Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and am not making any money with this.

This is more of a feeling chapter. Next chapter is Draco... and someone I quite like. It's coming up today, as soon as I'm finished re-reading.

Chapter 28

A Hundred Percent

23rd November, 1998

Diagon Alley was slowly reconstructing itself. The rubble, old shops destroyed by Death Eaters, had been cleared away. Most stores were open now, and one or two new ones had sprang up to replace those that had permanently closed up. These boasted brightly-coloured painted façades and windows chock-full of products and bold posters. Only a couple shops still had the "CLOSED FOR RESTORATION" sign on their door, and there were maybe three dozen wizards and witches sweeping up the alley, looking into shop windows, talking to their friends, sitting down for a drink. It was nothing like the crowds Diagon Alley had once attracted, but it was a start. There were even a few stall vendors – which would not have been missed – back.

Katie, by her side, seemed delighted by this. It was the first time she came back to Diagon Alley, and what she had heard of it had led her to expect something much worse. She bought a ridiculously expensive, ridiculously useless but quite pretty trinket from one of the stall vendors, who smiled gratefully at her, and looked around with eyes wide with excitement. She had a new take on the world now and took a wide-eyed, childish delight in everyday, mundane things.

"I don't know how to explain it, Alicia," she had said once. "Everything seems brighter somehow, shinier. I stop to stare at things I've never noticed before. I don't know if it's just that I'm happy to be alive, or if it's because the war is over, but... The world is so beautiful now."

If the world was beautiful, Alicia couldn't see it. It seemed bleak and dull and hopeless to her, not because nothing good happened, but because the worst had already happened and what was there to live for now? Katie said, "But the best has also happened, Al." That was true, but as far as Alicia was concerned, the bad still outnumbered the good.

One of the only good things was Katie who, with her newly found optimism, was a refreshing presence to have around. Her recovery had been swift, miraculous really. Scarcely a week after coming out of her coma, she had been walking around St. Mungo's and down to the visitors' tearoom to look for a book, because she was "bored stiff." The Healers had insisted on releasing her only now to "run some tests," but when they had found nothing Katie had left, glad to be free. Even Katie had her part of bad, though; Alicia couldn't help but feel a little jealous as she saw her friend sometimes start skipping ahead of her for no other reason than because she could. Not to make Alicia jealous – Katie didn't have a cruel or spiteful bone in her body – but to enjoy life.

This was made even worse by the fact that Alicia had finally given in to the Healers' pressing suggestions and had taken to always going around in a wheelchair. She hated it because it made her feel like an invalid, but she was an invalid nowadays. With the baby on the way making itself heavier and heavier with every passing day, she simply couldn't get around with her crutches anyway. The Healers insisted it was too dangerous, anyway, because she might fall.

Alicia had then discovered another disadvantage of being in a wheelchair: she found that a pregnant woman in a wheelchair tended to attract glances. She knew that, apart from her stomach, she was thin, which made her look unhealthy. Though she had loosened all her robes at the waist, the bulge of her belly was still obvious. Katie had brought her to a seamstress specialised in maternity robes, but the clothes that had been suggested made Alicia look – and feel – old and dowdy, so she stuck with her old wardrobe, which made her look – and feel – young and foolish. She could have got rid of the baby. She had known early enough for it to be possible, and she didn't really want It. In other circumstances, she would have. But she hadn't. She couldn't, not while there was a chance that It could be his. It would have been another murder, a second death for him. Meanwhile, this meant that she was was twenty years old, single, and pregnant, and the way people sometimes looked at her, she felt like it was written across her forehead in neon lights.

"You're beautiful," Katie had said, sincerely, when Alicia admitted this feeling. But if Katie thought the world was beautiful, then it didn't really mean much, did it?

"Oh," Katie said presently, "I haven't been here in ages."

She stopped, and after a second's hesitation Alicia tapped her armrest with her wand to make her wheelchair stop as well. She wasn't used to the thing yet, and had no intention of getting used to it. She made it swivel around and looked into the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Neither have I," she said softly. "Not since..."

Not since Hogwarts, she thought, amazed at how far away that seemed.

"I'm going to buy something," Katie said decisively, and pushed the door open and stepped in.

Alicia sighed and wheeled in behind her. "We're not here for this," she reminded her friend.

"George can wait a few minutes," Katie said. "I just... Oh." A smile spreads across her face, large and contented, as she whiffs the air. "Do you smell that, Al? That's new broomstick smell."

Alicia smiled despite herself. It did smell good, though she would have bet on a mixture of handle polish and leather over an actual broom; wood didn't smell this strong.

"I'm going to buy gloves," Katie announced. "And a broom compass. And..." Her dark eyes darted around the shop, taking in every detail. "Oh, I could buy the entire shop. Look at that broom, Al."

Alicia looked and smiled. "Yours is better."

"But older," Katie said, stroking the smooth wooden handle with one hand. She sighed deeply. "And locked in a closet at home, since I'm not allowed to fly yet."

"The Healers still won't let you?"

"Not for another month," Katie said. "Old interfering fusspots."

"I remember that," Alicia said. "They do get annoying, don't they?"

"You have no idea." Katie bit her lip. "Oh, all right, just the gloves and the compass then." Her eyes lingered on a portable trunk which could be clipped to the back of a broom for travel, and there was suddenly something infinitely sad in her expression. "I've missed this shop."

"It isn't half as good as Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Alicia said, reminding her what they had come for.

"All right, all right," Katie said. "Just wait a second while I pay."

Paying took slightly longer than a second, because there was actually a queue at the till. This simple fact didn't irritate Alicia; instead, it made her smile. It was almost as though things were going back to normal. When Katie half-walked, half-skipped out of the shop, the smile remained. And it stayed until they had walked a hundred feet. That was when they stopped dead in their tracks; even Alicia in her wheelchair stopped abruptly.

"Oh," Katie said quietly.

They had walked past it almost without noticing it, and had only stopped when they reached the shop next to it, realising they had missed it. Weasleys' Wizard* Wheezes looked... dreary. The windows were dusty and almost opaque, the sign hanging above the door was dull, and the entire thing was just so grey it made Alicia want to cry. It looked as though no one had been inside for months.

"Holy –" Alicia said. "I had no idea it was this bad."

"You really haven't been here since the battle?"

"I came here once," Alicia said softly, wheeling over to run her fingers over the dust on the window. "In August." She paused, remembering that time. She'd intended to talk to George, but Angelina had been there and... "I didn't stay long, but I don't think... I mean, it wasn't this bad. Lee was – I think he was doing most of the work. But now..." She trailed off, not really knowing much about now.

"Now Lee's found another type of work," Katie said bitterly.

Alicia looked at her. Katie and Lee hadn't been the best friends in the world, but they had cared for each other a lot. Lee had driven himself sick with worry over her when she'd been in a coma. Alicia didn't think she'd seen Katie look so disapproving since she had woken up.

"He's in over his head," Katie said. "Auror business – what does he think he's doing? It isn't a job for him."

Alicia grit her teeth. "He's after Rookwood."

"That's what makes it so wrong."

Alicia disagreed, but she refrained from showing it. Instead, she rapped on the door, feeling slightly nostalgic. Not so long ago, she'd had the keys to the place. Now she had to wait outside – winter was here and it was proving to be quite harsh – for someone to open the door.

Someone opened the door, grabbed her hands, and pulled her up onto her feet and into a great bear hug, despite her bulging belly.

"Alicia!" Angelina cried. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

Alicia went stiff in her friend's arms. She had a horrible feeling of déjà-vu. Again? Last time she'd come, Angelina had been here, too. That was why her visit had been so short. Now, with Katie along, she couldn't excuse herself as quickly.

If Angelina noticed her coldness, she didn't mention it; within seconds she had let her regain her wheelchair and moved on to Katie, kissing her soundly on both cheeks.

"You're looking so healthy," she said admiringly. "I don't know why we ever worried about you! You look better than any of us."

It was true. Katie seemed to breathe life. Angelina was hanging on, but the strain of it showed in her eyes. As for Alicia herself, well... She was the worst off and knew it.

"Is Lee here?" Katie asked.

"No," Angelina said, frowning just a little as though she knew what Katie thought of Lee's job and agreed. "He's at work; he always is. But George is here, of course. He should be happy to see you... Come in."

The inside of the shop was almost worse than the outside. Katie sneezed as soon as she stepped inside, because of all the dust. Alicia had to strain to make out vague shapes in the darkness.

"We've stopped bothering with light spells here," Angelina explained as she led them through the shop. She moved easily, unbothered by the dark. "Since we hardly ever come down here anymore."

Alicia felt her wheelchair bump over something. "Well, it isn't very practical."

Katie's joy was definitely dampened by this turn of events; even in the dark Alicia could see her smile was gone. She was looking left and right at all the joke products, which seemed eery in the darkness, bizarrely-shaped shadows covered in a thick layer of dust. Alicia could have sworn she saw a spider skittering across one of them, but she hoped she was wrong. Her skin crawled at the thought.

Katie almost tripped over the first step. "It's been too long since I last came," she said, laughing a little. It sounded forced. "Lumos."

The tip of her wand lit up, and Alicia blinked twice to adjust to the sudden brightness. She tapped her wand twice against her armrest.

"Levitation Charm?" Angelina said, eyeing her wheelchair. "I was wondering how you would get up these stairs. They're getting better at making these, aren't they?"

Alicia made a non-committal noise. I suppose they are, but I don't really care. Angelina didn't press further. When she reached the top of the stairs, she flung the door wide open, and the light that poured out made Alicia close her eyes for a second. The upper floor, at least, seemed to be well taken care of and regularly cleaned. The stairs led straight into the kitchen, which was painted a neutral, clean white.

"George," Angelina called. "It's Alicia and Katie." She turned to them. "He'll be in the living room, I think."

The two-bedroom flat above the shop housed a bathroom, a separate toilet, and a spacious kitchen. It was more than enough for Fred and George, who had really only chosen the place for the shop downstairs; they would have lived in a dump* if they could have the shop. Having never slept apart a single night since they were born, they had placed their twin beds in the same bedroom and had converted the second into a sort of living room, with a dozen plump cushions on the floor, a low wooden table, and three overflowing bookshelves. Over time, piles of joke products had been amassed in corners of the room, until it was the messiest room in the flat. It had then become the twins' official favourite, if you didn't count the lab downstairs, where they spent most of their time trying to keep their newest ideas from exploding.

Sure enough, George was sitting on one of the cushions, not sprawled all across the floor as he and Fred had used to, but sitting with arms wrapped around his bent legs and resting his chin on his knees. He looked up at them when they entered, but didn't move to stand up; he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He had changed since the last time she'd seen him, at St Mungo's, and not for the better.

Alicia thought he had never looked less like Fred.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello, George," Katie said, clearly as unnerved as Alicia and determined not to show it. She plopped down on a cushion beside him, curling her legs up beneath her. "How have you been?"

"All right," George said.

His tone was lacking something, something infinitesimal that Alicia couldn't quite put her finger on. He sounded almost normal, but... There was that something.

"But what about you?" George asked, sounding like he cared. "You're fine?"

"Good as new," Katie said, nodding. "Though I'm not allowed to play Quidditch yet!" She swung a plastic bag in front of him. "I bought new gloves from Quality Quidditch Supplies anyway; couldn't resist it."

George smiled again and stretched lazily, loosening up. "Why am I not surprised? You've always acted as though you had too much money to spend. You'll be poor before you hit thirty at this rate."

"Nah," Katie said. "I'll find some rich billionaire to marry."

"Poor guy," George said, and Katie swatted him on the arm playfully. "You call that a punch, woman? It's pretty obvious that you're a Chaser, not a Beater."

"Speaking of which," Katie said, beaming. "Next month I should be able to play again."

"Play?" George scoffed. "You'll have to learn to fly again first! Six months without even seeing a broom will have taken a dent in your so-called skill, Bell."

"We'll see, Weasley," Katie retorted. "You know what? When I play again, I want you there, just so I can beat the trousers off you."

"In your dreams."

"Children, children," Angelina said. "Calm down, you big babies. You're too old for this."

"Not old yet," George said. "Not for some time."

"Really? Had me fooled. Some days you do look like a doddering old man, sitting around the flat doing nothing all day," Angelina retorted.

Something flashed across George's face. Alicia was surprised by the hard edge in Angelina's voice; she had always been tough, but never harsh with the twins themselves. She looked at Angelina more closely. Her friend had lost a little weight, maybe, but nothing like George. She wasn't emaciated, but her slightly hollowed cheeks and pointy elbows conferred her a new toughness, as though she'd been through everything and wasn't about to let anyone walk all over her. There was still a softness in her eyes, but it didn't extend to the rest of her her, from the way she held herself to the way she spoke to George.

Angelina noticed her staring and turned to look her in the eye, and Alicia ducked her head. Angelina looked like she had suffered so much and was toughing it out, whereas Alicia had chosen to flee and hide from the past. Even now, she couldn't meet Angelina's gaze, not knowing what she might find there. Blame, pity, indifference? The worst, she had already decided, would be compassion, because she didn't deserve it. She deserved scorn for what she had done to her friend. If Angelina knew... if she knew... she wouldn't hug Alicia the way she had, and she certainly wouldn't be happy to see her. If Angelina knew, then Alicia would probably never set foot here again.

It was hard enough to face her when she didn't know. She couldn't shake the feeling that Angelina did know something, or suspect, because of the way her gaze rested on her, heavy and inquiring. But she avoided it, focusing on a spot on the thick fluffy rug she had loved to lie down on; she envied George and Katie's cushions, trapped as she was in the wheelchair.

"So..." George said after a pause. "When are you due, Al?"

"Three weeks from now," Alicia replied, looking down at herself.

"Three weeks? With a little luck, you'll be spending Christmas in hospital then."

"Very funny, George."

She felt suffocated, as though the walls were closing in on her. Three weeks. It was the first time she'd said it aloud, and the reality of it suddenly hit her. In three weeks she would be a mother, and he would be a father, and then what would she do? She had only kept It because she couldn't get rid of It, not because she wanted It.

"It's going to be a girl, right?" George said.

"Yes."

There was a small silence after this. Alicia thought she knew why. The last time they'd all been together – Lee, George, Katie and Alicia; Angelina had been thankfully absent – at St Mungo's, George had asked who the father was, and Alicia had replied, "I don't know." No one had voiced their judgement, but Alicia knew well enough what they thought. Since then, Katie had asked her the question twice, convinced she was lying – she had to have an idea, Katie said. Even if she wasn't one hundred percent sure...

That was it, really. She wasn't sure, but the idea she had was the one which made the most sense, if you concentrated on the dates. She had allowed herself to hope she was right; at the same time, she wished she were wrong. It would make everything so much harder. It was selfish of her, to want to hold on to It, to him, but she did. If she were right, then she could never tell Angelina – and, by extension, Katie, George, or Lee, or even Oliver, or anyone really, for fear it would get back to Ange. I am so sorry, Ange. She was sorry. She felt so guilty it still kept her awake some nights, more and more often as her due date approached.

"Al," Angelina said softly, "Are you all right? You look... different. Strained."

Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to spill over. Alicia didn't reply, not trusting herself to speak. She could take anything, but not Angelina's kindness. Not kindness she didn't deserve, not friendship she had betrayed.

"Al," Angelina said again. "What's wrong?"

Alicia cried.

Okay. Guys, I know English is my second language, but really? "Eery" is a word, isn't it (isn't it?)?
According to spellcheck, it isn't.