She rubbed at her bleary eyes. Despite the pillow she sat on, her butt was starting to grow numb from the hard floor. Soon she'd need to move back to the dining room. Edited pages surrounded her, notes in red ink dotting the margins. After a week of resting at Oli's house, she had returned to work to discover her boss's boss had been one of the Death Eaters caught at Diagon Alley. Positions had been cut, hers included, as the publishing house struggled to do damage control and stay afloat. At least she had only met the woman a handful of times, enough for her to feel like a stranger so she wouldn't obsess over whether the woman had been one of the Death Eaters who attacked her or Fred.
She'd taken on freelance projects in the meantime, but they weren't enough to get her past part-time work. If her freelancing didn't pick up soon, she'd need to get another part-time job and all the recent openings had been in Diagon Alley after scared workers quit. She didn't feel quite ready to face working there yet, at least not without George nearby.
"Still at it?" George asked, a to-go cup of coffee in hand. She'd never been one to drink it outside of first thing in the morning to wake up, but she enjoyed the smell, especially when he visited a coffee shop on the way home and came back with the scent clinging to his clothes. Coffee always had a way of smelling better than it tasted.
Her gaze flew to the clock. "I didn't realize it was so late already." Her shoulders slumped. The day had gone by in a flash. Her morning spent job hunting had yielded no success.
"No worries. Have a good day?"
She shrugged. "The same as it's been. How was the shop?"
"Good. Things are picking back up again. Soon number should be back to normal as the fear dies down and everyone comes back to Diagon Alley."
"That's good news."
He carefully stepped around her papers and sat down on the sofa. "Fred and I had a discussion today and he voted me as the one to ask you for a favor." He looked around the living room as if realizing for the first time Fred wasn't home. Not unusual. He wasn't home much, not since she started staying four days ago. In fact she got the distinct impression he was avoiding her. "Still hasn't come home yet?"
"I don't think so, but I didn't even notice you come home."
"No matter. It's cute how absorbed you get in your work, but I haven't gotten a welcome home kiss yet." He flashed her his goofy grin and with a laugh she plopped down beside him. The scent of coffee clinging to him was divine. She pressed her lips to his. His warm fingers slipped beneath her shirt and trailed up her front. She leaned in closer, one hand gripping his shirt.
"You look like a sexy librarian tonight with that messy bun," he said as he lowered his head to press kisses to her neck.
"Are you a naughty boy with overdue library books?"
He laughed. "As a matter of fact I am. Are you going to punish me?"
"I'm afraid you leave me with no choice." She couldn't keep a smile away at the cheesiness. She enjoyed how she could focus on having fun with him when she didn't want to be serious. And he was the first man to make her not feel self-conscious about her librarian look while she worked.
A thump from the basement made her jump.
George shifted. "I take it Fred did make it home." Another thump. "Sounds like he's working on his new project he refuses to show me. Keeps saying I have to wait until it's finished. He's been working like a man possessed." He sighed. "I hope this is true inspiration and not him avoiding what's happened."
"Have you tried asking him? I bet you can get him to talk."
George sipped at his coffee. His somber made Lucy think he wanted to get something off his chest. It was the same look he wore when she came to stay a few days ago and he apologized for the third time that he hadn't been in Diagon Alley to help. "No." He lowered his voice. "After the battle at Hogwarts, he made it clear he wanted space to deal with what happened. He had a close call during the battle and I think he felt guilty he somehow survived when others died at Hogwarts. I gave him space because I didn't know how to approach the issue. But…well that space seems to keep growing and I don't know how to try talking to him about it after all this time. Things are different than when we were kids. We don't share a room anymore and have our own lives outside of work. The world as an adult feels too complicated sometimes."
"I don't know him like you do, but you could remind him you are here if he needs to talk."
"I could try that. Let him come around in his own time, if he does come around." His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot about the deal."
"Why does this deal give me a bad feeling?"
"Because I have a big favor to ask." He set his mug down. "Tomorrow a representative from the beauty shop's headquarters is visiting our shop. It's just a courtesy call. They've already agreed to stock our products, but we thought we should show them off some more. You're the one who came up with the idea and who uses our products. We thought having a woman around wearing them would help. And…we wanted to offer free makeovers to help move some product."
She shook her head and straightened up, taking her arms off him. "I've told you I don't want a charity hiring."
"It's not charity. We need you. If Fred wasn't downstairs tinkering he'd tell you the same. We need a pretty representative to show off the WonderWitch product line. One of the perks of getting our products shopped is we are allowed to send over makeup specialists to show off our products at their stores too." He gave her puppy eyes. "This is perfect timing since it isn't interfering with your work schedule. We can start with tomorrow and if you hate it you don't have to keep doing it, but we don't have anyone else to ask."
She pressed her lips into a thin line as she considered his offer. She did need work. She didn't like discussing the job situation with him but he'd probably figured out how dire her situation was, but she needed to do something to pay him back for letting her stay. Her fingers flexed. There'd been tremors for a few days after the curse hit her, but her hands were steady enough for makeup again.
"Fine. I'll do it for you."
"Deal." He leaned down seal the deal with a kiss. When they pulled away he added, "Be ready to be up bright and early. Tomorrow is a big day." The deal gave them all a reason to keep looking forward. To not get caught up in the fear of the attacks and what could happen next.
With George beside her she could face Diagon Alley again, and she wanted to. She didn't want to lock up from the fear and let the Death Eaters win. That didn't stop her from stiffening at the thought of going back.
George ran a hand down her back. "I'll be with you every step of the way and I'll make sure nothing happens. The Ministry is keeping a closer eye on Diagon Alley too."
She rubbed her arm. "When you mean bright and early, does that mean seven in the morning?"
"Of course. The Shop opens at eight and we need to be ready to go. Fred is going to head in a bit early to do some set up."
She groaned. She was too used to working alone in the morning and not getting up until eight when her commute meant walking into the living room to work.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" George said with his trademark optimism. A few thumps followed by Fred cursing floated up from the basement. Something smacked against the roof of the basement. "You all right down there, Freddy?"
"I'm fine!"
"Do you need me to come down there and help?"
"Stay up there! It's not finished!"
Another thump was followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor. "That was just the cat!" Fred called up.
George's amusement turned to confusion. "We don't have a cat."
A few seconds later the basement door opened and a cat shot into the living room, Lucy's papers crinkling beneath its paws. The cat jumped onto the back of the couch and sat down, it's tailing curling around its legs.
"I'm never hiring you again," Fred declared with a dramatic jab of his finger. "And I'm revoking your employee of the month status."
"Isn't this the neighbor's cat?" George held out a hand and the cat butted his head against it.
"Fred! You weren't testing products on the innocent cat, were you?" Lucy stared at him, aghast.
He crossed his arms. "Not directly on the cat, no. It was never in any danger and it was enjoying itself. Well until it got bored of me." He glared at the cat. "The temper tantrum was uncalled for."
"You are going to give it back, right?" She reached up to pet the cat. The cat answered with a loud purr. It looked fine. Whatever Fred had been doing hadn't left any ill effects behind. Poor Mrs. Weasley. She couldn't imagine how the woman had managed raising the twins. The woman had to have the patience of a saint.
"He runs all over the neighborhood. They won't miss him for a few hours. Come on, Sparky, let's go." He clapped his hands together and the cat's head swiveled to look at him. Sparky meowed.
Lucy looked at the nametag dangling from the cat's sparkly pink collar. "Miss Sparky is a terrible name for a cat."
"Tell the neighbor. I think her daughter picked out the name and everyone knows eight-year-olds have terrible tastes in pet names." Fred picked up the cat and Sparky climbed onto his shoulder, looking every bit at home. "Let's go get more chocolate for the final touches." He rubbed Sparky's chin and the cat purred. Together the two left, Sparky hanging out on top of Fred the whole way out the front door.
George and Lucy exchanged bemused looks. "Sparky, really?" she said. They both laughed and her worry over seeing Diagon Alley melted away. Her light mood even kept her from dwelling on the fact that it was the longest conversation she'd had with Fred since staying.
Come morning her confidence faltered. She squeezed George's hand the whole way to the shop. The early morning emptiness of Diagon Alley felt too reminiscent of the attack. The chilly morning air left goosebumps on her arms and the way their footsteps echoed sounded eerie. George kept an arm around her back and it brought her comfort. She worried that without him she would have chickened out and ran back to the house. It made her feel weak and she hated it. The shame of not being able to protect herself weighed on her. Once they stepped in the shop she relaxed. Even empty the shop carried a cheerful air that made her feel like she belonged. It was no wonder it was such a popular spot to visit.
"Great!" Fred declared when he spotted them. He tossed an apron to Lucy and she fumbled to catch it.
"Your spot is by the window today." He pointed toward the little makeup stand and chair. One of every makeup product had been put out for her use on the shelves of the stand as well as every brush she could possibly need. An elegant black vase with a red rose added a bit of fancy flair. It was a nice touch. "Be cheerful, answer any questions about the products customers have, and make sure you compliment how good they look in our products. Makes them much more likely to buy."
"What if no one is interested in getting a makeover?" She put the apron on. Nervous butterflies swooped in circles in her stomach. Back in school her group of friends used to do each other's makeup, but this carried more pressure.
"Then you'll get a break until someone is. Students haven't gone back to school yet which means later in the day I expect we'll get some of them in at the very least. But remember, you're representing our brand. If we want to be known for more than our joke products we need to make a strong showing." He sounded like a stern father, but he looked wired on excitement. George was right; he did act like a man possessed.
Fred's gaze hardened. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
"I wouldn't have agreed if I wasn't." She met his stare with determination.
Sensing the sudden spike in tension George wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You'll do great. I'll go put out the sign for the makeovers when we open, which gives you"—he checked his pocket watch—"twenty minutes to prepare."
It didn't take long before her first customer came in for a makeover, a woman who'd been sent out to run some errands for work and stopped in. She walked out with two new eyeshadows, a lipstick, eyeliner, and rose-scented moisturizer. A good start to the day. George gave her a thumbs up when the woman walked out of the store, bag of makeup in hand.
Her anxiety trickled out of her. She could do this. Her gaze found Fred at the register sweet talking a gaggle of young mothers. Her competitive side flared up. Knowing him he doubted her. The little smirk he gave her when he noticed her staring increased her ire. She'd prove him wrong. She threw back her shoulders and plastered her customer service smile on.
Within two hours a small line of women had formed for makeovers. The customers watched her work, peppering her with questions about the products and the ones she wore. She refused to let her attention wander to Fred, afraid he'd break her concentration. George's sweet smiles fueled her. As she fell into a rhythm with her new work, her confidence grew. She rather liked the work, she decided. The cheerful aura of the shop was a welcomed change to spending the day alone with her nose buried in pages. She'd never realized editing could be so lonely. Being here made it easier to understand why George was in love with the shop. The excitement from children was infectious and even the love-struck teenaged girls sighing over the love potions made her feel nostalgic. The only downside was Fred.
The day went by in a flash, but she could feel the hours passing in her tired feet and arms. Tonight would be a hot bath kind of night with a nice long soak to help her tired muscles. "How did I do?" she asked George as she cleaned up her station.
"Well today was one of our best days for makeup sales." He gently pulled her apron off and folded it. "Fred is at the register salivating over them."
"Does that mean today was a success?"
"Definitely. Dinner is on me to celebrate."
She smiled, satisfied with the outcome. "Can we go to that café around the corner with the fancy salads? Their salmon salad is divine."
"We can go wherever you want." He paused and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Were you okay today being back in Diagon Alley? If it's too much…"
"I'm fine. Honestly until now I forgot about it. The shop feels safe. And cozy. Can you drop me off at the dueling club after we eat? They have another class tonight I want to take. I want to practice, especially after what's happened."
"Sure thing. Give me a moment. I need to grab my briefcase and talk with Fred. The representative left us new information to go over. We plan to have our gran unveiling in two months. I'm meeting with our supplier tomorrow to give the greenlight to increase production." He sheepish look creeped back. "I was hoping to talk with you over dinner about you playing brand representative at the grand opening. Have someone to offer makeovers and samples of our products would help get the word out. We'd pay you, of course," he quickly added.
"We can talk about it." After how well today went, she was willing to consider the job. Besides, she wasn't in a position to turn down paid work after being forced into her freelancing position.
"Thanks." He gave her an affectionate smile before turning to get his things. At the register Fred whistled a cheery tune. She couldn't remember seeing him so happy. It was the opposite of how she'd felt since the attack. The reminder sent her gaze raking over the windows. Outside everything looked normal. A group of children had gathered at the windows and across the street a couple strolled by, holding hands and carrying ice cream cones. The sound of shattering glass sent her heart thudding and it took her a moment to realize it was in her head, just a memory. She backed away from the windows and retreated to the register as Fred drifted into the back behind his brother, crowing about the day's profits.
"Are you sure you're all right?" George's voice floated out from the back. "You aren't drowning yourself in work like you used to do, are you?"
"I'm more than all right, Georgie, don't worry about me."
"Do you mean it? You don't need to hide anything from me."
She inched closer, guilt warring with her curiosity.
"I don't know how to begin explaining it to you. It's like…after defeating those Death Eaters I feel like I finally deserve to have survived Hogwarts. Like I can move on finally now that I've proven myself and I wish I could do more…" his voice quieted and she couldn't hear the rest of his sentence. Furniture slid against the floor, drowning George's response out too.
She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. George was easy to understand, but not Fred. She hadn't even gotten a chance to properly thank him. He'd awkwardly accepted the box of assorted sweets George helped her pick out when she came to stay. Fred had saved her life and yet he was so…humble about it. She hadn't expected that. They couldn't avoid the awkwardness forever, not with her staying with them and attending the same dueling club.
George reappeared, his jacket slung over his arm and his briefcase in his other hand. It was a good look on him, one that made her want to unbutton his shirt. Once she made it to his pants he'd moan when she'd wrapped her mouth around him. She loved the way his hips always jerked forward eagerly.
A crash from the back interrupted her daydream. Fred cursed. He stormed out, today's paper in hand. "Did you see this tripe?" Red splotches grew across his cheeks. He tossed the paper down on the counter and she leaned over to read it. A story about the attacks had been run again, but this time they named some of the local heroes, Fred included. "They had no right to name me without permission." His right hand balled. "Those arseholes need to keep their hero garbage to themselves."
"I thought they weren't given permission to name any of the survivors?" Lucy gripped George's arm.
"The hospital and Ministry refused to give them any names, but seems they've gotten someone to talk." George shoved the paper into his briefcase. "You need to be careful," he told Fred. "The Daily Prophet is practically putting a target on your back by naming you. If it was a Malfoy relation you took down, we'll have them after us again."
"Which gives me a good reason to go have a strongly worded conversation with them." His nostrils flared. "In fact, I think I'll stop by their office next." He pulled his jacket back on and started for the door, his anger still clearly written across his face.
"Just don't get arrested!" George called. Fred waved a hand in an annoyed acknowledgment.
"How bad is this, the paper naming survivors?"
"I don't know, but they only got hold of two names so far. The woman you saved doesn't know your full name so you should be safe from the paper. We'll do what we can to keep it that way."
She needed more dueling lessons. If there was a second time, she wouldn't let the Death Eaters win and she wouldn't need someone else to save her. No, the Death Eaters would be the ones needing saved from her.
"Let's get dinner. We have plenty to celebrate, no need to let this ruin our good day." George always had a way of remaining optimistic, of not letting the darkness cloud the light. It was an ability she hoped he never lost.