No Laughing Matter

Circumstances served to keep Fred and Carly from seeing each other until Sunday. She was only a week away from starting on the research project at St. Mungo's, and, in addition, she would be expected to continue treating patients as a Trainee Healer under the supervision of a Healer-in-charge a few days a week. She was spending her days at the hospital getting oriented to the routine there. Fred was busy enough at the shop, working on new stock and the few owl orders that seemed to filter in daily from Hogwarts. It seemed that having unique stock was paying off; the students couldn't find Skiving Snack Boxes and Bogey Bombs in Hogsmeade, so they had a corner on the market for the time being.

He spoke to George via the Floo network on Friday night, and again didn't find an opening to tell him about Carly. He knew that he should be one to tell his twin, before he heard it from another member of his family, but just couldn't seem to find the words. What would he tell him, anyway? 'Hey, I met this great girl and I think I'm seriously in love with her?' It seemed like too much, and at the same time not enough. Just when he was thinking that he would tell George about her when he returned home (he'd have to, wouldn't he?), George had begun to act strangely, and told Fred that he wanted to stay in America for a couple of extra days to get some things sorted out for the return trip. Fred had been so relieved to have a little time with Carly all to himself, that he'd easily agreed that he could handle things at the shop by himself. It wasn't until George had gone from the fire that Fred had wondered what was keeping his brother in America longer than they had planned. He hoped that George, in his enthusiasm, wasn't bringing back anything that would be breaking and international laws.

On Saturday evening, Carly contacted Fred via Kyna, her owl, saying that she had all of Sunday off, and suggested apparating somewhere remote for a picnic and a broomstick ride. She promised to take care of the food if he would find a good place to have it, and she would meet him in front of the shop at ten the next morning. Grinning at the prospect of a whole day alone with Carly, he sent his reply and went down to the shop to finish some paperwork he'd been saving for the next day. He wondered if Bill would take the mickey out of him if he flooed him about a good place for a picnic tomorrow....

***

The day turned out fine, with a slight chill in the air that signaled the beginning of the cooler weather on it's way. Carly stepped into the back garden of the building she was renting a flat in; most of its occupants were employed at Mt. Mungo's. It was a pretty building, and much older than the type she was used to seeing in America. She found it humorous that the muggles that passed by on the street didn't even see her building, but an empty lot with a razor wire fence surrounding it. Because of the anti-apparition spells placed on the building for security reasons, she would be traveling a short distance to an approved apparition point to get to Diagon Alley. She checked to make sure she had everything she needed, including her broomstick, which she had charmed to look like a guitar case for the short walk in a muggle area. She was dressed in a sweater and jeans, and her long hair was braided down her back in anticipation of a later broomstick ride. She also carried her cloak over her arm so that she wouldn't attract the attention of muggles, for whom cloaks were not in fashion.

She was really looking forward to spending the entire day with Fred. She had dated quite frequently in America, but had never felt a spark anywhere near like what she had felt for Fred from the first time they met. There had seemed to be an instant attraction between them, though she stopped short of telling herself that it was love at first sight. That sort of thing just didn't happen... did it? There was no denying that he seemed as eager as she was to spend time together, and get to know each other as quickly as possible. She would have to buckle down with her studies at St. Mungo's soon, and his brother would return from his business trip with more work for Fred. It seemed like fate had conspired to give them two weeks in which to cement the foundation of their relationship before work caught up with them both. She intended to take full advantage of whatever fate was offering.

She'd thought, when she had first arrived in England, that her time at St. Mungo's would end up being the entire focus of her life, aside from her Aunt and Uncle; now she found herself counting the time until she could see Fred again. She felt slightly ashamed that she hadn't talked to anyone at home about him, even though she had just talked to her sister, Rowan, and she had mentioned meeting someone nice. Carly had just listened and told her sister she was happy for her, but had not given any news of her own. She had run out of excuses with Uncle Nigel and Aunt Suzette, though, who both had an uncanny talent for recognizing evasion, and had been coaxed into telling all about Fred and his family. They'd insisted that she invite him to dinner at their estate some time this next week. It had turned out that Uncle Nigel knew who Mr. Weasley was through his dealings with the Ministry of Magic, though they had never met. He had heard good things about him, though, and was looking forward to meeting his son, who appeared to be monopolizing much of his niece's time.

But today, they had no other worries than finding a nice spot for a picnic and broomstick ride. With a sigh of contentment, she arrived at the apparition point. She donned her cloak and removed the charm on her broom as she stepped out of the back door of the Leaky Cauldron a few moments later and let herself into Diagon Alley. She waved to a few people she had come to recognize over the past couple of days on her way to number 93, but she found Fred, not on the doorstep of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but inside the shop. The door was unlocked, though the sign said, "Closed." There was a rucksack, his cloak and his broom on the floor in front of the counter, but he was standing behind it. He had what looked like grains of rice spread out over the counter top, and was muttering spells as he pointed his wand at each one. Curious, she went to see what he was working on.

"Is that rice?" she asked as he looked up at her and grinned.

"Yes," he answered, leaning over the counter to greet her with a light kiss, "Sorry I wasn't out front waiting, but I try to work on a few of these every time I get a few minutes free. They're a surprise for Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"You're bewitching their rice?" she asked. "Won't your family kill you?"

"Ah! Not bewitching, but charming! " he smiled. "Check this out!"

He picked up three of the grains of rice he'd just charmed and threw them into the air, much as one might do for a newlywed couple. As they began their descent from near the ceiling, they gave off a faint glow and then transformed into small, white butterflies had fluttered gracefully in the air. Carly gave a small gasp of pleasure at the sight, and said,

"That is well and truly one of the sweetest things I have ever seen. They'll love it. Do you have to charm each one individually?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," he said, sweeping the ones he had finished into a large jar that had about three cups full of rice in it (only a billion more to go). "But it'll be worth it."

"I could help you with it in my free time if you show me how it's done," she offered, picking up his cloak and handing it to him as he came around the counter.

"I might take you up on that," he said, but he was thinking. 'I've got better plans than that for your free time.' Pulling his cloak over his shoulders and picking up the rucksack and broom, he led her out the front door and turned to engage the lock that set off the protection charms. "We're working on one or two more things for the wedding, but they're still in the developmental stages. We have time, yet, as the wedding isn't until the Easter holidays. You'll get to meet two of my other brothers and my little sister."

She was pleased that he was including her in his future plans as a matter of course. It rolled so fluidly off his tongue, that she was sure he hadn't given any forethought. Was it really only six days since they'd met?

"I thought you said that you have four brothers. I've met Bill, but..." she asked, but broke off, surprised to see a deep scowl and look of disgust come over his face.

"I doubt you'll be meeting Percy." He practically spat the name past his lips. "He left the family just over a year ago, and hasn't been back. And good riddance!"

"Fred!" she said, sincerely shocked that he would speak of one of his bothers in such a way.

"Look," he said angrily, "Percy is persona non grata in my book. He made Mum cry and insulted Dad, and sold out to the Ministry when we needed him." He worked to master his emotions and tried again. "I'm sorry. That's a touchy subject with us Weasleys, and I didn't mean to snap at you. I'll tell you the whole story if you like, another time. Today is for fun. For us."

She put a hand of comfort on his cheek and nodded in understanding. Here were some hurts that were in need of healing, but not the kind she was training for. She was curious about the rift that caused all of the anger in him, but she sensed it would take time. He was right; today was for them.

They apparated to a lovely little spot in the countryside, with a little stream running through it, and a stand of trees nearby. Fred reconsidered his vow to slip Bill a puking pastille without an antidote for all of the teasing when he saw the place that his big brother had recommended. There wasn't a structure or any other sign of muggle life for miles and miles. They would be able to ride their broomsticks without any fear of being caught as much as they liked. They picked a spot close to a bend in the stream and Carly conjured a blanket and some cushions to recline on and then set the picnic basket on it. Fred pulled some bottles of Butterbeer out of his rucksack as his contribution to the meal, and set them next to the basket. After casting a charm to keep any pests away from their lunch, then took to the sky.

It felt fabulous to be on a broomstick again! Carly echoed Fred's whoop of joy as they rose into the air, then followed his lead. They played a childish game of tag for a while, and then circled around the copse of trees in an air born version of hide-and-seek. Hovering high above the spot on which they had claimed for their picnic, they sat comfortably in each other's company and watched a fox come out of the woods to investigate the alien objects in its meadow, only to glance off the invisible shield that protected it.

When at last they settled down to eat, they reclined on the cushions and Fred listened to stories about Carly's family. They sounded as close and loving as his own family tended to be, with the same types of disagreements between siblings, arguments over silly things and a joy of being together as often as possible. She talked about her family's Christmas tradition of sneaking into muggle houses and leaving evidence of "Santa Clause" behind, and the year that her father had been arrested by muggle police for breaking and entering. They worked their way steadily through ham and cheese sandwiches and fresh grapes, and washed it down with the Butterbeer, which Carly had never tried before.

"I'm going to burst if I eat one more thing," Fred announced as he lay back, replete and sleepy.

"Oh," Carly replied with some amusement, pulling a parcel out of her basket. "Then I guess I'll have to eat these treacle tarts I asked your mother to send all by myself."

Fred's eyes shot open, and he sat up and stared at her in disbelief. She was holding one of the treats as if she was about to take a bite, but she was laughing at the same time. Noticing the look in his eyes was not one of greed; she lowered her hand away from her mouth and looked back at him, "You did say they were your favorite, didn't you?"

He nodded and swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. She was just sitting there, in a pretty blue jumper and denim jeans, her cloak cast aside as the day got warmer, and smiled as if she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. His heart simply fell at that moment, and he couldn't fool himself anymore that love didn't happen as fast as this. Rubbing the faint ache in his chest with his fist, as asked, "You asked my mum to make me tarts?"

"Of course I did!" she answered, as if it were a silly question. "I don't know how to make them. I'm not even sure of what they are. Treacle isn't a big thing in America. I assume it's something similar to molasses... Your mom said she would teach me to make them when I had the time to.... Why are you looking at me that way? They're only tarts."

"It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you," He said sincerely, not quite sure why he was so touched by the gesture.

"You're welcome," She whispered as he leaned closer to give her kiss. She recognized that something significant was happening here, but wasn't quite sure what is was, so she gave herself up to the kiss and decided to puzzle over it later. When he broke the kiss, she asked, "Would you like a tart now?"

"Later."

It was nearly sundown when they packed up the remains of their picnic and apparated back to Diagon Alley. Neither of them wanted the day to end, so they had dinner at the Leaky Cauldron before saying good-bye. Fred walked back home in a state of euphoria, already wondering when they would have a chance to repeat the day. Half of his precious two weeks was already gone, and he wanted to make the most of what was left.