Disclaimer: I don't own it and I doubt JKR would want to make a trade with me.

A/N: Sorry for that delay. Life got in the way. Anyway, I had lots of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you have fun reading it. Also—if you know what song the chapter title is from, you're probably awesome.

Chapter 13: Brittle Madness

If I had to describe our last train ride on the Hogwarts Express, I would call it unremarkably strange. Perhaps that's slightly oxymoronic, but it fit the occasion well. In some ways, it was like any other train ride, and that was familiar and fairly unremarkable. We joked and talked. There wasn't a conscious effort to make this last one particularly memorable or significant in some way. I think if we had tried to, it would have been that much harder to make the final break. However, it was also a strange occasion because it was our last time on the Hogwarts Express. Going to and from school had been a fairly routine occurrence over the past seven years and it was rather odd to have such a mundane task charged with this sense of finality and nostalgia. Leaving wasn't exactly a surprise, but it was still shocking. It was like jumping into water that you know is cold—it's not a surprise, but the cold still knocks the breath out of you and shocks you on a more basic level.

Equally strange was the fact that Fred and George were not there. Despite their disinterest in school, I think we all expected them to complete the journey with us. None of us had really become properly accustomed to their absence and it was felt particularly strongly in the train compartment. However, nothing exploded and I suppose that was a rather welcome change.

The train finally arrived at Platform 9 ¾. I gathered my things and tried not to look back as I made my way off the train with the others. I would see it again—either when Brenna went back to school or someday later when I had children of my own.

"Oh, bugger," sighed Viv as we piled off the train. "I'm getting all weepy now. I promised myself I wouldn't do this." Her eyes were sparkling.

"Oh, Viv." Alicia slung an arm around her shoulders.

"I'll miss it all, I think," said Angelina.

"I won't," said Lee.

"There's another moment ruined," said Angelina dryly.

Lee grinned. "Well, not all of it. Parts of it. And I'm assuming that I'll be seeing you lot around fairly often, so what's to miss?"

"Aww," said Alicia, slinging her other arm around Lee's shoulders. "Isn't he a dear?"

"He knows how to be charming when he needs to be," said Angelina. Lee grinned cheekily.

"I see my mum," sighed Alicia, glancing at the crowd. "I better be off. Promise you'll keep in touch?"

"Good friends don't need to make promises like that because that's the sort of friends they are," said Viv.

"Viv, you've become sentimental," I teased, elbowing her lightly.

"She always gets all mushy right before she cries," said Alicia knowingly.

"You're not going to start crying, are you?" asked Lee warily.

"I've changed my mind, I don't want to see any of you again," said Viv, laughing.

"All right, no promises, no tears," said Angelina. "See you soon."

Hugs were distributed and we parted. Strangely enough, it didn't feel like a goodbye—just an intermission of sorts.

"Our parents have found each other," reported Viv, standing on her tiptoes and peering over the crowd. "And once again, Dad's getting terribly impatient. You'd think he be sentimental, being my last year and all."

I shrugged. "You can't force a hippogriff to change his feathers."

"True. Have you got your trunk?"

"No, it's one car over," I said. "I'll meet up with you in a moment. Send my apologies to your father."

"All right."

I had to wait a few minutes before I could get at my trunk, but luckily it wasn't wedged in too badly. I yanked it out of the luggage compartment and picked up Chester's traveling basket. I turned around and nearly walked into George Weasley.

"Oh!"

I nearly dropped the basket. I had not exactly expected him to be on the platform. For some reason, I had thought that he would owl me. But, as I've said before, George Weasley is many things but he is rarely predictable, which is probably why he was standing on the platform looking somewhat amused.

"Were you not expecting me?"

"Er…not really," I said, suddenly feeling quite nervous, though he seemed quite at ease. "Sorry I didn't write—you know Umbridge put a blanket ban on all correspondence to and from you and Fred?"

He grinned. "Yeah, we suspected as much after the fifth owl came back."

"Ah." I noticed his jacket—it was bright green and scaly. "This is…new."

"It's dragon skin," he informed me with a note of pride in his voice.

"It's very…green," I replied. "Er…business is good then?"

"Yeah, it's great."

My stomach flipped and I tried to disguise the fact that my hands were shaking.

"Sophie!" I looked up. My dad was calling me.

"Er…sorry," I said quickly, giving a little wave to my dad. "I…er…"

"Could I meet you for tea tomorrow?" he asked.

"Er—I…yeah, of course," I stammered.

"D'you know the Green Dragon in Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah, I've gone past it."

"Two o'clock, then?"

I nodded. "That's fine."

"All right." He grinned that crooked grin. It was slightly reassuring despite the fact that our entire conversation was extremely uncomfortable. "See you later."

"Yeah, see you…"

I felt dazed as I walked away, dragging my trunk behind me.

*

"What was that?" asked Viv as soon as I had finished greeting my parents.

"What was what?"

"You know."

I shrugged. "He asked if I'd fancy meeting him for tea tomorrow."

Viv sighed heavily.

"You know, you could have done something apart from just standing there."

"What?"

"Snogged him, Sophie."

I snorted. "Oh right. In front of my parents and the whole bloody school."

"It would have been less awkward than that conversation you just had."

"No, it wouldn't. Especially if he wants to meet me for tea so he can explain that it was all impulse and he didn't mean it."

"For the eight hundredth and eleventh time, Sophie, George is not that sort of bloke. You know that."

"He's a wonderful person, Viv, but he can still make mistakes."

She looked at me. "Sophie. That was not a mistake."

"You don't know that."

"Kisses like that from blokes like George don't just happen because of impulse. There's some thought behind it."

I sighed. "I dunno. I'm not going to jump to any conclusions until I hear it from him."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he says he snogged you because he fancies you, then what are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "I…er…I dunno."

"You can't just keep avoiding the issue—at some point you're going to be held accountable for some sort of decision."

"Well, I'm not at that point, am I?"

"Sophie, you're meeting him for tea."

"Yes."

"Tomorrow."

"But not today," I pointed out triumphantly. Viv groaned.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. Besides, if you didn't have me, who would you analyze?"

"Someone far less complicated, indecisive, and mad."

"Point taken."

"Are you quite done?" The old man who monitors the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and King's Cross was looking at us slightly impatiently. "You're holding up the queue, girls."

"Sorry," I said. I grabbed hold of my trunk and walked through the barrier.

*

The next morning I woke at half past ten and found that I was restless and slightly nervous. I showered and dressed and tried to pretend it was a completely unremarkable day.

"Ah, she's rejoined the living," said Mum as I entered the kitchen.

"I deserve a bit of a lie in, don't I?" I asked, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl on the table. "After all the work I put in on my academics."

"We'll see about that when your marks come."

"I'm fairly certain I didn't fail anything. Where's Brenna?"

"Still asleep," said Mum.

"And you think I'm lazy." I started peeling my orange and inhaled deeply. I love the smell of citrus.

"I'm n-n-not lazy," yawned Brenna, padding into the kitchen still in her pajamas.

"No, it's only half past eleven," said Mum, glancing up at the clock. Brenna shrugged.

"I was tired."

"Have you girls got plans today?" asked Mum. "I could use some help cleaning the kitchen."

"Mum, it's the first day of summer holiday!" complained Brenna. I noticed she had developed a penchant for dramatics in her first year at Hogwarts. "Have Sophie or Dad use magic, it works just as well."

"Ah, but it doesn't build character," said Mum, clapping Brenna enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"Sorry, but I'm…er…I'm having tea with a friend today," I said quickly. Even though I didn't exactly want to see George, it was preferable to cleaning the kitchen without magic. "You're on your own."

"Who're you seeing?" asked Mum.

"George Weasley," I said as casually as possible.

"He sent you that ink this past summer?"

"Well, he and Fred sent it."

"And he also turned the corridor into a swamp and fled school by broomstick?"

"Also accompanied by Fred," I clarified. "How'd you know? I thought I only mentioned that in passing."

"Brenna sent us a very detailed account," said Mum.

Brenna shrugged. "It was very elaborate. I was very impressed."

Mum took a sip of her coffee. "Well, I suppose I ought to forbid you from seeing either one of them, but the ink came out of the carpet and I heard that Umbridge woman was a horror, so I can't very well hold it against them, can I?"

"I suppose not. They're harmless, really. Well…mostly."

"Where are you meeting him?"

"The Green Dragon in Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley? I'm not certain how I feel about that."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your headmaster very recently dueled with the most dangerous Dark wizard and I'm not convinced it would be prudent for you to go waltzing about Diagon Alley unattended."

"I was going to Apparate in," I said. "That's safe enough. Besides, I doubt that You-Know-Who will be out for tea at two o'clock in the afternoon."

"Don't be pert, this is a very serious concern."

I sighed. "Mum, I'm probably going to work at Flourish and Blotts—which, may I remind you, is in Diagon Alley—until I get a proper job."

Mum arched an eyebrow. "Well, we'll have to discuss this with your father tonight."

"But in the meantime, can I go?"

"Only if you promise to be extremely careful."

"Yeah, don't talk to strangers, don't accept Chocolate Frogs from anyone—"

"Sophie…" It was her warning voice. I trailed off with a sly grin.

"Could I go with you?" asked Brenna.

Suddenly, this conversation became quite awkward.

"Er—"

"Please? Fred and George told me if I visited the shop they'd give me money off for being a guinea pig."

"Guinea pig?" asked Mum, skeptically.

"You can blame her for that," I replied. "Look, Brenna, I'm just going for tea. I'm not going to be around terribly long to shop. Perhaps I could take you next weekend?"

"Provided that your father agrees to it," added Mom.

"Provided that Dad agrees to it. It'll be a sisters outing." She didn't look terribly enthused. "And I'll buy you something."

"All right," she agreed promptly.

"What, the thrill of my company isn't enough incentive?"

"I live with you."

"True, but do I really have to bribe you?"

"Yes."

"Well, why don't we get started on this kitchen, then?"

Brenna gave a beleaguered sigh. "Mum."

"Oh, it won't be long."

Eventually, Brenna managed to talk Mum out of the kitchen cleaning extravaganza, swearing up and down that we would most definitely help her with it next week.

I decided not to mention the fact that Brenna had her fingers crossed behind her back.

*

Diagon Alley had changed a lot since I'd been there last. The Ministry had wasted no time in pasting up posters with pictures of suspected Death Eaters, as well as other literature and suggestions on how to behave in the upcoming crisis. The posters weren't terribly disconcerting, but the silence was. Generally, Diagon Alley was a boisterous sort of place where you had to speak up to be heard. Now, even whispers seemed too loud for the still streets. I quickly ducked into Flourish and Blotts, extremely disconcerted.

"Sophie!" Margaret looked up from the book she had been reading. She marked the page and set the book on the register. She was a middle-aged woman with a pleasant disposition and she had been working at Flourish and Blotts for years. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Are you done with school, then?"

"Got back yesterday," I replied. "Is Mr. Flourish in? I was hoping you needed another pair of hands this summer."

"No plans yet?" she asked, looking slightly surprised.

"I'm evaluating my options, as it were."

She smiled warmly. "Not to worry, love. It took my Bernard three years to make that decision and he turned out all right."

"Thanks. I'm hoping it will just be this summer, though."

"I have faith." She got off the creaky stool. "I'll get Frank, he's downstairs." She opened the door to the cellar. "Frank! You've got a visitor!"

"One moment!" came a slightly muffled reply.

"It's awfully quiet out there," I said. Margaret nodded and gave a small shudder.

"Eerie, innit? I keep hearing people say it will go back to normal soon, but I've noticed no difference."

"Maybe when summer really starts…"

She gave a grave nod. "Maybe."

"Sophie! What a surprise!" said Mr. Flourish as he heaved himself up the final steps of the cellar.

"Hi, Mr. Flourish."

"Finished with school, are you?"

"Got back yesterday. I was wondering if you needed another pair of hands this summer? I haven't got plans yet."

"She's like my Bernard," said Margaret fondly.

"Evaluating your options?" he asked with a grin.

"I suppose."

"Well, I think we could easily fit you into the schedule," he said, putting his glasses on and reaching for a notepad that was behind the register.

"We're short on Saturdays and Thursdays," Margaret informed him.

"Yes, I see." He frowned at the paper. "How about Monday through Thursday ten to five and then the full shift Saturday?"

"That sounds fine."

"Excellent." He scribbled on the notepad. "Wendell and Kathleen will be pleased to hear you're back."

I grinned. "That's because I don't mind doing inventory."

He chuckled. "Can you start tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." I glanced at my watch. "I hate to run, but I'm meeting a friend for tea at two."

"All right. We'll see you tomorrow then, Sophie."

"See you."

My confidence and sense of ease quickly eroded as I exited the bookshop. The meeting with George was suddenly quite close and much more intimidating than it had seemed the day before. The eerie silence surrounding me didn't help, either. I tried to relax. Everything would be all right. Hadn't I told Viv that I didn't really have any expectations? If I didn't have expectations, I couldn't be disappointed or upset. This thought was not nearly as reassuring as I would have liked it to be, but I clung to it like a life preserver.

I found the Green Dragon easily. I glanced at my watch as I entered the small shop. I was early and the place was noticeably bereft of redheads. I ordered my tea from the counter and went and sat at a table near the window.

I had brought a book with me not because it was particularly riveting or interesting, but because I wanted to avoid staring aimlessly at the door, nervously waiting for George to come in. It was a slim paperback written by a Muggle mystery writer that Mum liked. I tried to immerse myself in the words, doing my best not to look up.

About twenty pages in, I became aware of the chair in front of me scraping across the floor. I hesitated for a moment and looked up. It was George, of course. I didn't expect it to be anyone else.

"Is it any good?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your book."

"Oh. I dunno, I'm not far along enough to tell." I reluctantly shut the book and set it aside. "Er—how are you?"

"I'm well."

"How's the shop?"

"Very good." He looked quite pleased. "Business is excellent."

"My sister talked me into taking her next week. She said you'd give her money off for being a test subject."

He grinned. "You know, such benefits could be yours if you decided to take Fred and me up on our offer."

"Thanks, but I've got a job."

"You made a decision then?"

"No. I'm going back to Flourish and Blotts for the summer. Or until I work things out."

"You will soon enough."

"I certainly hope so."

Silence followed and my stomach dropped. Up until that point I could pretend we had been having a perfectly normal conversation. I picked at my fingernails and considered mentioning the weather. Anything to change the subject, to keep the conversation moving in a direction that was comfortable.

"So," I said with false brightness, "I—er…that—er…" I looked up. George was grinning boldly. "You're laughing at me."

"No, I was wondering how long you would try and skate around things."

"Well, there's no way to bring that up gracefully." My voice sounded shrill and my heart was racing. "You…er…you didn't exactly stay around to…explain things."

He looked quite amused. "I thought I was perfectly clear."

"Well, I could use some clarification. Er…you…you can't really…do that and just…run off without saying anything."

"I said I'd see you later."

"That doesn't exactly clear anything up."

He still looked amused. "I fancy you, Sophie. Is that clear enough for you?"

Had I been standing, I would have needed to sit down after that statement. You might think that I shouldn't be so shocked, as Viv, Angelina, and Alicia were practically telling me the same thing. However, it was different coming from George. The bluntness of the statement was not subject to any dodgy interpretation or analysis.

"I…er…I…" I stammered.

"You're surprised?" he asked with a grin.

"Well, yes, of course I am."

"I thought I was rather obvious."

"Obvious?"

"Well, yeah, between partnering with you in class, visiting you while you were doing homework, and waiting for you outside of Umbridge's office, I thought it was fairly obvious," he recited, ticking off each incident on a finger. "And that's ignoring the most obvious incident of all."

"I thought you were being nice," I protested weakly.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Sophie, I'm not certain what world you live in, but people generally don't go around and snog other people to be 'nice.'"

"I meant the other things," I amended hastily. My cheeks were flaming.

"All right, but risk the wrath of Umbridge for niceness? I wouldn't have done that for Fred or Lee, you know."

"But…you've partnered with them in class and bothered them while they're working on homework!" I pointed out.

"You're overlooking the fact that both Lee and Fred are male," he replied.

"Still…you know…it was all highly subject to interpretation!" I stammered.

"Were you expecting me to recite sonnets?"

"No! I…I just…" I took a deep breath. "Those are all…fairly benign actions."

"Which is why I cleared things up," he concluded.

"That was hardly clearing anything up."

"Oh?"

"I mean…you…you might have done it because you were…really happy that your swamp was…successful."

I did not expect him to start laughing uproariously at this suggestion. In fact, I resented it slightly. Here I was voicing my legitimate concerns and he was laughing at me.

"Sophie, that makes absolutely no sense," he said once he managed to control his laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, it does!" I protested. "People are sometimes…impulsive when they're happy."

"Not quite like that, love."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" I exclaimed. "If a friend had gone and snogged you and then ran off, you would be searching for some sort of rational explanation, too!"

"That is not a rational explanation."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" I repeated.

"Maybe that I fancied you?"

"But that's not really rational," I said, my voice going slightly quiet. He gave a bemused sort of frown.

"And why's that?"

"Because…you're a friend. You're a nice bloke. There wasn't a reason for me to think that you were driven by…some other motivation."

"Well, now you know better," he replied cheerfully. "So how about it? Can I take you to dinner?"

"What? Dinner? Like a date?"

"You could call it that."

I felt as though my stomach had climbed up into the back of my throat. This was not how I envisioned the conversation going and I desperately wished I could find a way out of it.

"Look…er…can I think about—"

"No," replied George promptly.

"No?" I repeated, slightly surprised.

"I know you, Sophie. You'll just pretend to think about it, hope I forget about it, and avoid me whenever I try to bring it up."

"I would not!"

George arched an eyebrow. "Sophie, you're not exactly the most confrontational person in the world."

"I've never kissed someone and run off."

The words were out of my mouth before I could really give much thought to them and I immediately wished I could take them back. George's expression became slightly serious.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't exactly have to deal with the consequences immediately. You had time to…work things out."

"You've had the same amount of time, Sophie. You've just avoided the issue."

"I've scarcely been aware of the issue long enough to avoid it!"

"That's rubbish and you know it. You're a clever girl and I have a difficult time believing you actually believe such faulty reasoning."

"Maybe I'm not as clever as you think."

He gave a beleaguered sigh. "Yes or no, Sophie. This isn't that difficult."

"Yes, it is! You drop this huge revelation on me and then expect me to just leap into a decision without any thought?"

"What's to think about? You make a decision based on what you feel."

"What if I don't know? I haven't had an awful lot of time for self-examination."

"Sophie, I know you well enough to know that you were doing plenty of that after we left."

I exhaled sharply. This was not going the way I had hoped.

"Come on, Sophie. Can I take you to dinner or not?"

I swallowed. "I'm afraid I can't give you an answer right now, George."

His shoulders sagged slightly.

"Well, not to decide is to decide." He looked at his watch and stood up. "I have to get back. I'll see you around."

"George—"

Either he didn't hear me or pretended not to—he left the Green Dragon without a backward glance.

I drew a shaky breath and was slightly startled to feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I had gotten what I wanted—why did I feel so terrible?