Not Quite Paradise

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Not Quite Paradise

"Although I would like the world to change, it helps me to appreciate those nights and those dreams. But my friend, I'd sacrifice all those nights just to make the earth and my dreams the same." -- Higher by Creed

Chapter One

The Tie That Binds

10 October 1995

I laid quietly in my bed, listening for them to come back. I had heard them leave over an hour ago, giggling madly about something they were going to do. It was Alicia Spinnet's idea. Katie Bell quickly agreed, as usual, and Angelina Johnson was always looking for an adventure. I had been left behind, of course. It didn't hurt me anymore; I was far too used to their treatment to care.

I'm not saying that I wouldn't have loved to go with them. A chance to charm extra freckles on the Weasley twins while they slept? It would have been the practical joke of a lifetime! Fred and George would even have to admit to its brilliance. But I was left alone in the chilly dormitory.

I heard the door creak open quietly. Hushed voices. Suppressed giggles. Pattering of slippered feet. The door closed again with a high-pitched squeak and all was silent -- for a moment. An eruption of giggles broke out on the other side of my drawn curtains on my four-poster bed. The high-pitched laugh definitely belonged to Angelina Johnson. The one that sounded muffled as though the girl had put a hand over her mouth was certainly Alicia Spinnet's. That merely left the half-gasping, half-snorting noise to Katie Bell.

"I can't believe it!" Katie squealed. "I thought they were going to wake up for sure."

"I almost had a heart attack when George scratched his nose," Alicia whispered.

"Oh, and how about when you yelped after Angelina stepped on your foot?" Katie said, her voice low. "I'm surprised the whole dormitory didn't wake up."

"I can't wait to see them at breakfast tomorrow," Angelina said through giggles. "Fred'll be positively furious that we got back at him." I heard the brief, excited clapping of hands together.

"And you think he's cute when he's angry, don't you?"

"Katie Bell, you get that thought out of your head this instant!" Angelina squeaked in what she probably hoped was an indignant tone. I knew better. She most certainly fancied the older (albeit by seven and a half minutes) twin. I almost laughed, but I was able to turn it into a cough at the last moment. The voices outside ceased immediately and I froze.

"Oh, it would figure she would be listening," I could hear Alicia say spitefully. She raised her voice deliberately so I could hear her clearly. "Why don't you come out here so that you can hear us better, then?" I didn't move. Maybe they'd leave me alone, maybe they would just go away...

"Really, like we don't know you're awake," Katie cut in. Maybe if I just lay really still... No, they would just open the curtain. Trembling, I sat up and swung my legs over the side. Pulling my nightgown tightly around me, I slipped between the curtains and stepped onto the cold floor, my toes involuntarily curling up against the frozen stone.

I circled around the side of my bed and saw the three of them standing together, faces flushed darkly and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives. I dropped my chin self-consciously and let my long brown hair shield my face from their view.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Angelina asked quietly.

I was rather surprised at her speaking to me. Usually she remained quiet while the others teased me or occasionally would stop them by making an excuse for them to leave. She helped me with Transfiguration homework once in fourth year and smiled at me in the hallway. It wasn't much, but it was more than nothing, which was exactly what I got from Alicia and Katie.

I suppose I suspected that George told her to be nice to me; he kept an eye on me sometimes. He was the only person I could talk to in the whole House. Sure, I had Shelly Walters (Hufflepuff) and J'Belle Jubilee (Ravenclaw) to talk to during class but when Death Eaters killed my mum in my sixth year, it was George who sat with me in the common room all night and held onto me as I cried. He didn't make the empty promises that the teachers and acquaintances did that if I needed anything then "just ask." I knew it was true with him. He wasn't like Madam Pomfrey who wanted me to "express my feelings" and "let it all out" or I'd make myself sick and woe be the person to give that woman extra work in the infirmary. If I wanted to talk, he would listen. If I wanted to just sit with him or cry, he would understand that, too.

Angelina and I were never that close. She did say she was sorry about what happened to my mum when she found out. Katie and Alicia didn't tease me for a while after that. I was given a wide berth, which I was grateful for. Thank Merlin for small favors.

"No, let her listen all she wants," Alicia said, a smile beginning on her face. "It's not like she's ever done anything against school rules. Ooh, sneaking out at night. How terrible of us, Katie!" I still didn't dare look up at them. They might see the tear streaks on my face. I couldn't show them that.

"You're not going to tell on us, right, Anya?" Angelina asked. I shook my head quickly, my eyes still studying the ground.

"I won't tell anyone. Honest," I answered right away.

"You had better not," Katie warned. "George wouldn't speak to you again; we would make sure of that. You know he only does it because he feels bad for you." Blood pounded in my ears and I told myself not to listen to her. She was just trying to upset me. "She's trying to get your goat, baby," my dad would have said. "Now don't you let her."

As I saw it, there were two options. I could stand up for myself and do the right thing by telling Professor McGonagall in the morning or I could swear I wouldn't say a word and crawl back into my bed, pretending it never happened.

"I promise I won't tell. Really," I said. My older brother always said I should have been in Hufflepuff. I heard one of them draw in a breath to say something, but Angelina cut her off.

"All right, we all need some sleep. There's a game tomorrow, remember?" Her voice had the commanding tone no less than the one McGonagall could hold. Obediently, I quickly scrambled back into my bed and curled up beneath the covers. I heard two sets of footsteps scramble to opposite ends of the room quickly. The third pair walked a more determined path and I held my breath as my curtain was pulled aside.

"Anya?" Angelina whispered softly. "Anya, if you're still awake, I'm sorry for the way they acted. Katie's parents are very uptight about her behavior. If she even gets one owl saying she misbehaved, she'll get into loads of trouble. Alicia... well, she hates it when her parents are disappointed. Just don't tell, okay?"

"I won't," I murmured, my voice muffled in my pillow.

"Thank you." I heard a soft swish as my curtain fell back and listened to her tiptoe back to her bed (I may have needed a charm to help my vision, but my ears were in perfect working order.) and crawl beneath her own covers. I waited five solid minutes before I let the tears fall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Years later...

"Anya? Anya, wake up. Come on, this isn't funny. Open your eyes," a voice said as I drifted out of my dream. The voice was very familiar and it sounded a little frightened. My eyes fluttered slowly open and I looked into blue eyes that I instantly recognized.

"George, go away. I'm sleeping," I muttered, squirming uncomfortably in the chair. George drew back and stood above me, arms crossed. It was creepy when he did that, because he looked like he was upset with me. I saw a smile twitch on his lips and relaxed.

"Sleeping on the job? I could bring you in front of the Department of Magical Employment for that, you know," he teased. I let out a breath of relief, knowing his words held no conviction, as I was only working at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes as a record-keeper temporarily while I was between jobs.

"The store closed an hour ago," I yawned in reply. I stretched my arms out an unimpressive distance and looked up at him sleepily. His dark red hair fell over his pale blue eyes and he brushed it away, irritated.

"You need a haircut," I told him as I stretched out my legs and used the arms of the chair to push myself to my feet. I felt dizzy from standing too quickly and fell over again. Luckily, I landed right into a pile of Plush Parrot Pillows. They squawked in protest and I stuck my tongue out at them. Perhaps I'd picked up just a bit too much of the twin's disposition.

George looked down at me with one raised red eyebrow, and an amused smile touching the corners of his lips. He shook his head as he picked up his eagle feather quill and dipped it in the green inkwell.

"Remind me to add 'coordination' onto the list of things we need to order," he said, marking something on a piece of parchment. He signed the bottom and set his quill down so he could roll it up.

"You're really cute," I said sarcastically, picking myself up and brushing bright red and yellow feathers off my robes. "Do you want me to close up tonight?"

"No but thanks, Anya. I'll do it." I had noticed he was acting odd recently, even for George. He absently put his quill behind his ear and opened a parchment envelope that had been resting on the counter.

"Oh, that came this morning, but you and Fred were in your laboratory buggering about or experimenting -- I don't know which -- and I completely forgot about it until now." He gave a half nod and skimmed the first few lines of the parchment. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What is it?" I asked, sidling up to him. He didn't answer, so I bent slightly in front of him to read the letter he was holding.

To: MESSRS. F. & G. Weasley

From: Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises

Re: Copyright Ownership

Date: 8 January 2004

To Whom It May Concern:

It has come to the attention of Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes manufactures a full line of Canary Creams, the first edition coming out in the June of 1997. We, at Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises, are sending you this notice to inform you that our successful Tweety Truffles have been on the wizarding market since early 1982. To avoid legal matters, we recommend that you remove the Canary Creams from your merchandise list. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Parker Jackalope

President of Parker Jackalope Practical Joke Enterprises

I paused a few moments before I dared to look up at George. Canary Creams were what started Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and they had been a classic (and quick-selling) item ever since.

"This is Fred's doing; I know it," I said, hoping the lie might comfort him. "He probably though it'd be so bloody hilarious for you to panic over it and think it was real. Oh, honestly, the two of you will never grow up, will you?" I took the letter from him and crumpled it up in a little ball. I took out my wand to incinerate it, but George snatched it out of my hand before I could.

I watched silently as he placed the parchment on the counter and smoothed it out slowly. I could tell he was searching the notice for any sign of forgery. Finally, he drew in a deep breath and folded it in half.

"Time for you to go home," he said softly, tucking the parchment into his pocket. He finally looked up at me. "It's late."

"George--" I began in protest.

"I want you to open tomorrow; I've got some appointments in the morning. Seven o'clock, all right?" he said as though I hadn't even spoken. It drove me insane when he did that.

"Yes, sir," I replied. I knew calling him "sir" or addressing him formally in any manner really got his goat, but I really didn't care much at that point.

"Please don't do this," he said, closing his eyes and sitting heavily in the chair in which I had been sleeping. "I don't need this extra stress," he said, his voice muffled by his hands. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed; even his freckles looked drained.

George had taken care of me when I was younger. I like to think I became a stronger person because of him. I didn't need him the same way I did when I had my rough patch at Hogwarts. But he needed me now. I knelt at his side and he opened his eyes, looking at me. His face was weary and he looked a lot older than his twenty-five years.

"Anya, this is just too much," he said, in a strained voice. "I can't talk to my sister-in-law without her referring to my brother as 'oh, him,' in the same tone a Death Eater might say 'Muggle-born.' Dervish and Banges and Third Time's A Charm are beginning to monopolize the practical joke industry and I'm about this close to getting sued." He held his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart to better illustrate. He ran a hand through his fiery hair and let it fall limply on the arm of the chair, which grunted its indignation. His head fell back against the top of the chair with a dull thud and he closed his eyes. I chewed my lower lip for a moment, trying to think of something horribly profound to cheer him up, but my mind was a complete blank. The only thing I could think of doing was setting my hand on top of his, which I did.

"3W has had hard times before and we've always pulled through. And Fred and Angelina will settle their differences... as bull-headed as they can both be, they love each other deep down and will find a way to fix things. Come on, you know I'm not good with all this philosophy rubbish. It'll work. Life's not perfect... nothing is always paradise."

He cracked open an eye and turned his head towards me.

"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, completely and utterly serious with me. I nodded. "So things will work out, then?" I nodded again and he pulled his hand out from under mine. He used his fingertips to brush my light brown hair out of my face and tuck it gently behind my ear. "If you say so." He sighed heavily and offered me a half smile. His eyes were still troubled and I knew I hadn't really helped him at all; I could easily tell he was humoring me. I really didn't appreciate when he did that, but starting a row with him over his insincerity wouldn't solve anything. "Go on home and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." He stood up from the chair and reached out a hand to help me stand.

"Good night, George," I said, just before Apparating home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I awoke the next morning with a sharp pain in the side of my head. I groaned and turned over. To my surprise the pain disappeared for a moment. I felt a light tapping across my head, then the sharp, pulsing pain again. I forced my eyes open and swatted out at the air. I gasped sharply when I hit something feathery.

Yawning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes with my fists. I looked down into my lap to see a little brown owl hopping excitedly across my lap. It cocked its head to one side and stuck its talon out proudly.

"Mmm, why's the mail coming this early?" I muttered to no one in particular, as I took off the piece of parchment tied to the tiny bird's leg. Once I'd relieved the owl of its burden, it hopped excitedly across my bedspread, looking to get into trouble.

"Don't you touch anything," I warned it as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. It hooted at me, irritated, and then became mesmerized with the flying Quidditch players on my covers. I unrolled the small piece of parchment and read quickly. I identified the handwriting as George's scrawl:

Anya-

Get the envelope off the counter at the shop and meet me at Paracelsus Hospital. Please hurry.

-George

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I rushed through the front entryway of Paracelsus Hospital, hopping on one foot and trying to tie my shoe. I had stopped at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to pick up the envelope with a piece of folded parchment in it. It was the one from Jackalope Parker Practical Joke Enterprises; I considered jotting down the return address and sending back a Howler, but decided against it at the last moment.

The hell with my shoe, I decided, as I dashed up to the reception desk.

A plump, red-haired witch sat behind the desk, scrawling a note on a scrap of parchment. Her dark blue-framed glasses bobbed up and down on her nose as she wrote.

"Weasley?" I asked hopefully, my words coming out rushed together. I paused to breathe as she answered.

"Room 317 on the seventh floor," she said pleasantly. It must have driven her almost insane to be so calm and collected when panicking relatives and friends rushed to find out how their ailing loved ones were doing. "Would you like a Mouse?"

I nodded quickly and a tiny girl appeared in front of me. To those who didn't know what a Mouse was, it would be absurd to think a child of eight or nine could possibly guide visitors through a large facility such as Paracelsus. The Mouse, however, was no child. Rumors had flown through the wizarding world from the possibility of them being the late Albus Dumbledore's perpetually youthful granddaughters' to their ages being in the thousands. I suppose no one would ever know.

In any case, she raced ahead of me through zigzagging hallways and up trick staircases and even through what appeared to be solid walls of stone. Finally, we entered a long hallway lined with doorways and nervous witches and wizards sitting in chairs. She pointed one pale hand down the hallway and jabbed a finger sharply to the right. I squinted down the corridor, hoping to see something obvious -- like a gigantic sign with "317" on it -- but I had no such luck. I turned to ask the Mouse where to go, but she was gone. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest as my mind flew a hundred kilometers a minute. Was George sick? No, that couldn't be it. He wouldn't have sent me for something at 3W if he was ill. But why did he need me to meet him at the hospital? I got a sick feeling in my stomach; something had to be wrong.

I began to run again and was only able to get halfway down the hallway when an all-too-familiar sharp pain tore through my chest. Crying out, I fell to my knees. Within ten seconds, I was surrounded by mediwizards. One pushed to the front and asked, panicked, "Again?" I was only able to nod; the pain was much too great. I felt a wand touch my shoulder and the same voice say, "Antiasthmatico." The pain faded gradually and was replaced with a dull ache. I felt strong arms heave me to my feet and I saw that it was indeed George who had spoken to me.

"Thank you," I breathed gratefully, collapsing forward into his arms. I leaned against him heavily as I slowly caught my breath and fought of the last shards of pain out my chest. He guided me carefully to a chair, sat me down and knelt in front of me.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. I nodded and handed him the envelope. He took it from me and glanced at it briefly before putting it in his pocket.

"Why did you need to meet me here?"

"Angelina's sick," he said softly. My heart jumped into my throat and the sick feeling was back in my stomach.

"What happened?" I asked numbly, my hand placed over my heart. George stood stiffly and then seated himself beside me in a chair.

"Fred says that one moment she was folding laundry and the next, she was leaning against the wall, crying with her arms wrapped around her abdomen. She's... she's not good," he replied, his voice trembling.

"The baby!" I gasped.

"Dr. Branford says the baby's still alive... but its -- we just found out 'it' is a 'she' -- heartbeat is weak. Angelina's got a high fever and she's hardly coherent. The mediwizards still don't know if whatever's she's got is Muggle or magical or... something else." He fell silent and I saw the small muscles in his jaw moving furiously as he stared at a spot across the hallway. I heard footsteps at the far end of the hallway and looked up in time to see Ron Weasley and his wife, Hermione Granger-Weasley rushing towards us. I stood quickly and hugged them both, filling them in on as much as I got from George.

"Maybe I should go in and take a look..." Hermione began, already taking a step towards the door. Ron caught her shoulder and shook his head.

"Conflict of personal interest. Let them do their jobs, 'Mione," he said gently. She turned and looked up at him, looking as though she was about to protest. She snapped her mouth closed and leaned slightly against his chest.

"I'm going to find a mediwizard somewhere and find out what's going on," Hermione declared.

"I'll catch up with you in a minute," Ron said. For a moment, they paused, and then exchanged a quick kiss before Hermione started down the hall. Ron nodded politely at me and then stepped in front of his brother's chair. George looked up and stood. The brother's embraced slowly. When they pulled apart, they each seemed to read each other's minds.

"How's he doing?" Ron asked. George shook his head.

"He's falling apart... You know Fred, though. He's trying not to show it, but he's hurting. Bad," George answered. He briefly rubbed his face with his hands, as though trying to stay awake. "He knows he was being a lousy git with the way he was treating Angelina -- she wasn't being much better -- but I can't believe this is what it took for them to be in a room together for more than ten minutes without shouting."

"Who did this?" Ron asked, with a clenched jaw. I tried to shrink in my seat. I knew that Ron's Weasley temper was second only to Fred's, something I dared not witness a second time.

"They don't even know what caused it." George glanced past Ron and down the hallway. "Looks like Hermione found someone with answers." I turned and saw Hermione speaking with a mediwitch. I winced when I recognized the defensive-Hermione stance; hands planted on hips, weight on left foot, head tilted slightly to one side.

"I'd better go save the poor bloke," Ron said with a wince. "Let me know if there's a change." The brothers embraced again and Ron headed down the hallway towards his wife. George settled heavily beside me again. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, making me wonder what was in his head. I looked down and slowly slid my hand beneath his. He startled a little, but then wrapped his fingers around mine.

"I don't know what I'd do if I was in his shoes," he murmured, his fingers holding mine tightly. "I don't know how I could live with myself." He fell silent again and I leaned my head softly against his shoulder, my eyes closing. If I kept them open any longer, I might've started crying. I don't break an eight-year streak without crying if I can prevent it. From where I sat, I could just barely make out Fred's voice through the door:

"Angel, you must pull through this. You've got to pull through, love... I can't live without you."

I didn't expect anything to follow, but I heard Angelina's very weak rasp, "You have George... You'll do just fine."

"George is my twin, my flesh and blood. True enough. But you're in my blood, aren't you? Angel, I... I'm not like some blokes that can just say all sorts of flowery things off the top of their heads. Blowing a lot of hot air... that's not me and you know it. But you've got to know that you're my heart..." Here, he broke off and I suspected he was trying to compose himself. "And a man can't live without his heart, now can he? So get well." The pain in his voice threatened to bring tears to my eyes.

"It could have been her in there," George murmured in a barely audible tone. I'm not even sure he realized that he'd spoken aloud.

"Who?" I asked him quietly. He jerked suddenly and I pulled away from him, looking shocked. He was staring back at me with large blue eyes.

"Nothing... It's no one. Don't worry about it." His voice was clipped and the message was clear: no further discussion on the issue. He pulled his hand away from mine and dropped it into his lap. I looked at him, surprised, but he was lost in his own world.

To be continued...