The next few days were some of the best of the year. Angelina had been working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for about a week and a half and had been like an unstoppable force. George was right in his reasoning; she did think remarkably like him. They enjoyed long hours in the office, pouring over ideas and charts, laughing when an experiment went wrong and delighting when it went right. He particularly loved how when she became excited she went into extremely girlish fits of giggles complete with jumping up and down on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together.

She was reacting that way now, thrilled that they had mastered yet another Patented Day Dream. This one was more complex and all her idea. She told George that what girls would like more than a fantasy about a stranger was a fantasy about someone they already fancied. It was simple in theory: picture the person right before using the product and your crush would immediately become Mr. Perfect. It was easier said than done. That is not to say it wasn't fun to try and get it right. They had spent hours laughing at the botched results. George had tried it while thinking of her and was treated to the mental image of Angelina with a man's body, dressed in a pirate suit. It had taken several minutes to calm himself down and explain to her why he could not stop laughing hysterically throughout the whole 30 minute duration.

It was almost, George mused as he watched her flounce down the stairs, like working with Fred. They were nearly seamless as a team. She tinkered, he came up with ideas, sometimes at the same time they would have the very same thought. She took great joy in these moments. Her face would split into a wide smile each and every time. George enjoyed them too and suspected his facial expression mirrored her. For the first time in many months, work was enjoyable again. He was eager to open in the mornings. But at night, after she had left, he was sadder than ever. It wasn't just Fred anymore. He missed her too. Along with the loneliness she left in her wake, he had guilt now.

He wondered what kind of a brother he was. Fred was gone, his grave barely cold and already George desired Angelina. And it wasn't just that. He was forced to face the fact that his attraction to her had begun long before Fred had died. If he was honest with himself, it had started when Fred had asked her to the Yule Ball. He knew it sounded wrong, but it had literally taken her being taken by someone else, his identical twin in fact, to make him realize that he wanted to be with her. But by then it was too late. Friends didn't steal other friends' girls and brothers certainly didn't try. Even if Lee had always proclaimed his love for her (jokingly, he assumed) George had kept his mouth shut, going only so far as to tease her along with the rest of them.

But then again, he had slept with her. And if he was honest with himself, he had enjoyed it.

Something Fred had said in their 6th year kept replaying in his mind. They were in their dormitory and Fred had just told him that he and Angelina had just called it quits. George had been sympathetic but Fred had scoffed.

"We're too alike, her and I. It's better this way, just as friends. Anyway, she's up for grabs now, if you want to take a shot." George had laughed, but Fred had given him a look that was far too serious for his liking. It was almost like he knew. George had quickly changed the subject and they never talked about it again. But he remembered.

Now he was thinking about what it all meant. She and Fred may have been too alike, that was true, but George, though the perfect complement to Fred, was not Fred. He was always the quieter one (in comparison at least) and was a slight bit nicer when it came to his teasing. And when she and he worked together, it was like working with Fred. He was starting to think that maybe Fred and Angelina were right. And maybe, just maybe, the right woman out here for him was the female version of his brother. Maybe she was it.

Those thoughts, however, took him nowhere good. They only increased the guilt and confusion. She surely did not feel this way. It was best not to dwell on it. But there were moments, small, but nonetheless noticeable moments, where she leaned in a bit too close, or stayed a bit too long after closing, or upon leaving, hugged him in a way friends didn't hug. And then there were the looks she gave him…

George sighed. He needed a second opinion on this. Trouble was, the women he knew best might be disgusted that he had feelings for her. That was a scary thought. He couldn't tell his mother or Ginny. He needed an impartial third party.

The answer came through the door with the sound of a tinkering bell. He came downstairs to see who it was. Ron and Hermione were standing near the front door, smiling at him.

"Hey there, George. Bloody cold outside, isn't it?" Ron greeted, flushed as though from a long walk.

"It is a bit nippy," Hermione agreed. Her hair was windblown, but she pointed her wand at it and muttered something, instantly smoothing it down. George smiled at her.

"That's a useful trick." he said, giving her and Ron a hug.

"Yes," she put her bag down to remove her coat. "Angelina taught me. She said she knows what it's like to have curly hair. It gets rid of the frizz." Ron took her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.

"Hermione and Angelina have been getting close. They talk constantly." He informed George with a curt head jerk in Hermione's direction. "Can't shut them up."

"Oh Ron, we do not. It's just nice to have another girl friend, that's all." Ron nodded, but when his fiancée wandered off to look at something he turned again to George.

"They're constantly talking. But if I ask them what about, she always changes the subject or Angelina tells me to mind my own business. I tell you, I don't understand women." He shook his head. George digested this information carefully. He could talk to Hermione. If she was friends with Angelina, she might know something. And he was sure if he asked her, she wouldn't tell Ron. No offense to Ron, but he had a nasty habit of butting into other people's relationships.

"Angelina says she's working for you now," Hermione said from somewhere in the store.

"Yeah, she's helping me with the Wonder Witch products." He gestured to the pink shelves in the corner.

"It's good that you have some help," Hermione said sagely, examining the back of some product.

"I could use more though. I have to come up with some new products. I need someone to watch the store while I do that." George began getting the store ready to open.

"I could help, if you need it," Ron offered. "I need a job anyway. It'll be a while before I hear from the Ministry and Hermione's no fun. All she does is study for her N.E.W.T.s. Not that she needs them mind you-"

"I've told you, Ron," Hermione's head suddenly appeared from behind a shelf, "An education is important to me! You should support me-"

"Yeah, well, you've already got an education don't you? And I do support you. I just think they ought to just give it to you. After all, we helped defeat You-know-Who, er, Voldemort," Ron corrected, "What do you need N.E.W.T.s for? We've already got our faces on Chocolate Frog Cards." He gestured behind the cash register, where George kept a large picture of Fred as well as several blown-up versions of Chocolate frog cards baring pictures of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Hermione began to argue back, and sensing trouble, George stepped in. "I could use your help Ron. When can you start?"

"Today sounds cool," he looked warily back at Hermione who had gone back to looking at the back of the box, this time with a rather cold attitude.

"All right then. Go and grab some robes from upstairs for a uniform." Ron, sensing his escape, ran up the stairs to the attic.

George saw his opportunity and went for it. "So you've been talking to Angelina then?" he asked Hermione.

"Un-huh," she said distractedly.

"What do you, erm, what do you talk about?" He tried to keep his tone level but faltered. He cursed himself; Hermione was immediately on guard, looking at him with interest.

"Why do you ask?" she asked shrewdly.

"No reason in particular," he responded a bit too quickly. "Just, you know, we're friends and I wanted to make sure she was feeling alright. I reckon she's sad sometimes."

"Oh, well, she is," Hermione admitted. "But mostly she worries about you."

"About me?" George came over to Hermione.

"Well, yes. She knows you're sad and she hates it. She wants you to feel better. She cares about you a lot you know," she looked straight at George.

"Oh well, I suppose I care about her too. Tell her, not to worry about me. I'm-I'll be fine." Hermione was staring at him intently, as though reading him. George was grateful when Ron charged back down the steps.

"All the robes were a bit too short. Hermione, could you stretch these out for me?" They were much too short, by about three inches. George laughed while Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand, effectively ending their conversation. However, she stole furtive glances at him for the next hour she was at the shop, as though wanting to tell him something.

"I have to go and study now," she reported, picking up her coat (Ron rolled his eyes). "But don't be a stranger George." Her tone clearly held meaning. She kissed Ron goodbye, then the tinkle of the bell sounded again as she braved the bitter wind outside.

"She's mental that one, but I love her," Ron smiled slightly when she had left. George smacked him upside the head playfully, but could not help but think he had found his confidant at last.


A/N: Drop a review please! Thanks for all the support!