Chapter Six

"NO WAY IN HELL, GEORGE WEASLEY!"
"But Briar," George whined audibly from upstairs, "Mum managed seven, I'm only asking for six!"
"The only way that's happening is if you're the one going to be popping them out!" Briar retort loudly, storming down the stairs.

"What the hell are the pair of you fighting about this time?" Fred groaned from the entrance, removing his shoes. "I thought you two were done fighting!"
Briar snorted as appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered up at George as he started down the stairs after her. "I took a week off of work to recuperate and I'm already tired of him!"
"George, mate, she's injured, you shouldn't get too frisky with her just yet," Fred teased, a grin marring his freckled face. Briar groaned, swatting Fred and marching off.

"So what happened?" Fred asked his brother, "I come to my third home and every time I do the pair of you are having a row."
"IF THIS IS YOUR HOME THEN YOU OUGHT TO DO MORE CLEANING!" Briar shouted from the other end of the house. Fred and George ignored her, although matching grins stretched across their faces.
"We've been talking about kids, I want at least six and Briar's not having it."
"I'VE GOT A BLOODY CAREER, GEORGE!" Briar shouted again.
"She's got a point, mate," Fred shrugged, "Briar's fantastic, but having six kids would make her hair go white."
"IT'S ALREADY WHITE FROM DEALING WITH GEORGE!" Briar retorted –Fred and George could her the typically clatter of cutlery and dishes.
"Don't bother with supper for us, love," George called out, "Fred and I are having a boys night."
There was a pause in the clattering and they heard her grumble, "I wasn't making anything for the pair of you anyway…"

George shook his head, grinning as the clatter of silverware began again, "So where are we going tonight?"
"A pub in the middle of London, there's some pretty ladies there so you ought to keep on your ring," Fred waggled his brows. George raised his left hand, "Already on display –am I going to have to drop your arse off at mums or at the flat?"
"Nah," Fred clapped George's shoulder, "We've got Lee for that, and a few other blokes. My mission tonight is to get you plastered!"
There was a look of hesitance, and George paused for a moment before he called out, "Love?"
"The hell do you want?" Briar grumbled, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen. George leant down and forced a kiss on her cheek, "Fred's taking me out drinking, alright?"
Briar shrugged, fighting a blush, "If you come home puking, I'm not cleaning it up."
"Sounds good!" Fred chirped, catching George's shoulder. "Let's go! Later, Briar!"
"If he dies of alcohol poisoning, I'll kill you myself!" Briar called after them cheerfully.
"Love you too!" Fred retorted, waving a hand over his shoulder.

The door clattered shut behind the two men, and Briar was left staring after them –she had little to occupy herself –no books, no paperwork, no cleaning… An idea came to mind, perhaps a girls night in?

"I don't know why you invited me if you wanted a girl's night," Drew grumbled, shoving his glasses up his nose to hide his embarrassment. "It's not appropriate to go drinking wine with my work friends," Briar shrugged, leading him into the house. Drew kicked off his trainers and followed after her –he still wore his ministry regulated robes which were stained with peculiar green substance. "I am a work friend," Drew muttered, "we don't work in the same Department is all."
"You're different," Briar told him, a grin worked its way across her face at his visible blush, "besides, I rarely get to see now that you've started work in the Department of Mysteries! How's being an Unspeakable?"
"I'm not allowed to say," Drew retorted, rolling his eyes skywards.
"Glad you said so, now I won't have to arrest you," she teased him. "Other than that, how's life in general?"
"What life?" Drew grumbled, "Just a second these robes are getting to me-"With little regard for decency, Drew grabbed the back of his robes and pulled them over his head. Briar was relieved to see that he wore a pair of trousers and a knitted jumper underneath. Drew stuffed his robe into his satchel, stretching with a groan and dropped onto a chair. "I've been working a bunch since I've started –ah, well, no rest for the weary."
"So no girlfriend then?" Briar teased him, "Wine or beer?"
"Wine," Drew responded, "And no I haven't, the one girl I can actually tolerate is getting married."
"Oh? Who's that?" she grinned wider as he shook his head. "Is it your mum? She's getting re-married so soon? That's lovely!-""Ah, shut it," Drew tossed at her, with little malice in his tone.
"What about Luna Lovegood?" Briar asked him, "You used to think she was charming."
"And completely off her rocker."

Briar put two wine glasses between them, pouring out the moscato. She filled both of their glasses, and held out her glass. "Cheers," Drew tapped his glass against hers and downed half of the beverage in a gulp. Briar observed him with a raised brow. Drew ignored her, rubbing a tender spot on his shoulder. She noted the tension in his frame –before he began at the Ministry, Drew had worked at a muggle paper –the transition and the sudden workload must be putting plenty of strain on him.
"So how're those nightmares of yours going?" Drew spoke finally, he was now only sipping at his wine. Briar sighed and shook her head, "A bit better, but they haven't stopped –it's been the same thing lately. Everyone just getting blown to bits right before my eyes and then suddenly I'm getting charged at by these misty shadows –like –like the souls of everyone who died…"
"That's some tough shit," Drew stated, as brash as ever. "Look, my mother went through this when she got back from Afghanistan –"at Briar's furrowed brows, he explained. "Mum's a muggle, and she used to be a military doctor before she figured she should come home and raise me nice and proper –anyway, mum got these awful nightmares all the time and she stills gets them now and again –it's normal, okay? It'll take time, but they won't haunt you consistently forever."
Briar nodded, feeling oddly relieved. "I hope you're right… More wine?"

"D-Drew, we've got a spare bedroom –a-actually we've got like six, come on, get off the couch!" Briar sputtered, wobbling the tiniest bit. The pair had gone through two wine bottles before they had moved onto something stronger –Briar wasn't much of a drinker, nor was Drew it seemed. However, Briar was considerably less sloshed than Drew, and was attempting to coax him into a proper bed.
"I'm good here, B." Drew murmured, waving her off. He burrowed his face into one of the cushions, ignoring Briar as she prodded at his side.
"If you so much as grumble tomorrow morning, I'm going to punch you," Briar threatened –although Drew had already begun to snore. She sighed, and tottered over to linen cupboard where she retrieved a bundle of blankets. Briar returned to the living area, and cupped Drew's head and lifted it just enough to fit a folded blanket fashioned to be a pillow. With that, she began tucking him in.

"Briar?" George's voice called out from the entrance, followed by the clatter of shoes and a door swinging shut. Briar didn't respond for fear of waking Drew –she layered another blanket over Drew, and tucked in the sides.
An arm curled itself just below her breasts –wary of the wound across her abdomen. "You'd be a good mother," George muttered, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck and remained there. He smelt of whiskey. A small smile crossed her lips, "Maybe, but I'd like to wait a while before I find out for sure."
"Me too," he replied, "I'm a bit too selfish to want to share you just yet."
Before Briar could retort, Drew growled out, "Quit feckin' schmoozin', I'm tryna' sleep."
George drew back slightly, "So why's he kipping out on the sofa?"