Chapter 24 – Doesn't ever stop to…?

Harry, after a rather silent meal (outraged on James' side, flustered on Harry's and amused on Albus') where only Ginny's chatting could be heard, decided to have a walk to Diagon Alley.

It was a perfect summery evening and he felt like having a chat with George to ease the awkwardness, since anyway, with any probability, chances to get any kind of attention from Ginny were close to zero.

He collected James and Albus' correspondence to send through Leo and tapped Ginny on the shoulder to inform her of his plan (he could have announced anything: that he was going to try to reach the moon with his broom or spend the night with another woman, she would have just nodded airily as she did) and got out in a tepid July evening. There was still light, and many people were about enjoying the summer air. Pubs were full despite being Monday and families were having a stroll before to retire for the night.

It was nice to walk in London, melting in the crowd without being harassed (however unsure of how long it was going to last, there was always the risk to meet some witches or wizards). He let his feet decide where to go just enjoying the pleasure of being alone and they brought him to Piccadilly Circus. His attention was caught by a big advertisement on a building that made him startle. There was him on it! Well, it wasn't exactly him but a bloke that could easily pass for him!

It was a film advertisement where this guy, wearing a leather jacket, was sitting nonchalantly on a very fancy car (Harry didn't know which one, he had never been too much interested in the article, he had never learned to drive a car). He read the title of the film; it didn't seem too interesting. He took the kids time to time to watch something in cinema, they liked it, and, in a measure, he enjoyed them too, but it was always difficult to find one that would agree with everybody, for different age and gender.

He realised in a flash why that woman in Oxford street had thought to recognise him.

Because of that bloody film!

He sighed. There was no escape really, not anywhere.

While keeping walking to Diagon Alley he considered seriously the idea of moving with all his family in a remote country.

Why not?

A place, very far away where the sun was shining all year around, a house with a nice terrace in front of a lovely beach, waking up every morning with the sound of the sea instead of noisy horns, nights covered with stars instead of the grey pollution. He could just picture himself sitting on such a terrace in such a night, Ginny close to him whispering in his ear that the kids were asleep and offering him to take a walk on that desert sandy beach like many times before during their holidays, a walk that always promised some delights… He was awakened brutally from his reverie by the yelling of two men rather hammered having an argument on the pavement in front of a pub. End of the dream "lonely island" back to reality "crappy London".

While distracted by the row a couple accosted him asking for an autograph. A doubt appeared in his mind. Did they think he was himself or the guy of the film? How to tell if they were muggles or not? Hard to say especially with young people who usually had a knack for muggle's clothes.

He opted for the sentence 'I think you are mistaking me for somebody else' but they didn't buy it. The girl took out from her handbag a quill and a sheet of parchment. Ok, mystery solved, they were no muggles. He signed it quickly hoping no one spotted not to have a new Oxford Street experience all over again and quickened his steps, to his destination.

Walking briskly through the Leaky Cauldron he got into the alley. Shops were already closed but as in London people were strolling lazily.

Lazily until they didn't spot him. All the idleness was gone in a moment. Some kept walking more or less naturally but with their eyes fixed on him, some still less delicate, approached asking questions, requesting autographs and again that magazine was waved under his nose to be signed. He tried to be gracious while inside he was cursing like mad. What, in the name of God, wasn't clear about his aim from that interview? Didn't they read it through or was just perverseness? Or even worst, outright disdain of other people wishes?

However, he endured it composedly and once done bolted for George's door.

After a few moments he opened, like usual, in his home wear made of a grey undershirt and pants.

'Hey Harry. What's up?'

'I was having a walk and I thought to pop in for a chat, can I come in?'

George glanced quickly behind his shoulder in the flat, wavering a second 'Ergh…'

Just as Harry understood he wasn't quite alone a female voice resounded in the room 'Georgie, I cannot find my skirt; do you have any idea of where it is?'

A woman all ruffled, definitely younger than them, appeared in the room wearing only a large, supposedly George's, t-shirt.

Realising there was somebody else in there she stopped on her track and frantically tried to cover her legs pulling down the t-shirt, it took her a split second however to realise who was in the room. Like if a bomb had exploded, her face became crimson, her eyes widened.

'I'm sorry!' Harry blurted embarrassed 'I'm leaving straight away!'

'N-no! Don't!' the girl stammered 'You can stay! You can join us!'

Harry and George looked at each other bemused and then at her with the same confusion.

Join what?

George always blunt and never shy exclaimed 'Thanks Jude but if I have to participate to a threesome, it must be with two women. I'm adamant on that' Jude passed from crimson to a deep scarlet 'and I think your skirt may be under the bed'

She ran away to retrieve some clothes begging Harry not to leave in the meanwhile.

'Your salesgirl?' asked Harry.

George nodded.

'I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude'

'it's all right. I promised an introduction anyway, remember?' he said winking 'Let's make her happy and then we can get a walk if you like'

Harry told him it wasn't necessary; he didn't want him to lose his evening with the girl just for the sake of a chat, but George insisted 'She was about to be going anyway and I fancy a walk'

She got back with her skirt on, a flowery top and in those few minutes she had even managed to combe her hair and wear some make up.

She outstretched her hand to Harry glowing with delight, Harry took it as George left them to get dressed warning her jokingly 'Keep in mind he is married to my sister' at which she giggled.

Harry was still on the door feeling a sense of strong awkwardness. He tried to fight it starting a light chat to kill the time, but her stare was starting to affect his power of finding topics of conversation. George's return, thankfully soon after, eased him out of the uncomfortable situation. Before to part she asked Harry to sign the magazine (did every woman in the magical community buy one?) and pecked George affectionately thanking him, surely thinking he had invited him to make her happy.

They took a back street to avoid being bothered by people who by now were starting to disappear in houses and in the Leaky Cauldron.

'She seems nice' Harry said

'She is all right. Not too silly, not too smart. She is good'

Good at what?

'In the shop I mean…'

Ah…

'Not too bad in bed either…'

Ah…

'Don't you think is kind of… unadvisable to be involved with somebody that works for you?'

George shrugged 'Nah… If there is an understanding on both sides. She knows there isn't anything besides having some fun together. And she agrees with that. She has got a kind of fiancée, I believe. Which is very often away for work. That makes things easier'

Not for the poor bloke.

'How old is she?'

'Old enough to know what she is about, and I don't think I am her only plaything anyway, like she is not the only one of mine'

A short silence followed while Harry was meditating how different George's life was from his own.

'Don't you ever wish to settle down?'

'Don't you ever wish to shag more than just one woman for the rest of your life?'

A good example of a question which is an answer, a statement and a bit of a put-down at the same time.

'I guess not, otherwise I wouldn't have married'

'Oh, come on! You married that you were like what? Eighteen? Nineteen? You don't even know what you want at that age! I cannot believe that at one point you didn't realise to have rushed a bit the whole thing and, mind, I'm very aware I'm speaking to my brother-in-law, and I won't expect a truthful answer'

'Actually, truth to be told, no.' he said shrugging his shoulders.

It's true, he had married very young and, thinking back, maybe he had rushed the whole thing all taken by that anxiety and haste of living as much as possible, but he had never regretted it. He tried to imagine sometimes how his life could have been in case he never married Ginny, probably he would have had many women instead of only her, perhaps it may have been fun to have a different one every night, but, somehow, in his head, never seemed exciting. It only left him with a sense of emptiness and solitude.

'I would never change it. I'm happy as it is' he confessed truthfully 'And I'm not saying this because she is your sister' he continued smirking 'I just like to have a family'

George glanced sideways at him and was silent for a moment. Probably this time it was him who was reflecting on how different their lives were.

Day light was almost gone as they were pacing slowly the faint illuminated back alleys. Diagon Alley wasn't too big, about three or four blocks, but it was still big enough to allow them a walk. Many wizarding families were living there, preferring it to London in general where it was very difficult to hide all the magical signs and one had always to be careful while using brooms or owls. It needed a very thorough knowledge of muggle style of living not to arouse suspects.

'Well, I don't want it. Marriage wouldn't suit me. I'm too erratic in my habits and I like it as it is. I don't want any woman bossing me around on what and when I ought to eat, when to go to bed and when to wake up'

'That may be because you never met anybody like… Well… Ginny…'

George looked at him with a mild revulsion 'Can I just say that is almost disgusting how smitten you are of my sister?'

Harry snorted, annoyed in having let slip that affirmation.

'And anyway, probably not, but it's for the best'

'Don't you ever feel lonely?'

George looked in front of him thoughtful 'I am used to being by myself. Do you know, I had to get used to it after…'

He didn't finish the sentence, but Harry understood, and the atmosphere sobered instantly. He had to get used after Fred. Twenty years had passed from his death, but it was still a topic on which nobody spoke freely scared to reopen old wounds that probably had never healed properly. Harry, as many times before, felt slightly guilty for it even if aware nobody blamed that death on him.

'Doesn't ever stop to…? You know…' Harry stammered not finding the right words for that question that united them both in the same uneasiness of feelings, in that grief that like a heartbeat was always present. However, he asked knowing already the answer, therefore he wasn't surprised when it came.

'No. You know very well it doesn't'