The First Day

George leaned against the counter with a sigh. Once school started, things tended to slow down a lot, and dealing with owl orders was far easier than trying to deal with customers in person. He glanced up when the door opened to admit Katie. He felt his face brighten considerably with a smile. 'Katie! What are you doing here? Can I interest you in a Daydream Charm?'

Katie rested her elbows on the counter. 'Got plans for today?'

George gestured expansively around the shop. 'This.'

Katie glanced around the shop at the few customers milling about the shelves. 'Looks exciting,' she commented dryly. 'Where's Ron?'

'Went up to Hogwarts with Hermione and Harry to see Gin. Hogsmeade weekend.'

'Why didn't you go?' Katie asked.

George's hand rose and fell in an abbreviated arc. 'Nah. First Quidditch game is coming up soon. I thought I'd go then.'

'Care to join me for lunch? There's a new place in Falmouth I'm reviewing. I could use another stomach, besides my own.'

George traced a blotch of ink on the counter. 'What about what's-his-name?'

'Martin doesn't like to try new things.'

'What is this place?'

Katie sighed and crossed her arms over the counter. 'It's Asian, mostly.'

George shrugged the bright magenta robes from his shoulders. 'I could eat some noodles,' he said. 'Oi! David, Sasha! I'm out!'

David poked his head through the curtain. 'Okay, George. You coming back later?'

George glanced at Katie. 'No.' He turned to David. 'In fact, why don't you and Sasha skive off for the rest of the day? Take some down time before it picks up again for the Christmas holidays?' He saw Katie giving him a thoughtful look. 'What?'

'How do you feel about doing dinner instead of lunch?'

'Why?'

Katie tapped the counter with an oval-shaped fingernail. 'I promised my mum I'd come by today, and it would be much easier if I did it in the afternoon.'

'Well, if you give me the name of this place, I'll meet you at say, six?'

Katie gave George another one of those thoughtful looks. 'Why don't you come with me?'

George glanced down at his crumpled shirt and worn jeans. 'I'm not really dressed to meet family...'

Katie waved him off. 'You're fine. My parents are... unconventional.'

George shook his head. 'At least let me pop home and change my shirt. I think this one has a stain on it from when I tried to make Fever Fudge from memory before we reopened...' He flipped up the hem and examined a large purple splotch near a buttonhole.

Katie nodded. 'Meet you in front of my place in thirty minutes?'

'Okay.' George waited until Katie left the shop and had dashed down the street to her building. He Apparated to the Burrow and ran full-tilt toward the back door of the house. 'Mum!' he yelled. 'Mum!'

'What's the matter?' Molly stopped George's headlong rush into the kitchen by grabbing a sleeve.

'Clean shirt? Ironed?'

'In the cupboard...'

George kissed Molly noisily on the cheek. 'Thanks, Mum!' He started to run up the stairs but stopped and barreled back to Molly, nearly lifting her off the ground by the sheer force of his embrace.

'Oh my. What's all this?' Molly gently patted George's back.

George drew back a little. 'Just something good, isn't it?'

'Ah. Well, then. Am I waiting up tonight?'

'Probably not.' George's smile grew crooked, but he ran up to Percy's old room and grabbed the first clean, ironed shirt his hand landed on. In minutes, he had pulled the clean shirt on in place of the discarded on, and changed his jeans for a pair of decent-looking trousers, then found himself pacing the street in front of Katie's building.

Katie emerged a few minutes later. 'I thought you were just going to change your shirt,' she teased.

'It didn't go with the jeans,' George retorted. 'Ready?'

Katie hesitated, and to George's surprise, plopped on the stoop of her building. 'I need to explain something first... About my family...'

'Oh. Well. All right...' George joined Katie on the steps, their shoulders brushing companionably.

Katie smiled nervously. 'Well, it's just... My parents are a little eccentric in the wizarding world.'

George snorted. 'Um. Hi. My dad?'

Katie shook her head. 'More than that...' She took a deep breath. 'They don't use magic for things they can do themselves. Like cooking and washing up. My mum and dad both have one Muggle parent. And their magic parents weren't very good with magic to begin with, so while they were at Hogwarts, their Muggle parents insisted they take Muggle classes as well. All the way through their O-levels. Through the post, actually. Just in case magic didn't pan out, you see.'

'What's that? O-levels...'

'Sort of like N.E.W.T.s,' Katie replied. 'They did it mostly over the summers and when they could at school. They were actually from the same village, too, so their families knew each other. In the end, Dad decided he didn't want to go into a wizarding career path, so he went to uni and earned a degree in literature. Mum actually trained to be a Healer. Got all the way through it and quit. It was the height of the first war, and too many of her friends had died. While she was working on them or before she could get to them. Or disappeared. It was too much for her. So she trained as a midwife. She much prefers being there at the beginning of life.'

'Why didn't she stay with St. Mungo's or work at a Healer in a wizarding village and do that?' George wondered.

'I think she'd had enough of it. The fighting and politics... Both her and Dad. So they moved out to Oxborough. Dad got a job working in a library and tutoring some of the older children who were taking their O-levels. Mum does a lot of the births out there. Muggle and wizarding. They had me, then when I was almost six, they had my brother Timothy.'

George frowned. 'I don't remember you having a brother at school...'

'I don't,' Katie said so softly, George had to strain to hear her. 'He's... Different. He's going to be fifteen on Christmas,' she added. 'But he functions like he's six.'

George blinked. 'Oh.'

Katie exhaled slowly. 'Yeah. Timothy's the sweetest kid in Britain. But he's an eighty-pound six-year old. And like a six-year old, he loses control of his magic when he's upset. If he goes into the village with Mum or Dad, and he sees a toy or sweetie he wants, he raises an unholy fuss about it. Has a tantrum when he doesn't get it, because he doesn't understand he can't have it. Most of the time, we can calm him down with the promise of a story or film on the video, but sometimes...' She shook her head.

'Things just explode. Literally,' George finished for her.

'Yeah.' Katie stared into the street, watching the human traffic mill and seethe in front of them. 'After he was born, they took him to every Muggle doctor or Healer they knew to see if something could be done. But the answer was always no...'

George nodded. 'All right.' He stood up and held out a hand to Katie. 'So how did I earn the honor of meeting your family?'

'You still want to go?'

'Well...' George shifted from foot to foot. 'Yeah.'

Katie took George's proffered hand and allowed him to help her stand up. 'Thanks...' she said shyly.

'So why hasn't what's-his-face been to meet them?'

'It's a long story,' Katie sighed. 'I don't think he'd understand about Timothy. Not that he's completely insensitive,' she added quickly. 'Timothy's just a little difficult for some people to understand...'

George bit back the comment he was about to blurt, and instead offered his arm to Katie. 'Lead on,' he said gallantly. Katie wound her fingers through his and Apparated them both to a lane leading out to a small cottage outside Oxborough.

'Katie!' A small figure darted out of the front garden and hurtled toward Katie at full speed. She pulled her hand from George's and visibly braced herself. A small boy threw himself at Katie, making her stagger a few steps. 'Katie! You're home!'

'Just for tea, Tim,' Katie said softly, winding her arms around the boy and nuzzling the top of his honey-blonde hair. After a few moments, she managed to extricate herself and turned Timothy toward George. 'Hey, I'd like you to meet someone. Tim, this is my friend, George. George, this is my younger brother, Timothy.'

George crouched down so he could be at eye-level with Timothy. He held out a hand in greeting. 'Hiya.' Timothy wore a pair of glasses with thick lenses that magnified his already-large eyes. His features were oddly flattened, but he smiled at George with an expression that lacked any sort of guile at all.

Timothy gazed from George's outstretched hand to his face, confusion clouding his sunny smile. 'Shake his hand, Tim,' Katie urged in a whisper. Timothy immediately offered a grubby paw to George, who took it and gave it a firm hand shake.

'It's nice to meet you, Timothy,' George said gravely.

Timothy turned his wide gaze back to Katie. 'Katie!' he whispered loudly. 'He's missin' an ear!'

'Shhh!' Katie's face bore a distinctly scandalized expression. 'Timothy, it's not nice to say things like that!' She looked at George. 'I'm so sorry...' she said.

George's mouth quirked in a half sort of smile. 'No worries, Katie.' He transferred his attentions to Timothy. 'It's a shame, not having an ear, isn't it? Means I can't do this.' George pulled a Sickle from his pocket and showed it to Timothy. He let his fingers brush against one of Timothy's ears, then displayed his empty hands to him.

'Where'd it go?' Timothy demanded, pulling at his right ear.

'Right here.' George grinned and let the fingers of his other hand brush against the outside of Timothy's left ear. He held up the Sickle. 'In one ear and out the other.'

Timothy's eyes grew round and he patted his ears. 'How'd you do that?'

'Magic.' George handed Timothy the Sickle.

'Katie!' A small woman swathed in a large woolen shawl had come from the house. 'I thought you were coming later.'

'I changed my plans,' Katie said with a shrug.

'Ah.' She turned to George. 'You must be Martin, then.'

'Mum, that's not Martin,' Katie mumbled, clearly mortified. 'This is George Weasley.'

'Oh, sorry about that.' Katie's mother smiled and held out a small hand. 'I'm Belinda Bell. And do call me Belinda. People call me Mrs. Bell and I start looking for my mother-in-law.' She shuddered delicately.

'Mum!' Katie covered her face with her hands.

'Oh, come off it, Katie. She was a miserable old bat who could barely do a Summoning spell.'

George took Belinda's hand. 'It's lovely to meet you.'

'Let's get inside, shall we?' Katie's mother began to shoo them toward the house. 'I might have to leave before tea, though.'

'Why?' Katie held the garden gate open.

'The vicar's daughter is due any second.'

Katie's mouth dropped open. 'Tabitha Campbell is pregnant?' she breathed. 'How did I not know this...?

'Well, it's been a bit busy around here lately,' Belinda said airily. 'Poor Tibs. She's been shut up in that vicarage for weeks now. That mother of hers won't let her out.'

'Why?' George was becoming fascinated by the conversation.

'Well, Mrs. Campbell is the rather prim sort. Wouldn't know what a condom was if it slapped her in the face,' Belinda grumbled. 'Refused to let Tibs take part in those classes at school. Anyone could have told her Tibs would end up pregnant before she was twenty with the way she carried on with Alexander Griffin. The vicar's all right,' she told George. 'Comes over every once in a while to watch Tim, so Peter and I can go out for a bit. But Mrs. Campbell, oh no... She's ashamed of Tibs, like this was forty years ago.' Belinda gestured to a round table. 'Sit yourself down, then. Timmy, dear, go find Daddy, all right?'

'Kay...' Timothy shuffled down the corridor, peering into each room as he passed it.

'Mum's somewhat forceful in her opinions...' Katie whispered.

'You have met my mother, haven't you?' George replied. 'Molly Weasley has an opinion for everything.'

'Timothy says Katie's here?' A large, bearded man ambled casually into the kitchen, looking a bit preoccupied.

'Hi, Dad...' Katie waved from her chair.

'Ah, hello there, Katie. And who's your friend?' Peter began to slice bread for sandwiches, gesturing at George with the knife.

'This is George Weasley. George, this is my dad...' Katie had slipped a little further down in her chair.

Peter set the knife down and peered at George. 'Oh, you're George Weasley... You used to come see Katie...' He caught George's petrified expression and picked up the knife once more. 'No, I guess it wasn't you. Probably got you confused with someone else then...'

George settled back into the chair with a relieved sigh.

'So how do you know our Katie?' Belinda asked.

'We were in the same house at school. Played Quidditch together until I left.'

'And what do you do?' she continued.

'I own a shop. I opened it with my brother a bit more than two years ago.'

'A shop? Really?' Peter set a plate of sandwiches down on the table. 'What kind of shop?'

'A joke shop,' George murmured. 'Mostly jokes. But a few games and toys. Some cosmetics, but that was my brother's idea... Sells fairly well, though.'

'How's business, then?' Peter handed a stack of plates to Katie, who began distributing them around the table.

'Good. We managed to buy the building last year, before the war. We do a lot of owl orders between school holidays, especially since Zonko's went out of business.' George squirmed a little. He hated talking about how well the shop did.

'Dad, lay off him, will you?' Katie hissed. 'We're not dating. George is just a friend.'

Peter and Belinda exchanged glances. 'Right,' Katie's father murmured, before doling out cups and glasses.

The telephone rang, startling George. He watched in wonder as Belinda picked it up began to speak. 'Hello? All right, Tibs, just calm down, then. How far apart are they? Hmmm. Yes. Don't panic, dearie. I'll be along in a bit. What's that? Yes, do. Just don't eat anything too heavy. Yes, Tibs, it'll be fine. All right, then.' She shook her head, replacing the telephone. 'Always come at the most inconvenient times, babies... I trust you can get the rest of tea together, Peter.'

Peter snorted, pouring milk into a glass for Timothy. 'Been getting tea on by myself for years now. Can even tie my shoelaces without help.'

'It was a pleasure to meet you, George,' Belinda said, as she dashed out the door.

Somewhere in the house, Timothy heard his mother leave and burst into loud, angry wails that took Peter a good twenty minutes to soothe, while Katie laid out the rest of the meal and jabbed her wand at the table, to make sure everything stayed fresh. 'Tim doesn't like it when Mum has to leave suddenly like that,' she explained to George apologetically.

George shrugged. 'Don't worry about it.'

*****

George gazed at the array of plates on the table before closing his eyes and stabbing his fork at something. 'Why did you order so much?' he asked.

'Have to try more than two things. If it's any good, I'll end up taking the rest of it home. Rice noodles are good for breakfast.'

'That's just disgusting.'

'It's good. Leftover Thai and Chinese takeaway make the best breakfast the next day.'

George grimaced. 'Does your mum know you do that?'

Katie smirked at George. 'Who do you think taught me to do it?'

'So why haven't you taken what's-his-name to meet you parents?' George gingerly chewed something and gave Katie a stricken look and pointed to a far plate with his fork and shook his head vigorously. Katie gave him a look, before dipping her fork into it and sampling the noodles.

'Don't care for the wam yu sen, George?'

'It's a little sour for me...' he muttered.

'Maybe it's an acquired taste,' Katie murmured. 'I eat this kind of stuff all the time.'

'So, you haven't answered my question.'

Katie sighed and dipped her spoon into a bowl of soup. 'Does it always have to be about the future?'

'What?'

'Why can't I just date someone for laughs? I'm not interested in marrying what's-his-name. Not now, and not ever.'

'So why bother...?' George picked up his tea and sipped it.

'Look, George, I go out with what's-his-name because I don't terribly mind his company. He's not even remotely marriage material. It's why I don't take him home. Because I don't want Timothy to start to like him, then when we're not together anymore, he'll get upset.'

'How do you explain taking me over, then?'

Katie set her spoon down. 'Could we not talk about this? Not right now. Just suffice to say that I see my relationship with you lasting longer than with what's-his-name.'

'Only because I'm willing to try some incredibly sour salad with glass noodles for you.'

'Yeah, that's it.' Katie nudged the plate containing the wam yu sen toward George. 'Give it a second try. It grows on you.'

'Isn't your birthday coming up?' George asked, changing the subject.

'Yeah. In April.'

'Got plans yet?'

Katie breathed an internal sigh of relief. George couldn't possibly know how close his remarks were cutting. 'Thought I'd have a few friends at the Leaky Cauldron. Drinks, dinner.'

'You do realize that's five months away,' George pointed out.

'Well, I thought I'd ask Ang to come if she could. It gives her time to get things arranged to come back for a visit.' Katie toyed with her fork. 'Would you come...?'

'Of course I will.' George glanced at his watch. 'You know, if we pick it up a bit, we can catch the Falmouth game. They're playing the Cannons, the poor sods. Ought to be a quick game, though, unless Falmouth just wants to toy with them. And knowing Falmouth, they'll do it just for the enjoyment of the head game.'

Katie stared at a point over George's shoulder. 'I haven't been to a Quidditch game since I finished school...' she said wistfully.

'Let's go. It's a late game anyway. Doesn't start until nine.'

'How are we going to get tickets this late?'

George beckoned for Katie to come closer. 'I know the owner. Well, I don't know him like we mates or anything, but his kid really wanted a Pygmy Puff, so I promised him the first one when we got them back in stock in October. He sent me a voucher for tickets any time I wanted.'

Katie snorted. 'They're probably going to be some shite seats where you can't see anything. Blocked view and all.'

'Probably, but it's better than nothing.'

Katie studied her watch for a moment. 'It's eight-thirty now,' she said. 'Have you eaten enough?'

'To give you my opinions?' George asked incredulously.

'First impression, then. We can come back later and give it another go. Don't have to have the review written for another few weeks.'

'That would be good.'

'Come on. Even if the game only lasts for five minutes, it'll be the most exciting thing I've done in ages.'

George pushed his chair back with a muffled groan. He'd eaten far more than the usually did. 'What's-his-name doesn't do things like this? Come eat some noodles and go to a spontaneous Quidditch match?'

'What's-his-name prefers to listen on the wireless,' Katie murmured, counting out Sickles. 'Doesn't really care for the unpredictability of the weather. Said he got enough of that rubbish at school.' She looked up at George, who was scowling at her. 'What?'

'Nothing,' George sighed. 'Ready to go?'

'Yeah.'

At the stadium George stepped up to the ticket booth. 'Hiya is it sold out?'

The tired-looking wizard shook his head. 'Not this one. It's the Cannons, isn't it? Won't be sold out unless the Cannons win the League Cup sudden-like.'

'Brilliant,' George responded, pulling his wallet from his pocket, and extracting a small slip of parchment. He pushed it through the opening in the window and the wizard glanced down at it in a bored manner, before straightening.

'Oi! Willie!' A spotty young man slouched into view. 'Take this gentleman and his lady friend up to Mr. Calhoun's box straightaway.'

Katie gave George a look. 'Who's Mr. Calhoun?'

George gave her an equally startled look. 'The team owner.' He blinked at the parchment waving in front of his nose, before grasping it in numb fingers.

Willie motioned for the two of them to follow him up a dizzying array of stairs, spiraling up to large box. 'Here you are, sir, madam...'

'Thanks,' George told him in a slightly dazed voice. He opened the door for Katie, then ducked in after her into a richly appointed box.

'Ah, Weasley!' a florid voice boomed. 'It's about time you came for a game.'

'Yeah...' George said weakly, taking a seat next to Katie.

'Don't you have a sister playing at the school? Jan or something like that?'

'Ginny. She's the Gryffindor captain this year.'

Calhoun nodded. 'I hear she's quite the player. Versatile.' He eyed George for a moment. 'What about that Harry Potter? I hear he's quite tight with your family.'

George gulped and gazed down at his clasped hands. 'He's not interested in playing professionally,' he allowed.

Calhoun snickered. 'How much?'

'Excuse me?'

'How much will it take to get Potter to play Seeker for my team?' Calhoun asked bluntly.

George's mouth twisted in near revulsion. 'Trust me, Mr. Calhoun; it's not about the money.'

'Got principals, then, eh?'

'It's not that,' George said quietly. 'He just likes the quiet life.'

'I can understand that,' said a new voice. It came from a nondescript man sitting in the shadows. 'Harold Shively. Owner of the Chudley Cannons. You're a Weasley, did you say?'

'Yeah, George. George Weasley.'

Katie began to giggle softly. 'Bond. James Bond,' she said in an undertone.

'Who?' George asked.

'Nothing.' Katie continued to giggle to herself.

Shively turned back to George. 'You know Charlie Weasley?'

'Yeah, he's my older brother.'

'What happened to him? It's like he was poised to play for England just about, then he fell off the map.'

'He went to Romania. Worked as a dragon keeper there for a while. Quit when the war got bad and came back. He's in Hogsmeade right now. Helping to rebuild the school.' Suddenly George smiled. 'My youngest brother would have a litter of Kneazles if he knew I was talking to you.'

Shively's bushy eyebrows rose. 'Really?'

George nodded. 'Ron loves the Cannons. Won't stand to hear criticism about them, either.'

Shively nodded. 'In that case...' He pulled a card from his pocket and scribbled something on it with a quill, then handed it to George. 'Give him that. Tell him he's welcome to come see us any time.'

George tucked the card carefully into his shirt pocket. 'I will. Thanks. He'll be over the moon.' Occasionally he ran his fingers over the pocket, just to assure himself it was still there. He mentally shook his head at what had transpired in that box. And it all started with making sure an eight-year old girl got a Pygmy Puff.

*****

'That was...' Katie trailed off, walking next to George down the quiet empty cobblestones of Diagon Alley.

'Brutal,' George finished for her.

'I knew Falmouth played dirty, I just didn't know how much.' Katie shuddered.

'Their Seeker should have just caught the bloody Snitch instead of taunting them with it for an hour...' George stopped at the bottom of the steps that led to Katie's building. 'Thanks for asking me to come with you today. I had a great time. I haven't really been out in a long time. Mostly been just work and home.'

'You ought to get out more often,' Katie quipped.

George tipped his head back and tried to see the stars through the lights of London on the other side of Diagon Alley. 'Really haven't felt like it much.'

'Still not dating?'

George shrugged. 'Not really. Haven't really met anybody. Don't have the time, either.'

Katie opened the door. 'You somehow managed to spend most of the day with me, gumby,' she told him.

'That's different.' George followed her up the stairs to her flat. 'We were working. Well, you were.'

'Want some coffee or something before you go home? I think I've got some... Haven't been able to shop lately.'

'Yeah...' George's voice died when he saw Summerby sitting outside Katie's door. 'Maybe some other time. I ought to be getting home. G'night, Katie.' George fled down the stairs and Disapparated to the Burrow.

He trudged up to the house, surprised to find Ron sitting in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea. 'You're still up?'

'Can't sleep.' Ron stared moodily into his cup. 'Why do they ask what you think, and then when you tell them, they think you're lying?'

George reached into the cupboard and pulled down a cup. He poured himself a cup of tea. 'Dunno. Why do they date blokes who are obviously wrong for them?' He sipped the tea and snagged one of the biscuits from the plate in front of Ron. 'How's Gin?'

'Fine.' Ron picked up a biscuit and began to break it into pieces. 'She's doing great.' He shoved one of the pieces into his mouth. 'She's going to go back to school,' he said abruptly.

'Hermione?'

'Yeah.' Ron crammed a whole biscuit into his mouth. 'She keeps asking me if she ought to do it, and every time I tell her yes, she starts to argue with me.'

'Sounds like she's trying to talk herself out of it,' George said.

'Why would she do something so stupid?' Ron grumbled.

'Maybe it's not her,' George sighed. 'Maybe it's you.'

'What?'

'You're... I dunno... Different.' George took a long sip of his tea. 'Not that you were always a gormless eejit before, but now... You grew up is all. You're not the Ron she's always known and who makes all sorts of knee-jerk assumptions.'

'I can't win, can I?' Ron let his head fall to the table.

'It's time, bro. Just give it time...' George reached into his shirt pocket. 'Before I forget...' He slid the small card across the table toward Ron.

'What's this?' Frowning, Ron picked up the card and turned it over in his hands. 'You met Harold Shively? The Harold Shively?'

'Yeah. I had some tickets to see Falmouth and I was talking about how much you loved the Cannons. Falmouth was playing the Cannons tonight, you see -'

'Yeah, I know,' interrupted Ron.

'And he heard me talking about you. Said to give you that.'

'It's an offer to come see them play any time I want...' Ron breathed.

'Seems fan loyalty means something after all,' George told him. George finished his tea and quickly washed the cup. 'Don't stay up too late.' Ron shook his head, still staring in dazed reverence at the card.

George slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor and paused in front of the door of his old room. He put a hand on the doorknob, then slowly removed it. He felt bruised enough by his day. He didn't want to add any more.