Katie Bell was convinced that the world was spinning. She was planted squarely on the hardwood floor of the small flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and was the only object in the entire universe that was, at that moment, standing still. Everything else around her whirled: two unmade twin beds, piles of broken merchandise, the bulletin board which held dozens of pictures. Even the people in the pictures were spinning. Katie felt faint and was sure that she was about to fall over, but the sudden appearance of another still standing person helped her regain her balance.

"Katie?" George's voice and steady hand on her shoulder caused the objects in the room to stop moving. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Katie said dismissively. "Are you?"

George gave her a look which clearly displayed the stupidity of the question she had just asked. Katie nodded. "Right…"

"Listen, if you've changed your mind and don't want to do this tonight, I absolutely understand," George put out, but the stubborn brunette shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. "I said we can do this and we will. Why don't you start with that pile of broken stuff and I'll tackle the closets?"

George nodded and crossed the floor, sitting on his old bed and starting to sort through the inventing discards. Katie took a deep breath and turned around, facing the closet door that was slightly cracked open. This one's George's, she thought. I'm sure of it. It's the one that's closest to his bed, and the other one is shut all the way. George always leaves things open.

With this idea set firmly in her head, Katie pulled the door open the rest of the way. She immediately realized with a jolt that she had been wrong. This closet had belonged to Fred Weasley.

Everything about the small closet was distinctively Fred. Old trainers mixed with robes in various shades of shocking color reading "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" were scattered across the floor. His old button-ups, jackets, and quidditch tees were hung haphazardly on bent and broken hangers, some of which held up to three items of clothing. The only thing in the closet that looked undisturbed were rather nice looking robes which, Katie realized with a jolt, were the dress robes Fred had worn to the Yule Ball when he had escorted Angelina and broken Katie's heart. The clothes and the closet in general had obviously been rifled through the last time it had been opened. Katie reflected on this, and made the somewhat sickening observation that Fred must have grabbed and stuffed several of his clothes into a suitcase after having to flee the store with his family at the end of last year. She gripped the closet door's frame as she felt her knees beginning to buckle. Spell-o-taped to the inside of the closet wall were several pictures of Fred and George laughing together, one of the Weasley family in Egypt, and a few of Gryffindor's old quidditch team. In the middle of this picture collage, Katie's own face stared back at her. Her sixteen-year-old self laughed, light sun-made freckles sprinkled across her nose. The close-up showed bits of egg yolk in her dark hair and flour was smudged on her left cheek. Fred had taken this snapshot, she remembered, in their fourth year during Muggle Studies. She and Fred were partnered together to bake a cake without magic and succeeded in being the only pair to fail completely. She remembered how much Fred had loved to reflect on that day with her, over-emphasizing her prodding of her wand into the dough which caused the initial explosion while she privately remembered idly counting the steps he had taken in order to cross the room and fetch her a towel. There had been twenty-seven.

Katie wrenched her eyes away from the photo and pulled off all of the pictures with determination, though she could not help but notice the single word Katesy printed on the back of the one of herself. She placed the pictures in a spare box George had grabbed from the back of the store and turned to face the rest of the closet. She took a deep breath and pulled down an armful of Fred's old shirts off of their hangers. Katie turned to place them in the box as well, but stopped short, her defense system collapsing.

Slowly and deliberately, Katie lowered herself to the floor. With a quick glance to ascertain that George still had his back to her, Katie lay the armful of clothes on the hardwood and buried herself in them. It was Fred's scent that still clung to them that had overcome her powers of resistance. She now lay face-down on the pile, breathing in deeply the familiar smell of Fred. That's all it was; just Fred. They smell just like you, she mentally informed the face of the red-head with a crooked smile that was swimming before her eyes.

So lost in thought was Katie, that she failed to notice the appearance of George standing above her until he spoke.

"Did you need help?" he asked, clearly unsure of what else to say.

Katie looked back at him through misty eyes. "I've missed this smell," she admitted sadly.

"Katie…"

"I'm sorry, George," she sighed. "I didn't realize that this would be so hard."

George grimaced. "Why d'you think I've been putting it off? C'mon, Katie, I think I know an easier way."

He made a valiant attempt at a smile and offered her his hand. Katie took it, pulling herself up. As George muttered a few words and the contents of Fred's closet folded and organized itself into the cardboard box, Katie felt ashamed of herself. Her resolve to help George had withered; the grief-stricken twin was now helping her. Shaking herself out of it, Katie moved over to the beds where she performed a simple cleaning charm and folded the quilts—most likely made by Mrs. Weasley—and set them on the end of the bed. She found it easier to ignore what the objects were that she was sorting through and either organizing or packing away. With the least amount of observation possible, Katie made her way through the twins' old flat, cleaning and reorganizing. George remained glum but did not repeat his previous break-down. Concerned for him, Katie watched the red-head move like a ghost throughout the various small rooms of the flat, eyes lingering only momentarily on his dead brother's things.

At long last, George wound up at Katie's side and the two of them looked over the newly cleaned flat. George's eyes lingered on the two twin beds which Katie had magically moved to opposite walls of the bedroom. She guessed his thoughts, as it seemed completely natural for him to say what he did next.

"Lee can have mine." George said it with decision. "I'll take Fred's." He nodded, seemingly to himself, and Katie took his hand and pressed it, as though this would take away some of the pain that he was feeling. George quickly squeezed her hand back and then dropped it as he headed toward the door.

"Are you still up for that drink you mentioned, Kay?" he asked, turning back to her. "Because I sure as hell could use it."

"That makes two of us," Katie said breathlessly. Hearing George clamber down the staircase, Katie inhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling. She was trying to clear her head, but was instead distracted by an almost invisible piece of string that hung from the center of ceiling. Curiously, Katie pulled it. Instantly, a trap door opened and a small wooden ladder jetted out. The old chaser narrowly avoided being hit by it and gawked at its presence with amazement.

"George?" she called out. There was no answer. He probably can't hear me, she thought as she placed her foot on the bottom rung. The curious girl pulled herself up and climbed the ladder quickly. When she emerged, she found herself on the shop's roof. Wide-eyed, Katie wondered why neither of the twins had bothered to point out this feature of their building. The view was incredible: she could see the lighted windows of the Leaky Cauldron, the dull lights over new broomsticks in Quality Quidditch Supplies, and further up the road, lights were twinkling out as the owners of the various shops of Diagon Alley went home for the night. The shop's roof was fairly flat and Katie was able to stretch out fully, gazing up at the night sky.

It was a clear summer's night and the stars were visible, though threatening clouds loomed toward the north. Katie did not mind their presence, though she was glad for arriving in time to star gaze. Astrology had always been a favorite subject of hers, though she rarely indulged in it. She figured her love of the stars came from the fact that they contrasted so starkly with her own life. Katie's personality and journey through Hogwarts was often unpredictable, her moods and situations jumping as quickly as Trelawney from a Grim. Being such good mates with the Weasley twins, she never knew where her life would take her. That was especially evident now. But the stars always stayed there, no matter how old you got or how much you shouted at them. She let these thoughts flow out of her head and upward, disappearing into the vast space above her.

"Is that where you are?" she whispered barely audibly. "Out there somewhere?" It somehow comforted her to imagine that Fred was now among the stars, looking back down at her with constancy. She was disrupted from her musings, however, by the sound of George's reentry in the room below.

"Katie?" he called, observing the ladder with curiosity. "Where'd you go?"

"Up here," she answered back, leaning over to gaze through the opening so that he could see her.

"How'd you get up there?" he asked, still staring at her with confusion.

"It's a ladder, George," Katie explained patiently. "You climb up it, generally using your hands and your feet, and then before you know it, you're—"

Pop. George apparated beside her, a smug look on his face.

"On the roof sitting next to me," she finished dully, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't know that was there," George admitted, handing her a glass and pouring her some champagne. "How'd you find it?"

She explained that the string from the ceiling had suddenly caught her eye and he raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.

"Wow, Kay," he said. "Usually it's Fred and I who find—found—those kinds of things."

Katie covered the momentary awkwardness by setting down her goblet and taking the bottle from George to fill his cup for him.

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her. "To Fred."

He held out his goblet and Katie clinked hers against his. "And the shop," she added.

"To Fred and the shop," George murmured back. The pair drank in silence. Refilling their glasses, they sipped silently and eventually lay down on the low sloped roof.

"How'd you know to come?" George asked, breaking the silence after a while.

"You sent a note, drongo, it wasn't that hard to figure out," Katie joked back.

"Ha ha, Katie. You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

"So how'd you know?"

She turned over to face him and shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "I just did. That's one great aspect of a best mate, you know. They see straight through your lies."

Her friend nodded and returned his gaze to the sky. Katie copied him.

"Well, thanks," he said lamely. Katie responded by patting him on the arm. When she did so, he took hold of her hand and pressed it. "Really, Kay," he said, more earnestly now. "I dunno what I would do if I didn't have you."

"Oh, I imagine that you'd be a lot better off without a whiny little girl tagging after you, demanding your attention and comfort every time she has a relapse."

"Shut up, Katie."

"Alright."

"By the way," she added after a while. "That joke you made about cuddling with Marcus Flint—"

"Terrible?" he questioned.

"Bloody disaster."

"Well forgive me for being unable to come up with my best material after a minor melt down." He grinned over at her. "Though I always was of the opinion that Flint was likely to be a very passionate and caring lover. Never could get Fred to agree with me on that one…"

"Which is yet another reason I'm confident that I chose the right twin."

George laughed. "You wound me, Katie. Take it back."

"I shan't. I do love you, but it's purely platonic. I'm very sorry."

"Do the duties of platonic love include coming to your best mate's opening ceremony Monday night?"

"Opening ceremony?" Katie looked at him curiously. George nodded.

"Yeah. Lee and I thought it might be a good idea to exhibit some of the new merchandise. We're doing it in a stage setting, so there will be stand up comedy as well." He grimaced. "Not sure how well that will go…"

"George, that sounds like a great idea," Katie said enthusiastically. "Seriously. And you'll emcee it brilliantly, I'm sure. Contrary to popular opinion, you're actually quite funny."

George gave a half-smile in response to her playful sarcasm. He reached over and messed up her hair.

"Flyers are going out tomorrow," he continued. "Hope to get some pretty good response. Tell everyone you know, if it's not too much trouble. Oh, and you can bring Wood, too, if you like."

Katie raised an eyebrow curiously at him. "Bring Wood?" she asked. He turned to face her.

"Yeah. Aren't you two…you know…now?"

She looked at him in shock. "George…no, George, no. Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "Well it's obvious that he's smitten with you. And he's a famous, attractive, quidditch star…"

Katie gave him a look that told him to cut the joking. He complied and she rolled over, once more to face the night sky. The clouds were beginning to roll in.

"He asks me out every day," she said quietly, in a would-be casual voice.

"Really?" George asked, surprised.

"Yeah…" she drifted off. "It's hard. I know it probably sounds stupid, but I still can't help thinking of only Fred. He's the only person I ever did really love…"

"I know. And that's not stupid, Kay. Bloody hell, I'd love him if I weren't his brother…or a bloke."

He smiled at her, but it was a sad smile; one that pulled a little at Katie's heart.

"You really are the bravest person I know," she muttered, instinctively moving closer to him.

"I cried in front of you," he pointed out, moving his arm to fit under the crook of her neck and squeezing her into an awkward side hug. "Twice. Almost three times. Not very brave."

"Yes it is," she countered. "Don't argue over it. Just believe me."

George just shrugged and squeezed her shoulder. They lay in silence for a while, watching the clouds roll in and finally let loose on the great metropolis of London. George grimaced at the rain which was falling thick and fast as one raindrop hit him squarely in the eye. Katie just laughed happily, blinking back rain water as it drenched her clothes and made her hair wet and stringy.

"Oh come on, George," she laughed, standing up. "Don't tell me you've gone soft. This is the kind of behavior I'd expect from Percy, not you!"

"Is this 'Let's Point Out Everything That's Wrong With George Day' or are you just celebrating it early?" he grumbled, scrambling up to join her.

She just laughed and held out her hand. He shook his head.

"Nah, Kay, I'm not in the mood right now…"

"Quit being a prick," she argued back. "You will be once you start."

George half-smiled and took Katie's hand as she spun into him and back out. He began to laugh now as he twirled her around. Grinning, Katie let go and the two of them danced around the roof wildly. George let go of his inhibitions and yelled loudly up at the sky as Katie flounced about the roof, waving her arms and laughing into the rain. The red-head shouted, "Katie, watch this!" and with a running start leapt into the air and clicked his heels together.

"George, that is so not heterosexual!" she laughed joyously as she began to spin around on the spot, lifting her arms up as high as she could. In response, George ran over and scooped her up, throwing her easily over his left shoulder as he began to spin.

"Merlin, stop it, I'm going to vomit!" Katie shouted, but she could barely form the words through her laughter. Suddenly, George did stop. Katie looked up from over his shoulder and slid down his chest.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, watching him squint into the distance.

"Isn't that your family's owl?" he responded, pointing. Katie followed his gaze and surely enough, the large tawny owl was making its way toward them through the storm.

"Morgan?" Katie said, bewildered, as the animal perched itself on her outstretched arm. "What is it?" She untied the small piece of parchment that was tied to its leg and unfolded it as George took the owl and performed a simple shield charm to keep it out of the rain.

Katie's eyed grew wide and she stumbled backward as she read the hastily written note.

Katie,

Meet us at St. Mungo's. They've found Michael. We won't know anything until we get there.

Mum