Fury

Fury

Chapter Fourteen

Cordially Invited

Cate hadn't realized how much she missed George until he was her friend again- at least, they called themselves friends. Something had changed, yet again, and Cate didn't know where they stood in their relationship. Friends talked, friends hugged; sometimes, friends kissed, but it didn't mean anything. Friends didn't sleep together.

The ball, the annual fiasco that she was required to attend, had ended badly when her parents found her sitting with George in the garden. Her mother had forbidden her to see him again, telling her that only scarlet women did what Cate was doing, and her father had stood by and let it happen. George had stood up to them, arguing loudly enough that several people came into the garden to see what was going on, and others stood at the window and watched.

Cate found herself flushing while she watched George argue on her behalf. His hair, longer than he usually kept it and shaggy around the edges, got into his face, which was red from anger and cold. She could see the mangled remains of his ear when he gestured wildly.

Her mother was no better, but instead of turning red, she grew pale, her lips thinning and her long blond hair shaking as she jerked her hands in anger. Her father stood there, silent, looking at his feet.

Cate let them argue until she saw her grandmother standing at the window, then stepped between them, putting her hand on George's chest. "Enough."

Her mother's face twisted in a snarl. "You will not see him again, is that clear?"

Cate, her hand still on George's chest, turned to face her mother. "I will see whoever I damn well please, Mother, and you can't do anything about it. I'm not living here by choice, and I wouldn't. Not anymore."

Her mother took a step back in shock. "Are you disobeying me?" she hissed.

Cate straightened her back and glared at her mother. "You do not control my life, Mother."

George took her hand in his, and held it tightly. "You don't have to stay here, Cate."

She took another look at her mother, lips tight and face white, one at her father, who refused to look her in the eyes, and a final glance at her grandmother, who stood still and serene among the gossiping guests.

Before she could speak, her father interrupted. "She does. By order of the Wizengamot."

Cate's face was empty of emotion. "I only have to sleep here, Father. I don't have to live here. I'll see you in the morning."

She took a step back, into George's arms, and they Apparated away.

~*~

Since that horrible night three months ago, Cate spent only part of the night with her parents, just long enough to satisfy the court that she lived there, but the rest of the time was spent either with George or, when he was working, with one or two of the people that still called her friend.

She also spent the time looking for a job, but found, thanks to the newspapers and her former boss, that no one would hire her. They made it clear that it wasn't because she was a werewolf; that would be discrimination, after all. She just didn't have the necessary qualifications.

Even when her friend, Maggie, a girl she had gone to school with and one of the few that she still talked to, got her an interview at her own job, she was turned down. Every interview took something out of her, and she would go back to George's apartment and crash next to him on his couch, disheartened. She couldn't even get a job in the Centaur Liaison Office, and everyone knew what a joke that was.

This last one was the final straw.

She had gone to a shop in Hogsmeade, a place that sold used clothing, and had been turned down for being "over-qualified". The interviewer had been polite but brusque, and had told her that no one would hire her in Wizarding circles; they would lose customers for hiring a murderer.

She Apparated back to George's building and collapsed into one of the large, overstuffed armchairs that sat on either side of the couch. George was down in the shop, and would be until closing, so she had nearly four hours alone. Four hours.

It might as well have been a lifetime.

She had no job, few friends, and almost zero options. She hated this feeling of uselessness, but unless she could turn back time- unlikely, since she would never be allowed a Time Turner, ever, even if she could get near someone who had one- she would just have to keep looking.

She sank a little further into the chair. Perhaps she could get a job in the Muggle world. Something simple, like being a shop girl, that didn't really take any qualifications, and where she wouldn't have to stay late at night. She wouldn't need to explain her sudden disappearances on the night of the full moon; no one would be suspicious.

As she thought of what jobs she might apply for- given that she had little experience with anything in the Muggle world, and her grandmother would most certainly have a fit- she felt her eyes slowly closing under their own volition. Sinking further into the chair, she began to doze, her light snores filling the empty apartment.

~*~

Cate woke with a start, blinking owlishly in the dim light. There were sounds, as of pots and pans banging together, and muffled cursing, coming from the kitchen; she thought she recognized George's voice. She was covered in a blanket that she didn't recall pulling over herself, and there was a low fire in the fireplace. She snuggled deeper into the chair but didn't close her eyes, content to listen.

George cursed again, and there was a hissing sound. She struggled to sit up, pushing the blanket onto the floor and trying to wake up. It was a losing battle. She stepped on a corner of the blanket as she stood, and the heavy wool slid across the wooden floor, taking her with it. She crashed into a side table with a large, garish lamp, and shrieked as the lamp bit her hand before smashing to the floor.

George ran into the room, wand drawn, a kettle in his other hand and hair wild. "What?"

Cate, from her position under the table, began to giggle. George stared at her, eyes wild and blinking, before he realized the ridiculousness of the situation. He spun on his heel, disappearing into the kitchen. She could hear great gasps of laughter as she tried to remove the lamp from her hand and get out from under the table without doing anymore damage. A hand reached down to help her.

She looked up, thinking that it was George, and froze. It wasn't.

It was her brother, Nathan.

"What are you doing here?"

He grinned down at her, very tan, and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "George invited me."

She brushed off bits of lamp and dust and winced as she pulled a lamp tooth out of her wrist. She shook herself and threw her arms around her brother.

"I've missed you!"

Nathan had left immediately after the ball, taking his girlfriend, Grace Cole, with him, and not responding to owls, letters, or Howlers. And now, here he was, tanned, tall, and grinning, with no notice.

He shrugged. "We went to the south of France first, and then Grace wanted to see Egypt. From there...I think we went to Indonesia next, and then New Zealand. We got an international Portkey last night, and here I am. You missed me?" he asked, ruffling her hair.

Cate brushed her hair back down with her fingers. "Of course. It hasn't been the same without you. But why'd you come back if you were having such a fantastic time? Where's Grace?"

Nathan shrugged. "She's at her mother's, unpacking. We thought we should make an appearance at Isabelle's wedding. Mum would murder me if I didn't."

Cate froze. "Isabelle's wedding?"

Nathan nodded. "Yeah. Two weeks from tomorrow. You forget?"

She blinked. "No."

He grinned. "You did. Don't worry about it; I'm sure Izzie doesn't want you there anyway."

Cate felt as though he had punched her. She turned around and walked into the spare room, the room where her clothes were, and took a few deep breaths. After a minute, George walked in, a frown on his face.

"Your brother said you were upset. What happened?" He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead.

She shook her head, leaning against him. "Nothing. He just said something stupid. It's really nothing." George didn't say anything, and Cate felt the resentment towards her brother's offhanded comment rise in her chest. "Isabelle's wedding is in two weeks. I'd completely forgotten, and with the way it's been between my family and I, I'm not sure if I'm still invited. And then Nathan said something stupid, something that normally would affect me at all, and it just hit me the wrong way. It really wasn't on purpose."

George held his breath for a moment before speaking. "It may not have been on purpose, but I bet he's regretting it. He stopped by the store to see you, you know. I invited him for dinner; I know how close the two of you are." He pulled her tighter, and kissed the top of her head. "He's been gone a long time, Cate. He really doesn't know how it's been for you."

She tensed for a second, then pulled away slightly. "I know that in my head, but it still hurt."

George let her go. "He's your brother; he'll always know what buttons to push. Or, as Ginny would say, he's an idiot, but you have to love him." He clapped his hands together and forced a grin. "Now, dinner. I've burned the rice, and the onions are dodging the knife like you wouldn't believe. Could you please, please help?" he wheedled, looking like a small child.

Cate laughed, and felt the resentment disappear. "Sure, but only if I get to tell everyone what a lousy cook you are."

~*~
The rest of the dinner went well. Nathan had several funny stories from his most recent adventure, and Cate found herself wanting to get to know Grace, his girlfriend. Nathan had always been a lady's man, with a new girl every week, but Grace was different, and she could see it in the way he talked about her.

Nathan had brought back several gifts for her- shells from the beaches in France, little knickknacks from the other locations, not all of which he could remember clearly- Cate was under the impression that most of Nathan's time had been spent with Grace, and not touring the sights. He left near eleven, after dinner and wine and talking.

He stood up rather suddenly, at the end of a story and grabbed his cloak. George stayed where he was, but Cate stood and hugged her brother, walking him to the door, where he would Apparate. He glanced over at George, who was studiously ignoring them.

"He's a good guy, Catie."

She grinned, tired and happy. "Yeah, he is. Tell Mum and Dad that I said hi, and I'll stop in tomorrow to reassure them that I'm behaving."

Nathan kissed her cheek, and she did the same back. He leaned over to her ear, and asked, "Are you happy?"

Cate thought about it for a second, and could see the concern building on Nathan's face, before laughing. "Very. Like you said, he's a good guy."

Nathan smiled widely and left, and suddenly, Cate wanted nothing more than to be in George's arms.

She walked back to the couch and flopped beside him, and loved that his arm curled around her immediately. "Nathan likes you."

George grinned. "Who wouldn't?" He pulled her closer, so that they could watch the magical flames chasing each other in the fireplace. She felt her eyes drift closed, and snuggled closer.

Just before she was totally lost into oblivion, she thought heard him whisper, "I love you, Cate."

~*~

The next few days were awkward for Cate. She wasn't sure she had heard him say what he may or may not have said, and didn't want to say anything, in case she was wrong.

Her visit to her parent's house resulted in snarls from her mother for ignoring Isabelle's special day, and panic from Isabelle, who thought the whole thing was a disaster.

Cate was supposed to be a bridesmaid, one of the ten that Isabelle had demanded, and was the only one who hadn't tried the robes and had them fitted. She had missed (or not been invited to) the original fitting, and so this one took place in her bedroom at the manor. The seamstress, a woman just slightly older than her mother, had a harried look, one that Isabelle was quick to explain to her sister as she panicked her way through the day.

The pavilion for the wedding had shown up three days late, and had had a few pieces broken or missing. Hiero was working on it, but Isabelle thought that this wedding, this showpiece of the love that she and Matthias shared, was going to fall apart before it happened. The flowers hadn't arrived on time, and neither had the food; the cake, the one she had designed with the house-elves, had fallen to pieces in minutes due to a faulty oven; the second had burned.

Isabelle had designed every element of the wedding, down to the nail color and hairstyle, and woe to anyone who interfered, even her fiancé. Cate was just the latest in a string of bumps in the plans, but, because she was Isabelle's sister, took the brunt of her sister's anger and panic.

The dress robes were extremely elegant, in sleek burgundy silk, and Cate felt beautiful as she stared at herself in the mirror. But her sister saw a flaw, and flew into a fit of rage and tears that had the seamstress near tears herself. It took a visit by their grandmother, who slapped Isabelle lightly across the face, before she could control herself.

Cate had also forgotten about the hen party. A week before the wedding, the maid of honor, Isabelle's best friend Monica, took all ten bridesmaids, Isabelle, and several of Isabelle's other friends to a club in Muggle London. Cate had never seen the like before; her sister not in control of herself, dancing and swaying to music she had never heard before, drink in hand, with two of her friends snogging Muggle boys on the side. Cate herself had more than a few drinks, and found herself wanting George before ten minutes had passed.

At the end of the night, Isabelle was nearly incoherent, and the others weren't much better. Cate stumbled from the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron into George's apartment and straight onto the sofa. George woke up and dragged her into the bedroom, where she woke the next afternoon with a pounding headache and a screaming bladder.

George came to check on her, and found her hugging the toilet, her hair a mess and eyes bleary. He stifled laughter and helped her into the kitchen, where he made her tea and whipped up a batch of Hangover Solution. Cate drink both gratefully, and winced as the headache first increased, then dulled, and the nausea went away. He also made her toast, lightly buttered, and then kissed her head and went back to the store, promising that he'd be back to check on her in an hour.

Cate stared into the tea cup, mind numb and mouth stuffed with wool. He was unsurprised when he came back to find the tea cold, the butter congealed, and that she hadn't moved a muscle. He picked her up, which was no easy feat, and carried her into the bedroom. He tucked her in and ordered her back to sleep.

She looked up at him. "You need to come to my sister's wedding with me, to make sure that I don't do this again."

He grinned. "Was that a request?"

She paused, eyes half-closed, as her brain tried to wrap itself around the question. "Not really."

George kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Then I accept. I don't want to have to do this again."

He turned off the light and closed the curtains, and was just about to leave when she mumbled something. He leaned closer. "What was that?"

Cate frowned, nearly asleep, but repeated herself. "I love you too."

George stared down at her sleeping figure for several minutes before he left, a grin on his face.

~*~
Despite Isabelle's dire predictions, the wedding went off without a hitch, and was considered one of the most beautiful ceremonies ever performed. Cate felt a rush of affection for her sister's new husband when he stuttered over the vows, and thought her sister probably the most beautiful brides to ever grace England.

Cate was the bridesmaid just before the maid of honor, and the only one who was family. Each girl carried a bouquet of lilies and orchids, all in creams and whites, and wore shimmering glass shoes that were surprisingly comfortable. And Isabelle...she was stunning.

Her robes were extremely elegant, in snow white with embroidered flowers in crystal beads over the entire train, and a low neckline that was not too low, but just barely. Her blond hair and pale face above the white gown made her appear an ice princess, but Cate could see that her sister was nervous.

And then, suddenly, the wedding was over, the bride thoroughly kissed, and the reception began.

True to his word, George kept her away from most of the alcohol, for which Cate was profoundly grateful. The dinner was spectacular, the elves having outdone themselves, and the cake moist and perfect. A photographer flitted around, his lens snapping in time with the elegant music played by a string quartet.

As the night went on, the music grew louder and more boisterous, and the quartet was replaced by a band called the Twisted Wand. After a beautiful, moving scene, where Isabelle and Hiero danced, only to be interrupted by Matthias, the music grew louder and the dancing wilder. The older guests drew back to the tables and watched as cousins, friends, and siblings celebrated with wild movements and loud singing.

George was a fantastic dancer, and fun, and always had a wicked smile on his face. Cate had to beg to sit out one set, and he invited her cousin, Rhea, only sixteen, to dance with him. Rhea blushed and laughed and had a marvelous time as he cut a swath through the other dancers, only to return to Cate's side in time for a waltz.

She lost herself in the music with him, closing her eyes and just dancing. She could hear his heartbeat, smell him (a mix of something like gunpowder and the sea), and during one part of the dance, taste him, as he leaned down and kissed her. There was a snap as the photographer captured the moment, and then they were floating away in the music.

"I..." he began, and she looked up. There was something in his face, something that he was going to say, and she waited for the words to come to him.

There was a sudden explosion, as a firework screamed into the sky and spelled out 'Isabelle and Matthias', and the moment was gone.

~*~
It felt like a turning point. She woke up in George's arms the next morning, and he kissed her and said, "I have to go to work."

She grimaced. "I don't."

George frowned. "I can't believe that no one will hire you. You're a fantastic potion maker. Your Hangover Solution is the best that I've ever had, and I've had some good ones."

Cate smirked up at him, and asked, jokingly. "So, do you have an opening?"

He looked down at her, his face set, and his voice held no hint of mockery. "Yes, in fact, I do. Cate, would you like to work for me?"

And suddenly, she was employed, and working for George. She would get a list of potions in the morning, with the three other potions makers, and work all day in a small, well-ventilated room, doing the kind of work she loved. She wasn't the boss, and actually liked the man in charge of the potions room. She and George would sometimes get lunch together, and sometimes she would eat with the others. At the end of the day, she would help him close, and they would go upstairs and eat dinner, talk about the day, work through some of his new ideas, and then go to bed.

It was the sort of life she had thought she would never have. Even her mother, when she visited during the second week, seemed satisfied with the situation, and her father congratulated her and got her a gift- a silver stirring rod, heavily wrapped in dragonhide; it was what she had always wanted, but never had the money to get for herself.

After a few days, the talk that she had only been hired because she was sleeping with George died down. After two weeks, the others had warmed to her, and by the middle of the third, she was friendly with everyone- even Verity, one of the clerks, who had a crush on George.

One night, George sent her upstairs while he finished closing, so that she could start dinner. After nearly twenty minutes, when he hadn't come back, Cate walked down the stairs, calling his name. All of the lights except one were out, and the door was locked, but there was no sign of George. She went to his office, behind the counter, still calling his name.

"George?" She pushed the door open, and gasped.

George lay prone on the ground, facedown, a small puddle of blood near his head. She rushed to his side, rolling him over gently. She touched his face, calling to him, trying to wake him, and was about to grab her wand and send a message to Harry when she saw something lying on the ground near his hand with her name on it. She sent the message, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, and opened the letter with shaking hands.

A picture fluttered to the ground- her and George dancing at Isabelle's wedding, both looking happy and peaceful, and then him leaning down and kissing her. Picking it up with nerveless fingers, she flipped the picture over.

Written on the back, in thick black strokes, were the words 'Bad dog'.