him, was even less help ... and maddeningly superior into the bargain.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron had said, patting George's shoulder in a comforting way. "It'll all work out in the end, you'll see."

Yeah, fat lot of help THAT was.

Lee's constant refrain of "Not my place to say, mate" was irritating as hell too.

George had to wonder why it worried him that much anyway. After much ruminating he put it down to him just wanting things to "be the way they used to be" ... which of course would never happen, because they just couldn't be. Still, it would have been NICE if Angelina could occasionally look him in the eye without waging whatever internal battle it was she was having with herself.

Now Luna ... Luna had come up with something that George had instantly laughed off as absurd. This was Luna after all ... lots of things she said had to be taken with a grain of salt.

On the other hand ... lots of things she said were right on the money.

The idea privately stayed with him, intrigued him, no matter how much he publicly scoffed at it.

Nah. He dismissed it again. Sure, they'd been getting closer during the war, and he'd had definite stirrings of much more than friendship ... to the point where he'd even told Fred about it, because she was his ex-girlfriend after all. Fred had been all for it though. But what Luna suggested made no sense, no matter how much he liked the idea ... and he did like it.

Damn it, it was nearly time for Ron's lunch break and the shop hadn't slowed down one iota.

It was moments like this he REALLY missed Verity the most, because she knew the business backwards and was great help – and totally unflappable when things got a bit silly.

They'd got her out in the nick of time, thankfully – because there was no way she had any intention of signing up to the Muggle-Born Register - and when the "Ministry Officials" had come to call they could truthfully say they had no idea where she had gone ... because those anonymous postcards from Ibiza could have been from anyone, really.

Meanwhile, instead of Verity he had Ron and Lee – both of whom were very good and he absolutely trusted them, but there was no way he'd let one of them off for lunch and leave the other to handle the floor and the till on a busy day like this, without him there.

Feeling something akin to frustration, he waited until Ron had finished serving a middle aged woman (fox-trotting slippers, size 37, ruby red), said a few words to him and took over on the counter.

Oh well, he really shouldn't complain ... if he was going to never get a moment to himself, at least it was for a good reason.

He supposed he'd have to tell Ron about the possible counter-spell later tonight.

Confundus. Finite Fortis. Relashio.

Potentially dead simple, when you thought about it. Finite Fortis worked on most permanently stuck objects, but the key was that with portraits the subject probably had to be confused into letting go. Well, that was the theory ... he'd be curious to see if it worked.

It had been Ron who had given him the idea in the first place, saying how Mrs Black's portrait had been considerably more docile in recent days. Oh, she still kicked up a racket whenever anyone came near, but if she saw it was Ron she'd close her curtains quick smart and fall utterly, blessedly silent.

Crap! Angelina was there, saying hello to Lee and giving him a quick hug. George felt a stab of ... what was that? Jealousy? Ridiculous. Now she was walking over to him and asking if he needed a hand behind the counter ... he didn't though, so he asked if she would just sit and talk for a while. And so she sat, rather more primly than usual for Angelina, her hands clasped tightly together on her knees ... and they talked.

Idle chatter.

At least with so many people around uncomfortable silences were few and far between. He felt a moment of ... something ... when it was time for Lee's break and she elected to say by the counter and continue talking. She still wouldn't really look at him, just quick side-ways glances. So he cracked a stupid joke and she laughed.

Things seemed almost normal.

George was tempted to say as much, but decided that now probably wasn't the time. Best to just enjoy the fact that she wasn't acting as though he was about to bite her.

Lee was back far too quickly – that couldn't have possibly have been his full break? No, it wasn't, but Lee claimed to be bored sitting down in the cellar alone. He'd take over the till; it was no problem, really.

Ron drifted over then, shared a look with Lee (what on EARTH were those two up to?) and said that something nice to nibble on after work was in order, seeing as inventory was bound to take ages that night.

Maybe a nice pumpkin twist or slice or something?

Lee laughed and told Angelina that she'd best go along with George and make sure he got something edible ... last time they sent him off for something it had turned out to be a frog leg tart.

George, naturally, protested his innocence and said they were lying through their teeth – as an aside he whispered to Angelina that the frog legs were a pretty green and utterly tempting – and secretly though it was a rather good plan after all.

There was a line at Madam Drury's, as per usual. It went out the shop and a little way down the street, but Madam Drury always had someone walking the line with mugs of tea and coffee, and cold bottles of pumpkin juice, for sale – to be paid for when you finally got in the shop, of course.

Well worth it, the wait. The coffee was good and hot, said Angelina ... George preferred tea, nice and strong. He had to hold her cup for her, when she bent to pick something from her shoe, and their fingers brushed – she hid her blush from him, but he saw it all the same and it made him wonder ... and when she came back up, relatively composed, he deliberately brushed her fingers again when he handed back her cup.

Aha!

The line was fast, faster than usual, and they found themselves back at Weasley's Wizard Wheezers in no time at all, in possession of a large apricot and pumpkin tart ... much to Ron's cry's of joy and relief as he ushered them rather forcefully down the stairs with a smile.