Love. Labors. Lost
"Mum!" said Fred or George.
"I insist on coming in." A voice said huffily.
"It's late. She's probably asleep." Said one of the twins. Jeanette sat up. They were talking about her. She strained her ears. The Puffskein rolled off her lap and down the hallway. She hissed at it, but it paid no heed. It could roll pretty fast when it wanted to.
"I can believe you left a child hear all day by herself. She must have been so lonely." Jeanette crept after the Puffskein and grabbed it right before it rolled down the stairs. She could see the Weasley twins downstairs or at least their silhouettes. The lights were out and their backs were to her. She could just make out a small round figure. Jeanette assumed that was Mrs. Weasley. There were three or four figures behind her.
"You didn't object at first."
"I thought she was your age." Said Mrs. Weasley furiously. "You irresponsible boys."
"Mum, she can take of herself." Said Bill. He was one of the tall figures. "She came all by herself from America."
"Oh, shame on you." Admonished Mrs. Weasley. "She must of idolized you two to come so far by herself and you JUST LEFT HER ALONE." A flush rose up on Jeanette's cheeks. Really, she wasn't that pathetic. Mrs. Weasley sounded as if she thought Jeanette was some star struck teenager. "--SHAME." continued Mrs. Weasley. The Puffskein wiggled out of her arms and rolled the stairs, making bouncing noises as it went. Should she make a run for it or run after the Puffskein? If she stayed put, it would have looked like she had been eavesdropping. She had been eavesdropping. She flushed again.
She took a step and the lights came on.
"What are you doing out of your cage, Stupid Git?" Fred picked up the Puffskein.
"Don't call it names." Jeanette said.
"That's its name. Stupid Git." Fred said automatically. He looked up surprised. Everyone else stared at her. "See Mum, she's perfectly fine. She didn't blow herself up."
"Oh, come down her and let me take a look at you." Reluctantly, she walked down the stairs. She was surprised to see that she was the same height as Mrs. Weasley. "Aren't you cold? You're so thin. George! Fred! Don't you feed her? Were you alright? Were you frightened? They will never ever leave you alone like that again." Mrs. Weasley glared at her sons. Jeanette was flustered. All this fussing over made her nervous. "Were you lonely?"
"No, I was very busy."
"What did you do, my dear?"
"Stuff."
"Merlin's beard! What did you do?" George had finally looked up and noticed that things had been reorganized.
"I cleaned." Fred turned purple. Stupid Git let out a squeal. Fred was squeezing it. Jeanette looked down at her bare feet.
"But.but I thought you said you were going to explore London." Said George.
"I deliberately told you not to clean." Said Fred. Stupid Git started to cry again, but no one except Jeanette noticed. "I can fire you."
Mrs. Weasley cuffed him. "Fred! I think it looks marvelous, darling." Jeanette wanted to disappear. It had never occurred to her that Fred would be mad, maybe annoyed or irked but not furious.
"Can we come in?" A voice asked.
"Yeah." George said. He moved so the rest of the Weasleys could pile in. Stupid Git began to squeal loudly, Fred threw it. It hit a shelf and knocked over a few cans. Jeanette picked it up and stroked it. It began to hum within seconds, but Fred's mood wasn't so quick to change and neither was Jeanette's.
She guessed that she looked so pathetic that a red haired girl came over and put her hand on her shoulder.
"The whole place smells like bloody strawberries." He snapped. Jeanette wanted to shrink and die. Instead, she turned to the girl next to her. She must be the sister that Fred had talked about.
"Ginny?"
"Yes."
"Come and see my room."
"Okay." Ginny smiled a little too brightly and they started walking toward the stairs.
"Don't you dare move."
"Oh, sod off." Ginny snapped.
"Hey, wait for me." A very tall boy called.
"The whole family came?"
"Well, Charlie is in Romania, but other than that yes." Ginny said.
"Have you been here before?"
"Yes, with Ron. It was a mess. If Fred fires you, you can live with us."
"Thanks." They reached her room and the lights came on. Ron came too and they all sat on the bed rather awkwardly. She had a feeling that they were all straining to hear what was going on downstairs. There was a crash.
"So, you play quidditch?" asked Ron.
"No, I'm not sporty." There was another crash.
"Fred has a really big temper though he doesn't show it much." Ginny said helpfully.
"What school do you go to?" Ron asked.
"Salem Witch Institute."
"Where is that?" Ron asked.
"In California."
"I thought it was in Massachusetts." Ginny said.
"The original one was in Massachusetts. The government decided to sort of standardize the wizard school system so there's one in every state, sometimes more than one and they're all called Salem Witch Institute."
"How do you tell them apart?" Ron asked.
"You say, 'I went to Salem of California or CASI. People usually don't say the 'witch' part, because wizards go to."
"Are you going back?" asked Ginny.
"I'm done."
"Done," said Ron incredulously.
"As done as I'm gonna be." She replied.
"Oh," sighed Ron, "for a moment I thought you were like Hermione."
"BLOODY HELL!!!" There was a loud shout close by.
"I think he found the kitchen." Jeanette said.
"WHERE ARE MY MAGGOTS?" The bedroom door slammed open and Fred stuck his livid face in the room. Behind him were the anxious other Weasleys.
"They're in the basement." Jeanette squeaked.
"They'll freeze to death." He yelled and he ran down the stairs. George poked his head in.
"Don't worry, he'll get over it." He mouthed.
"So are you French?" asked Ginny.
"No, my mom just thought the name was pretty."
"MY MAGGOTS!" There was a distant yell. It was unhappy. Jeanette whimpered. She was soooo dead.
Somehow everything worked out that night. Fred eventually stopped yelling, Mrs. Weasley eventually stopped yelling, George eventually stopped having to be peacemaker, and eventually the Weasleys left and everyone settled down for bed though it was nearly two by then. To Jeanette, it was all a blur the following morning and she half wished that she could forget the experience all together.
Jeanette had somehow miraculously clung to her job, though Fred had made it clear that he hated her and would never ever forgive her for murdering his maggots. She hadn't meant to hurt the worms and in reality only about a quarter of them had died. The trash had provided fairly good insulation for the ones near the bottom of the cans.
Around four in the morning, she woke up and remembered the Fred and George did not have any shaving cream. Fearing Fred's wrath, she dressed and went down to Diagon Alley and bought some, though she couldn't find the correct brand name. By five-twenty, she gave up and brought back the closet thing she could find.
The next problem was getting the shaving cream into Fred's room without his knowledge. Unfortunately, he had locked the door. He had a deadbolt lock. She didn't remember it from yesterday. Had he put it on because of her? She didn't want to wake him up and anger him further.
So naturally, she took her chances with George. Using her wand, she unlocked his door. It made a loud click and it woke him.
"What are doing?" He asked when he sat up and saw her in the middle of his bedroom holding a can of Fuzzy Buzzy's all purpose shaving cream.
"I used up all the shaving cream yesterday."
"How?" He rubbed his eyes. His sleepy eyes trailed down to stare at her legs. She could almost hear his muddy thinking, "legs.shaving cream.shave legs.hairy cream. legs = shaving cream?"
"On the furniture and store floor."
"One can?"
"I bought a lot."
"You must have needed like fifty cans?"
"I charged it on your account." George's half closed eyes snapped open.
"What else did you charge on our account?" Jeanette flushed to her hairline. She had taken quite a liberty at charging things.
"I'll pay for it."
"For your sake, I hope you can, kiddo or Fred is going to kill you." He got up and took the can from her. "I'll tell him, I used the last can of shaving cream."
"Thank you." She breathed.
"Fred likes blueberry pancakes." He said in a hinting voice.
"What else does he like?"
"Orange juice, toast, waffles, ice cream, fresh fruit, no honey dew. He hates it. Eggs over easy, English muffins, jam, corned beef hash, and yeah, I guess that's it. That's all the stuff he likes for breakfast. Oh, and he also fancies chocolate chip cookies." She nodded and raced into the kitchen. She had enough to cover the supplies she bought in the bank and from the pearls, but the water bill and the refrigerator. How in the world was she going to come up with that?
An hour later, a buffet like breakfast was set on the table, the food sitting on heated plates. She ran to her room, locked the door, and cried her eyes out. She was dead, so dead. Fred was going to murder her when he saw the water bill, she must have used like a bazillion galleons. Sneaking out again, carrying a plastic bag, she withdrew all the money she possibly could with out shutting down the account, and paid for the boxes, scrub brushes, cleaning agents, bolt of cloth, and washboards.
Giving the plastic bag to the Griphook, she waited as he turned it over and examined a two pounds of marble sized grayish blue pearls, golden red ones, and rather ugly green ones. He commented that quality was not as good, but eighty galleons was enough to cover the down payment of the refrigerator and about a seventh of the water bill. She put the money into the Weasley account.
It was seven forty five when she got back.
"You're late." Fred snarled as he stood behind the store counter. He had a cut on his chin.
"I'm sorry." Just then, the worst thing that could have possibly happened, did. An owl flew in through the open front door and dropped the Daily Prophet and a half a dozen letters on the counter. Jeanette had forgotten one very important thing. Bills came at the end of the month.
Fred paled at first as he eyed the bill, then he turned gray, finally he looked up from the bill to a quaking Jeanette. He turned crimson and began to scream.
(Author's Note: I know this is corny, but think of it like Mad Lab or something. You can even choose your rating from G to X. And you get to use your creativity! If you rather have me do all the thinking for you, then tell me in your review and I'd be just peachy about upping the rating.)
"YOU LITTLE (&^%$^%) HOW COULD YOU (@!&#$%) USE (&^%$^%) (#%^#@*) THREE HUNDRED GALLEONS WORTH OF (&^%$^%) WATER!!! I AM GOING TO BREAK YOUR ($#*^%&) LITTLE NECK." He lunged at her and she scrambled a way and hid behind George. "GET BACK HERE, (&^%$^%) GEORGE, GIVE HER TO ME SO I CAN BEAT THE LIVING (*$#%@) OUT OF HER. SHE USED A (@#^$%) TWO HUNDRED GALLEONS OF WATER."
"Two hundred?" George gasped and glanced at Jeanette. She could see him debating whether to hand her over to Fred. She ran into her room as quickly as she could. Both twins hot on her heels.
"I AM (--beep--) GOING TO BREAK DOWN THE (--beep--) (--beep--) DOOR." Yelled Fred. (A/N: Got tired of using symbols. No cuss words because I'm trying to keep the rating low.)
"I'll pay for it." She told him.
"HOW?" He snarled and listed some very vulgar things to make money.
"Fred, she's just a kid. Watch your mouth." George said. Jeanette was opening the window. If push came to shove, she'd jump.
"TWO HUNDRED GALLEONS."
"I know, but remember the time when we set entire attic on fire and Mum wanted to skin us alive--"
"TWO HUNDRED GALLEONS. YOU'RE NOT ONLY A MAGGOT MURDERER BUT A THIEF TOO!!!" Thankfully, the door bell rang and Fred went to get it.
She cautiously opened the door. George was still standing in front of it.
"Did he like breakfast?" She asked gingerly. George shrugged.
"You better be one hell of a cook." George told her. "If I were you, I wouldn't leave this room for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, his temper will cool a bit."
"Why are you being nice to me?" Jeanette asked.
"It'll be a shame for Fred to waste his life in Azkabam for throttling you. Though at the moment, you'd probably deserve it." His voice was cold and indifferent. The sort of dead serious voice that parents use when they're too upset to yell. The tone that would leave the most hardened child quaking with foreboding..
"You're mad at me too." Jeanette bowed her head.
"Haven't you ever learned not to touch other people's things?" He said in a soft-spoken, severe tone.
"I'll pay you back."
"You think we care about the money?" Jeanette stared at him. George sighed. "Well, yeah, we do care about the money, but we can make it up in a day or two. People in Japan to Zimbabwe are asking for shipments. You proved yourself to be very very untrustworthy. We thought you'd be responsible, but you turned out to be a crazy kid." George said to her. "We're not your parents, Jeanette, we're not responsible for you or your actions. We're not going to take care of you and the only thing that's between you and the street is the fact that you're a kid. Did you know Fred wanted to kick you out yesterday? Kids do stupid things, Jeanette, but you-- if you're old enough to make money and start a business than you better grow up NOW. You have a whole day to think about you're careless actions. Was your little escapade really worth all of this?"
"No," Jeanette whispered, staring at the floor, totally ashamed of herself.
"I didn't think so." He held her in his gaze a moment longer before closing the door and walking downstairs. As soon as the door closed, a torrent of emotions hit her like a cresting wave. HOW DARE HE TREAT HER LIKE THIS? MAKING HER GO THROUGH A GUILT TRIP LIKE A FIVE -YEAR-OLD CAUGHT STEALING CANDY. She thought furiously. Well, you did act irresponsibly, a little voice told her. I DID IT FOR THEM, THEY WERE LIVING LIKE PIGS. Yes, they were, but that didn't give you the right to use their account like that. IT WASN'T LIKE A BIG DEAL. THEIR HOUSE SURE NEEDED IT. Jeanette, the little voice chided her. She growled, defeated. "two hundred galleons.two hundred galleons," the words echoed over and over in her head. She pursed her lips and sat down, her head leaning against the bed. How in the world was she going to make two hundred galleons.
She broke out her cauldron and started brewing. The heat was horrible and her hair grew damp and limp. She put it into a bun and changed into light and slightly transparent tank top and shorts. By the end of the day, she made a whole set of relaxation products. She transfigured the bottles into artful tastes and colors and put them into a small transfigured picnic basket. There was a long letter in French describing what each item was and how it was to be used. Jeanette hoped it was correct, with only a couple years of French under her belt, a trusty dictionary, and a lot of reference to other instruction manuals in French, she had written the letter on a sheet of scented, blue boxed paper in looping (hopefully readable) script.
She threw on some clothes on and wrote a quick note to George/ Fred (whoever got it first.)
Dear Twins,
Went to the bank. Be back soon.
~J
She figured that was innocent enough. She opened lowered the basket slowly out the window to the ground and created a ladder to climb down. Grabbing the basket, she raced towards Gringotts. After a few moments the heavy heat made her stop and she gasped, grabbing the front of her light cotton top and tugging it back and forth to create a light breeze.
She sighed when the cold air hit her face when she opened the door. Fleur. Where was Fleur? She was a clerk, wasn't she? Jeanette began to wander toward the area Bill had been. Rounding a corner she was saw two familiar frames. Fred and George. They were talking loudly. about her. Fred was complaining quite explosively with very crude language. She had to hide. She walked quickly into a nearby empty cubicles.
"She's such a little stealing (--beep--). How much (--beep--) gold has she (--beep--) taken?" asked Fred.
"She's put back two hundred galleons back already. Give her a break, Fleur does it all the time. Once she took out about a hundred galleons and redid my apartment and she doesn't even live with me." Bill said soothingly.
"How much did the brat take?"
"Two hundred and fifty galleons."
"What did she buy?"
"All together or on your account?"
"All," said the twins in unison.
"A bolt of cloth, three crates of scrub brushes, two pounds of kosher salt, three pounds of apples, a pound of flour, three baskets of strawberries, a pound of string beans, potato--"
"Just the stuff she used to clean our house with," said Fred.
"Madame Zudse's delux cleaning kit, two pounds of kosher salt, three washing boards, a fridge, water, brooms, mops." the list went on for awhile.
"Cost in total?"
"Four hundred galleons fifteen sickles and two knuts." Bill said.
"And she managed to pay off about half already? Where does she get all the money?" George asked. His voice was slightly deeper than Fred's. Footsteps were coming. Jeanette shrank into a corner.
"I can't tell you."
"What do you mean you can't tell us, we're family!!" said Fred.
"Customer policy."
"You think she's a thief?"
"No, someone would have reported such a large --" A large goblin waddled into the cubicle.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" He snapped.
"Um.where's Miss Delacoure?" Jeanette asked, clutching the basket.
"Five cubicles down." Said the Goblin, looking ready to shoo her away. She could still hear Fred and George talking to Bill, they seemed to have calmed down.
"Um. I'd like to make a loan." She said quickly.
"Miss, I'm sure Miss Delacoure would do that for you. Now why don't--" Jeanette's eye caught the Daily Prophet.
"Can I have this?" she asked.
"Sure." Said the Goblin. She grabbed the newspaper and left. She opened it all the way to cover her face and walked as quickly as she could to Fleur's cubicle, passing Bill's on the way. Thankfully, Fred and George had their backs turned to her.
She dashed into Fleur's cubicle and fortunately, Fleur did not have any customers at the time. Platinum blond, willowy, with huge light blue eyes and milky skin, Fleur was everything a teenage girl could ever dream of having. She was wearing a sleek patterned blue and silver robes. The water like weave made her seem even more slender and accented her eyes..
"How may I help you?" She asked, smiling professionally. She had the slightest accent, something like a hesitation every time she encountered an h.
"Hi, I'm Jeanette. I'm not sure if you remember me, but--"
"You. oh, I remember you. Bill talks of you. You caused his brothers trouble. You like to spend." Jeanette forced a smile and blushed once again.
"Yeah, that's me. Um. Here's a present." She presented Fleur the basket.
"Why?" Fleur immediately took and smiled prettily. She obviously didn't think much of a gift from an ill-dressed girl standing in front of her. Still, she was slightly suspicious.
"So we can be friends and you can help me with when I'm in trouble with Fred and George." Jeanette said quickly. It was a reasonable though lame excuse.
"Fleur?" Bill's voice was eerily close. There were two pairs of footsteps following him.
"Like right now." Jeanette added.
"Under ze desk," Fleur whispered. Jeanette had just made it when Bill, Fred, and George entered the cubicle.
"Fleur, when do you get off?" Bill asked.
"Our or so." She said.
"Fred and George would like to find out about their new employee's background."
"She's jus e a little girl. She h.as no account, no license."
"But her parents should have set a trust fund for her somewhere." Said Bill. "I'd usually do this myself, but I just got off. Can you look at the Gringott's branch in America?"
"Zere are other banks in America." Bill gave a begging look. "I'll do what I can." Fleur sighed.
"Thanks." From her vantage point the desk, she could see Fleur lean back on the chair as an arm wrapped around waist. There was odd wet sound. They were kissing. Gross!
"Au revoir," said Fleur. Jeanette waited a moment before climbing out from under the desk.
"What's going on?" Jeanette asked.
"You seem to be quite a wealthy young girl," said Fleur lightly. "Wealth zat seems to come out of de air."
"I'm honest." Jeanette said indignantly.
"Then where are you getting all your money."
"It's. it's. from my dowry. I have to keep a low profile." Jeanette was lying through her teeth.
"You don't like your fiancé?"
"He's ugly, old, and a jerk." Jeanette said.
"What's his name?"
"I can't tell you." She said slowly. She smiled, "I better get back now or Fred and George will find out that I've escaped and they'll skin me. Enjoy the gift. She left before Fleur could ask anymore questions. "Oh," she poked her head back into the cubicle," please don't tell anyone. Mrs. Weasley will" she blushed, remembering Mrs. Weasley's affectionate behavior, "well. you know."
When she climbed back into her room, she was astounded. It looked like a tornado had it. Fred was holding the crates of scrub brushes and George was going through her trunk.
"What are you doing?" Jeanette asked.
"What does it look like we're doing?" Asked Fred.
"It looks like you're pawing through my underwear!!!" George turned pink and dropped the panties he was holding.
"We're returning these." Fred said, hefting the crates.
"Get out. Don't touch my things." She saw the parchment scattered all over the floor. "My recipes." She cried out, sniffing.
"Well, since you went through our things, I think we're allowed to go through yours." Said Fred in a mean voice. Jeanette stared out at him open mouthed.
"I just spent your money, I didn't go barging through your private things."
"You went through our clothes too." Fred snapped.
"I did your laundry. That's different." A tear rolled down her cheek. George grabbed Fred's arm to begin to pull him out of the room. This had gone too far. She deserved the lectures, but nothing was more humiliating than a boy going through her underwear drawer.
"GET OUT!" She screeched, stomping her foot. "OUT! GET OUT!" Her voice got higher and thinner. George covered ears. Damn, the sound could shatter glass. "I HATE YOU!!!" The volume must have been like a hundred decibels. She was screaming at them. Fred dropped the boxes and clapped his hands over his ears. He couldn't plug the sound though. She was like a human Howler. Bumbling, the two beat a hasty retreat. The shrill sounds continued for about a minute before abruptly stopping.
Jeanette bent down and picked up a pearl lying on the floor and slipped it into her pocket. She cried over the sink, her tears hitting the porcelain sink with small clinks of rage, humiliation, and hurt. After an eternity, she stopped. She hiccuped, the Daily Prophet was still clutched in her hand.
Sitting down, her back leaning against the bathtub, she began to read. There was the usual junk about the Dark Lord. Like he was going to show up at a supermarket buying tomatoes like some eighty-year-old witch claimed. Brits were way too uptight. Headlines either mentioned one for more of the following names: Harry Potter, Dumbledore, or He Who Must Not Be Named. Finally, on page twenty-three, there was something new.
"Five American Wizard Children Kidnapped." And what do you know there were five different photos. The first was of a dark, beautiful girl with short sporty hair in a two piece swimsuit. She waved and smiled. The caption under her picture was "Tayesha Williams, age 16." The next photo was of windblown boy in a jersey saying Salem's Serpents. He dodged a bludger. "Jonathan Carter, age 15." The third picture was of a fair-haired, sun- kissed, svelte bespectacled girl smiling solemnly at the camera. It had been her school photograph. Her name was Diana Lustella, also sixteen. The fourth picture was of a dusky boy on a snowboard, spraying the photograph with ice as he came to a sharp stop before the camera. "Thomas Jones, age fifteen." The final photograph was of an awkward Asian girl with an apron on standing over a barbecue. She looked sweaty, sooty, and miserable over the fire. "Renee Lee, age fifteen."
Jeanette began to read. "Last week, five young wizards disappeared without a trace off the campus of CASI (the Californian branch of Salem Institute.) After nearly seven days of police investigations, Wizard and Muggle volunteer search parties, the outcome seems bleak. Last seen on June 21st at approximately six PM. History teacher, Mr. Brown, watched the five walk the few blocks to the nearby library for their weekly study group session.
Mr. Brown, who taught the children Advanced European History, squashed any rumor that the children would run off.
"Wonderful kids. Bright. You know they were taking this course so they could complete units to graduate early. No one would be crazy enough to throw all that away." Parents, friends, and neighbors also agreed that the five were not inclined to reckless behavior.
However, Tayesha Williams, Jonathan Carter, Diana Lustella, Thomas Jones, and Renee Lee never arrived at the library that night.
Muggle Librarian, Lucy Jacobs says, "Every week on Wednesday, the five are here at six fifteen sharp and leave at eight. Good kids, always cleaned up and put their books back. I sure hope nothing bad happened to them."
"Tayesha Williams, Jonathan Carter, Diana Lustella, Thomas Jones, and Renee Lee were known as the Big Five at CASI, the most talented wizards the branch had to offer. These five young wizards not only received top marks in all their studies, but were also active and contributing members of the student body. Williams, Carter, and Jones all excelled in sports. Both Carter and Jones were voted the MVP for the school Quopod team and track team, respectively. Williams received various Junior Olympic Medals for swimming. Lustella served all five years on the student government. Lee served four consecutive years of CASI's National Magic Triathlon (transfiguration, herbology, and charms) and received three consecutive awards as Most Promising Wizard of the Year in Academic Studies. They were due to graduate in mid-summer, one and half years ahead of schedule after two years of a rigorous summer acceleration programs.
These bright young minds were obviously a target of the Dark Lord's diabolical plans for world domination .---" The rest of the article talked about the what ifs and other trash.
Really, everything had to do with the Dark Lord, did it, Jeanette thought. Even though she dismissed article and threw it aside, she could not suppress the tremor that ran down her spine. Were they alright?
There was a knock on the door.
"Go away," she called hoarsely. Jeanette put the paper in the sink and looked at the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and her hair was a mess.
"It's me, George. Just thought you'd be hungry. I'll leave it at the door."
"No, that's okay." She opened the door. George was holding a takeout box and a bottle of butter beer. She took them and set them on her desk. Her room was still in shambles.
"Listen, earlier today. It wasn't right what we did. And. well.. I. I. uh .apologize."
"You're not used to saying sorry are you?" She smiled slightly.
"We're entitled to our secrets and I'll respect that from now on."
"What about Fred?"
"Fred.well, Bill had a talk with him." Jeanette raised an eyebrow. How had this happened?
"Bill was about a block from the shop, when you started.err protesting. He thought we were being robbed and like a hero he broke the front door and met us on the stairway. We told him what happened."
"Why were you in my room?" She snapped.
"One hundred and fifty galleons suddenly appeared in our vault from your account and you still had some left over. We were suspicious."
"So you searched my room." George didn't correct her that technically it belonged to Fred and George.
"Well, look at you! You don't look rich. We thought you had come upon the money illegally, but then we talked to Fleur and we're on your side now."
"What did she tell you," Jeanette narrowed her eyes.
"You and your family had a disagreement on future goals and so you took your jewelry and made off with it." Jeanette sighed, but her relief was not long-lived. George immediately added, "So who's the bloke?"
"What?"
"Your finance, can we send him some dung bombs or something to break the engagement and you can go home?"
"No, I like it here." George gave her a dubious look. "Really, I do. Minus the searching and yelling, of course. I like the independence. I want to stay here."
"Okay," said George. He understood perfectly how refreshing and nice it was to away from the reach of one's nagging parents. He also knew that eventually Jeanette would get tired of this and scuttle home. Besides, he liked her cooking and wearing nice, clean, ironed clothes. "We expect bright and early tomorrow morning." He tweaked her nose and in that action, she knew that George at least had forgiven her.
(Author's Note: I love happy endings, don't you? The mystery of the pearls comes out next or maybe next next chapter. Please r & r. No more updates this week.)
"Mum!" said Fred or George.
"I insist on coming in." A voice said huffily.
"It's late. She's probably asleep." Said one of the twins. Jeanette sat up. They were talking about her. She strained her ears. The Puffskein rolled off her lap and down the hallway. She hissed at it, but it paid no heed. It could roll pretty fast when it wanted to.
"I can believe you left a child hear all day by herself. She must have been so lonely." Jeanette crept after the Puffskein and grabbed it right before it rolled down the stairs. She could see the Weasley twins downstairs or at least their silhouettes. The lights were out and their backs were to her. She could just make out a small round figure. Jeanette assumed that was Mrs. Weasley. There were three or four figures behind her.
"You didn't object at first."
"I thought she was your age." Said Mrs. Weasley furiously. "You irresponsible boys."
"Mum, she can take of herself." Said Bill. He was one of the tall figures. "She came all by herself from America."
"Oh, shame on you." Admonished Mrs. Weasley. "She must of idolized you two to come so far by herself and you JUST LEFT HER ALONE." A flush rose up on Jeanette's cheeks. Really, she wasn't that pathetic. Mrs. Weasley sounded as if she thought Jeanette was some star struck teenager. "--SHAME." continued Mrs. Weasley. The Puffskein wiggled out of her arms and rolled the stairs, making bouncing noises as it went. Should she make a run for it or run after the Puffskein? If she stayed put, it would have looked like she had been eavesdropping. She had been eavesdropping. She flushed again.
She took a step and the lights came on.
"What are you doing out of your cage, Stupid Git?" Fred picked up the Puffskein.
"Don't call it names." Jeanette said.
"That's its name. Stupid Git." Fred said automatically. He looked up surprised. Everyone else stared at her. "See Mum, she's perfectly fine. She didn't blow herself up."
"Oh, come down her and let me take a look at you." Reluctantly, she walked down the stairs. She was surprised to see that she was the same height as Mrs. Weasley. "Aren't you cold? You're so thin. George! Fred! Don't you feed her? Were you alright? Were you frightened? They will never ever leave you alone like that again." Mrs. Weasley glared at her sons. Jeanette was flustered. All this fussing over made her nervous. "Were you lonely?"
"No, I was very busy."
"What did you do, my dear?"
"Stuff."
"Merlin's beard! What did you do?" George had finally looked up and noticed that things had been reorganized.
"I cleaned." Fred turned purple. Stupid Git let out a squeal. Fred was squeezing it. Jeanette looked down at her bare feet.
"But.but I thought you said you were going to explore London." Said George.
"I deliberately told you not to clean." Said Fred. Stupid Git started to cry again, but no one except Jeanette noticed. "I can fire you."
Mrs. Weasley cuffed him. "Fred! I think it looks marvelous, darling." Jeanette wanted to disappear. It had never occurred to her that Fred would be mad, maybe annoyed or irked but not furious.
"Can we come in?" A voice asked.
"Yeah." George said. He moved so the rest of the Weasleys could pile in. Stupid Git began to squeal loudly, Fred threw it. It hit a shelf and knocked over a few cans. Jeanette picked it up and stroked it. It began to hum within seconds, but Fred's mood wasn't so quick to change and neither was Jeanette's.
She guessed that she looked so pathetic that a red haired girl came over and put her hand on her shoulder.
"The whole place smells like bloody strawberries." He snapped. Jeanette wanted to shrink and die. Instead, she turned to the girl next to her. She must be the sister that Fred had talked about.
"Ginny?"
"Yes."
"Come and see my room."
"Okay." Ginny smiled a little too brightly and they started walking toward the stairs.
"Don't you dare move."
"Oh, sod off." Ginny snapped.
"Hey, wait for me." A very tall boy called.
"The whole family came?"
"Well, Charlie is in Romania, but other than that yes." Ginny said.
"Have you been here before?"
"Yes, with Ron. It was a mess. If Fred fires you, you can live with us."
"Thanks." They reached her room and the lights came on. Ron came too and they all sat on the bed rather awkwardly. She had a feeling that they were all straining to hear what was going on downstairs. There was a crash.
"So, you play quidditch?" asked Ron.
"No, I'm not sporty." There was another crash.
"Fred has a really big temper though he doesn't show it much." Ginny said helpfully.
"What school do you go to?" Ron asked.
"Salem Witch Institute."
"Where is that?" Ron asked.
"In California."
"I thought it was in Massachusetts." Ginny said.
"The original one was in Massachusetts. The government decided to sort of standardize the wizard school system so there's one in every state, sometimes more than one and they're all called Salem Witch Institute."
"How do you tell them apart?" Ron asked.
"You say, 'I went to Salem of California or CASI. People usually don't say the 'witch' part, because wizards go to."
"Are you going back?" asked Ginny.
"I'm done."
"Done," said Ron incredulously.
"As done as I'm gonna be." She replied.
"Oh," sighed Ron, "for a moment I thought you were like Hermione."
"BLOODY HELL!!!" There was a loud shout close by.
"I think he found the kitchen." Jeanette said.
"WHERE ARE MY MAGGOTS?" The bedroom door slammed open and Fred stuck his livid face in the room. Behind him were the anxious other Weasleys.
"They're in the basement." Jeanette squeaked.
"They'll freeze to death." He yelled and he ran down the stairs. George poked his head in.
"Don't worry, he'll get over it." He mouthed.
"So are you French?" asked Ginny.
"No, my mom just thought the name was pretty."
"MY MAGGOTS!" There was a distant yell. It was unhappy. Jeanette whimpered. She was soooo dead.
Somehow everything worked out that night. Fred eventually stopped yelling, Mrs. Weasley eventually stopped yelling, George eventually stopped having to be peacemaker, and eventually the Weasleys left and everyone settled down for bed though it was nearly two by then. To Jeanette, it was all a blur the following morning and she half wished that she could forget the experience all together.
Jeanette had somehow miraculously clung to her job, though Fred had made it clear that he hated her and would never ever forgive her for murdering his maggots. She hadn't meant to hurt the worms and in reality only about a quarter of them had died. The trash had provided fairly good insulation for the ones near the bottom of the cans.
Around four in the morning, she woke up and remembered the Fred and George did not have any shaving cream. Fearing Fred's wrath, she dressed and went down to Diagon Alley and bought some, though she couldn't find the correct brand name. By five-twenty, she gave up and brought back the closet thing she could find.
The next problem was getting the shaving cream into Fred's room without his knowledge. Unfortunately, he had locked the door. He had a deadbolt lock. She didn't remember it from yesterday. Had he put it on because of her? She didn't want to wake him up and anger him further.
So naturally, she took her chances with George. Using her wand, she unlocked his door. It made a loud click and it woke him.
"What are doing?" He asked when he sat up and saw her in the middle of his bedroom holding a can of Fuzzy Buzzy's all purpose shaving cream.
"I used up all the shaving cream yesterday."
"How?" He rubbed his eyes. His sleepy eyes trailed down to stare at her legs. She could almost hear his muddy thinking, "legs.shaving cream.shave legs.hairy cream. legs = shaving cream?"
"On the furniture and store floor."
"One can?"
"I bought a lot."
"You must have needed like fifty cans?"
"I charged it on your account." George's half closed eyes snapped open.
"What else did you charge on our account?" Jeanette flushed to her hairline. She had taken quite a liberty at charging things.
"I'll pay for it."
"For your sake, I hope you can, kiddo or Fred is going to kill you." He got up and took the can from her. "I'll tell him, I used the last can of shaving cream."
"Thank you." She breathed.
"Fred likes blueberry pancakes." He said in a hinting voice.
"What else does he like?"
"Orange juice, toast, waffles, ice cream, fresh fruit, no honey dew. He hates it. Eggs over easy, English muffins, jam, corned beef hash, and yeah, I guess that's it. That's all the stuff he likes for breakfast. Oh, and he also fancies chocolate chip cookies." She nodded and raced into the kitchen. She had enough to cover the supplies she bought in the bank and from the pearls, but the water bill and the refrigerator. How in the world was she going to come up with that?
An hour later, a buffet like breakfast was set on the table, the food sitting on heated plates. She ran to her room, locked the door, and cried her eyes out. She was dead, so dead. Fred was going to murder her when he saw the water bill, she must have used like a bazillion galleons. Sneaking out again, carrying a plastic bag, she withdrew all the money she possibly could with out shutting down the account, and paid for the boxes, scrub brushes, cleaning agents, bolt of cloth, and washboards.
Giving the plastic bag to the Griphook, she waited as he turned it over and examined a two pounds of marble sized grayish blue pearls, golden red ones, and rather ugly green ones. He commented that quality was not as good, but eighty galleons was enough to cover the down payment of the refrigerator and about a seventh of the water bill. She put the money into the Weasley account.
It was seven forty five when she got back.
"You're late." Fred snarled as he stood behind the store counter. He had a cut on his chin.
"I'm sorry." Just then, the worst thing that could have possibly happened, did. An owl flew in through the open front door and dropped the Daily Prophet and a half a dozen letters on the counter. Jeanette had forgotten one very important thing. Bills came at the end of the month.
Fred paled at first as he eyed the bill, then he turned gray, finally he looked up from the bill to a quaking Jeanette. He turned crimson and began to scream.
(Author's Note: I know this is corny, but think of it like Mad Lab or something. You can even choose your rating from G to X. And you get to use your creativity! If you rather have me do all the thinking for you, then tell me in your review and I'd be just peachy about upping the rating.)
"YOU LITTLE (&^%$^%) HOW COULD YOU (@!&#$%) USE (&^%$^%) (#%^#@*) THREE HUNDRED GALLEONS WORTH OF (&^%$^%) WATER!!! I AM GOING TO BREAK YOUR ($#*^%&) LITTLE NECK." He lunged at her and she scrambled a way and hid behind George. "GET BACK HERE, (&^%$^%) GEORGE, GIVE HER TO ME SO I CAN BEAT THE LIVING (*$#%@) OUT OF HER. SHE USED A (@#^$%) TWO HUNDRED GALLEONS OF WATER."
"Two hundred?" George gasped and glanced at Jeanette. She could see him debating whether to hand her over to Fred. She ran into her room as quickly as she could. Both twins hot on her heels.
"I AM (--beep--) GOING TO BREAK DOWN THE (--beep--) (--beep--) DOOR." Yelled Fred. (A/N: Got tired of using symbols. No cuss words because I'm trying to keep the rating low.)
"I'll pay for it." She told him.
"HOW?" He snarled and listed some very vulgar things to make money.
"Fred, she's just a kid. Watch your mouth." George said. Jeanette was opening the window. If push came to shove, she'd jump.
"TWO HUNDRED GALLEONS."
"I know, but remember the time when we set entire attic on fire and Mum wanted to skin us alive--"
"TWO HUNDRED GALLEONS. YOU'RE NOT ONLY A MAGGOT MURDERER BUT A THIEF TOO!!!" Thankfully, the door bell rang and Fred went to get it.
She cautiously opened the door. George was still standing in front of it.
"Did he like breakfast?" She asked gingerly. George shrugged.
"You better be one hell of a cook." George told her. "If I were you, I wouldn't leave this room for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, his temper will cool a bit."
"Why are you being nice to me?" Jeanette asked.
"It'll be a shame for Fred to waste his life in Azkabam for throttling you. Though at the moment, you'd probably deserve it." His voice was cold and indifferent. The sort of dead serious voice that parents use when they're too upset to yell. The tone that would leave the most hardened child quaking with foreboding..
"You're mad at me too." Jeanette bowed her head.
"Haven't you ever learned not to touch other people's things?" He said in a soft-spoken, severe tone.
"I'll pay you back."
"You think we care about the money?" Jeanette stared at him. George sighed. "Well, yeah, we do care about the money, but we can make it up in a day or two. People in Japan to Zimbabwe are asking for shipments. You proved yourself to be very very untrustworthy. We thought you'd be responsible, but you turned out to be a crazy kid." George said to her. "We're not your parents, Jeanette, we're not responsible for you or your actions. We're not going to take care of you and the only thing that's between you and the street is the fact that you're a kid. Did you know Fred wanted to kick you out yesterday? Kids do stupid things, Jeanette, but you-- if you're old enough to make money and start a business than you better grow up NOW. You have a whole day to think about you're careless actions. Was your little escapade really worth all of this?"
"No," Jeanette whispered, staring at the floor, totally ashamed of herself.
"I didn't think so." He held her in his gaze a moment longer before closing the door and walking downstairs. As soon as the door closed, a torrent of emotions hit her like a cresting wave. HOW DARE HE TREAT HER LIKE THIS? MAKING HER GO THROUGH A GUILT TRIP LIKE A FIVE -YEAR-OLD CAUGHT STEALING CANDY. She thought furiously. Well, you did act irresponsibly, a little voice told her. I DID IT FOR THEM, THEY WERE LIVING LIKE PIGS. Yes, they were, but that didn't give you the right to use their account like that. IT WASN'T LIKE A BIG DEAL. THEIR HOUSE SURE NEEDED IT. Jeanette, the little voice chided her. She growled, defeated. "two hundred galleons.two hundred galleons," the words echoed over and over in her head. She pursed her lips and sat down, her head leaning against the bed. How in the world was she going to make two hundred galleons.
She broke out her cauldron and started brewing. The heat was horrible and her hair grew damp and limp. She put it into a bun and changed into light and slightly transparent tank top and shorts. By the end of the day, she made a whole set of relaxation products. She transfigured the bottles into artful tastes and colors and put them into a small transfigured picnic basket. There was a long letter in French describing what each item was and how it was to be used. Jeanette hoped it was correct, with only a couple years of French under her belt, a trusty dictionary, and a lot of reference to other instruction manuals in French, she had written the letter on a sheet of scented, blue boxed paper in looping (hopefully readable) script.
She threw on some clothes on and wrote a quick note to George/ Fred (whoever got it first.)
Dear Twins,
Went to the bank. Be back soon.
~J
She figured that was innocent enough. She opened lowered the basket slowly out the window to the ground and created a ladder to climb down. Grabbing the basket, she raced towards Gringotts. After a few moments the heavy heat made her stop and she gasped, grabbing the front of her light cotton top and tugging it back and forth to create a light breeze.
She sighed when the cold air hit her face when she opened the door. Fleur. Where was Fleur? She was a clerk, wasn't she? Jeanette began to wander toward the area Bill had been. Rounding a corner she was saw two familiar frames. Fred and George. They were talking loudly. about her. Fred was complaining quite explosively with very crude language. She had to hide. She walked quickly into a nearby empty cubicles.
"She's such a little stealing (--beep--). How much (--beep--) gold has she (--beep--) taken?" asked Fred.
"She's put back two hundred galleons back already. Give her a break, Fleur does it all the time. Once she took out about a hundred galleons and redid my apartment and she doesn't even live with me." Bill said soothingly.
"How much did the brat take?"
"Two hundred and fifty galleons."
"What did she buy?"
"All together or on your account?"
"All," said the twins in unison.
"A bolt of cloth, three crates of scrub brushes, two pounds of kosher salt, three pounds of apples, a pound of flour, three baskets of strawberries, a pound of string beans, potato--"
"Just the stuff she used to clean our house with," said Fred.
"Madame Zudse's delux cleaning kit, two pounds of kosher salt, three washing boards, a fridge, water, brooms, mops." the list went on for awhile.
"Cost in total?"
"Four hundred galleons fifteen sickles and two knuts." Bill said.
"And she managed to pay off about half already? Where does she get all the money?" George asked. His voice was slightly deeper than Fred's. Footsteps were coming. Jeanette shrank into a corner.
"I can't tell you."
"What do you mean you can't tell us, we're family!!" said Fred.
"Customer policy."
"You think she's a thief?"
"No, someone would have reported such a large --" A large goblin waddled into the cubicle.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" He snapped.
"Um.where's Miss Delacoure?" Jeanette asked, clutching the basket.
"Five cubicles down." Said the Goblin, looking ready to shoo her away. She could still hear Fred and George talking to Bill, they seemed to have calmed down.
"Um. I'd like to make a loan." She said quickly.
"Miss, I'm sure Miss Delacoure would do that for you. Now why don't--" Jeanette's eye caught the Daily Prophet.
"Can I have this?" she asked.
"Sure." Said the Goblin. She grabbed the newspaper and left. She opened it all the way to cover her face and walked as quickly as she could to Fleur's cubicle, passing Bill's on the way. Thankfully, Fred and George had their backs turned to her.
She dashed into Fleur's cubicle and fortunately, Fleur did not have any customers at the time. Platinum blond, willowy, with huge light blue eyes and milky skin, Fleur was everything a teenage girl could ever dream of having. She was wearing a sleek patterned blue and silver robes. The water like weave made her seem even more slender and accented her eyes..
"How may I help you?" She asked, smiling professionally. She had the slightest accent, something like a hesitation every time she encountered an h.
"Hi, I'm Jeanette. I'm not sure if you remember me, but--"
"You. oh, I remember you. Bill talks of you. You caused his brothers trouble. You like to spend." Jeanette forced a smile and blushed once again.
"Yeah, that's me. Um. Here's a present." She presented Fleur the basket.
"Why?" Fleur immediately took and smiled prettily. She obviously didn't think much of a gift from an ill-dressed girl standing in front of her. Still, she was slightly suspicious.
"So we can be friends and you can help me with when I'm in trouble with Fred and George." Jeanette said quickly. It was a reasonable though lame excuse.
"Fleur?" Bill's voice was eerily close. There were two pairs of footsteps following him.
"Like right now." Jeanette added.
"Under ze desk," Fleur whispered. Jeanette had just made it when Bill, Fred, and George entered the cubicle.
"Fleur, when do you get off?" Bill asked.
"Our or so." She said.
"Fred and George would like to find out about their new employee's background."
"She's jus e a little girl. She h.as no account, no license."
"But her parents should have set a trust fund for her somewhere." Said Bill. "I'd usually do this myself, but I just got off. Can you look at the Gringott's branch in America?"
"Zere are other banks in America." Bill gave a begging look. "I'll do what I can." Fleur sighed.
"Thanks." From her vantage point the desk, she could see Fleur lean back on the chair as an arm wrapped around waist. There was odd wet sound. They were kissing. Gross!
"Au revoir," said Fleur. Jeanette waited a moment before climbing out from under the desk.
"What's going on?" Jeanette asked.
"You seem to be quite a wealthy young girl," said Fleur lightly. "Wealth zat seems to come out of de air."
"I'm honest." Jeanette said indignantly.
"Then where are you getting all your money."
"It's. it's. from my dowry. I have to keep a low profile." Jeanette was lying through her teeth.
"You don't like your fiancé?"
"He's ugly, old, and a jerk." Jeanette said.
"What's his name?"
"I can't tell you." She said slowly. She smiled, "I better get back now or Fred and George will find out that I've escaped and they'll skin me. Enjoy the gift. She left before Fleur could ask anymore questions. "Oh," she poked her head back into the cubicle," please don't tell anyone. Mrs. Weasley will" she blushed, remembering Mrs. Weasley's affectionate behavior, "well. you know."
When she climbed back into her room, she was astounded. It looked like a tornado had it. Fred was holding the crates of scrub brushes and George was going through her trunk.
"What are you doing?" Jeanette asked.
"What does it look like we're doing?" Asked Fred.
"It looks like you're pawing through my underwear!!!" George turned pink and dropped the panties he was holding.
"We're returning these." Fred said, hefting the crates.
"Get out. Don't touch my things." She saw the parchment scattered all over the floor. "My recipes." She cried out, sniffing.
"Well, since you went through our things, I think we're allowed to go through yours." Said Fred in a mean voice. Jeanette stared out at him open mouthed.
"I just spent your money, I didn't go barging through your private things."
"You went through our clothes too." Fred snapped.
"I did your laundry. That's different." A tear rolled down her cheek. George grabbed Fred's arm to begin to pull him out of the room. This had gone too far. She deserved the lectures, but nothing was more humiliating than a boy going through her underwear drawer.
"GET OUT!" She screeched, stomping her foot. "OUT! GET OUT!" Her voice got higher and thinner. George covered ears. Damn, the sound could shatter glass. "I HATE YOU!!!" The volume must have been like a hundred decibels. She was screaming at them. Fred dropped the boxes and clapped his hands over his ears. He couldn't plug the sound though. She was like a human Howler. Bumbling, the two beat a hasty retreat. The shrill sounds continued for about a minute before abruptly stopping.
Jeanette bent down and picked up a pearl lying on the floor and slipped it into her pocket. She cried over the sink, her tears hitting the porcelain sink with small clinks of rage, humiliation, and hurt. After an eternity, she stopped. She hiccuped, the Daily Prophet was still clutched in her hand.
Sitting down, her back leaning against the bathtub, she began to read. There was the usual junk about the Dark Lord. Like he was going to show up at a supermarket buying tomatoes like some eighty-year-old witch claimed. Brits were way too uptight. Headlines either mentioned one for more of the following names: Harry Potter, Dumbledore, or He Who Must Not Be Named. Finally, on page twenty-three, there was something new.
"Five American Wizard Children Kidnapped." And what do you know there were five different photos. The first was of a dark, beautiful girl with short sporty hair in a two piece swimsuit. She waved and smiled. The caption under her picture was "Tayesha Williams, age 16." The next photo was of windblown boy in a jersey saying Salem's Serpents. He dodged a bludger. "Jonathan Carter, age 15." The third picture was of a fair-haired, sun- kissed, svelte bespectacled girl smiling solemnly at the camera. It had been her school photograph. Her name was Diana Lustella, also sixteen. The fourth picture was of a dusky boy on a snowboard, spraying the photograph with ice as he came to a sharp stop before the camera. "Thomas Jones, age fifteen." The final photograph was of an awkward Asian girl with an apron on standing over a barbecue. She looked sweaty, sooty, and miserable over the fire. "Renee Lee, age fifteen."
Jeanette began to read. "Last week, five young wizards disappeared without a trace off the campus of CASI (the Californian branch of Salem Institute.) After nearly seven days of police investigations, Wizard and Muggle volunteer search parties, the outcome seems bleak. Last seen on June 21st at approximately six PM. History teacher, Mr. Brown, watched the five walk the few blocks to the nearby library for their weekly study group session.
Mr. Brown, who taught the children Advanced European History, squashed any rumor that the children would run off.
"Wonderful kids. Bright. You know they were taking this course so they could complete units to graduate early. No one would be crazy enough to throw all that away." Parents, friends, and neighbors also agreed that the five were not inclined to reckless behavior.
However, Tayesha Williams, Jonathan Carter, Diana Lustella, Thomas Jones, and Renee Lee never arrived at the library that night.
Muggle Librarian, Lucy Jacobs says, "Every week on Wednesday, the five are here at six fifteen sharp and leave at eight. Good kids, always cleaned up and put their books back. I sure hope nothing bad happened to them."
"Tayesha Williams, Jonathan Carter, Diana Lustella, Thomas Jones, and Renee Lee were known as the Big Five at CASI, the most talented wizards the branch had to offer. These five young wizards not only received top marks in all their studies, but were also active and contributing members of the student body. Williams, Carter, and Jones all excelled in sports. Both Carter and Jones were voted the MVP for the school Quopod team and track team, respectively. Williams received various Junior Olympic Medals for swimming. Lustella served all five years on the student government. Lee served four consecutive years of CASI's National Magic Triathlon (transfiguration, herbology, and charms) and received three consecutive awards as Most Promising Wizard of the Year in Academic Studies. They were due to graduate in mid-summer, one and half years ahead of schedule after two years of a rigorous summer acceleration programs.
These bright young minds were obviously a target of the Dark Lord's diabolical plans for world domination .---" The rest of the article talked about the what ifs and other trash.
Really, everything had to do with the Dark Lord, did it, Jeanette thought. Even though she dismissed article and threw it aside, she could not suppress the tremor that ran down her spine. Were they alright?
There was a knock on the door.
"Go away," she called hoarsely. Jeanette put the paper in the sink and looked at the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and her hair was a mess.
"It's me, George. Just thought you'd be hungry. I'll leave it at the door."
"No, that's okay." She opened the door. George was holding a takeout box and a bottle of butter beer. She took them and set them on her desk. Her room was still in shambles.
"Listen, earlier today. It wasn't right what we did. And. well.. I. I. uh .apologize."
"You're not used to saying sorry are you?" She smiled slightly.
"We're entitled to our secrets and I'll respect that from now on."
"What about Fred?"
"Fred.well, Bill had a talk with him." Jeanette raised an eyebrow. How had this happened?
"Bill was about a block from the shop, when you started.err protesting. He thought we were being robbed and like a hero he broke the front door and met us on the stairway. We told him what happened."
"Why were you in my room?" She snapped.
"One hundred and fifty galleons suddenly appeared in our vault from your account and you still had some left over. We were suspicious."
"So you searched my room." George didn't correct her that technically it belonged to Fred and George.
"Well, look at you! You don't look rich. We thought you had come upon the money illegally, but then we talked to Fleur and we're on your side now."
"What did she tell you," Jeanette narrowed her eyes.
"You and your family had a disagreement on future goals and so you took your jewelry and made off with it." Jeanette sighed, but her relief was not long-lived. George immediately added, "So who's the bloke?"
"What?"
"Your finance, can we send him some dung bombs or something to break the engagement and you can go home?"
"No, I like it here." George gave her a dubious look. "Really, I do. Minus the searching and yelling, of course. I like the independence. I want to stay here."
"Okay," said George. He understood perfectly how refreshing and nice it was to away from the reach of one's nagging parents. He also knew that eventually Jeanette would get tired of this and scuttle home. Besides, he liked her cooking and wearing nice, clean, ironed clothes. "We expect bright and early tomorrow morning." He tweaked her nose and in that action, she knew that George at least had forgiven her.
(Author's Note: I love happy endings, don't you? The mystery of the pearls comes out next or maybe next next chapter. Please r & r. No more updates this week.)