Chapter 16

George came home shortly after closing and headed straight for the shower. Rowan had dragged him all over London after they'd had lunch, and he was exhausted. He didn't know how she kept up the pace that she did with out an energizing potion of some sort; people had always said that he and Fred were energetic, but he had to admit that the title for that description had to go to Rowan. She had gone tirelessly from place to place, asking questions at each destination, both Wizarding and Muggle, about the events that had taken place on the night that Peter Pettigrew had disappeared. It wasn't until she had checked her watch and found that it was already six, that she let him see her home.

Now he was expected to show up at her Uncle Nigel's estate for a Halloween 'get together.' He couldn't think of any way to gracefully bow out of the event, as his Mum and Dad were invited to tonight's do to meet the girls' family for the first time, and he had a feeling that the gathering was going to be anything but comfortable for him. While Fred seemed to really like Nigel, George had a feeling that he had yet to pass some secret test in the older man's eyes. Whenever he had had occasion to spend time in her family's company, the meetings were always stiff and vaguely awkward in some undefined way. He found it hard to reconcile the man the Fred described to him as a kindred spirit and prankster with the serious and formal man he knew Nigel to be. 'Maybe he has a twin too,' was a thought that had crossed his mind before, but Rowan had assured him that it wasn't the case. She had assured him (or tried to) that Nigel really did like him, and that he would warm up to him very soon. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He shed most of his clothes in his bedroom, and stopped short when the bathroom door opened up and a cloud of billowing steam rolled out. Fred emerged with damp hair, and a towel anchored around his hips.

"You're going to be late," he said by way of greeting.

"As usual," George agreed as he disappeared into the steam for his turn in the bathroom.

Standing under the steadily falling hot water, George let the heat soak into his muscles as he rolled his shoulders and wet his hair. Today had been kind of nice, even though he knew Rowan had dragged him along as a kind of lesson to prove that she wasn't always in imminent danger when he wasn't around. He had enjoyed watching her work, questioning everything she read and every fact that she learned. He grinned when he remembered standing in the street staring at her like an infatuated schoolboy, and seeing her keep looking over at him with a suspicious look on her face, sure he was planning some mischief. She hadn't made any real progress today from what he could tell, but she didn't seem to be the least little bit discouraged or disappointed. He knew that she would spend countless more days just like today, and never tire of it; it was what she loved to do.

"What are you going to do with all of this when you're done?" he'd asked her that day, picking up a huge stack of parchment scrolls that held her notes.

"Tell the story," she'd answered. There had been a far-off look in her eyes that told him all to clearly that she could already see it in print in her mind. "Maybe, if there's enough detail and information, I can put it all together into a book some day."

"Is that what you want?" he'd asked curiously.

"Yes," she'd answered simply, with a gleam of pleasure in her eyes at the thought of it.

George had gotten an image in his mind then, of a little house in the country, with a workshop for himself and an office just for Rowan to work in. It wasn't the first time he'd built this house in his mind, but it was less frightening this time that it had been before, when he'd caught himself imagining his future with her securely in the center of it. Did he dare to even dream that it could come true with the second rise of You-Know- Who seemingly well underway, with no visible end in sight? He shook himself mentally to clear his darkening thoughts, and determined not to think about it anymore tonight. 'One day at a time,' he told himself. 'Let's just get through tonight first.'

----

Fred was wearing a set of his nicer robes in a deep shade of plum that should have clashed horribly with his hair, but somehow managed not to. He was busily combing his hair; there was a bouquet of flowers and a small gift bag lying on his bed, and as he caught sight of them in the mirror, he smiled a bit to himself. He wondered if he should have gotten a little something for Carly as well, but dismissed the idea. He would send her something tomorrow as a thank you for tonight. He got more pleasure out of surprising her at odd moments than when she might be expecting a gesture of some sort from him. As his thoughts began to wander to what he would really like to buy her, George came hurrying into his room wrapped in a towel with his hair still damp and started rummaging through Fred's closet.

"In your room."

"What?" George asked, looking up at his brother's image reflected in the mirror he was using.

"My navy blue dress robes," Fred answered. "I already put them in your room. You never have any clean robes when you really need them."

"Thanks!" George turned to go back to his own room.

"I'll wait for you!" Fred called after him.

When George didn't appear by the time he was ready, it was Fred's turn to barge into George's room; he flopped down on his brother's bed, dressed and ready to go, as his twin was fastening his borrowed robes. Fred made no comment about the battered trainers that George was wearing underneath.

"I didn't hear you come home last night," Fred said casually. He picked up a battered copy of Quidditch Monthly from the pile beside the bed and thumbed through the pages without really seeing them.

"That's because I didn't," George answered bluntly, reaching for the comb on his dresser and attacking his hair. "Does that bother you?"

"No," Fred shrugged. It did, a little, but he couldn't think of any particular reason why. "We just haven't really talked about, you know, stuff since your first night back from America."

"You're right," George answered, looking suddenly thoughtful. "But now isn't the time; we're going to be just on time. Barely." He picked up his wand and stowed it in his pocket as Fred got to his feet. "We'll talk tomorrow. After the shop closes, just you and I will get some dinner and catch up."

"Deal," Fred said, touching his fist to George's in a long practiced gesture. It was an oddly tense moment, but it passed quickly.

Fred went to his room and got his cloak, wand, bouquet and gift. As he followed George out the front door of the shop and magically sealed it, he handed him the bouquet.

"Here."

"Why Fred! You shouldn't have!" George smirked at him. "What are these for?"

"They're for Suzette. They're her favorite, and you're going to give them to her. It's only common sense, as she's our hostess tonight, and you're shagging her niece."

"Thanks," George said soberly as they headed to the Leaky Cauldron. He was thoughtful for a moment as they walked along the cobbled road, then spoke quietly and seriously. "You know, I'm not just shagging her. It's not just... it's not like that; it's...it matters."
"I know, bro," Fred clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll talk about it all tomorrow."

"Yeah," George said with obvious relief. "Thanks for thinking of the flowers, by the way. How is it you always know?"

"I'm the smart one," Fred grinned.

"What does that make me?" George asked with mock indignation as they stepped inside the crowded pub and queued up to use the out going Apparition point.

Fred answered him in one short word that had George punching him in the arm and chuckling. They stepped up to the small cubicle used for Apparition, and in moments they were on their way up the front walk of the Winters' estate.