Disclaimer: Alas, it is not mine.

A/N: I apologize for the lengthy gap between updates (and on a plot twist, no less!). Life has been rather complicated for the past few months and it interfered with my fanfic writing. I think things have straightened out enough for that not to be a problem anymore (or for a while at any rate). So, without further ado, I give you…

Chapter 14: It's Never Easy

I arrived back home without really realizing that I'd managed to make the journey. It was a miracle that I hadn't Splinched myself in the process, as all of my thoughts were focused on not thinking about what had just happened. I knew that if I thought about it, I would start to feel something and if I tried to feel anything at all, I would become completely overwhelmed in the worst way possible. It was just as well, I thought as I unlocked the front door, because I can't really afford to become overwhelmed, not by this and especially not after I've put so much effort into convincing myself that I didn't know how I felt.

I entered the house and headed toward the kitchen. Mum sat at the kitchen table, mulling over what looked like a crossword puzzle, completely ignoring the large tawny owl that was perched on the chair across from her.

"Hullo, Thisbe," I said to the owl. She glared at me and gave a scolding sort of hoot.

"She's been here for half an hour," said Mum, not looking up from the paper. "Athena is rather put out."

The owl in question ruffled her feathers on her perch in the far corner of the room. I went to untie the letter from Thisbe's leg.

"How was your tea?"

I sucked in a deep breath and made an attempt at nonchalance. "It was all right."

"It doesn't sound as though it was all right," said Mum skeptically.

"It was." I turned the letter over in my hands and broke the seal with my thumbnail. It contained a single word in Viv's sprawling script: So?

"You know I don't believe you, right?"

"I didn't expect you would. Can I borrow your pen for a moment?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" She slid the pen across the table.

"I don't know." I tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in my throat as I scrawled a quick reply—Not well—in the space beneath Viv's message. I messily refolded the letter and quickly retied it to Thisbe's leg. "I'm not sure I'd know where to start."

Mum smiled at me sadly. Thisbe gave me a hard look and a stern hoot before flying off through the kitchen window. I sat down in the chair vacated by the owl, feeling resigned and rather tired.

"I'll make you some tea," said Mum, rising from her seat. She made this offer whenever she didn't know what to do or say to make me feel better. In the past, I'd refused on principle, frustrated by the notion that my problems could be solved by tea. Strangely, I found the gesture comforting this time around. As Mum filled the kettle with water, life felt simple and it was so easy to take advantage of it. I shut my eyes for a moment and breathed deeply.

The cheerful chime of the doorbell interrupted that all too brief solitude, an unpleasant reminder of everything that I was ignoring. I reluctantly opened my eyes. Mum wiped her hands on a dishtowel and went to answer the door. I could feel that easy sense of peace slipping from me, quick and ungraspable as smoke. I refocused and tried to think of nothing.

"You've a visitor."

For a split second, I thought it might be George and an iron band closed tightly around my chest. But it was Viv who sauntered into the room and plopped down in the seat across from me. I was relieved for a moment before I realized that Viv would cut straight to the heart of the matter and not accept any excuses.

Shit.

"I brought chocolate," she announced, setting a large box of Chocolate Frogs down in front of me. A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I'll leave you to it, then," said Mum, taking the kettle off. She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze as she exited the kitchen.

"You got here quickly," I remarked.

"The joys of owl service and Apparition." She tossed a frog at me and I caught it rather clumsily. "All right, let's hear it."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Too bad. You got me involved and you know I'm going to force it out of you eventually."

I sighed and tore open the packaging. I took a bite out of one of the legs and flipped the card over.

"Hecate again."

"And don't try to change the subject," she warned, snatching the card from my fingers. "Let's not do this the hard way."

"It was an offhand comment," I said, rather put out that I'd been caught. Viv looked skeptical and drummed her fingernails against the table expectantly. I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself for the impending avalanche of emotion. "Well…we…we, er, got to talking…"

"And?"

Another deep breath.

"…andhesaidhefanciedme."

"I knew it!" A triumphant grin stretched across Viv's face. "I told you it wasn't a joke. Honestly."

She paused for a moment and seemed to realize that I was not as overjoyed as she was. Her smile faded slightly and her shoulders sagged.

"You mucked it up."

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it that…" I said, even though I knew her description was accurate.

"Sophie. What did you say?" Her voice had gone flat and serious and I knew without a doubt that she would not agree with how I'd chosen to handle the situation. I cleared my throat.

"I…well, I said it was rather complicated and I asked if I could think about it before we…well, he said that not to decide is to decide and he left…and then I came home."

Viv looked at me for a solid minute before very slowly and purposefully banging her head against the kitchen table.

"Sophie."

"Yes?"

"Are you completely mad?"

I let out a rather indignant puff of air. "Look, I don't think it's completely unreasonable to—"

"Oh, yes it is!" A wild hand gesture accompanied her interjection and she looked at me sternly, mouth tight with determination. "You clearly fancy him so therefore—"

"I don't know if I fancy him!"

"Oh, honestly!" She took a deep breath and I knew that there was no stopping her now. "You've been flirting with him for at least a year, you blush when he talks to you, you giggle incessantly—"

"I do n—"

"—you joined the bloody D. A. because he asked you to, you frequently passed notes in class, you laugh at him even when he's not being particularly clever, you still have that quill that turned into a newt in the front pocked of your book bag—"

"I never had the chance to clean it out—"

"Since sixth year?" She chuckled dismissively. "And this is all not mentioning the fact that you were all over him in the Owlery the night the Inquisitorial Squad raided the room of Requirement—"

"First off, you weren't even there—"

"Angelina and Alicia kindly provided a reenactment," she said with a wry smile. "'I'm just slightly dizzy.' Right. Like that's not a transparent attempt to get cozy…"

"I was dizzy!"

"Granted, but were you that dizzy? Does 'slightly dizzy' really necessitate being held in the arms of a dashing young man such as George?"

"Oh stop it, you're sounding just like him now."

"Don't avoid the question, Sophie."

I tried to steel myself against her attempt to warp my own logic but it was too late. I had been dizzy at the time, but was I incapable of standing on my own? A tiny twitching doubt pulled at the back of my mind and I was not a good enough actress to prevent it from reflecting in my facial expression. Viv pressed on, a victorious smile already in place.

"Really, Sophie. You cuddled up to him in the Owlery, you liked it when he kissed you—"

"I never said that!"

"Right. You just stood there and kissed him back because you didn't enjoy it at all."

My cheeks flamed and Viv's smile became wider.

"You fancy him. You're just frightened to admit it."

I sighed. "Viv, you don't understand it's—"

"It may be difficult for you to believe but I do understand. I was friends with Dan before we—"

"That was different. You were friends, but it wasn't the same way…"

"Well, perhaps you're right about that." But the smile remained and there was now an odd sort of sparkle in her eyes, as though she had just realized her knight was in one move of my king. She abruptly rose and went to the far end of the counter by the toaster where we kept pens and papers and the like.

"What are you doing?"

She rummaged about for a bit before finding some blank paper and a pen. She began scribbling quickly, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Viv—"

"Can I borrow your owl?" She had folded the paper and was already making a beeline for Athena.

"I—who are you writing?" If she was writing George, I was sunk. I could not have that conversation twice in one day and manage to keep my composure or my sanity.

"Alicia." The letter was tightly secured and Athena was flying out the window.

"Why?" I asked warily.

"Because she is more versed in this subject than I am," said Viv, plopping back down in her chair and grabbing a Chocolate Frog. "Dan and I weren't friends like you and George. Alicia and Lee were."

An exasperated sigh exploded from my lungs. "That's diff—"

"Really? How so?" She did not sound particularly interested in the answer; rather she seemed intent on exposing some sort of fatal flaw in my reasoning.

"They…they didn't spend…I mean, they never spent much time alone with each other…"

"Not that you saw," countered Viv with a devilish grin. "You spent most of last year avoiding me, studying, or pretending to study while George distracted you."

"I wasn't—"

"And you're also forgetting how they were both obsessed with wizard's chess first through fourth year—they spent quite a bit of time playing games just the two of them."

"Well—"

"And of course the number of times they've partnered together in class—" Viv was cut off by the cheery chime of the doorbell. She sprang nimbly from her seat and went to answer the door, looking very much like the cat who ate the canary. I tried to collect myself in the brief time that she was gone, hoping to regain some of the ground I'd obviously lost. Viv presently returned with a pajama clad Alicia in tow.

"I thought you had a proper job to be at?" I asked, looking pointedly at the purple dragon slippers on her feet.

"I start next week." She took the chair next to me and immediately helped herself to a Chocolate Frog. "And don't try and change the subject."

"I wasn't—oh, never mind."

"I owled Angelina as well but she can't make it." Alicia tore open the packaging, neatly ripping the enclosed wizard card in half.

"Did you notify the Prime Minister as well? Magical and Muggle?" I asked irritably. I appreciated the fact that my friends were concerned about me, but I failed to see the necessity of keeping everyone on a minute-by-minute update of my life, especially given the fact that I'd been spending quite a lot of time embarrassing myself lately.

"Oh, don't have kittens: it's Angelina," said Alicia, chucking the wrapper at me. "What happened? It can't be all that bad."

"No, she's just completely raving mad," explained Viv before I could so much as open my mouth.

"Well, we already knew that. I thought you were supposed to have tea and get everything worked out?"

"Oh, they did. George made it quite plain that he fancies Sophie; Sophie responded by saying she needed time to think because it's 'complicated.'"

Alicia indulged herself in a spectacular eye roll. "Really, Sophie!"

"Don't you 'really!" me: it is complicated!" I protested.

"It's complicated because you're making it complicated, ducks."

"She's right. And mind you, I'm speaking from ex-per-i-ence." Alicia rapped her knuckles on the table with every syllable. "It might be uncomfortable for you to admit it but it's hardly complicated."

"I—"

"And really, it's only uncomfortable for a short time," interrupted Alicia. "Once you get everything sorted out, it's quite nice—you already know each other, so you get to skip to the fun parts." A devious grin accompanied this last statement.

"It's true," confirmed Viv.

I shuddered. "Thank you, that was far more information than I ever needed or wanted to know."

"Go on, I know you've thought about getting to know George better…" Alicia gave me a knowing nudge and my cheeks flamed.

"I—"

"Oh, just go on and admit it already. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I've been trying to explain that to you!"

"What you've been doing is making up dodgy, half-baked explanations that you don't even believe," clarified Alicia.

I opened my mouth to reply and found for the life of me, I could not think of a proper retort.

"And really, what's s awful about admitting you fancy George?" continued Viv. "He's not seeing someone else. He's not married. He's not a bad bloke. Merlin's pants, Sophie, he doesn't even fancy someone else! You're friends, but it's not as though you're related."

And for perhaps the first time, I realized that Viv was right and there was absolutely no excuse I could make that would allow me to deny it.

"I think that it's probably easier to be unsure because the implications aren't quite as harsh," said Alicia quietly. "It's not as easy to be surprised by your own feelings because it's frightening, almost like you don't really know yourself."

I felt as though I'd been hit in the stomach by the entire Irish National Quidditch team.

"And that's all skewed perception," added Viv. "People occasionally miss things. A single instance doesn't mean you're stupid or anything like that." Alicia nodded in agreement.

"But…it wasn't just once…" My mouth felt coated in cotton. I stayed silent for a moment longer before realizing I didn't have anything else to add.

"Now you're getting picky—it all revolves around the same issue, so I count it as one incident."

I sighed and looked down at my hands. "You're giving me too much credit."

"The number of times it occurred is irrelevant—what matters is that you still have the opportunity to change the outcome," said Alicia.

"You mean with what happened today?" I shook my head. "It's rather late for that."

"At no point in the conversation did you terminate your friendship or agree to cease all further discussion on the subject," pointed out Viv. "Owl him and tell him you've changed your mind."

"I…I don't know. It still feels complicated…though maybe not as much as I thought."

"Do it—it will sort itself out."

I took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can, though. That I'm brave enough to."

Alicia shook her head vehemently. "What a load of bollocks!"

"I wasn't brave enough to take anything at face value. I had to distort it with analysis."

"Well, now you know better. Just go and do it. I think you may regret it if you don't."

It was easy to admit she was right. It just wasn't sensible to always make choices that were easily and comfortable—everyone knew that. But it was so much more difficult in practice. In practice, I could make terrible mistakes. In practice, I could get hurt. In practice, I was not so brave.

*

The talk with Viv and Alicia inevitably brought up issues and feelings that were quite overwhelming in their scope. Work was a welcome distraction. Work allowed me to focus on other things, to not think quite so much. The fact that I was working a few blocks away from the boy who was the center of most of my problems failed to rattle me—I had books to shelve, customers to assist, inventories to complete. I occupied myself with other projects at home. I purchased a thick book titled Now What?: The Hogwarts Graduate's Guide to Choosing a Career in Magic and spend most of my free hours studying it intently and taking copious notes.

When Friday came I realized that I'd managed to go through the entire week without analyzing anything related to George or berating myself for having a poor handle on the situation. It was not exactly progress, but it wasn't a bad thing, either. Besides, I wasn't entirely certain that I was looking for progress—in fact, I was still struggling with the idea that there was anything that I could do about the situation. However, fate had a tendency to prove me wrong. This time, it came in the form of Brenna.

"Sophie."

A purposeful kick landed on my shin and I looked up to find Brenna glaring at me over her porridge. I kicked her back and returned the glare.

"What was that for?"

"I've asked you the same question three times," she said exasperatedly, delivering a retaliatory kick that I decided to ignore.

"You ought to know I'm never a good breakfast companion. You know, having lived with me for all these years."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She was clearly ready for her second year, given the recent rapid development of her melodramatic side.

"Whatever. Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yes, full shift."

"Could we go to Diagon Alley today, then?"

I paled slightly, spoonful of porridge midway to my mouth. "What?"

"Diagon Alley. You promised you'd take me to Fred and George's shop," she reminded me, exasperation thickly coloring her tone.

"You're asking me for favors after kicking me in the shin?" Though I was slightly annoyed with the beating my shins had taken, the main goal of this statement was to try and put off the trip (hopefully for as long as possible).

"I'm sorry!"

"Well—"

"You did promise," she went on, flashing her puppy dog eyes for all they were worth. It was unfortunate that she was still young enough to make you feel sorry for her, despite the fact that she had been a right prat not five seconds ago. "You said last week we could go and have a sisters outing."

"Things were different last week."

She frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Never mind. Does it really have to be today?" More importantly, did it have to be Fred and George's shop?

"You work tomorrow and I'm going to Kathleen's on Sunday." A slight whine crept into her voice. "And you promised you'd take me and I've been looking forward to it all week."

"Did Mum and Dad say it was all right? Mum's been rather funny about our safety lately…"

"It's fine so long as we're back by dark. They agreed last night at dinner. You weren't paying attention, of course." She frowned and tilted her head to the side. "You've been doing a lot of that lately, you know."

"You don't know half the story…" I muttered. I suppressed a sigh. I really, really, really did not want to do this, but Brenna was beyond determined and I had little choice in the matter. I put on my most convincing smile.

"All right, we'll go this afternoon."

*

The uncharacteristic silence and grayness that had descended upon Diagon Alley in the past week was the perfect backdrop for my dreary mood and sense of impending doom. Brenna was completely unaffected by both; she strode through the streets with the light step of someone too young to be terribly bothered by evil wizards or romantic misadventures. I followed her reluctantly, dragging my feet and feeling as though I was on my way to my execution.

The brightness of the shop made it visible from a fair distance away and only served to remind me that a surely awkward and uncomfortable encounter was much nearer than I would like it to be. My heart thumped loudly in my chest and my stomach pitched with every step forward. The closer we came to the shop, the more awful the whole venture seemed. When we were close enough to read the labels on the brightly colored products displayed in the windows, my fear overwhelmed me and I found that my legs could take me no further.

"Brenna, wait!"

She turned around reluctantly and gave a beleaguered sigh. "What?"

I dug a few Galleons from my pocket. "Here, take these. I'll wait out here."

The irritation faded from her face as I pressed the coins into her palm, replaced by a look of genuine confusion. "Why? Don't you want to go in?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's complicated." Brenna looked perplexed. "Really complicated."

"How—"

"Look, I'll explain later." I pulled the remaining money from my pocket and shoved it at her. "Just go."

She looked at me for a moment more before nodding skeptically and pocketing the money. A cacophony of joyous noise spilled from the doorway as she opened the shop door. A twinge of regret pulled at my heart; despite my misgivings about the situation, I could not deny that it sounded rather fun. Brenna gave me one last look before disappearing into the shop, the door shutting noisily behind her. I leaned against the brickwork of the building, making sure to keep out of sight from the windows. I didn't exactly feel wonderful about the situation—in fact, I felt rather guilty about copping out at the last moment—but the tense knot in my shoulders relaxed just slightly.

Seconds later, the shop door jangled open, startling me out of my brief moment of solitude. Brenna propped the door open with her foot and peered outside.

"I gave you all my money," I warned her. She waved me off.

"Fred says that George won't be back for an hour and to come inside." She gave me a quizzical look. "Did you two have a row?"

"I said I'll explain later. Are you certain it's just Fred in there? Are you certain it's not George pretending to be Fred, for that matter?"

"He said to tell you he swears on his life that he is in fact Fred and not George."

"First rule: always treat statements of identity from either Fred or George with a certain amount of skepticism."

Brenna rolled her eyes. "It's Fred. George always swears on his honor as a Weasley when he's pretending to be Fred. Besides, their smiles are different."

I hesitated for a moment, guilt and pride waging a silent war inside me. But Brenna evidently had little patience for hesitation or inner debate. With a roll of her eyes and a beleaguered sigh that was becoming increasingly familiar, she grabbed hold of my wrist and tugged me into the shop.

If you wanted to be brief about it, you would describe the interior of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as an overwhelming trip for all the senses. The color scheme was delightfully mismatched and outlandish—bright oranges and reds competed with iridescent violets and unnatural greens—and every square inch of the shop seemed to have something you just had to look at. A faint whiff of gunpowder mingled with the sweet smell of cinnamon, a strange and oddly pleasant combination that tickled the back of your throat. Despite my nerves, I quickly became distracted by the bright labels and packages on the shelves. It was only when I felt a friendly tap on my shoulder that I remembered I had not come to the shop for entertainment. I tore my gaze away from a display of Hypno-Specs ("Mesmerize your friends! Confound your enemies!") and found myself face to face with Fred Weasley.

"So, what do you think?" He wore the store's uniform of bright magenta robes, a choice that might have been disastrous in an ordinary shop.

It took me a moment before I could summon up the wherewithal to utter a rather shocked "Wow", partly because the shop was impressive and partly because I'd become nervous as hell.

"We're still looking for a bookkeeper, you know," he said, nudging me with his elbow. I wondered if he was simply resurrecting the joke or if he was trying to put me at ease. Perhaps both.

"Can't help you, I'm afraid. Besides, I'm back at Flourish and Blotts for the summer."

He looked flabbergasted. "You'd rather shelve dusty old books than work for the fastest growing business in Diagon Alley?"

"Well, I reckon I'm less likely to turn into a canary working the till, though."

He laughed good-naturedly and a slight pause followed. I tried to swallow my panic and continued speaking in what I hoped was the most natural way possible.

"But…really, it's wonderful…what you've got here…wonderful execution…" I risked a glance at Fred and found him grinning impishly, totally unimpressed by my attempts at benign conversation.

"You're walking on eggshells, Sophie."

I straightened my shoulders and tried my best to project confidence. "I am not."

"Yes, you are. You're unusually inarticulate and the color of a cherry tomato."

"Well even in the unlikely event that I was, could you blame me?"

"No. It's just terribly fun to watch."

I frowned. "You mean you're not angry with me?"

He smirked. "I thought you weren't—"

"Oh, shut up, we both know I was lying."

He grinned and looked pleased with himself, as though he thought the ensuing conversation would be quite fun.

"No, I'm not angry with you. Should I be?"

"Well…I mean, I…" I sputtered and struggled with how to word this next part. "I…I assumed George is, so I thought you'd be as well…"

"I wouldn't say he's angry. Disappointed, more like."

I felt a strange and uncertain sense of relief. I was glad that I hadn't done something unforgivable but I wasn't certain how I wanted to proceed from that revelation. I quickly dismissed the thought for later.

"Well, I suppose that's better than angry."

"I am slightly confused, though," he said. The slight glint of mischief in his eyes warned me to proceed carefully.

"About what?"

"Do you not fancy him or are you just completely mad?"

I sighed exasperatedly. I didn't want to get into this now, not in the middle of the shop with the possibility of George showing up feeling imminent.

"It's complicated."

"You're not secretly in love with me are you? Because that opens an entirely new can of kelpies…"

Despite my irritation with his line of questioning, I couldn't resist smiling. "No, Fred, nothing like that."

"It would've never have worked out between us," he said, clasping one hand over his heart and sighing despondently. "I could never tame your wild spirit."

"My 'wild spirit?'"

He shrugged. "Some rubbish I read in one of Viv's books. You know, the cheap paperbacks with the bosomy women and sweaty men on the covers."

"You actually read those?"

"George, Lee, and I flipped through a few one evening. They're pure rubbish, of course, but they're entertaining. And educational." He waggled his eyebrows and I was certain he was not referring to the melodramatic dialogue. "Anyway, that doesn't answer my question."

"I told you: it's complicated."

"'Complicated' has hardly stopped you before—you took N. E. W. T. Potions for Merlin's sake!"

"Well…this is different. It…came up suddenly and caught me off guard."

He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "I have to disagree. It's been rather obvious, actually. Since sixth year, at least."

I rolled my eyes. "Did you rehearse beforehand? You sound exactly like him."

"And after that spectacle in the hall—"

"Oh, do shut up."

"And I have it on good authority that it was a mutual spectacle—"

My face flushed profusely and I sputtered for a moment before smacking him on the arm. I wasn't sure if I was angry with him for taking the mickey or at George for kissing and telling. Luckily, they looked enough alike that swatting Fred was quite satisfying.

"Fred Weasley, you'll be lucky if I hex you into next year."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Empty threats, Sophie. I've yet to see you follow through."

"You're certainly tempting me…"

"Mum always said to do what you're good at." He grinned. "But really, Sophie, is it worth all this agony?"

I sighed again and rolled my eyes heavenward. "It's complicated."

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you believe it," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Trust me on this one."

"I think you'd change your mind if you reevaluated things."

"Evaluating things is what got me into this in the first place."

He looked at me for a moment with his particular brand of rare seriousness, the thoughtful and quiet side that was so easy to forget he had. He smiled after a moment and clapped me on the shoulder. This, too, was a different kind of smile, one that wasn't centered on jokes; rather the simple conviction that things were going to turn out all right.

"You'll sort everything out, Sophie."

And despite the ongoing stress and the looming threat of a convoluted and uncomfortable resolution to a complicated situation, I desperately hoped that he was right.

*

A/N: Again, so sorry for the delay! I know that not a lot happened because this chapter was super dialogue- and analysis-centric, but it had to happen to fit in with the story arc I have in mind. The next chapter will be very different (and posted much, much sooner). In the meantime, please review and let me know what you think!