A Love Lost


"Bang Bang Boggart Bangers. Bombtastic Bombs. Box 'O' Rockets. Crystal Incantation Comets. Demon Dung Crackers. Diabolic Dare Devils," George murmured quietly, alphabetically taking stock of the pyrotechnic products they sold in the joke shop. "I need to make some more of the Dragon Fire."

Sighing deeply, he noted it down on another sheet of paper. The letters blurred in front of his eyes, and he rubbed his temples to chase away the tiredness. It was late already, but he needed to finish this.

"Feathery Flamingo Fl– er, no. Exploding Whizz Poppers first." Silently, he counted the stock. Christmas was coming up, and he needed to make sure that everything was in perfect order. He had sent Ron and Verity home hours ago. They would have stayed if he had asked them to, but he didn't actually want them to stay. He was perfectly capable of running the shop without help. Fred would have managed easily.

"We need Loonar Loop Luminators! Why are there none left?" he exclaimed, cursing silently. He was sure he had told Ron to check the fireworks supply only two days ago.

The soft chime of the bell interrupted his angry muttering. Someone had entered the shop.

"We are closed!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"George?" an unexpected voice called and he spun around.

At the doorframe stood Katie Bell. Snowflakes decorated the long blonde tresses that cascaded down her back like diamonds. She wore a midnight blue dress under her warm winter coat and high heels. Bright lipstick, a vibrant cherry-red, completed her outfit. Her green eyes glinted enticingly in the light. And the way she smiled – it made George's heart miss a beat. It was a smile that let him see her soul.

Merlin, she was beautiful.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out. He had wanted to say something clever, something nice, but somehow, the words always slipped from his mind when he stood in front of her.

Katie's smile vanished. "You forgot." It sounded more like a statement than a question.

George's mind started racing. What day was it today? His eyes darted towards the calendar on the wall. Saturday. Shite. "Angelina's party," he groaned. That would explain her make-up and high heels. The last time she wore shoes like that must have been at the Yule Ball.

"I didn't forget," he added quickly although it was quite obviously a lie. "I just … I was working and –"

"I know. Ron told me. So I thought I'd step by and …" Katie shrugged, clearly feeling a little uncomfortable.

George stared at her. She hadn't sounded reproachful or disappointed. She wasn't even half as mad as he'd expected her to be, or as he deserved. Did she think he could still make it to the party? Quickly, George checked his watch. It was half past eight. "Let me get a clean shirt, and then I'm coming."

Katie opened her mouth, clearly with the intention of saying something, but then she hesitated. Finally, she murmured, "Fine. I'll wait here." Rubbing her arms, she turned towards the Wonder Witch products and fell to scrutinising them.

To George, it felt like she hadn't said what she had intended to say, so he watched her for a moment to see if she'd change her mind again and continue. When none was forthcoming, he shrugged and sprinted upstairs.


Angelina's flat was crowded. Nearly everyone from her year was present, in addition to the old Quidditch team and the D.A. Katie fought her way through to her best friend with George in tow. Angelina was talking to Oliver and Ginny, who both played in professional Quidditch teams. The topic was – what else could it be? – Quidditch.

"The Moutohora Macaws would be the perfect team for you, trust me," Oliver was just saying. "I think –" He automatically fell silent as he spotted George.

At once, all attention was turned to them. Angelina stiffened, barely looking George in the eye. Oliver stared at the tip of his shoes, and Ginny smiled weakly. Katie wanted to say something, but her mind was blank. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"You look pretty, Ange," George stuttered awkwardly and smiled at the hostess.

Katie felt a stabbing pain spike through her chest. He hadn't commented in kind on her at all. Of course, it didn't mean anything. He just wanted to say something nice to Angelina.

The conversation continued only haltingly, but Katie didn't listen. As soon as possible, she excused herself and snuck to the bathroom. She had fully intended to talk with George about … things. The only problem was – she lacked the courage.

It was a stupid idea anyway, telling him that she loved him. Really stupid. She had only considered doing so because Angelina had talked her into it.

Sighing, she glanced at the mirror. The dress had been Angelina's idea, too. It was nice enough, but George had barely looked at her. And the lipstick and the shoes … Katie wasn't a lipstick kind of girl. He probably hated it.

Quickly, she took a piece of toilet paper and rubbed it over her lips. Better – or so she thought. A look in the mirror told her that she now looked like a madwoman with smeared lipstick all over her mouth. Angrily, she threw the paper in the bin and sat down on the floor.

Katie didn't need to impress George. If she wore red lipstick or not, it wouldn't change his feelings towards her. But still. She couldn't help wanting to look pretty, wanting to knock him off his feet.

Maybe she should just go home. This was Angelina's party, not hers. Next week, her friend would take a Portkey to New Zealand and be gone, but Katie would have to live with the decisions she'd made; especially with George's reaction, should she ever manage to tell him.

Why couldn't she let him go? Why did she punish herself with visiting him in the shop and be treated like a distant acquaintance? She should stop caring that he overworked himself, barely ate, and drank more than was good for him. Katie knew he wasn't coping with his twin's death. He just drowned the grief and pain in work and alcohol.

She should leave it to Ron and Verity to pull him out of that. She couldn't watch him hurt himself. But she couldn't help him either.

Letting out a frustrated groan, she struggled to her feet and stared back into the mirror. Her lips looked too small without lipstick.

Resigned, Katie took out the cherry-red lipstick from her clutch and carefully applied it again. Maybe George – no! She had to stop that! She shouldn't care how she looked. This was a party. She was here to have fun, not to wallow in self-pity. She would go out there and try to present a happy face for Angelina.

And maybe, maybe, after a glass of Firewhiskey, she might even manage to talk to George.


After midnight, the party guests started to leave. To George's surprise, the evening hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would be. Having overcome the first awkward conversation, they soon found back to their old camaraderie. He had even laughed once or twice.

Katie had been more subdued than he knew her to be. Crestfallen, even. When she thought nobody could see her, the smile fell from her face and was replaced by utter sadness. Once or twice, she had glanced at him, but when he turned his face to meet her gaze, she would look away.

"Promise me to show your face more often," Lee said and clapped him on the back. "I want to see you in the pub at least once a month, or I'll come and terrorise you in the shop."

George rolled his eyes. "Maybe if your Wizarding Wireless Wonder – show starts making some good jokes."

Lee grinned. "Oh, I can't wait for you to hear Monday's programme. It'll blow you off your feet."

A ghost of a smiled flickered across George's face. "Yeah. Dream on."

"Anyway. Good night, mate. See you in the pub." Lee winked and then turned to Angelina to say goodbye.

George let his eyes travel over the remaining guests. Where was Katie? Had she left without saying goodbye? That was not like her. Also, she had seemed a bit tipsy. She shouldn't Apparate home alone. Slowly, he wandered the rooms, searching for her. Eventually, he found her alone on the balcony.

"Katie?" he asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

Startled, she spun around. "Yeah. Fine."

She didn't look fine, though. Determined, George stepped out onto the balcony. The air was cool, but not frosty. There had to be a Warming Charm around Angelina's home.

Jerkily, Katie turned away from him and grabbed the iron railing, fixing her gaze somewhere along the London skyline. He didn't know what to do; one part of him wanted to go to her, put an arm around her shoulder, and hug her, but the other wanted to be far away, opening a bottle of Firewhiskey.

He pulled himself together and leaned against the railing next to her. "I can't believe Ange's really leaving," he uttered the first thing that came to his mind.

Katie tensed. "You know why she has to go," she murmured flatly, still looking out into the distance.

Yes, George knew why. She was still grieving Fred and felt she couldn't stay in England. She wanted a fresh start. He would leave, too, if he thought it would change anything. But he would take his grief with him wherever he would go. He'd lost a part of himself, and that part would stay lost forever.

Angelina never stopped by, never even looked at him, for the same reason.

Some people are grieved forever. And George knew that never a day in his life would go by where he wouldn't miss Fred. The mere thought of him nearly made him fall to pieces right there and then.

George swallowed loudly. "Yeah," he whispered huskily, glancing sidelong at Katie. "What's going on, Katie? You've been distant the whole evening."

Katie hunched her shoulders defensively. "I said I'm fine." Her fingers tightened around the railing, and George could see the whites of her knuckles.

Cautiously, he reached for her. Ignoring how she flinched away, he turned her around, so she had to look at him. "Katie."

Her green eyes finally met his gaze, and she gave in. Her face crumbled. "She'll leave, George. And I'll be all alone."

George had guessed how she felt. He knew how close the two girls were. "You're not alone. You have other friends," he tried to cheer her up. "Oliver, and Leanne, and Ginny, and ... and I'm sure you'll find a boyfriend or something." He bit his tongue. From her face he could tell it was exactly the wrong thing to say. Why did he always say the wrong things?

"A boyfriend," she repeated in a broken voice. The way she looked at him, the deep gloom in her eyes, made his chest tight. She scared him.

Suddenly, Katie turned and took something out of her handbag. With it, she wiped around in her face, removing the red lipstick.

"What are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.

"I hate lipstick." Abruptly, she stepped out of her shoes, staggering a bit. "And I hate these shoes." She kicked them aside and turned back to him, her eyes a little too bright. She was closer than before. George noticed a bit of red still coloured her lips.

"I wanted to tell you…" Katie paused. "I just wanted you to know that I got the message. You're not into me." She swallowed and stepped even nearer. "But I'd never forgive myself if …" She trailed off.

George wanted to say something, but suddenly, Katie bent forward and crushed her lips to his.

He became instantly aware of every part of her body that was touching him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her in closer. The temperature on the balcony must have risen ten degrees, and he didn't understand how his body could be so warm and yet still shivering.

Katie wound her fingers through his hair, and her body seemed to mould against his as if she were liquid. All of a sudden, George knew what she'd wanted to tell him, how she felt about him. He realised something else, too: that whatever she was feeling was mutual.

But then, abruptly, Katie pulled away, hair mussed and lips slightly swollen, and stared at him.

"I thought you should know," she whispered. Before he could do anything, she left.

The finality of the balcony door banging shut crushed him. He realised that it was too late. He had lost her, too.


*Written for the Houses Competition, Round 7*

House: Ravenclaw

Category: Themed

Prompt: Red lipstick

W/C: 2, 145