Chapter 11

So I promised an update a month, and here it is! Cutting it close... I've actually had this written since the beginning of May, but I wasn't happy with it. I made some changes that hopefully made it better, but let me know what you think! Thanks!

Read, Review, Enjoy!

George left Charlie sitting forlornly on the grassy hillside. He knew that at this moment all his brother wanted was to be alone with his memories. Meanwhile, a fire seemed to have been lit in George's soul that wiped away the apathy he had been feeling the past weeks. He would find Angelina: that much was clear. The how was a bit more challenging. George had no idea where she might be, and when he thought of all the places Angelina might have gone, he realized shamefully that he had never met her either of her parents and so had no idea how to contact them.

Best friends were a close second after parents, so George left the sunny hillside of the Burrow and Apparated into the crowded and noisy streets of London. George was hustled by the crowd as he tried to make his way across the street to Alicia Spinnet's apartment, hoping she knew where Angelina had gone. The building was very obviously Muggle-inhabited, and George wondered slightly at her choice of living there. Most often witches and wizards lived in a close proximity to each other. Birds of a feather flock together, or something like that, George thought. However, George didn't know any other magical folk that lived nearby.

George rang the buzzer twice impatiently, bouncing slightly on his heels in anticipation. "Who is it?" Alicia's voice rang out from what looked to George like a metal box, making him jump in surprise.

Not sure who he was talking to, George replied, "Er…George Weasley."
"Hang on, I can't hear you…Never mind, it's open. Come on up." There was a third loud buzz and when George tried the door it opened easily. Alicia's flat was on the second floor facing on opposite side of the street. He knocked gently on the door, and Alicia opened it immediately, words already on her lips.

"Sorry, the buzzer doesn't always work…" she trailed off as she recognized George, her eyes gaining a menacing look as she closed the door slightly. "George," she stated. "What do you want?"

George was a bit taken aback. He and Alicia had always gotten along rather well. "Er, hi to you too Alicia." She just stared at him. "Look, I was wondering if you knew where Angelina is."
"Yes, I do."

"So…will you tell me?"

Alicia sighed and stepped outside the door, closing it softly but firmly behind her. "I don't know."

"How do you not know?" George protested angrily.

"You have to understand, George. You hurt her. And as her best friend, what I really should do right now is hex you and tell you to keep away. But I've always liked you, George, and I think you are good for Ange." She paused, biting her lip. "But I don't want to see Angelina get hurt again. She's already been through so much. I know you have too," Alicia added hastily, holding out her hands to cut George off. "And that's why I think you are good for each other. Still, I don't want her hurt, and more specifically, I don't want you hurting her."

"Alicia, I'm going to set this right. I was a selfish jerk, I know. I have been a wreck this past while, and I'm not going to the make the mistake of letting her go. So please, Alicia. Please. Where is she?"

Alicia sighed, giving in, and George could've kissed her in glee. "There was a Quidditch invitational at six tonight. Chudley Canons, Wimbourne Wasps, Berlin Banshees…hosted by the Parisian Pixies. She left yesterday."

George took a moment to process this. "So…She's in Paris?" Alicia nodded. George swore under his breath. He remembered his family's trip to Egypt a few years back. Although it might seem possible, wizards couldn't just apparate into other countries. There was a process, one that George desperately didn't want to take the time to do. "Right…" he muttered. "Well, thanks Alicia. I promise I won't let you down."

She smiled and gave him a quick, friendly hug. "Good luck, George."

George strode quickly down the street to where he could see the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. The Department of Magical Transportation, located on level six, already was host to a large crowd when George arrived. Three harried looking wizards stood at the head of the mob, trying to keep the line organized and moving, to no avail. He grabbed the first man he saw in official robes and asked, "What's with the line?"

The man shrugged, looking a bit irritated at having been taken from him task. "It's summer. People want to go on vacation. There's a Quidditch invitational. What do you expect?" George grimaced at the mention of Quidditch.

"How long is this going to take?"

The man appraised the crowd. "Could be a few hours…"

George cursed. "Isn't there any way to get there faster?"

The man sighed. "Look, I really need to get back to my work." George started to turn away dejectedly. "However, I can see that I know you fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, so…" he said, eyeing George's ear. "Do you have family…wherever you're going?"

"Paris," George said. He was about to answer no, he had no family in France, when a sudden thought struck him. "Yes, yes I have family! Er…In-laws, at least."

The man nodded. "As long as they are expecting you and you aren't planning a visit longer than three days, I'll okay your paperwork."

"I don't have any paperwork."

The man winked and walked away, giving George a quick pat on the shoulder on his way.

As George had no way to contact the Delacours, he knew he'd have to go to Fleur. As he turned the corner for a secluded spot to apparate, he realized this was a golden opportunity. He'd be able to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Bill and Fleur were already in the yard outside, cooing over an adorable Victoire, who was snuggled safely in Fleur's arms. They had both abandoned their heavy wizard robes in favor of lighter, Muggle attire. They glanced up as he approached, surprise mirrored on each of their faces. He hadn't ignored either of them when they saw each other at the Burrow, but he hadn't gone out of his way to be friendly either. George turning up at their house, unannounced and for no known reason, was surely the last thing they expected.

"George!" Fleur said, recovering first. "What a nice surprise. 'Ow are you?" Bill shot her a quick look as if to say How do you think he is? George answered honestly, however.

"Pretty terrible, to tell you the truth. Look," he said, pulling up a chair from one of the patio tables off to the side. "I've been wanting to apologize. I was, well, basically an idiot. I guess I wasn't quite ready for the idea of another family member when it still seems to me like I just lost Fred. Still, I feel awful for not being more supportive, and I promise now I am going to be the best uncle I can be." George wasn't really accustomed to apologies like this, and the words felt strange on his tongue. He thought they sounded scripted—which, actually, they weren't.

"Oh, George," Fleur cried. Still cradling Victoire in her arms, she leaned over to kiss him on both cheeks. "We forgive you, bien sûr." George smiled gratefully at her. However, he knew Fleur's demeanor was forgiving, and it was more his brother he was worried about.

Bill stood up and clapped Fred into a tight hug. "Welcome back, bro," he said, voice filled with emotion.

"You're…you're not mad?" George asked.

"Of course not," Bill said, with Fleur shaking her head vigorously with him. "George, we know this past year has been even harder than you than the rest of us. And no matter what, I'll always be your brother. No matter how irritating you might be," he continued with a grin. "I'll always love you. Now, speaking as your brother, I have some advice for you…"

"I know, I know. That's actually the other reason I came here. See, Angelina is actually in Paris right now…" he quickly filled them in. "And since you're just visiting family you can get in easily, I was hoping…"

"Of course, of course!" Fleur said, passing off Victoire to Bill. "I will go tell Maman now to expect you. It will be no problem, I am sure." She bustled off into the house, a big smile on her face. Bill stared lovingly after her.

"Loves a good love story, Fleur does," he said with a grin.

"So, this is Victoire," George said. Of course he had seen her before, but he'd never really looked at her. Even at just about two weeks old she was clearly Fleur's daughter, and part vela. Her few hairs were a bright blonde, and her wide eyes a deep blue. "Can I hold her?" Bill passed his daughter gently into George's arms. George was surprised at how light she was, and how comfortable it felt to have her in his arms.

"She's beautiful, Bill," George commented. Bill beamed, radiating a proud father glow.

"Look, George. I'm so happy you are going after Angelina. But that's not the only advice I was going to give you." George looked up from Victoire, and noticed the slight trace of pain masked behind his brother's dark eyes. "Don't cut us out, George. We're you're family—we want to help you through this, if you will let us. We have to help each other through this, because we are the only ones who know what it feels like. Mum's a wreck. She thinks she's going to lose you, too, and truthfully George I don't think she could handle it. None of us could. You might think you hurt the most, and maybe in some ways its true. Fred was your twin." Bill's hands were clenched into tight fists, pain etched clearly across his face. "But he was my little brother, and I should have protected him." Bill broke off, choking the last through words out while trying to control his emotions. George stared at him, shocked for a moment in disbelief.

"Bill, there…there wasn't anything you could have done." George had never recognized the blame his older brothers had felt. He realized then that this was what Bill was talking about. He had been so self-absorbed he hadn't taken the time to even see how his brothers were feeling.

Bill smiled sadly at him. "Does it make you feel any better if I were to tell you it wasn't your fault he died, either?"

George sighed. "No." He stared intently at a freckle to the left of Victoire's nose; desperately trying to hold back the emotions he had so carefully constructed a wall against. No matter what they had just shared, George didn't want to cry in front of his older, strong brother. Bill seemed to sense this.

"You know, when Fred died, I cried for a day straight. And when they put my baby girl in my arms for the first time, I cried as if I was the baby. Hell, just yesterday Fleur was reading me some story from the Prophet about a son and father finally reunited after twenty years and I teared up! Crying doesn't make you weak, George," he said, clasping a large hand around his shoulder. "It just means we're strong enough to face our emotions."