This is a linking chapter - it was going to be part of the next one, but I thought it worked on its own. It has a bit of a cliffie at the end, just because I'm mean...

Cyberchocolate and cookies to all reviewers.

1st March 1999 Ron Weasley is 19

III

Ron and Hermione decided to hold off telling their families that they were engaged. They did not want to have to deal with the inevitable comments about them being "too young" or "rushing into things", or with George's teasing (though with the mood George was in at present, there might not be much of that). As they were planning a long engagement, there was no hurry to let people know, and the summer, once Hermione had finished school, would be quite soon enough.

So Ron kept his news to himself when he went into the shop the next morning, having spent the night with Hermione at Grimmauld Place. George, who had been drinking the night before, was not in any state to notice anything unusual in Ron's demeanour, and the condition George was in was enough to dampen Ron's happiness sufficiently that it was not obvious to Angelina and Fleur when they arrived later. George's state was clear to them though, and later in the morning, when he was busy in the shop with a customer, Ron, Fleur and Angelina had a whispered conversation about him in the tiny office.

"We have to do something," said Angelina with decision. "I know things are beyond horrible for him without-without Fred, but…" She stopped, blinking rapidly. "But we can't let him carry on like this. We just can't. Fred would never forgive us, for one thing."

The others nodded solemnly. But it was easy enough to say that they should do something, much harder to know what would work.

"Who ees 'e likely to listen to zo?" asked Fleur, frowning.

Angelina shook her head. "I wish I knew. Katie tried the other night and got yelled at for her pains. She was pretty upset about it when I saw her. I don't think anything any of us say is going to make any difference either. I suppose he might listen to Lee or Oliver…"

"I wondered about Charlie," Ron said seriously. "He won't listen to me or to Percy. But he might to Charlie or Bill. And it might be better coming from Charlie just because he's not the oldest – not the one he'd expect it from."

Fleur nodded "I sink you are right," she said. "'E might listen to Charlie. Eet ees worse a try anyway. Angelina is right. We can't let 'im go on like zis. Do you want me to speak wiz Charlie when 'e arrives zis evening?"

The other two nodded. If Charlie failed to get through to George, then they would have to think of something else. One thing was certain; they were not prepared to let George carry on as he was doing if they could help it.

Bill and Charlie arrived at the shop that evening a few minutes before Percy. Charlie had not seen George since their father's birthday four weeks previously, and he was shocked at the change in his younger brother. Even in the toughest times since Fred's death, there had been a spark of the old George present, a willingness to keep going – even to keep smiling – for Fred's sake, but that seemed to be gone now. There was something missing in George's eyes, in the grin with which he welcomed his older brothers; something which Charlie would have been hard put to define, but which was definitely absent.

In the kitchen at Shell Cottage earlier that evening, Charlie had listened worriedly as Fleur had outlined her, Ron's and Angelina's concerns about George. Bill, of course, had known of the recent change in George, and of the fact that he was drinking too much, but even he had been unaware until today of just how bad things had become. Charlie had half hoped during the conversation that Bill would insist on being the one to talk to George about it, but it seemed that he shared Ron's opinion that it would be better coming from Charlie. Charlie sighed inwardly. He had been hoping for a nice quiet problem-free weekend.

Once Percy arrived, the five brothers set off along Diagon Alley.

"Where are we going?" asked Charlie. "Viggo's?"

"No," replied Ron. "There's a new place 'The Orange Dragon' at the other end near Gringotts. It's nice. We're going there for a change."

Charlie stopped dead. "The What Dragon?"

"Orange," answered George, with a grin. "Told you Charlie'd disapprove of that, Ron."

"Dead right, I do!" Charlie was indignant. "There aren't any orange dragons. Who makes up these names?"

Bill grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Obviously people who know less about dragons than you do," he laughed. "Can you cope with it, or do we have to boycott the place for your sake?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I guess I can live with it," he replied in a resigned tone of voice. "Is there a horrible unrealistic picture on the sign outside painted by someone who's never actually seen a dragon?"

"Of course there is," Bill told him. "You'll hate it. But the bar itself is apparently okay – not that I've ever been in there myself."

Charlie groaned, but consented to start walking again. "Just don't expect me to like it…" he moaned.

In the light of what was to happen, it was a shame that he did not insist on going elsewhere.