"Don't think you need any new products," Ginny shouted over the din of the back-to-school swarm. "This is a madhouse, George,"
"Take this, aisle three," said Verity, shoving a broom into Ginny's hands.
"But there're customers-
"- trapped in aisle three, knocked over Instant Swamp, Instant Duststorm, and a tub of Venomous Jelly Snakes. Just fly over there and sort it out for them, and tell your brother to stop arranging them in precarious towers, this is not the time for pranks,"
"Right here, Vere," George took the broom and whisked himself ceilingward, "My fault, I'll fix it,"
"Anything to get away from the cash register," grumbled Verity, "They want to see him you know, that's why they come. That is an excellent choice, ma'am," she said brightly to a skinny girl with pigtails and a lot of anxiety, "The Stop-Hitting-Yourself Quidditch Glove is one of our classics, would you like that gift wrapped?"
"It's for my brother," she whispered, scrunching herself down smaller with the fear of her own rebellion.
"That'll show him!" She caught the girl's slightly awed glance at Ginny. "Tell you what, why don't I let Ginevra here help you out, maybe sign something for you,"
"Oh," the girl's eyes went round, "Would you?"
"Of course," Ginny smiled, wondering whether the adoration was because she was dating Harry or related to George. She hastily swapped places with Verity, leaving her to deal with the mountain of Skiving Snackboxes, Exploding Quills, and Imitation Textbooks (Inappropriately Illustrated) being piled onto the counter by a group of teenage boys who, she felt personally, had far too much money.
"You're so much better than all your brothers," the girl said devoutly, "I wish I could fly like you,"
A jolt of surprise and delight. A quidditch fan. MY quidditch fan. Oh my god. I have a fan!
"A lot of it is practice," she said, making a mental note to throw in a little something extra for this kid, "What house are you in?"
"Hufflepuff," she said wistfully, "My brother's in Gryffindor,"
So many things I could say to that! Damn. What can I- wait…
"Write you name down for me," she said, feeling inspired, "I'll have a word with the Hufflepuff captain,"
The girl's face changed colour several times.
"Oh but I can't- I'm not good enough to even try out for the team-"
Ginny grinned.
"Not yet maybe. Write your name down,"
The girl swallowed and did it, not, Ginny suspected, because she wanted to, but because Ginny had commanded her to. So, she wasn't especially brave… yet. But from a tiny act of rebellion… Ginny tucked the name Odette Silver into the pocket of her ridiculous Wheezies waistcoat, and for the first time felt good about going back to Hogwarts for another year.
The peculiar sensation of the morning dragging out into eternity while also passing in the blink of an eye felt good. Her feet ached, she quipped and joked, grinned, and juggled sales with recommendations, magical gift-wrapping, and averting minor product disasters ("You realise Hair-Be-Gone will make you bald, right? Try Snake Legs, that's probably more what you're after- just a sec, someone's let the Paper-Eating Pencils out of the cage again…).
It was messy and glorious and frantic, and Ginny felt harassed and on fire and free and alive.
"Welcome to Wheezies," she said for the billionth time, and the young woman in front of her stared.
"It is you," she said.
"Oh my god," Ginny felt her eyes start out of her head.
She was wearing a bunch of crucifixes and several heads of garlic slung round her neck, along with half a dozen protection symbols from half a dozen different religions. She was also sporting a tracksuit top zipped up over a singlet top, and her red, skin-tight faux leather leggings ended in worn out skate shoes. She'd crammed a bunch of silver bracelets onto one wrist, and in the opposite hand she held a cold poker by the middle. Green stuff that looked suspiciously like herbs poked out of one pocket, and the other bulged as though it contained a box the size of a fist.
But the hoop earrings were the same ones she'd been wearing in the night club.
"No enchantments or witchy bullshit," she said loudly, waving the poker a bit, as though she felt it would protect her through existing rather than by being a potential weapon, "We need to talk; I have questions, and I'm not leavin' 'til I got answers,"
Ginny goggled at her.
"Fair enough… um… who… how…"
"None of your business, an' how d'you think?" She pulled an envelope out of what Ginny hoped was the back pocket of the leggings. She unfolded it and slapped it down on the counter, reverse side up.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," she said accusingly, "With the address and everythink."
"I… but…"
"Look, I'm sixteen, I'm not stupid. You just answer my questions and I'll go."
"How did you find us though? I mean… you're a mug- ah, not a magic user…"
The girl jabbed at the envelope again.
"I went back to the club and I got this," she said as though explaining to an imbecile, "It's got your address on it."
There was clearly no point in trying to explain that an address was simply not enough information to enable a muggle to find Wheezies. Clearly, using the business stationery had been a mistake, as was forgetting to retrieve the envelope, but regardless, she shouldn't have been able to see the building, much less enter it.
"Hey Gin, I'll take over, there's some girls in the beauty corner need some help and it's kinda weird if I- woah. Hello." George held out his hand.
The girl eyed him suspiciously. Then she waved at him.
George blinked in surprise.
"Not interested in a cursed handshake," she said, by way of explanation.
"I don't think that's possible," said George, sharing a 'what the hell?' look with Ginny, "Look, we're slammed in here at the moment. Do you think you could come back later so we can talk?"
She cast him a look of utter disgust.
"D'you really think I'm gonna give you to a chance to skive off? No way, I'm staying put 'til I get answers, and like I said, no witchy bullshit, ok? I've got protections."
She waved the poker again. It looked kind of heavy. Ginny had no idea why this girl thought that a poker would protect her from magic.
George was staring hard at the girl.
"Have you used a till before?" He asked finally.
She lowered the poker.
"You offering me a job?"
"Only until five, when we close."
She frowned.
"What'cha gonna pay me with, fairy gold?"
"British pounds," said George, seriously. "Then we can talk, and I promise, no magic. We really need the help. Look," He waved a hand at the masses of people cueing by the tills, climbing up the shelves, and stuffing their pockets with sweets.
The girl snorted.
"Aw'right," she said, "Go on then,"
George breathed a sigh of relief.
"Great, Ginny'll show you how it works, the money is different, but the till will spit out the correct change, and anything you put on the gift wrapping station will automatically gift wrap, so don't lean on it by accident, ok?"
"Sure,"
"Great," George turned to dash off, stopped and spun back, "I'm George," he said, and when she raised an eyebrow to indicate she had no intention of sharing her name, he swung back out into the crowd and vanished.
"Apologies for the delay," Ginny was announcing, "We have a new trainee about to start, thank you for your patience,"
The girl rolled her eyes.