A/N So, it's been a minute. The last two weeks have been nuts. My sweet little Coraline was born Sunday, November 7th. Two days later on the 9th, my grandfather passed away. The next day my husband and I tested positive for Covid. Since I've had writers block for a while anyway, I decided to pause uploading amidst the chaos that was my life. Still not really inspired to write, so I'll probably drop it to once a week until I get over that, I don't want to upload too fast in case I need to change something. Anyway, hope you all like this chapter!

Chapter 14

Unable to take any direct action against Voldemort until after Snape finished school, the next several weeks dragged by. All George wanted was to end the bloody war so he could get on living his life. Before when war had loomed over his future, there had been Fred and their shop. There had been real work to be done against Voldemort and they'd both felt stupidly invincible. Now there was only a nagging fear that everything he wanted might be taken from him again.

Part of him resented the fact that so much rested on Snape. The only horcrux within their reach would be the last they went after and with Kreacher not due to help hide the locket for nearly a year, he was beginning to feel more than a little frustrated. If he had Hermione or Snape's skill with occlumency he thought he might even join his former potions professor as a spy if only to move things along.

When he'd suggested as much to Hermione, she had grown very serious. "I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, George but Snape has already taken the mark. Do you really think you could do the kinds of things he'll have to do in order to survive as a Death Eater?"

At the time he'd said no, but that was two weeks ago. With the Death Eaters growing ever bolder, George was beginning to wonder exactly what it was they were doing trying to end the war early if they weren't taking more advantage of their foreknowledge. Working for Dumbledore, no one worked with Dumbledore, was out of the question. But there had to be something they could do.

Despite beginning to feel a bit like Sirius must have felt trapped in Grimmauld, he and Hermione managed to find things to occupy their time. Whenever Gideon and Fabian had equally free evenings, they would duel in their back garden. His uncles were extremely skilled—as he'd known they were—but facing off against their truly impressive tandem dueling style pushed them to their limits. It wasn't actually useful to the war effort, but staying in fighting shape kept them prepared and sane.

Near the end of May an owl arrived from Hogwarts. The note was short and to George's eyes, nonsense, written in some kind of code of lines and dots. Fortunately Hermione recognized it.

"Oh… Morse code. Um…" She stared at the note for several minutes before sighing in defeat. "I recognize it but unfortunately I don't have it memorized. I'm a little impressed Severus actually does."

George sat forward in his chair. "So… it's a muggle thing? Is there like a book or something on this you could get?"

"A book?" Scoffing, she grabbed her nearly ever present beaded bag. "Of course there is. Oh, this is perfect. We need to get out of here before we go mad anyhow. Let's go to London for the book and then we can get lunch at the Leaky before we come back!"

Happy to do anything that felt like progress, he sprang up from where he sat and followed her out.

Sitting at a back corner table in the crowded hall of the Leaky some time later, Hermione cast a muffliato and pulled out Snape's note. Looking between the slim, new book and the note, translating the dots and dashes with a muggle pen, a smile gradually spread across her face.

"He's found it!"

George grinned up from his food. "Brilliant! That all he's said?"

She shook her head, making a note of something before turning the scrap of parchment for him to see. "He's charmed a special case to contain the dark magic… they wear on you if you're around them too long. Make you feel really shite about yourself and everyone around you."

When she went quiet, he looked up from the note to see her staring off at nothing and looking pretty shite just then herself. Reaching across the table, he gently squeezed one of her hands. "Hermione?"

Blinking hard, she came back to herself. "Sorry. I was just thinking, I'm glad he's come up with this. It's brilliant, especially since we're going to wait until we have them all to destroy them. I don't think any of us would survive having so many of them around for that long."

Her smile was a bit forced but she went back to her food. Brushing his thumb along the back of her hand, George felt a bit bad for not having considered what it might be like for her knowing they'd have to have those awful things around again. Especially after how bad things had been before… Regretting his earlier bitterness towards the man, he too was glad that Snape was so brilliant.

No longer interested in his lunch, George let his eyes drift around the pub as she pushed the food around her plate. Considering what he might say to alleviate the now sombre mood, something outside drew his attention. Someone ran past the dingy glass windows, stumbling as he went. A beat later he was followed by another and then two more nearly on top of eachother. Instantly on alert, George's left hand involuntarily tightened around Hermione's, his right going for his wand. "Hermione…"

"Hmm?" She looked up, frowning when she noticed his wand was out. "What's…" but no further questioning was necessary as a scream tore through the general hum of the pub.

"Death Eaters!"

Her wand was in her hand too and they were both on their feet before the patron had finished their terrified cry. More panicked screaming followed and George's heart began to race. Breathing intentionally—in, out, in, out—he forced down images from the last time he'd faced Death Eaters and cast a quick incindio at Snape's note.

This wouldn't be like last time.

"Stay close, Herm…" A blast shook the pub, blowing the patterned lead-lined windows inward. Thankfully spared the flying shards of glass and splintered wood from where they sat, many other lunch goers weren't so lucky. Wails of pain and cries for help sounded wrong and far away over the ringing in his ears as George squinted through the dust looking for Hermione.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Her voice too seemed distorted, but her otter listened attentively before flying off through the wall. Spinning on her heel to face him, her fierce brown eyes met his own. Knowing what they were about to face, he nodded once in reply to her unasked question and they ran together out into the fray.

Screams echoed up and down the alley as they stepped through the shattered pub front. It was chaos. At least six black clad Death Eaters flew on brooms or ran around on foot, casting violent spells at fleeing groups of people and shop fronts. Suddenly pressed against the shattered pub window by those fleeing people, jagged glass from the destroyed window frame dug into George's hand as he flung his hand out to stop them from falling backwards.

"Look out!"

Hermione yanked him hard to the right, a red jet of spellfire tearing through the space where his head had just been. Ignoring both the burning in his torn left hand and the rising panic as the street seemed to close in on him, George followed her closely up the street towards the Death Eaters that had just fired at them. Thinking they needed to get them off the brooms, he fired a favored transfiguration spell at the nearest one. They fell hard to the ground with a shriek, their broom-come-boulder still between their legs.

Leaping over debris as he focused on staying close to Hermione, George sent stunners and slicing hexes over his shoulder at the Death Eater that was flying after them still in pursuit. Evidently trusting him to handle the threat at their back, she dashed towards another pair of Death Eaters across the street that were fast overpowering the woman blocking two young children they had cornered.

"Petrificus Totalus!" One of them dropped from her spell, the other turning to flee before catching sight of their comrade behind George and cackling madly. Pivoting hard to deal with the Death Eater behind him, he lost sight of Hermione but he felt her protego pass over him just in time to stop a spell hitting him. Knowing she was right there, he focused on his opponent.

He was faster than he remembered being before—the recent dueling with his uncles paying off—and eventually a contained bombarda hit true, shattering the broom. Splinters of wood tore into the Death Eater's face and torso and they crashed in a bloody, moaning heap on the far side of the street. Letting out a small relieved gasp, George swiped at the sweat dampening his brow only to wince when it mixed with the already filthy and jagged gashes on his palm.

"Shite…" Turning and ready to help Hermione if she needed it, he was alarmed not to find her still behind him. "Hermione…" Concern boiled rapidly to full on panic as he cast about, unable to see her anywhere.

"Hermione! Hermi…" His voice cracked as his throat tightened. He'd lost her, they'd been separated. Gasping, he pushed off from the wall he'd backed into and charged down the street in search of her. He had to find her.

This wouldn't be like last time.

"Hermione!"

Another explosion further up the street shook the ground, knocking him from his feet, the rough cobblestone biting at his knees and grinding into his hand sending a shock of pain up his arm. A frustrated cry made its way past his clenched teeth as he forced himself up and onward just as cracks of apparition sounded up and down the alley. Several people he recognized as Order members outnumbered the Death Eaters four to one.

"George!" Fabian was suddenly at his side. "Where's Hermione?" More spellfire zoomed overhead, both of them crouching to avoid being hit. "George!"

"I don't know! She was right there…"

Turning to indicate where he'd last seen her, he paused as every remaining Death Eater aparated away. The Dark Mark hung heavy in the afternoon sky where one of them had been standing a moment before, casting its vile green shadows over the street.

"The cowardly bastards." Fabian glared furiously up at the hated mark and then around at the ruined street. "Coming in the middle of the day, it's women and children mostly here at this hour."

Unable to deal with his uncle's justified anger until he found Hermione, George pushed past him to continue searching for her. "Hermione!" Fortescue's window front was as wrecked as the Leaky Cauldron's, and the street was littered with broken glass and shards of timber beams. He tried not to look for her beneath every pile of debris large enough to crush a person as he made his way back up the alley.

"George!"

At the sound of her voice, robust and filled with concern for him, the vice that had been gripping his lungs released all at once and he choked in a relieved breath. She ran towards him, Gideon behind her, and skidded to a stop just in front of him. Hands prodded at his no doubt blood smeared face and down his chest, searching for injuries. "Are you alright? Whose blood is this George? Your hand…"

"Where did you go? You were right there beside me and then I turned around and you were gone..."

She paused, her grip on his wrist tightening as she felt the unfamiliar edge in his voice. "I… I followed the Death Eater down the street and around a corner. Once they realized they were on their own and out matched they tried to flee. They got away and by the time I got back to where I'd left you, you were gone too. I was looking for you when Gideon and other Order members showed up."

He had to force himself to breathe. Everything was alright. Yes, they'd been separated, but she was alive and so was he. They weren't at Hogwarts. It was 1978. Fred was alive. Hermione was alive. He was OK.

"George?" Focusing on her eyes, he mumbled that he was fine. "No you're not." Dropping his wrist, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry, George. I didn't mean to leave you. But I'm ok. Not even a scratch, see? I can take care of myself in a fight."

So could Fred.

Wrapping his own arms around her tightly, careful not to get blood on her, he nodded against her dusty hair. "I know."

Wriggling free after a few moments, she reached for his wrist again. "What happened to your hand, George?" Syphoning away the dust and banishing bits of glass and rubble from the cuts, he could see it wasn't too bad.

"Fell into a broken window."

Shaking her head, she cast a quick healing charm and his hand knit itself back together. "Well, I'm glad it wasn't worse. We were lucky." Looking around them, she breathed out a heavy sigh. "Not everyone was. Let's see if we can help."

He followed her to the nearest injured witch and watched as she knelt beside her and began casting diagnostic charms. Gideon stood beside him, arms folded over his chest. "What happened? We contacted Dumbledore as soon as we got her patronus and came straight here. It couldn't have been more than five minutes."

Fabian knelt beside Hermione to help while George tried to explain. "We were sitting in the Leaky, she'd just managed to figure out what the note said when there was some screaming out here and then the windows were blown in. There were several Death Eaters around but the whole thing only lasted minutes. It seemed longer but…"

Order members milled about now, helping other injured people and taking stock of the damage. As the last of his panic faded, a sickening realization came over George. They had been completely unprepared for this attack. Something that seemed insane considering how long these kinds of things had been happening. Apparently, the Ministry was just as inept now as it would be in the future.

When a pair of healers from St. Mungo's in their lime green robes appeared at their sides, Hermione and Fabian stood and allowed them to take the injured witch away. Frowning, Hermione turned to Gideon. "How did this happen? Death Eaters have been attacking up and down the country more and more often. Why weren't Order members or aurors stationed here?"

Remembering how it had been before the Ministry had fallen in their own time, George realized she had a good point. Lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard, he agreed with her. "You're right. Before he died, Dumbledore had people here every day. Fred and I were always around in our shop but we weren't the only ones."

"You had a shop?"

"Yeah… didn't I mention? We had a joke shop. Bit like Zonkos but our own stuff. We'd started making things for the war effort too though…" And all at once, George knew what it was he could do to help. He felt like a massive prat for not thinking of it sooner.

"George!" Hermione had apparently had the same thought, staring up at him with wide eyes. Rubbing at the slightly raised fresh scars on his palm, he turned the idea over in his head. The necessary spells, the charms for the products… he still had those in his head. And unlike when he and Fred had been scraping knuts before Harry's donation, both he and Hermione had practically emptied their Gringotts accounts just in case something like what had happened, did. Between the two of them they had nearly five thousand galleons. Start up money wouldn't be a problem.

But could he do this without Fred? They'd been genius together. Everything they'd ever done, every product—joke or defensive—they'd come up with together. These things didn't just belong to him.

Then there was their younger selves to think about. Would that Fred and George grow up the same? Would they open a joke shop too? If he started making and selling even just the defensive products, how would it impact the future?

Thinking in circles was giving him a headache.

"George…" Hermione's warm hand on his chest stopped the confused thoughts as he blinked down at her. The corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile before she glanced around the street. "We can talk about it later but we should go before the aurors start asking questions."

Glancing behind her, he could see aurors beginning to approach unharmed witches and wizards. Since they technically didn't exist in this time, a conversation with nosey aurors wasn't something they needed. Taking her hand, he nodded and they discreetly slipped away to apparate home.

Safely back at his uncles', George sat down on the stairs and stared up at Hermione. She was leaning against the wall across from him, reaching down to scratch her cat, Jasper, behind the ears as he wound between her legs as she waited patiently for him to say something.

"It's a good idea right? I mean, I've been going mental stuck here, not able to do anything. This could help, like last time."

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"I just… I don't know if I can do it without Fred."

Smiling sympathetically, she pushed off from the wall to join him on the stairs. "What do you think he would say if he were here?"

Kiss Hermione already in case you never get the chance, like I did, prat.

"Probably something about how I need to do something or I'll end up as mad as Sirius was in the end." Jasper clambered up the first few steps to butt his face against George's leg, eliciting a small smile. Reaching down, he ran his fingers along his fluffy back idly as he carried on imagining his brother's advice. "That we have the means and that it would be stupid not to, especially considering how many people we could help."

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Hermione laughed softly. "After the last month I do understand Sirius a bit better. And we have more than enough money to get started. How would you sell them? From a shop like before?"

He shook his head. "That feels like it would be inviting disaster after today."

"It worked for you before."

"Well…" He sighed. "Last time these kinds of products were less publicized. The Ministry ordered them, and people bought them plenty, but I'm not sure anyone from You Know Who's camp ever thought of us as anything but purveyors of trick wands and joke candy. If we do this now, that would be it. No joke shop to mask ourselves. And I can't go that far… not from the beginning and not without Fred. Besides, I don't want to take that from little Fred and George."

Pulling back to look at him, she smiled slightly. "We? You'd want my help?"

He scoffed. "Of course. I couldn't do it alone."

Her smile grew. "So mail order then? It might not do so well as we're unknown. We'd need a name people would recognize."

They both lapsed into silence then, thinking that over. His own mind wandering back to the attack in the alley, George reflected on how he had acted. "Hermione…"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for…" Sighing, he gestured at himself, "freaking out earlier. I need to be able to keep my head better than that but, when I couldn't find you... All I could think about was Fred and what happened the last time. I wasn't there when… was two floors away when it happened."

Her hand wound around his arm and she returned her cheek to his shoulder. "You don't need to apologize for that, George, not ever. Not to me."

Resting his chin on the top of her head, his sigh stirred her hair, still filthy from the fight. "But there are going to be more fights like today, Hermione. I'm sure of it. I can't afford to panic like that every time. I was lucky today but…"

"Well…" Her fingers traced the newly scarred palm of his hand as she considered what to say. "I guess we'll just have to do a better job staying together next time."

He scoffed, knowing how unrealistic that could turn out to be but was stopped from saying so by the return of his uncles. They came through the front door, scaring away the cat, looking careworn and exhausted.

"Fifteen people dead, two of them not even old enough for Hogwarts." Fabian tugged off his robes and wiped a hand down his face. "What was it you said earlier about your shop? You said you made things for the war? What kind of things?"

If he still had any doubts, they were gone now. The shielding products alone would have helped today. Getting a hold of the Peruvian instant darkness powder might be tricky though…

"How do the two of you feel about being the names and faces of a mail order line of defense products?"