Chapter 5

It was raining when Alicia left St. Mungo's. Her shift was supposed to end an hour after George departed the hospital, AMA. However, Healer Greenslow had cornered Alicia in the changing room, where Healers, nurses, and other hospital staff kept their personal belongings while they were working. Alicia could literally taste the freedom when she had it snatched away from her. Healer Greenslow had apparently noticed that Alicia had taken a five hour break in the middle of her shift to 'tend' to George and was making her catch up on the work she'd 'missed' during that time. Essentially, it meant that Healer Greenslow was making Alicia do five hours of scut work.

Alicia wasn't sure when the rain had started. The hospital had windows, but those were reserved for patient rooms and nurses stations were capsules that ensconced the workers in a bubble that kept the realities of the world outside from penetrating. He Who Must Not Be Named could come back from the dead for a second time and destroy the entire world and, if it happened while Alicia was at work, she would have no idea.

Discreetly, Alicia pulled out her wand and cast an impermeable spell on her clothes. She hadn't brought her umbrella and didn't fancy getting soaked as she walked the few blocks between the hospital and Diagon Alley. She could apparate to George's, she knew exactly where it was, but there was something soothing about walking, especially after the day Alicia had lived through. Being alone with her thoughts on the rainy streets of London was just what she needed before she faced whatever situation George had dug himself into.

Everything combined to mean that it was nearly 6 pm by the time Alicia came upon Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. She had planned to walk around to the alley behind the store, and the access to the flat above, when she saw a weary and concerned looking young man sitting on the doorstep of the store, his head in his hands. Her caring nature took over and Alicia was pulled towards the young man.

"Is everything alright?" Alicia asked, her tone warm and inviting. She took a few hesitant steps towards the young man. Alicia had never seen him before. He must have been only a year or two behind her in school, but he most definitely wasn't in Gryffindor. She'd also never seen him at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which he clearly worked at. Though to be fair, she hadn't been to the shop since before the war.

"Fine!" the young man said, quickly jumping up and attempting to straighten his appearance. Alicia could tell he was putting on a brave face. He obviously didn't want to open up about his issues to a complete stranger. Alicia decided not to push it. If someone random had come up to her at a low point, she too probably wouldn't want to talk to them.

"I'm a friend of George's," she said instead. "Do you know, is he in?" She motioned up to the flat space above the store. As if the young man was only know just realising the building went up, he followed her arm with his head. His eyebrows wrinkled in thought and a slightly awkward silence passed between the two of them.

"Umm," the boy finally said. He quickly looked down at his feet and then refused to look Alicia in the eyes at all. "He usually goes out after work."

Alicia knitted her brows together in frustration. The young man was obviously trying to couch George's actions in innocent language so that if someone wasn't aware of what George was going through, the might just assume he was running errands or had gone out for dinner or to get some takeaway. However, having taken care of him the night before, Alicia knew exactly what that meant. George was at a bar, drinking away his sorrows, drowning himself in alcohol, and surrounding himself with company that didn't know anything about him.

"Do you know where?" Alicia asked, her jaw tight with annoyance. It wasn't like she expected him to give up drinking, but she figured he'd at least give it a day or two after drinking himself to the point of needing hospitalization.

The young boy shook his head, then turned back to the doors of the shop to finish locking up. Alicia nodded to his back in a way of thanks and then headed back out into the rain.

There were quite a few bars on Diagon Alley. They'd popped up in the wake of Voldemort's reign of terror. It seemed more and more witches and wizards were in need of alcohol in the wake and, with a lot of people disappearing, dying, or simply moving away, there was a lot of real estate available. However, the number did not deter Alicia. She would walk into every single establishment until she found him. Then she would drag him out, make him drink his weight in water and send him to bed early.

She found him at the second place she looked. It was dark and dirty, a place Alicia would have avoided like the plague. Nonetheless, it probably matched George's mood as a depressing, desperate place, and he probably found comfort in all of that. He was sitting at the bar. The bartender was shooting him concerned looks, but otherwise the few other patrons were giving George a wide birth. It was almost like they were expecting something from him.

Alicia had been around George a few times when he'd been drinking and she'd never found him violent or crass or anything like that. Though that was during their seventh year, and they were all older and had all gone through a lot. Time changed people.

"George Weasley!" Alicia walked up to him. She was only partially aware that she sounded like her mother scolding her for being a misbehaving child, but she didn't care. She was feeling righteously indignant and had every reason to feel that way.

At the sound of her voice, or maybe her tone, George stiffened on his seat and then slowly turned to look in her direction. At least he had the good sense to look sheepish, like a child caught misbehaving.

"Hey Leesh. Have a good day?" George asked, his words slurring. Alicia just stood a few feet from where he sat, rather unsteadily, on his stool. She stared him down, feeling that his behaviour didn't merit a response on her part. A rather awkward silence passed between the two, neither one wanting to be the one to speak next.

Finally, it seemed, the silence became too much for George, "You want a drink? Have a seat!" As he spoke, George made to stand and pull Alicia closer to him. However, he'd consumed enough that he had limited control over his limbs and instead, ending up tripping over a combination of his feet and the stool. One second, he was gracelessly moving towards the rather perturbed witch and the next he was sprawled out, face first, on the sticky bar floor.

"Let's go George. You should really get some rest," Alicia responded, her voice monotoned. In one fluid motion, Alicia pulled her wand from her pocket, cast a levicorpus spell on George, threw a few galleons towards the bartender to cover the tab and the inconvenience of the whole situation, and then walked out the door. George, though still fully conscious, did not protest, wriggle, or make any action that would have told Alicia he was upset with her. Instead, he pretended he was swimming, laughing his head off at his childish pantomime.

Alicia, with George floating behind her, marched up the streets of Diagon Alley and eventually even ended up passing by the young boy who'd been looking rather disconsolate on the steps of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He gave them a strange look, owing to the strange sight, but eventually he just shook his head, like he had expected things to eventually come to that point.

Alicia kept looking straight ahead. She would not let George's poor decisions affect her life any more than they already had. She didn't need the witches and wizards out doing their pre-dinner shopping judging her and her decisions. This was the easiest way to get a very drunk person home, so of course she would go for magically levitating him.

When she got to George's flat door, she found it unlocked. Keys weren't really a big part of wizarding life, and people did tend to leave doors open. There were enough unlocking charms that if someone wanted to get into your house bad enough, they would. However, since Voldemort and the terror of Death Eaters, witches and wizards had taken to locking their doors more often. A small comfort, that barrier. It would take someone a few extra seconds to get into a house which could afford the family inside a few extra seconds to get to safety.

Alicia figured that George probably left his door unlocked because he was often drunk when he returned home and it was easier to not have to worry about opening the door in a drunken stupor.

Guilt flooded Alicia. She really should have checked in on George sooner. She shouldn't have let things get this bad. George was so clearly suffering and she'd been too worried about her healer studies to check in. She'd managed to go out for drinks, coffee and otherwise, with Katie and Angelina several times, but she'd let George all but drop out of her life. What kind of a friend was she?

As Alicia walked into the flat, she nearly dropped George in her surprise. The state of the place, Alicia didn't know how someone could stand to live in it. Her schedule was crazy and she sometimes left dishes and trash out for a few hours before she had time, or the inclination, to deal with it. What she saw in George's flat was something much, much worse. It told Alicia, more than his constant drinking to access, that her friend had essentially given up.

George Weasley wasn't living; he was barely existing, going through the motions of life but not really experiencing them. It broke Alicia's heart.

With a renewed determination, Alicia sent George off to bed. She ensured there was a bucket and several glasses of water were on his bedside table. Then she got started on the rooms. It was obvious George didn't care what state he was living in, but Alicia did. She was a strong believer that clean spaces breed joy. It was easier to be happy about your situation when you weren't sitting in piles of trash. And if she was going to help George feel better, which she'd decided she needed to do, then she was going to start with cleaning his flat.

There was a strange smell that was assaulting George's nose. Though assaulting was not the correct word. That implied that the smell was unpleasant or disgusting, which the smell was anything but. In fact, it was probably one of the most delicious smells George's nose had ever encountered. It was up there with things the house elves at Hogwarts had whipped up, or even something his mother had cooked. It was one of the more pleasant ways George had woken in the past few months.

He rolled over, expecting to feel the warmth of a recently vacated bed. It was usually after he'd brought a woman home that his house took on a homier vibe. Sometimes the women cooked breakfast, or even made a pot of coffee that was a nice change to the slightly musty, moldy smell that had become the norm for George. Rarely, a woman would decide to try and clean up the place, though they rarely got very far. George appreciated it all. He couldn't face his family's grieving, so he hadn't been home for a homecooked meal in months.

However, the bed space beside him was cool to the touch, the sheets only minimally ruffled. It was the state of his bed when he had spent the night alone. But if he hadn't brought someone home, who or what was making his flat smell so absolutely amazing?

He slowly peeled his eyelids open. His head was swimming with the beginnings of a hangover. He would have to worry about that at a later date. In that moment, George had larger concerns.

A few weeks after Fred had died, Molly had visited unexpectedly. She was obviously missing mothering her twin boys and thought that George would be appreciative of her efforts. However, all it did was made him realize how terrible of a son he had been. His mother had lost a child. She had to be in massive amounts of pain. She was probably the one person in the entire world whose pain came anywhere close to George's. He had done nothing to comfort her or check in on her and yet here she was, cooking and cleaning. The guilt that he had felt in that moment had caused him to lash out at his mother and push her out the door. She hadn't been back since.

But Molly Weasley was nothing if not a force of nature. Maybe she'd assumed enough time had passed that George would now be a little more welcoming to her mothering. He'd felt even worse after he'd pushed his mother out, so he'd make sure to be more careful this time around, but he wasn't ready for it.

Slowly, because of his quickly building headache, George plodded through the hallway of his flat. He only partially registered the fact that the trash that normally littered the ground was cleaned up and there was a clean, floral smell on the carpets and walls. That, however, wasn't the smell that had awoken him though. That smell was warmer, meatier. It smelled like stew or a rich meaty soup of some kind.

Finally, George came to the kitchen. He paused behind the wall, took a deep breath in preparation for what he would need to do to get him mother to leave, and then cautiously stepped onto the linoleum floor.

Instantly, George froze. The woman, petite and brunette, was definitely not his fiery redheaded mother.

"Leesh?" George spoke breathlessly. As her name, the name of one of his oldest friends, left his lips, memories from the previous day came flooding back. He had met a woman at a bar, but it had been Alicia and she had been the one to take him home, not the other way around. And apparently, as he slept off the countless shots he'd consumed, she'd cleaned his entire flat and started cooking something for him to eat.

Almost against his will, a warm smile crossed George's face. It was such a pleasant sight that George couldn't help himself. He had missed this sort of thing, more than he'd even really realised.

"Hello," Alicia responded. She hadn't turned around when he entered the kitchen nor when he'd spoken. Her voice was a little cool and George felt the smile slip off his face a little. He couldn't blame her; he wasn't in a great place and wasn't really able to be a good friend.

"This smells delicious," he said, trying to find an in, a way to open up conversation. When they were at Hogwarts, things between them had been so easy. They could joke around as easily as they could sit and have serious conversations. Aside from Fred, George had never had a relationship like that. And he missed it.

Oh how he missed it.