Fury

Fury

Chapter Sixteen

Missing

Two years. Two years since he'd sent her upstairs while he finished closing, because he was hungry and she was a better cook than he was. Two years since he'd seen a jet of red light coming towards him, and hit his head- apparently- on a hard surface before hitting the floor. Two years since he'd woken at St. Mungo's, looking for her, only to be told that she was gone.

She hadn't left a note, hadn't taken anything with her. Her clothes were as she'd left them in his room, neatly folded, and all of the pictures were there in their frames. The only thing missing was her wand, and her.

His injuries hadn't been too bad, he was told, nothing an overnight stay wouldn't fix. He'd begged Harry and Ron to check on her, and they'd sent his mother to make sure he didn't try to leave. He'd told them, later, that it was an extremely low blow, and they could expect something in return. But they'd come back too soon, with worried expressions, and said she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

He'd panicked a bit, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. They'd quickly told him, Ron's ears bright red, that there was no sign of foul play, and they expected she'd just...not done as she'd been asked. They reassured him that they would find her, and then Ron took their mother to the side and spoke quietly to her while Harry tried to distract George.

It had taken a couple of days to discover she'd gone to France. George hadn't been able to go back to the apartment; too many memories of her. He'd gone home with his mother, but he couldn't stay in his old room, either; too many memories of Fred. Bill's old room was comfortable, but he'd only made it a week before his mother's coddling had driven him mad.

Harry and Ron tracked her as far as Russia, but were unable to find any trace of her after that, and then there was a huge murder of some sort, and they were called away. George couldn't stay at the shop and do nothing; he'd gone to Russia himself and talked to anyone who would listen. He'd made sure that he got supplies for the shop as an excuse, but he wasn't sure anyone bought it. No one seemed to know anything.

When he'd told her parents and grandmother, with the one brother, Nathan, looking on, he'd been stunned at their reactions. Not that he expected huge shows of grief, but it was a bit ridiculous. Her father sank into the sofa and looked older, somehow, but not surprised. Her mother sat there, cold and stiff, and didn't appear to react at all. Nathan punched the wall and left without a word. Her grandmother thanked him, and then asked if he'd like tea. If it had been his family, he would have had to fight to keep them from leaving and beginning the search.

As he was escorted to the door, her father patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you. I know you've done your best, but my little Catie won't be found if she doesn't want to be." He took a deep breath. "She was better with you. I just wanted you to know that I saw that."

George tried to cover his shock. "That's it? She's good at hiding, so give up? I don't think so. What kind of father are you?"

Hiero straightened. "One who would like you to leave now." He opened the door and pushed lightly on George's back, then shut the door in his face. George stared at it for a moment, then snorted in disgust and walked away.

He jumped when he heard footsteps running behind him. Nathan looked slightly out of breath and furiously angry. "George, wait!"

George paused and thrust his hands in his pockets. The wind blew his hair in his face, and he felt his face freeze in an expressionless mask.

Nathan skidded to a halt. "You'll keep looking, right? You'll find her?"

George nodded tersely. "I don't understand why they won't," he said, thrusting his jaw at the Manor.

Nathan's face darkened suddenly. "You wouldn't," he growled, then turned around and began to walk back.

George felt his temper rise. "That's it?" He snarled. "Oh, I get it. It's because she's not perfect like the rest of you, is that it? Because she's a werewolf, right?"

Nathan spun and clenched his fists. "No, it's because it's her fault that Leo died!"

~*~
He hadn't visited her family after that. He'd send an owl if he got a lead, but they were few and far between. He knew she'd been briefly in France; their Ministry told him so. They'd shown him the paperwork, commenting furiously in French the whole time, but only after he'd asked Fleur to come with him to help translate.

She'd gone straight to Russia from France, and the Russian Ministry was completely and utterly unhelpful. Their records were not open to the public, he'd been told more than once, and even if they were, unless he was her husband or family, or an official diplomat of some kind, he'd never get to look. Her trail ended in Russia.

The newspapers had been full of reports of her disappearance and his attack, from the nearly true to blatantly false. He'd followed up on several leads, but always came back empty. By the time he'd spent several hundred Galleons and gotten back to exactly where he'd started, a year had passed. Her family, from all intents and purposes, had given up months before. Even Harry and Ron hadn't been able to help.

Finally, after a frustrating day, Ginny, his baby sister, sat him down and told him to think about it calmly and rationally. She hadn't been kidnapped, wasn't hurt, wasn't dangerous; she'd left him. Maybe, she said slowly, maybe Cate didn't want to be found, and maybe she'd want him to get on with his life. Ginny hadn't been judgmental, and wasn't trying to be cruel; he knew she genuinely liked Cate. Hearing it put so baldly, he rocked back, as if to a blow.

From that day forward, he'd gone back to doing what he knew best. He made several new innovations, not all of them joke-related. His family all helped, in one way or another. He'd show up after work, and his mother would have left him a plate of dinner, waiting to be reheated, on the table, and the apartment would be spotless. Hermione directed him to a few books that might help his research on new ideas. Bill and Percy did what they could with the business, and Charlie sent him anything he needed that was dragon-related. His father, he knew, kept his ears open at work for word about Cate, but didn't actively seek anything out. Ginny occasionally helped with his laundry.

He still thought about her, of course. He hadn't ever really stopped wondering why she'd left, wondering what she would think of this invention, or that article in the newspaper. He wondered if she was thinking about him. He didn't forget her.

He'd been fine, dealing, for nearly a year now, and then this...thing had come. He'd woken up in the middle of the night to an owl tapping on the window, a letter in its beak. He'd opened it quickly without checking the name on the front. There was a picture inside, and his heart skipped a beat.

It was Cate. It had to have been taken recently; the date scrawled across the back was a clear indicator. She was in what appeared to a restaurant, wearing a ridiculous outfit. Her face was clearly visible, especially with her hair pulled back. He found himself staring at it. She looked tired. He ran a finger down the edge of her face, and was surprised when it didn't move. It wasn't a Wizarding picture.

He grabbed his wand from the bed table and sent Harry a message, not checking the time and not caring. Then he tapped the picture and muttered the Engorgement Charm. The picture grew quickly, until it was just under life size. The edges brushed against the wall and the bed, but he didn't notice.

There was a logo on her hat, and something in the background, painted on the wall. He squinted, but he could only make out a few letters. Moments later, he heard pounding on the door, and Harry's voice shouting.

"George!"

George stared a second longer before going to the front door. Harry had his wand in hand, and his hair was mussed. His glasses hung off of one ear, and he was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked ready for action and impossibly tired.

George blinked at him. "You look bloody awful, mate."

Harry scowled. "What did you think I'd look like? It's bloody four in the morning!"

George frowned. "Oh."

Harry shoved past him, shaking his head. "Ginny just got Al to fall asleep. And James won't sleep with Al crying; I've been up with him all night. And then, just when I bloody put my head on the bloody pillow, I get a message from you, saying get here right now, it's urgent, and you bloody didn't look at the bloody time?"

"You kiss my sister with that mouth?" George asked, finding himself grinning, but then he saw that Harry wasn't amused. "I guess it could have waited; I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry took one look at his grinning face and began to mumble under his breath. "You're bloody right it could have waited. What is it, then?"

George motioned to his bedroom. "After you."

~*~

It didn't take Harry long to convince George that yes, this could have waited until later in the morning, perhaps after the sun had risen, but that he, Harry, could see why it would get George excited. He reduced the picture, shoved it in his pocket, and promised to get answers to him later that day. Then he left, presumably to get some sleep before his sons woke up.

George, of course, could not get back to sleep. Memories of her kept rushing through his mind- her eyes, her smile, her body- that led to other problems. He showered, dressed casually, and made tentative plans, conveniently forgetting that she had left him. He made notes on his current lines of research, and lists of things for his employees to accomplish if he were gone long, which he planned to be. He was going to find her, whether she liked it or not.

~*~
Harry Flooed him at about one in the afternoon. He'd been pacing for twenty minutes, and his apartment, normally untidy, was spotless. He hadn't been down to the shop, yet; he didn't think he could focus, and he didn't want to miss Harry's call. Besides, the shop could run for a few days without him. He'd hired good people, after all.

Harry's face looked utterly exhausted, but cheerful. "Hiya, George."

George knelt down in front of the fireplace, grinning. "Hey, Harry. Feeling better?"

Harry's smile seemed forced. "Almost chipper. James got into the dog food this morning, and Al decided that he was going to get sick on Ginny while she was feeding him breakfast."

George laughed. "So you were glad to have an excuse to get out of there. I see how it is." He abruptly became more serious. "Did you find out anything?"

Harry nodded. "The picture was taken a few days ago at a café in Phoenix, Arizona, in the United States. It's called Minne's Home-Style Café. I called one of my counterparts in America and had him see if there were any witches working there. He said there wasn't a record of one."

George opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "That doesn't mean it isn't her; it just means she hasn't been using magic in the area. So I gave him her name and description, and he got all quiet and said that her records are protected. Seems she requested asylum. I couldn't get anything from him other than that she does live in America, and no, he can't say where. But I sent an official request, and should be getting more information soon."

George sighed. "That's more than I had before."

Harry nodded. "Exactly." He glanced behind him. "Listen, George, I've got to go. Why don't you come over tonight? The kids would love to see you, and I know Ginny wants to have a conversation with someone that's nearly an adult."

George shrugged. "I don't see why not." He couldn't make himself be particularly

Harry grinned. "Great. See you at six."

~*~

Harry and Ginny lived in a lovely house on a quiet Muggle street in Exeter. There'd been a loud and heated debate about it, he'd heard, when they were newly married; Harry already owned Grimmauld Place, after all, and it wasn't so bad now that it was cleaned up. But Ginny had been adamant; her own apartment in Holyhead had been an eye-opening experience, and she liked a bigger house that didn't have so many memories. And, as they weren't too far from the Burrow, it was convenient for Molly, which made everyone happy.

He Apparated in their backyard, which was small and fenced with a couple of trees, and then to the back door. He hadn't ever seen his sister or her husband use the front door, except for Muggle visitors. Ginny answered his knock quickly, and he took a moment to take in her appearance.

Not since she'd been playing professional Quidditch had his sister looked so exhausted. Her long red hair, grown since she'd retired from the Harpies, hung limp around her face; her brown eyes had large dark circles around them. She wore a ratty old shirt and loose pants, and had bare feet. She carried baby Albus on her hip.

Her expression changed from annoyance to relief in a heartbeat. "Oh, thank Merlin!" she said, and stepped aside. "Here, take him. I'm going to get a shower in before Harry gets home. Dinner's in the oven, and James is in the living room, playing with the dog. Don't let him get into anything. Al should be fine. I'll just be a few minutes."

And, just like that, he had one black-haired baby in his arms and a rowdy red-headed toddler racing around his legs, babbling a mile a minute and trying to get into everything. By the time Ginny came down the stairs, her hair damp and dressed in clean clothes, he was sitting on the sofa in the living room. Al was watching James floating near the ceiling, and George had his wand out and was casually spinning his nephew.

Ginny opened her mouth, then shook her head and left the room. George laughed and floated James near the floor. He spread out his arms and started shrieking playfully. The dog barked and started chasing him. Al cooed and gnawed on George's finger.

Harry walked in the back door and saw to his relief that Ginny was showered and making dinner. He walked over and kissed her quickly. "Sorry I'm late."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it. George is amusing the kids, so I got to shower. Last I checked he was floating Jamie around the ceiling and playing with Al. The dog's in there, too."

Harry grinned. "I'll just get changed, then. What's for dinner?"

Ginny sighed. "For once, not take-out."

~*~
George played with his nephews until James was red in the face and the dog had completely lost its mind. Harry joined him after changing out of his work robes, and the two spent the time before dinner talking about the kids and conjuring things for the dog to chase.

Dinner was as rowdy as two toddlers could make it. Ginny would feed James in his chair with one hand and eat with the other; Harry cuddled Al and his bottle in one arm and ate with his other. It was made more difficult by the fact that as he talked, he tended to gesture wildly. George laughed and made jokes, and gave the dog scraps under the table.

After dinner, which took twice as long as usual, with the kids, Ginny took the boys upstairs to get ready for bed. The dog stayed with Harry, and he and George went into his office, at the back of the house. Harry sat at his large desk, and George took the large green, overstuffed chair that he vaguely remembered coming from Grimmauld Place. The dog rested at Harry's feet, and quickly fell asleep.

Harry relaxed, and one of the wheels of his chair squeaked as he leaned back. "I've gotten some more information for you. It seems Cate requested asylum because of an abusive husband."

George frowned. "She wasn't married, and I certainly didn't hurt her."

Harry shrugged. "She was trying to get her records hidden, I presume. The man I was talking to, Hunter Thorne, said that since it was an official request, he had to give me everything, but he didn't like it. I told him I'd been looking for her for nearly two years, and that the trail had gone cold with him." Harry pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "Do you remember when she left?"

George nodded slowly. "I was attacked at the shop. She was gone when I woke up."

Harry grunted. "She'd been getting letters telling her to leave you alone. You know what she was; it isn't uncommon for werewolves to get threats. She was dealing with it, I think, until you were hurt. She left to protect you. I'd be remiss to give this to you without telling you that. I think she was trying to do the right thing."

George glared at his brother-in-law. "She didn't have to leave in the middle of the night like that. If she'd just told me what was going on, I would have done my best..."

Harry leaned forward on his knees. "It wasn't just you she was protecting. If they couldn't find her, they couldn't hurt her. I'm not condoning her actions, George," he said, raising his hands as George opened his mouth to protest. "I'm just trying to make you understand."

George sat up. "I completely understand. And when I go there and talk to her, we'll discuss it. She can tell me her reasons, and I'll convince her that they're wrong. I'm not letting her sacrifice what we had for nothing."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think she'll see it that way, but I won't stop you from trying." He smiled. "I liked her."

~*~
George Flooed back to his apartment after saying goodnight to his nephews and sister. He brushed himself off and flopped onto the couch, thinking. He couldn't leave until tomorrow at the earliest; the Ministry wouldn't hand him a Trans-Atlantic Portkey without a great deal of gold and paperwork.

He jumped when he heard someone clear their throat. He stood and spun, and saw, in the shadows of the fireplace, someone standing near his door. "Who are you?" he demanded, reaching for his wand.

"That won't be necessary," the woman said, stepping into the light. "I've come to speak to you, George Weasley."

George frowned. "Elspeth Moon? How did you get in here?"

She smiled, and her face, which had seemed old and haggard, suddenly glowed. "I've come to speak to you about my granddaughter." She ignored his question.

George's eyes narrowed. "If you think I'll stop searching for her..."

Elspeth shook her head. "No. In fact, I have heard that you received new information tonight that might lead you to her."

George nodded slowly. "But how did you..."

Elspeth waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter." She took a deep breath. "I would like you to deliver a message to my granddaughter, if you find her. Would you tell her that her family misses her, and wishes for her to come home?"

George blinked. "Of course." He paused, and added, "I thought you didn't care."

Elspeth sighed. "Never that. I may be many things, but you must never think that. And..." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a letter. "Could you give her this, please?"

George took the letter from her, and shoved it into his pocket. "When I find her, I'll tell her."

Elspeth grinned, looking much younger. "You've made an old woman happy, George Weasley. And you might want to check the wards around this place; they were a bit sloppy."

George's mouth dropped open slightly.

Elspeth opened the door, ever elegant and still grinning. "Oh, my granddaughter didn't tell you? I was a Cursebreaker in my youth. Wards were my specialty. Yours, my dear, yours were pathetic."