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 Eleven - Denial

George blinked, trying to process what Kingsley had just told him "What do you mean I'm in danger?"

"I mean, I just had your mother apparate into my office to tell me that her kitchen clock told her that you're in mortal peril." The Minister for Magic said patiently, and George had to suppress a smile at the mental image of an incensed Molly Weasley holding Kingsley by his lapels. King had always had a soft spot for his mother, allowing her to boss him about as though he was another of her adoptive brood "I... don't know what to say."

"Neither did my secretary," Kingsley allowed himself a small smirk before becoming serious again "Truly George, are you alright? From what I understand your family timepiece is relatively... accurate."

George rocked back on his heels and sighed "Since I'm clearly not in any immediate peril, I'm assuming you're referring to the clock permanently referring to me as 'lost'?"

It was difficult to decipher facial expressions during Floo calls, but George thought he saw Kingsley's face soften a little "George, everyone is worried about you. I know how hard it must be-"

"I know everyone is worried, King. And it is hard. If you're going to tell me that applying for re-location isn't the answer then Hermione's already beaten you to it." George said, a touch of acid creeping into his voice.

"She's right," Kingsley said matter-of-factly "But it's your life. You have deal with your pain in the way you see fit. Your family and the rest of The Order just want to be sure you fully understand the implications of your decision. It was a smart move to try living as a muggle for a while first."

"It was Hermione's idea..." George admitted sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for being so defensive. Kingsley nodded.

"She's a smart witch. She's already revolutionising her department."

George smiled fondly as he imagined his friend and comrade's take-no-prisoners attitude towards her work "I wouldn't expect anything less."

They were silent for a moment, the grate crackling in a way that George had always found comforting, before Kingsley spoke again "George, you know I have to ask or your mother will hex me from here to Timbuktu if she thinks I haven't checked on you properly - can you think of any reason you could be in danger where you are?"

George thought of Alice and what he had seen the night before, the incredible waves of colour in the air accompanying her beautiful voice. He thought about how angry she had been that morning and despite his concerns that she might bring the house down with it, how beautiful she herself had been then too. She had practically bristled with energy and life. He felt suddenly nervous - if the Weasley family clock had indicated that he had been in peril, did that mean Alice was more dangerous than he had originally anticipated?

Or was he reading too much into this? Was it possible that the glasses on the draining board had moved for some other reason? There was a machine in the kitchen for washing clothes directly underneath the draining board; George had seen the unnecessarily loud and aggressive way it tossed garments about. In the weeks since he had lived at the flat, he had gotten used to it, barely noticing when it was on. Could he be sure that it wasn't working that morning when Alice had been mid-rant?

'You're reaching, Georgie...'

George bit back bile as Fred's voice whispered at the back of his mind, his twin's teasing but fond timbre working over his nerves. He swallowed hard. Fred wasn't here, he told himself fiercely. Fred was dead. If he could hear his dead twin's voice in his head, then how could he be sure that he'd seen the night before was real?

"George?" Kingsley prodded gently "Did you hear what I asked?"

George swallowed again and shook his head "Uh, no. I mean... I can't think of anything." A thought struck him "Should I have a reason to be worried?"

Now it was Kingsley's turn to be silent for a moment. George leaned in closer to the fire "King?"

Kingsley spoke slowly, seeming to choose his words more carefully than usual "We are receiving patchy intelligence reports from relocated witches and wizards that indicate there may be some truth to the rumours about Death Eaters posing as muggles to avoid capture. So far only uncorroborated sightings and I have already sent Harry and your brother on two wild goose chases, but..."

"-But you think there could be something to the rumours." George finished for him, trying to act calmer than he felt "Who has been sighted?"

"George, you must remember that these reports are still unsubstantiated until one of our own actually claps eyes on them-"

"Kingsley, just tell me!"

Kingsley sighed "Yaxley, and… Rookwood."

George felt his blood run cold. His mind all of a sudden seemed to become full of thoughts and questions, all jostling to make their way out of his mouth first. Eventually and after some deliberation, he settled on "… I thought Rookwood was in Azkaban?"

"They both were."

George sprang to his feet and began to pace frantically in front of the grate "Forgive me if I sound foolish here, King," He knew how he sounded and didn't care "But don't you think you should have led with that little gem of information instead of 'Hi George, your mother's heirlooms seem to be on the fritz, how's life as a muggle? Oh and by the way, the man who killed your brother seems to have disappeared from the impenetrable fortress where we keep all of our criminally insane people!'?"

"George, calm down - " but it was no use; George was in full flow now, his mouth barely keeping up with the frantic pace of the wards launching out of them.

"And more to the point, how the bloody hell did they get out? Were they the only ones? Why didn't anyone tell me? How-"

"GEORGE!" Kingsley's voice boomed out of the grate and the sound took stunned George into silence "Sit. Down."

George collapsed heavily onto his knees in front of the hearth once more. Kingsley eyed him warily "The less you know while you're living as a muggle, the better. All I can tell you is that we don't know how they got out or even why. But they weren't the only ones. I have my best people working on this around the clock and I have reassembled The Order, but right now I have decided to keep news of the escape classified. The longer we can track them without them thinking we're onto them, the better chance we'll have."

George nodded dumbly, no longer trusting himself to speak. Kingsley gave him a kind look "George, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to see Rookwood and the others back in Azkaban as soon as possible."

X

George was screaming again, that awful howl that you get in dreams where it takes every ounce of your strength but no sound comes out. Before him lay the body of his twin, the remnants of his final smile still etched on his face. It was always the same. Whenever he dreamed about it, it was always the same. His family stood around him, not crying over Fred but screaming at him, their faces twisted in fury and disgust.

"It's your fault he's dead!"

"Where were you?"

"You should have been protecting him!"

George felt as though their voices were searing his very flesh with their bile and hatred. One face that stood out amongst them, one face he would never forget, was his mother's. She didn't look like his mother anymore, but a snarling beacon of loathing. She raised a shaking finger and pointed it at him "It should have been you!"

Behind her, Augustus Rookwood hovered over Fred's body but the rest of his family had their backs to him. They couldn't see the man who murdered Fred rubbing his filthy hands with glee and contempt. George tried to shout, to run towards him, but his family converged on him still shouting. George felt them overwhelm him, pushing him to the floor. Rookwood finally disappeared from his line of sight, but not before giving him an evil smile.

George sat bolt upright in bed with a garbled yell and gasping for air. After talking with Kingsley via the Floo, he had needed to escape to confines of the flat, deciding to go out for a walk. He ended up traversing most of central London on foot and by the time he got back in the early evening, Alice had also returned from her jaunt with Daniel. George had been distracted but relieved to notice that it seemed that the oily git wasn't there. Alice had smiled cheerily at him and offered him a cup of tea, but he had mumbled something incoherent, disappearing into his room where he had collapsed onto the bed and passed out.

"George?" a gentle knock accompanied Alice's voice "Are you alright?"

George ran a hand over his face, grimacing as his palm came away slick with sweat. His heart still hammered in his chest and he couldn't seem to form words.

"George? Can I come in?" At this, he frantically began to scan the room for anything magical that he may have carelessly left out in the open. It wasn't easy in the half-light, but eventually he was satisfied and choked out "Y-Yes."

Alice crept into the room, her eyes hooded with sleep but filled with concern. Her hair was mussed on one side and she patted it self-consciously "I just wanted to make sure you were OK. It sounded like you were having a horrible nightmare."

"I - I was," George exhaled shakily, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him, the image of his family screaming that Fred's death had been his fault playing over and over again in his mind "I'm sorry if I woke you."

Alice waved a hand in a 'Pfshht' gesture, stifling a yawn with the other "Do you think you'll sleep again tonight?" George shook his head. Alice regarded him for a long moment before seemingly deciding something. She jerked her head towards his chest of drawers "Get dressed."

"Why?"

"You'll see."