The pit in her stomach deepened when she said goodbye to George Monday morning. "Promise me you will do everything you can to stay safe." She squeezed his hands. Not knowing what or how he was doing for the next few weeks would be torture.
"You too. Don't enjoy your break from me too much." He kissed her and she savored it, wanting to commit the kiss and the feel of him to memory. He held onto her hand, only letting go once he stepped too far away. She stayed in the doorway, watching him walk away.
"You need to hurry up too," Fred called from the kitchen. "Or we'll be late to the shop."
"We?" She turned as he rounded the corner, his hands deftly tying his tie. The shop's logo was emblazoned on it and somehow managed to not look gaudy, an award-winning feat in her opinion.
"I've been put on babysitting duty until George returns and I can't babysit if I'm at the shop and you're here."
She ignored his terminology, refusing to take the obvious bait. "But I have work to do. I can't go."
"You can edit in the back room."
She tried a new tact. "Well…It's only three hours of work. I can't sit around back there all day."
"Perfect. With George gone and one of our employees gone too, I could use help at the store." He gave her bare feet a pointed look. "Shoes, please. We're on opening duty today."
She bit back a groan and went in search of her shoes. She'd promised to do her best to keep the peace in George's absence. If she had to endure working alongside Fred, so be it. She'd do anything if it meant George coming home safe and happy.
Fred stuck her on cashier duty where she sat and watched the store and Fred from her perch. He proved a good distraction from the worry gnawing away at her about George. As grumpy as Fred had been lately, he transformed at the shop. He performed silly tricks for kids and charmed the stay-at-home moms searching for birthday gifts.
He finished a trick she couldn't see with his back to her, but two young kids watching broke out in happy giggles and claps. He peeked over his shoulder at her, his eyes narrowing before he turned back to his captive audience. Once their mother finished checking out with a bag full of birthday presents, Fred peeked at her again. She leaned her chin on her hand, watching. With the family gone, they were alone. In another two hours the lunch rush would hit, but for now the shop stayed quiet.
Fred moved to the other side of the shop and once again he looked back at her. She raised her eyebrows at him and he slipped behind a column. It wasn't quite wide enough to hide him completely, making it obvious when he glanced around the corner at her. "Stop looking at me! It's creepy."
"What else am I supposed to do when there are no customers to check out?"
He made a sound of frustration from deep in his throat. "Go in the back. On the office desk there is a folder for you to help you prepare for the beauty store unveilings. Facts you'll need to know and lines you can practice. I won't need you again until the lunch rush, but I'm not paying you to sit around staring at me all day."
"I'm getting paid for this?"
"Yes. In fact you should quit job hunting for the time being. I'd feel better having you here until George gets back from the Ministry."
She waited a minute for him to come out, but he didn't budge.
"You're still there, aren't you? I still have that creepy feeling on the back of my neck that you give me when you stare."
"Going, going." She stood up and took a step before hesitating. "It's not like you to try to keep me around. Are the attacks getting worse?"
"I'm not allowed to repeat what we were told, but don't assume things are any safer than before."
Goose bumps covered the back of her neck at the tone of his voice. His answer told her everything she needed to know without having the details. She wondered how much info the Ministry was withholding from the public. If Fred was going to pay her like a shop employee, she wouldn't need another job for the time being. She shuffled into the office and assumed the folder on the desk labeled "WonderWitch Minion" was for her. Had to be Fred's doing. The amount of information inside was a bit dizzying at first. It included everything from ingredients to prices, lines that could be used to hawk the products, and a Q&A section that listed carefully worded answers. It would be a lot to learn and memorize and she thanked her lucky stars she had a month to do it. And thanks to her time spent in book marketing, the marketing language felt familiar.
When it came time for the lunch rush, he didn't bother getting her himself. He sent an enchanted paper airplane that smashed into the side of her head. Two words decorated the inside: Register, now. In the top right corner a dancing leprechaun performed a jig. At the bottom of the page a pug with dragon wings guarded its stash of slobbery socks from a tiny knight and on the left side of the page a man pretended to be a siren to lure in a rowboat of men to the rocks, keeping his long hair in front of his face to hide his mustache. Great. She'd gotten Fred's doodle page. To think she'd assumed when he scribbled away at the register he was jotting down ideas or notes.
She could handle cashier duty. If the shop stayed busy enough, they'd both be too distracted to fight. Then again, upsetting him with her stares sounded like fun. She grinned, the idea of working with Fred suddenly becoming much more appealing.
"Come help me with this display before we leave for the night," Fred called, pulling her out of her book. The rush of customers had died down and by the time the after-work rush began, the only part-timer left would take over.
"What am I doing?"
He pointed to the new display of defense products he'd somehow erected without her noticing. "I need to go see if this is in the right spot." He backtracked to the doors and stood in front of them. His hand idly rubbed his chin as he inspected the display.
"Move it to the right!"
"Oh." She left the counter behind to do his hard labor. At least the display wasn't as heavy as she expected as she moved it to the right an inch. "A little more!" An inch later he squinted at her and the display. He held up his hands, framing the middle of the shop and the display. "Mm, move it back a smidge."
She moved the display and then stepped away from it. "If this spot isn't good enough you can move it yourself."
He gave her a thumbs up. "Perfect spot."
"Yeah because you don't have to move it." At least this time he'd spoken to her instead of using a paper airplane. Baby steps.
"Can you wait two hours to eat?" Fred asked as he shrugged into his coat. "I want to hit the club on the way home."
She perked up. "Will you duel me tonight?"
He reached out and rubbed her head like she was a child. "I don't think you are ready for that again yet."
"Or maybe you are afraid I'll beat you this time."
His laugh boomed through the shop. "Won't happen."
The evening air felt cool, but she didn't mind. "I think you have dueling secrets you don't share. You guard them so you can remain on top."
"Secrets, huh? Let's go with that." He rubbed his hands together for warmth before stuffing them into his pockets.
"Fine, keep your secrets Mr. Tall and Broody."
That earned a wry smile from him. "Please keep going and don't forget to compliment my eyes."
"Ugh. Impossible."
"Trust me, it's far more glamorous than the truth."
She watched him, unable to let go of her curiosity. His troubled look only drove the need to know deeper. "Well don't be such a tease. Tell me."
"I'd rather not."
"Are you a serial killer who hides the bodies under the shop floor or something?"
"Yep, sure am and I've got a special spot for you saved beneath the cash register."
"The perfect spot for me to haunt you to insanity." She rubbed the side of her neck, thinking over ways to get him to spill his secret. "What if we duel? If I win you have to tell me."
Fred smirked. "Fine. If you are eager to duel me, I'll happily win as many times as you'd like."
By the time she landed on her ass for the fourth time, she was ready to call her defeat. Whatever craziness had made her think she could beat him was long gone. "I give." She let out a long groan as she sat up. "No more."
"I did say you weren't ready to fight me yet. Are you going to believe me next time?" He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. He stood in the same exact spot he'd started in. Not once had she managed to budge him from it.
"Ugh." She flopped onto her back and waved her arms over the floor. "I thought I could surprise you. I actually won a duel last time I was here." He crossed the room to her to poke her side with his foot. She rolled over, putting her back to him, not caring if it seemed childish. "I totally almost had you that last time."
He snorted. "Keep dreaming. Are you going to get up so we can get some dinner or do you need to stay to pout longer?"
She rolled onto her back and stared up at him. He stood with his arm bent in the air, his wand leaning against the back of his neck. "Depends on what we are having for dinner."
"There is leftover meat pie calling my name. It's always better the second day after it's been sitting overnight soaking up all the flavors." He rubbed his stomach. "I've been waiting all day for it.
"Then maybe you shouldn't bother eating any meat pie the first day. Then there's more leftovers." She stood and shoved her wand into her purse. The padded floor kept the worst of the aches away, but she still felt like she'd tumbled around in a muggle dryer for an hour.
"That would be a perfect idea if it didn't mean making two meals so I could eat the first day. Mum made a lot of meat pie when I was a kid, but there were too many of us for leftovers. Discovering how delicious it is leftover was one of the best discoveries George and I made after moving out on our own." Fred waved to a few of the club members hanging out in the lobby on their way out. Everyone waved back, all smiles and cheerfulness. That was the strange thing about the club. No matter how competitive the duels got, any bitterness didn't last long. At the club it wasn't about winning, but honing your skills and challenging yourself.
"Is that really what excited you about moving out, leftover meat pie?"
"Look, after a man spends all day fighting Death Eaters and designing ingenious new products, meat pie is the perfect fuel to do it all over again the next day."
"Then maybe I should make one when George can come home."
"Or maybe you could make one sooner as a 'Hey, thanks for doing a brilliant job at babysitting me, Fred' gift."
"I'll make you a big one next week if you tell me all your dirty dueling secrets."
"I can't. You didn't win. You are forever stuck losing to me."
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, wandering if it was worth poking the bear. "Does it turn you on or something? Is that why you don't want to talk about it?"
He ran a hand through his hair and stopped on the street corner. "You are closer than you know." His voice came out quiet, shame coloring his cheeks. He rubbed his shoulder before picking up the pace again.
"See now we are getting somewhere. If it excites you then no wonder you practice so much. If it works, I guess it works."
"Don't make it sound so…so normal almost. I mean, it's kind of fucked up, isn't it? I got turned on fighting the Malfoy bitch." His words were strained. The light turned and he hurried across the street.
As soon as they hit the other said she resumed her questioning. "Well, what about it exactly do you like?" The thought of this being a conversation she shouldn't be having with her boyfriend's twin crossed her mind, but it was too fascinating to stop now. Fred's disappearances and moodiness were hard to understand. But for some reason this revelation it made sense to her with how long he'd avoided her at the club. Slowly she was fitting the puzzle pieces of him together. If things went back to normal when George returned and Fred started avoiding her again, all the more reason to not lose this opportunity.
"It doesn't happen all the time. Most fights are exciting, but not in that way." He emphasized "that." "If you haven't figured it out by now I have a certain type I like, kickass girls who like to stomp all over my heart. I love a girl who likes to go toe-to-toe with me at Quidditch or dueling. It's hot, which makes me a sick fuck to get turned on for fighting women." He glowered.
She mulled over his words. One of her best friends in school had been into boys exactly like Fred. She would even write her own romance stories about mysterious rebels with tragic backstories seducing and tying up the heroine. With Lucy being the biggest book worm of the group, she'd been subjected to more of the stories than she'd liked.
Taking her silence for offense, Fred continued. "I don't think it's the violence that gets me, I don't want to actually hurt whoever I'm dueling, but I enjoy the challenge and getting physical makes it easy to imagine getting physical in other ways. But don't get me wrong," he rushed on, speaking quickly. "That's not why I practice so much. Dueling lets me push myself and I'd rather be ready for cases like Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. My true secret for getting good at dueling is just practicing all the time." He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze on the sidewalk.
"As long as you aren't forcing women to duel you or hurting them for fun to get your jollies off, then what's the problem? I think this is another case of you being too hard on yourself. You don't open up as easily as George so you just bottle everything up, letting it fester."
"Oh no, let's not go there please. You are starting to sound like my therapist and I don't like it." The house came into view and he quickened his pace.
"You should listen to your therapist." When they reached the door she stood out of the way while Fred muttered the spell to unlock the door. "I would say something wise, like recount some time I got turned on and was embarrassed by it, but I can't think of any examples."
He turned his exasperated look on her. "Wow, thank you. That makes me feel a lot better."
She winced. "I'm just trying to say it isn't as big a deal as you think it is. I thought it was normal for some guys to get excited while fighting because of adrenaline or whatever. And don't you guys all just kind of get…" she awkwardly tried to motion a hard on, "like randomly all the time?"
He blinked at her. "I so can't handle this conversation on an empty stomach and especially not with my brother's girlfriend. Let's forget this past twenty minutes or so ever happened." Fred opened the door and gestured for her to go first. A familiar ball of fluff shot out from a bush in a beeline for the door. With a quick flick of his wand Fred levitated the cat into the air and back to the bush. The cat yowled in complaint. "Starting to think Sparky's becoming our cat," he grumbled as he shut the door. "I'm going to go throw the meat pie in the oven."
"Save me some."
Fred kicked off his shoes and headed for the kitchen. At the door the cat scratched and yowled again. A few raindrops splashed against the window. Another scratch and she gave in with a sigh. She opened the door, letting the cat in. Sparky twined around her legs once before trotting off to the kitchen. When Fred didn't yell at the intrusion, she decided it meant she was in the clear.
Then Fred stuck his head out of the kitchen. "I'll ignore the cat this time, but now I don't feel guilty for forgetting to tell you the timeline has been moved up. Next week is the grand opening on the WonderWitch line at the closest store. You are going to need to go without me, but I'll expect you to let me know you are alive during the day."
"Next week? How is everything moving so fast?"
"It is going to be a rollout over a few weeks, but this way we get to focus on a different store each week. The chain is really pushing us to get our products in. Even if you can't remember all the sales spiels and products, all you need to do is smile, look pretty, and do nice makeup. I can't say no to cheap labor."
"What a compliment."
He ducked back into the kitchen. She walked past in time to see Fred throw Sparky some cold meat pie while cooing to him. She mentally added cat food to her grocery list for the next trip.
At the door to George's room, she paused, realizing she felt no longer felt any anxiety over how Fred would react to her in the house or any need to tiptoe around him. Today may not have been how she would have chosen to spend the day, but it'd helped her understand Fred better and she liked to think it helped thaw him out on whatever moodiness made him avoid her.
Who knew, maybe by the end of their involuntary imprisonment to each other they'd become besties. She covered her mouth to muffle her laugh at the idea. That might be going a bit far, but it would be nice to have Fred warm back up to her. It felt like every time she got close to befriending him, he pulled away. This time she wouldn't let that happen. The next few weeks would be her operation befriend Fred whether he liked it or not.