"What are you doing here?" asked Harry.

"Never mind that. Are you alright?" George sounded concerned. "Sounded like you were hacking up half a lung in here."

"Lovely image," Harry said weakly, standing up and going to wash his hands.

"You can sit back down, you know," said George. "There's a reason there's a bench." He gestured to the stone bench next to them.

"Oh. Right." Embarrassed (though he couldn't figure out why), Harry took a seat, and George plopped down next to him.

"So, what's eating you, Harry?" George asked cheerfully. "Or what did you eat? Or what did my brother do this time?"

"Yeah. That one. I don't know if I even want to tell you."

"Oh, come on, tell Uncle Georgie all about it."

"OK," said Harry warily. "First, you tell me why you're here."

"Mum wanted me to drop off some stuff to Ginny." George held up the rucksack that was hanging off his arm. "Would've done it herself, but she didn't want to embarrass her. So she sent me instead."

"It's October," said Harry. "Ginny's just now realizing she forgot some things?"

"Yeah, well, Ron's not the only Weasley who does stupid things." George looked at Harry in a way Harry couldn't quite define, nor was he sure he wanted to. "She let go of you, remember?"

"Yeah, but..." Not long after the fall, Ginny had broken up with Harry. This was around the same time Harry had begun to suspect that Ginny had only ever been interested in him because he was the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, all the rubbish her older brother had gotten over years before. "That never would've worked anyway," he said lamely.

"Whatever you say." George paused. "Anyway, what was that you were going to tell me about Ron?"

"Oh. Right. Well, have you ever heard of fan fiction?"

George grinned. "Yeah, Fred loved that stuff." His face fell slightly, but he regained his composure quickly and said, "It was nice that he had that quirk, y'know, sexually. I could make fun of him for reading smut about our friends, and he could make fun of me about being gay."

"You're gay?"

"You didn't know?" George laughed. "You didn't think it was weird, the way I skived off on the Yule Ball to go play Exploding Snap with Lee Jordan? Or those one-on-one Quidditch practice sessions with Oliver Wood? Not ringing any bells here?"

"Oh. Wow. I feel dumb."

"Don't," George said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm pretty sure Ron still doesn't know. And speaking of..."

"Oh. Yes. Well, apparently, Ron liked some of the ideas he found in, um, I think it's called slash?"

"Male pairings? Yes," George said, smirking.

"And we couldn't find him this morning, and apparently he's 'studying' with Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, God."

"That's what I said. Then I threw up."

"So it's not something you ate, then."

"I hardly ate anything!" said Harry. "Honestly, I don't know how I was able to get anything to come up at all." Harry hesitated. "Actually, George, d'you think you could help me with something?"

"What is it?" George's expression softened. He was quite handsome, actually, Harry thought. He hadn't really noticed before. And his hair. It looked ... soft. Like it might need to be played with or something. "Harry?" Oh, shit.

"I was thinking, well, I can't stop thinking about the stories I've read, and it's really doing bad things to my concentration," Harry told George. "I can't focus on anything without thinking of McGonagall getting shagged by Madam Hooch or something."

George shuddered. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime."

"And yeah, I think we might have something in the stores for that. Think you could come to the shop later today? What's your schedule?"

"Charms in—" Harry looked at his watch. "20 minutes, and after that, I have the day off."

"Nice Monday," said George.

"It is."

"So, around noon, then? We could have a bite, maybe go around the shops a bit."

Harry got the feeling George could use some company, the way he still used "We" instead of "I" when he talked about the shop and just how earnest he was about spending some time together in the afternoon. So, naturally, Harry told him that yes, he'd love to come into town.

"Just take the One-Eyed Witch passageway—"

"I already know," Harry said with a grin. "Right into Zonko's, two shops down and one across, and if you're not on the sales floor, you'll be upstairs in your flat."

George grinned back. "Well, I should get this to Gin, then. You feeling better?"

"Loads," said Harry, and he meant it. As George waved goodbye and left the bathroom, Harry wondered why he felt so alright again, and when George's eyes had gotten as bright and as blue as they were. Didn't they used to be like any other eyes? Weren't they the kind of eyes you looked at when they were there but forgot once they were gone? Even hours later, after his Charms exam and on his way to the passageway, Harry asked himself, when was it that George Weasley had gotten so interesting?