George took a sip of his coffee. It took every bit of his control to not spit it back out as the disgusting taste penetrated his taste buds.

What in Medusa’s saggy tits did they put in here? Dishwater? This tastes like shite! George grimaced and shoved the cup away from him, not caring one bit that it sloshed over the rim and spilled, and stared gloomily out the window of the coffee shop in Diagon Alley. Many wizards and witches passed by him, all looking happy and content, and he didn’t miss the fact that he saw more couples than singles or groups.

Everyone was busy being in love, but George was stuck in a business meeting. Not to mention he was stuck with his only companion at night — his hands — and even that didn’t guarantee full satisfaction. Mentally groaning, he shut his eyes tightly, remembering what had happened last night. Fred and Angelina had been going at it like horny Kneazles in the next room, and they’d forgotten to put up a Silencing Charm. He was the poor unfortunate soul who had to endure three hours of “Mmm, more! Oh, so good! There, right there, baby! I’m coming, oh Merlin!”

It was like listening to bad porn, really bad porn. He was surprised his dick hadn’t shrivelled up and died yesterday.

He sighed and forced last night’s experience out of his head and thought about his business meeting. He was to meet his silent business partner to discuss this new business proposal he and Fred had thought up, and he was going to keep things professional between them — never mind that he’d had the longest secret crush on Harry Potter. It was a secret he’d carry to his grave. Not even his own twin knew about his crush.

And George had no intention of fucking things up between him and Harry with this crush. Sure, Harry had come out as being gay, but there was no way in Merlin’s scratchy beard Harry would ever go for a bloke like himself — even as marvellous as he was. Not when there were better candidates like, say, Oliver Wood (never mind the fact that he was currently bonking Percy, the stuffiest and the stiffest bloke alive) and Viktor Krum. Somehow it just seemed more fitting for Harry to prefer a Quidditch Star — which was not far-fetched since Harry himself was a fantastic Seeker.

At least I know I’ve no self-esteem issues . . . I think. I mean, I know I’m a bloody great catch, but not for someone like Harry! George sighed again and eyed the dreadful coffee with contempt, and he shifted because his bottom had grown very sore. First the coffee, now these chairs. Are these shop owners aware of these things? No wonder this shop is empty as a library!

Thankfully, Harry rushed in, and George could stop thinking about his tongue and his bum.

“Sorry I’m late!” Harry breathed out, as he plopped down across from George. “Ron and Hermione had some sort of a minor disagreement, so I had to listen to Ron’s whinging and help him think up a way to make up with Hermione.”

George stifled back a groan, wondering for the umpteenth time what Ron and Hermione saw in each other. “It’s all right.”

Harry grinned and looked around the empty shop. “I’ve never been here before.”

From the corner of his eyes, he could see the shop workers looking excited as they babbled to each other in hushed whispers. George refrained from rolling his eyes, knowing full well why they acted like they’d got their pants in the Whomping Willow’s crutch; instead, he decided to look at Harry. It’d been a while since they’d last met. Harry had gone off to travel the world. The last time he’d seen Harry was several years ago; they’d kept in contact about the Wheezes’ business matter by Owls. So George discreetly studied Harry, wondering if Harry had changed any over the years.

Gone was the scrawny boy he’d last seen. Harry had filled out quite nicely, judging by his broader chest and shoulders. His wild hair was still uncontrollable as usual, but it was longer now; it was pulled back into a short ponytail, and with his fringe, it gave Harry a very shaggy appearance that made him look rogue-like. These were the two biggest, obvious changes, but there was a single change that really appealed to George. It was quite subtle, but George could see it in Harry’s eyes. They no longer appeared sad and troubled; they looked free and happy.

The changes made Harry more appealing than ever. George had a feeling he’d need a loo and some lotion after this meeting.

“This is my first time, too,” George admitted, wanting to get his brain to think of something else because he didn’t want to go through this meeting with a stiff cock. “I don’t recommend their coffee or their chairs. I think my arse would find more comfort on rocks than these,” he added.

“That bad?” Harry laughed and grabbed George’s abandoned coffee and sniffed at it. His nose scrunched up, and he quickly set the cup down. “Well, it does smell terrible.” He glanced at the menu. “Think their teas would come out like your coffee?”

“You could try, but I have to warn you that it’s been about fifteen minutes since I drank that thing, and the taste is still in my mouth!”

Harry looked troubled. “Well, I’ll risk it. I’d feel bad coming here and not getting something.” Giving George a sheepish smile, he ordered a cup of the shop’s “Special Earl Grey” tea. It arrived a minute later, and Harry stared at it the cup like it was one of Hagrid’s rock cakes.

George looked at it, paled, and felt his stomach churn unpleasantly. “I know there are many kinds of tea in the world, but is there such a thing as purple tea?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry took a tentative sip, and George immediately knew from Harry’s puckered lips and his wrinkly forehead that the tea was just as bad as his coffee. George stifled his laughter as he watched Harry give the cup the same sloshing treatment he’d done earlier. Harry cleared his throat. “So you and Fred have a new business idea? What is it?”

“Oh, that.” George couldn’t help but grin at the irony. “See, Fred and I want to expand our business.”

“How?”

“The shop next door became vacant, so we’re thinking about starting up a–” George’s smile grew wider, and he lowered his voice, “–a coffee shop.”

“A coffee shop?” Harry repeated. His eyes became heavy-lidded as he mused over the idea. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have another one in Diagon Alley, but . . . ”

“Yes?”

“No offence to you and Fred, but do you think the customers would really trust whatever you sell to them that requires consumption?”

“None taken, mate.” George’s grin grew wider. “Fred and I thought ahead on that. See, we’re going to name the shop The Coffeenator, so customers won’t realise it’s part of our business.”

Harry’s eyes opened wide and his eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. “The Coffee . . . nator?”

“It’s a wotchermacallit, a port-something on combining ‘coffee’ and ‘procrastinator’ together. Our goal for the shop is to make it a place for people to relax and procrastinate on their life — you know, let them have fun with delicious coffee.”

“I see. That makes sense, but don’t be surprised if you get customers thinking something entirely different with the name of your shop.”

“Huh?”

Harry waved a hand. “It’s a Muggle film reference. Nothing to worry about it, really, since I doubt most wizards and witches will know about The Terminator.”

The who, the what? George made a mental note to look up this Terminator thing later. “Anyway, that’s our plan. What do you think?”

“I like it. I don’t see any problems with it. Just don’t sell awful drinks like this place,” Harry whispered, his green eyes twinkling.

“Of course not. And don’t worry! Fred and I won’t be making the coffee. We’re going to have to find ourselves a good coffee person.”

“A barista. That’s the coffee person in charge of making the coffee and espresso-based drinks.”

George nodded, impressed that Harry knew this fact. “Right. I just hope whoever we get won’t make dishwater-flavoured coffees and rainbow-coloured mochas or whatever.”

Harry leaned closer towards George, looking rather excited. “I could do it. Not sell those disgusting drinks, but I wouldn’t mind being a barista for your shop.”

“Wha–?” Now George’s eyebrows went up high and his eyes grew large. “You’d want to work there?”

Harry nodded. “During my travels, I visited a lot of coffee shops. I actually grew addicted to them.” He rubbed the back of his head and his smile appeared sheepish. “It wasn’t long before I got to know the baristas of each shop, and they trained and showed me how to make the drinks. I learned pretty fast. I guess all those chores I did when I was young came in handy.”

“But I thought you wanted to become an Auror after you finish travelling.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather make good coffee for people and watch them enjoy a good cuppa rather than do paperwork and deal with bureaucratic headaches.”

George nodded, understanding where Harry was coming from. He smiled slowly, realising that he’d just found their barista, and it took less time than he and Fred had been expecting. Plus, it was with someone he knew he could work with, someone with a sense of humour — something he and Fred both agreed that good employees must have — and Harry definitely had that. He was also relieved they wouldn’t have to go through about a thousand interviews to find that one barista they’d want. “Well, do what makes you happy. I think it’s fucking brill to have you as our barista.” He extended out a hand and clasped Harry’s. “Welcome to the Coffeenator, Mr Barista.”

Was it George’s imagination or did Harry’s grip tighten? It was probably his imagination since Harry let go and said, “Don’t you need to talk to Fred about this?”

George shook his head. “Naw, mate, Fred would’ve agreed. Besides, this is a ruddy fantastic idea, so no need to worry!”

Harry smiled shyly, making George’s insides twist in a familiar way, and said, “All right. Let’s get the boring part out of the way. You’ve got the paperwork?”

Oh for Wendy Wanker’s sake! Where’s Trelawney’s smelly gunk when I need it? I think I’d rather be oxygen-deprived right about now before I make a complete arse of myself!

George felt like chocolate. He was seriously about to melt and become a pile of George-goo, and it was all because of Harry.

Sure, Harry had always made his insides turn into jelly before, but seeing Harry in his barista outfit nearly turned George into an absolute mess.

The barista outfit was ridiculously simple. It consisted of a crisp white shirt, a black waistcoat, a black tie, a pair of black trousers, a black waist apron, and a pair of black shoes. Really, it was nothing fancy, but on Harry, it looked absolutely classy.

And shag-worthy. When George looked at Harry’s backside, it became even more apparent that Harry had filled out over the years. His arse looked, especially when framed by the apron, so fucking sexy and well-defined in those trousers.

Harry gave a shy smile. “How does it look?”

“Not bad!” Fred exclaimed, reminding George that he wasn’t alone and that he’d better stop gawking like an overgrown git.

George unglued his tongue and tried to keep his voice neutral. “It looks good.”

Harry’s smiled wider, and George clenched his fists in his pockets. Think of naked Hagrid doing things with that Beauxbatons bird. Think of crabby old Aberforth tending to his goats. Think of McGonagall in a corset. Don’t think of Harry bent over the counters. Don’t let his smile get to you. Most of all, don’t reach out and grab his arse!

For the past few weeks, whenever Harry was near him, which occurred quite often since they’d all been working together to get the Coffeenator up and running, George’d had many of those monologues with himself. Somehow or other, he’d been the one to work with Harry the most in the new shop while Fred stayed at the Wheezes to keep things running there. All those days with Harry, who was so near to touch, but off-limits, drove him mad.

He’d thought having Harry as their barista was a brilliant idea.

Now he was begging to differ. It was still a good idea, but who was it good for? Certainly not George, not when his libido kept on demanding to be unleashed. Not when he kept fantasising on Harry’s lips, wondering if they were soft, wishing he could run his hands through Harry’s shaggy hair and all over that hard body and that arse that begged to be grabbed. Really, this was torture — a good form of torture — but torture nonetheless!

George caught Fred looking at him strangely and flashed a grin. He shoved aside his overactive imagination and turned towards the new monstrosity in the shop — the espresso machine and an espresso grinder. Like his father, he’d always had a thing for Muggle machines, but these unfamiliar machines looked really intimidating. There were magical espresso machines out in the market, but Harry, used to preparing coffee the Muggle way, preferred the Muggle version.

That wasn’t a problem. Just as long as George didn’t have to operate it. He saw Harry do something with it, causing steam to come out, and decided he preferred steam from cauldrons. That seemed less dangerous at any rate.

“Oh, hey, how do you two feel about selling pastries here?” Harry’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Along with the drinks, I was thinking we could sell simple pastries. We could keep the menu short — maybe rotate three items every week? I can make scones, biscuits, and cakes — things from those categories.”

George looked at Fred, and then they both nodded at Harry.

“I call the cake!” Fred said.

“And I call the scones!” George chimed right after, glad to be thinking of something not Harry-related.

“All right, then let’s go look at some ovens!” Harry suggested, looking excited. “Then I’ll need a couple of days getting used to these machines.” His gaze lingered at George before he continued, “And you two can be the first ones to try my coffee and pastry!”

Harry’s enthusiasm was contagious. George found himself eagerly looking forward to that.

“More, Fred! So fucking good! Ah, ah, ah!”

“Angelina, oh, yes, baby! I just love your tits!”

They’d forgotten to use the Silencing Charm. Again. That meant George had to endure another round of bad porn. Again.

George grabbed his pillow and covered his ears with it, hoping he could drown out their primal and crude love-making. That didn’t work. He then wished longingly for Harry’s invisibility cloak; he’d sneak into their room and cast the damn charm himself since these two inconsiderate gits never remember to do it!

The banging on his wall mercifully stopped and was soon replaced with light snoring. Fina-fucking-ly! George loosened his hold on his pillow and stared at the ceiling, studying the cracks as his mind wandered.

He realised he felt envious that Fred had someone he could be with to make all those animalistic noises together. Sure, George was annoyed that Fred never remembered to cast that one little charm, but he was happy for Fred. Really, he was . . . but he felt envious. And lonely. Ever since he’d figured out he swung the other way, he’d actually felt separated from his own twin. All their life, they’d been Fred and George, Gred and Forge, never apart, always together. As they grew older, things had started to change. In their sixth year, Fred had begun to fancy Angelina, but George hadn’t fancied anybody. While Fred had started to date Angelina after the Yule Ball, George felt no inclinations to date any girls.

When George’s crush on Harry began, that was when he realised just how different identical twins could be. It was his own private revelation, and even years later, he still had never really accepted it.

Since then he’d understood just how different he was from Fred. He was the quieter of the two, more thoughtful and careful (not by much, but just a smidgen!). Whenever Fred wanted something, he’d go after it without a second thought. George, on the other hand, would actually think his decision through, depending on the situation, and that was obvious with the way they approached relationships.

George sighed. I sound like an old coot. He closed his eyes; Aberforth’s grumpy face came into his mind. He shuddered. Okay, I don’t want to end up anything like that ol’ goat herder! I better do something to change this. Yes, I had better! No asking Fred for help, either. Not that he knows I like Harry or anything, but I’ve got to try and do this by myself.

And this was the beginning of George’s new mission — to try and get Harry. At least then he could say he had tried!

George didn’t really have much time to concentrate on his mission. He had other things to focus on — mainly his new business.

The Coffeenator hadn’t opened yet — its grand opening would be next week — but George came over to help Harry with the shop while Fred stayed in their shop. That day Harry had insisted on George doing some taste-testing.

George took a seat at the bar, choosing that over the seats by the window because he wanted to be closer to Harry. Sure, the bar separated him from Harry, but from the high seat he had a great view of Harry. In fact, with Harry turned around to work the espresso machine, he had the best view of Harry’s arse, looking tight and tempting as usual in those trousers. His whole body itched with desire, as realisation dawned on how he could easily lean over the bar and grab it; instead, he grabbed a copy of the menu, and he proceeded to doodle on it, desperate to keep his hands busy while his eyes never strayed from Harry’s lovely backside.

Harry puttered around, doing things so fast that George had no idea exactly what he was doing. He saw a billow of blinding white steam, heard something hiss like Crookshanks on a bad fur day, smelled something sweet that made his tooth ache, and sensed comforting warmth all around him as Harry moved with such speed and finesse that it left him dizzy.

Harry soon plunked a tray in front of him. On it were three different pastries and three cups of steaming coffee. George looked at it in surprise. “That’s a lot.”

“And it’s all for you!”

George laughed, remembering that this was Harry Potter, the most generous bloke he knew.

He remembered the first time he’d met Harry. He fondly thought about the young boy he’d passed on Platform 9 and 3/4, who was scrawny with messy black hair, huge green eyes, and glasses that looked like they’d been taped together one too many times. The nameless boy was just another bloke to him at the time, nobody he really wanted to get to know then, but George later got to know Harry as a fellow Gryffindor, a Quidditch player, and a friend.

It wasn’t until George’s sixth year that everything changed; he would never forget that one night that changed everyone’s lives, the night of the third task. Cedric Diggory had died, Harry had almost died, and Voldemort had come back to “life”. When George had seen Harry lying on the hospital bed, looking fragile yet determined and strong, he saw a boy becoming a man. He believed in Harry’s conviction that Voldemort had returned, and his respect for Harry grew when he heard how Harry had gone through and survived yet another encounter with Voldemort.

He was astounded by Harry’s generosity that night as well. Harry had selflessly given away 1000 Galleons to Fred and himself, and George’s crush began that very day. It intensified over the next few years as Harry grew up, saved the world again, and became quite a catch.

A catch George hadn’t nabbed yet because he needed to grow some balls if he wanted to go anywhere with his deeply-suppressed desires. A catch who, currently, was right in front of him, smiling eagerly. Harry pointed at the pastries, and George stared at the long digits instead of the mouth-watering treats. He immediately thought of kissing them first and then slipping one of them into his mouth as he sucked and teased it until Harry flushed with desire. To him, that finger was only an appetiser. He’d quickly move onto Harry’s mouth, a luscious side-dish that would allow him to taste Harry even further, snogging deeply until they were both breathless. Once he had his full share, he’d go on to the entrée farther down . . .

George Weasley! Wake up, you sod! Business first! And no, you cannot have a Potter Puff on your personal menu!

George cleared his throat and asked, “So what are these?”

“This here is a blueberry scone, an almond biscotti, and a chocolate fondant pudding. As for your drinks, that’s a latte, a cappuccino, and a mocha. Along with your basic espresso drinks, as you can see on the menu, I’ve also included hot chocolate and a variety of teas. The drinks will be served hot or cold, depending on the customer’s choice.”

“Looks like you’ve pretty much got the whole thing figured out.” George couldn’t help but feel impressed. Then again, he should’ve known better than to think Harry would do anything half-arsed. He picked up his fork and began to sample the pastries.

They were all spectacular. The scones were perfectly baked, and it was a great combination with the clotted cream. The biscotti had a nice crunch to it and a subtle almond flavour. But his absolute favourite was the chocolate fondant pudding. He had no idea what Harry had done to it, but it was rich, moist, and just so fucking wonderful. Everything he ate meshed well with the drinks, which tasted so much better than that shite he’d had in that unmentionable place.

“How is it?” Harry asked.

“Before I say my piece, do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Don’t ever tell Mum that your stuff is brilliant and better than her baked pastries! I mean, Holy Hemlock, Harry, this is some fantastic stuff!”

Harry blushed, making himself look even more desirable; George wasn’t certain just how much his libido would be able to take that day.

“Um, thanks. I won’t tell her.” Harry ducked his red face, but not before George caught the bashful smile.

“Thanks, mate. However, I do have a question.” George looked down at the menu he doodled on. “What’s the difference between an espresso, an Americano, a latte, a cappuccino, a mocha, a macchiato, and whatever else you’ve got listed here?”

Harry laughed, his blush fading away, and George sat and listened to his coffee lesson. Harry was truly knowledgeable with all this coffee info, and it showed not only in Harry’s explanation, but in his body language and in his voice tone.

George looked at Harry’s posture, the way he carried himself with confidence that he had lacked back in school. Maybe it was the baggy clothes he wore back at Hogwarts, but he no longer appeared like he was slouching all the time. George could appreciate the form-fitting barista outfit on Harry (again, images of Harry’s beautiful arse flashed at him) and the self-assurance Harry had now, yet there was also still that bit of shyness lingering in Harry’s aura, and George found himself falling deeper and deeper for him.

With his head now full of coffee knowledge — most of which would be forgotten in an hour since he was still confused by all the terminology and the different methods for preparing each drink — George decided to give his brain a rest and he stared at his messy scratches on the menu. He wrote a phrase and stared at it. “I think I’ve just thought up a clever slogan we can use for this shop.”

“Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow as he sipped on his latteccino or whatever it was called.

George cleared his throat and announced importantly, “‘You’ll be back’.” He stared when Harry spewed his drink across the bar and started to cough. He held up his hands into a defensive stance. “I solemnly swear I didn’t put anything in your drink.”

Harry stopped coughing. He looked at George, eyes a bit moist, and said, “It’s not that. I know you didn’t slip anything into my coffee. It’s just . . . well, the name of the shop and that slogan?” His lips curved slightly. “I reckon a bunch of Muggle-borns will be wary of this place at first. Well, maybe not wary, but at the least they’ll be very amused.”

George looked confused. “Uh, all right?”

“I’ll have to borrow those films from Hermione sometime and show them to you and Fred. Oh, and if you want to add that slogan to the menu, better let Dean and Seamus know. Seamus is probably going to bite your head off, though. He hates last minute changes — even if Dean’s the one doing the actual designing. Thank Merlin Dean can calm Seamus down, at least.”

Still perplexed by the whole shop name and slogan situation — hell, even Dean had chortled his noggin off with no explanation — George just said, “All right. I’ll let that hothead know. Then again, if he does get his a stick up his arse, I’ll get out our Slumbering Stink-Socks. One whiff of that will knock him out — he’ll start a bagpipe solo that’ll put Fang’s snoring to shame.”

Harry sniggered. “Anyway, I noticed you seemed to favour the cappuccino and the chocolate fondant pudding more than the others. Want some more?”

“This latte is so smooth! Way better than that other place!”

“The scone! It doesn’t taste like it’s been magically processed.”

“Finally! Tea that’s not hot pink!”

“So rich, so flavourful. My friends will die for this chocolate fondant pudding!”

George smiled as he walked past the various customers, pleased by all the compliments he heard from them. The Coffeenator, so far, was a success. Once word got out that the barista was none other than Harry Potter, many people — some from as far as the United States — had come to visit the shop. Even on their first day, they had people waiting in lines that extended towards the back-end of Diagon Alley. This had been predicted, so Harry and George had arranged for three wizarding guards — three muscular men who were named Huey, Dewey, and Louie — to be at the shop to make sure nobody did anything harmful. Their presence turned out to be a good thing; in fact, when a lot of Muggle-borns (Hermione and Dean included) saw Huey, they all backed away from him. George had heard Dean muttering something about Huey resembling an Arnie Shoemaker.

“Who’s that?” George had asked.

“Who’s who?”

“That shoemaker bloke.”

Dean frowned. “What shoemaker — oh! You mean Arnold Schwarzenegger?” He started to snigger. “He’s an actor who played in that movie, The Terminator, which I’m guessing is what this shop is named after?”

Not that movie again! I’ve got to remind Harry to get them like he mentioned before! George explained the meaning behind the name before he remembered to say, “By the way, mate. Thanks for calming Seamus down when we wanted to change the menu design. I’m glad I didn’t have to waste a pair of Slumbering Stink-Socks on him!”

“Er, yes, that.” Dean blushed. “Thankfully, snogging him usually shuts him up when he starts ranting.” Quickly, he glanced at the menu. “I’m short on time. I came to get a take-away. But don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

George grinned widely. “Oh, yes. You’ll be back.”

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. “I still can’t believe you came up with that slogan without knowing the Terminator reference.”

“I will one of these days.” George clasped Dean’s shoulder. “Now, go get your take-away.”

George’s eyes swept over the busy shop. Glancing at the hired help who assisted in the shop, hearing the various conversations from the customers, and inhaling the wonderful coffee and pastry aromas, his gaze lingered on Harry the longest. Harry looked up and their eyes made contact. Harry flashed George a smile that promptly flustered him, but he managed to keep his composure and smile back, ignoring all the flapping noises he heard from his stomach. He quickly gave Harry one final wave and dashed out of the shop and rounded the corner, where he nearly collided into Ginny.

“Son of a pixie!” George gasped, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. “You all right?” He saw that Neville was behind Ginny, his hands on her shoulders, protecting her. He nodded his greeting at Neville.

Ginny scowled at him, pulling herself out of Neville’s hands. “I’m all right, but what bit your arse? Did you prank someone important so they are now after your brainless head?”

“Please.” George smirked. “If I prank someone important, I’ll do it with subtlety and finesse — nobody would guess it’s me or Fred! Besides, Gin, is it that time of the month for you? Why so thorny?”

It was interesting how her face turned so red that Ginny’s hairline all but disappeared. She crossed her arms and then it was her turn to smirk. “Oh? Jealous that you aren’t getting any? And I’ll let you know that it’s not that time of the month . . . yet.”

George and Neville both blushed hard. George covered his ears and yelled, “Way too much info!”

“You asked!” Ginny declared smugly. She stuck out her tongue at him (he was so glad she didn’t Bat-Bogey him!) and then grabbed the still-red Neville’s hand. “As a matter of fact, whenever I’m near that time, I start craving chocolate. So I’m off to have some of that chocolate fondant thing!” She disappeared into the store, dragging Neville behind her.

George stalked off, not caring that he just walked past the Wheezes. Ginny’s barb about him not getting any was true. In fact, he was the only Weasley not getting any. Bill and Fleur were married, Charlie was with that one Slytherin bird who’d been in Harry’s year, Percy had Oliver, Fred and Angelina were definitely bonking each other, Ron and Hermione apparently fought a lot and had hot make-up sex, and lastly there were Ginny and Neville. Then there were his parents, but he did not want to think about his mum and dad doing anything consisting of hormones, libido, and bodily fluids. Just, no.

He was the odd Weasley out. Ginny’s comment only made him feel worse about it.

He thought about Harry, remembering how that one smile alone earlier had made his stomach do a Wronski Feint despite never being a Seeker himself.

He thought about asking Harry out. He figured it couldn’t hurt. Harry could say yes, and then all would be right in his world. But then if Harry said no . . . it could make their friendship awkward and unpleasant, a situation he wanted to avoid altogether.

George turned around and slowly walked back to the Wheezes. He’d sort this out later. Right now he had to go help out Fred in their invention room.

George didn’t have time to figure anything out.

Two days after that Ginny encounter, Joey, one of the hired help, became sick with Scrofungulus. The recovery time, according to the healers at St Mungo’s, was going to take an entire month or maybe two. Instead of replacing him, and because it was a slow time of the year at the Wheezes, George became the step-in at the Coffeenator.

Somehow or another, though, things went to shite. Or maybe Ginny had cursed him with something like the Clumsia Charm. Whatever it was, George was mortified about all his accidents.

To his credit, the first couple of days went fine. He’d finally got his coffee terminology straightened out and even learned how to operate the espresso machine and the grinder without any major problems.

His problems began after one stupid accident.

It happened during closing time. Harry and he were the only ones left. They both decided to have a cuppa before finishing the rest of their closing time chores. They both sat at the bar, relaxing with their respective drinks — a mocha for Harry and an iced chai for himself.

They talked about their daily inventory and laughed about some of the weirder customers they’d encountered.

George then picked up his glass to take a long sip. He brought the glass back down onto the bar. In a blink, the glass had toppled over, the rest of his drink spilling onto Harry’s lap.

“Bugger me to Mars!” George shouted as he grabbed some paper napkins and began to mop up the liquid. On Harry’s trouser-clad legs (the apron was off already and hanging in the back). On Harry’s crotch. He stilled and looked up at Harry’s reddened face, feeling warmth emanating from Harry’s groin. He stared into Harry’s green eyes, but he lowered his gazed to the parted lips. He saw the tip of Harry’s tongue wetting his bottom lips; George was absolutely mesmerised. His hands were hot. No, not his hands. Harry’s groin was burning up, and something stirred inside of him, too, and he felt heat deep inside of him.

“Er, George?” Harry’s breathy voice snapped George back to reality.

George blushed and quickly snatched his hands away. “Fucking hell. Sorry, mate!” He backed away and looked everywhere but at Harry.

“You–”

“I’ll go wash the dishes in the back!” George cut him off and headed into the kitchen. There, he launched a thousand curses at his idiotic self.

I’m a twit-faced idiot! Why did I not think? Why did I touch him like that? What’s he going to think now? And I ran off like a whimpering pansy! I’m a fucking git!

George continued to curse as he washed the dishes manually, too upset to think about washing them with magic. Oddly enough, that calmed him. The running water was loud, and it helped block out his inner voice, and the soaping and rinsing didn’t require any major thoughts, so that put his mind into a meditative state. When he finished, he was able to face Harry by pretending nothing had happened. Thankfully, Harry acted the same way. They parted with their usual goodbyes, and George went back to the flat, desperately wanting to sleep off the rest of his embarrassment and start the next day without any problems.

But George’s problems were only beginning.

Little things kept happening to him, and they only occurred when Harry was near him. Once, he slipped on some water and landed right on his arse in front of Harry and everyone else in the shop, and it was all because he’d ogled and worshipped Harry’s lovely bum for a few seconds. Another time, Harry handed him a mug of coffee, and he was supposed to take that to a customer who was too lazy to come get it herself. Unfortunately, his fingers met Harry’s, and his muscles chose to conk out on him then, so he dropped the mug and ended up burning his hand. Oh, and he broke the mug, too.

They were really minor accidents, but George still felt humiliated by them.

Then came the wet Harry accident.

No, wait, it was the espresso-machine-“explosion”-plus-wet-Harry accident.

Thankfully there was nobody else in the shop when this happened. Still, that didn’t really make things any better.

What happened was that George did something — he wasn’t quite sure what he did, but he did something — and the next thing he knew, it sort of, for the lack of a better word, exploded on Harry. Meaning, that blasted machine went out of control and sent out a huge gush of water at Harry, covering him from his head to his toes. Fortunately, the water wasn’t hot, but on the cool side. It had to be cold because Harry’s nipples became erect.

And Harry had removed his waistcoat and tie, but left his white shirt and his trousers on. A white shirt, which had got wet, and it was against Harry’s bare skin. George could see through it very well. A water droplet slowly trickled down Harry’s pale neck, making George want to lick a nice trail along the side. He’d then go down to the two stiff nubs; George would then reach out and touch them, rub them between his fingers and make them stick out even more. Then he’d cover one of them with his mouth, and he’d lick and suck it, all the while listening to Harry’s breathy moans urging him on.

By now they’d both be aroused. George would keep the wet shirt on Harry; he’d remove Harry’s trousers and pants instead, and he’d pick Harry up and set him on the bar, just so he could have an easier time treating himself to Harry’s inviting cock. Nothing wrong with a little taste.

Or maybe he’d just grind his own throbbing cock against Harry’s, and the amazing friction from their intense movement would make them both come in utter bliss as they shouted each other’s names. Then he’d finally kiss Harry deeply, his tongue busying itself in Harry’s inviting mouth, exploring and tasting at its own pace. And when they’d have to break apart to breathe in the much needed air, Harry’s lips would look so red and swollen, and his green eyes would be heavy-lidded and he’d say, “Again.”

But damn his foolishness. Instead of enacting any of those tempting scenarios, George just calmly waved his wand and dried Harry off, regretting it instantly when the white shirt became opaque. He glanced at the machine and asked, “Do Muggle espresso machines usually shoot out water like that?”

Harry shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Maybe because it’s surrounded by magic, it became affected?”

“Maybe. Though it would be the first time a case like this happened.”

“We’ll have to look into it.” Harry smiled lightly. “Thanks for drying me off.”

George just waved his hands, wanting to end this night quickly so he could go take care of a new, yet familiar, problem he was stuck with at the moment. A problem that required privacy, lotion, and tissue. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to it. Maybe the machine just hates me. I’ll call in a Magical Appliance Maintenance bloke and ask him to inspect this. I’ll, erm, go wash the dishes.”

Again, George made his escape to wash those dishes, but he did it after a quick visit to the loo.

“You’re my brother, right?” Fred asked while they were eating fish and chips.

George looked up in surprise. “Right.”

“I’m your twin,” Fred said as a statement.

He had a bad feeling about this conversation, but he just nodded and repeated, “Right.”

Fred’s expression hardened and his eyes narrowed. “Then why have you never told me you fancy Harry Potter all these years?”

“Oh, er . . . ” George closed his eyes. Of course he should have guessed that Fred might have known his secret. They were twins. He should have known better than to think he could be successful at hiding his feelings from Fred. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. How was he going to explain his mixed up feelings to Fred? Those feelings of loneliness, the self-induced separation he somehow started to put between him and Fred because he didn’t feel like a twosome with his own twin — how was he to explain all that without sounding like an absolute wanker?

“You thought that if you admitted your crush, it would make us different, didn’t you? You thought our connection would be weakened. So you decided to just keep it to yourself and just try to go through this alone.”

It was strange seeing Fred this serious. True, George was the more serious twin compared to Fred, but Fred did have his serious moments, when he was also shrewd and perceptive. This was one of those moments.

Knowing that it would be pointless to lie now, George took the straightforward route. He met Fred’s eyes and answered, “Yeah, you’re spot on.”

“Those accidents you’ve been having around Harry pretty much gave it all away. I think even someone like Trelawney could have figured it out.”

“Shut up,” George muttered, feeling his cheeks getting warm.

Fred looked at him with a knowing expression. “What will you do now? Are you going to keep besmirching our good name by acting like a sod in love? Or are you going to grab opportunity’s balls and declare your undying romance to a certain Mr Potter?”

“No–”

“Don’t say nothing, Georgie–” George glared at his most hated nickname, “–or I will do something you will not like.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“If I have to, I’ll tell Harry myself. And I’ll never remember to put up a Silencing Charm when Angelina and I–”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Geoge’s face scrunched up in horror at the idea of being subjected to bad pornography for the next millennium. Something he was sure Fred would make him suffer through even if he ever got his own place. “I’ll do it!”

Fred smirked. “Great. You have two days to do it. I really don’t want to hear about any more love-struck accidents at the Coffeenator.”

George spelled a Skunk Pie — one of their products — to hit Fred’s face as his response. He ignored Fred’s curses and thought about how he was going to tell Harry that he liked him.

Two days later, George was a mess inside. He constantly wiped his hands on his trousers until he could feel the wetness soak through the material. Whenever he was near Harry, he had to take deep breaths so he wouldn’t start hyperventilating. He was so flustered that he decided not to deal with the customers that day, opting to have dirty dishes as his company and suffer having pruney hands. Thankfully, he didn’t have any more embarrassing accidents, yet when it was time for closing, he desperately wanted something to happen.

He came out from the back and went to the espresso machine and touched it; he waited to see if it’d do anything. It didn’t. It remained inanimate, but George felt like the machine was mocking him somehow, so he glared at it, begging it to do something so he could have a good excuse to hold this task off for another day.

The stupid sodding machine just stayed still. Before he could punch it, he heard Harry come up behind him.

“George? You all right?”

George spun around and saw Harry looking concerned. “I’m fine,” he managed out in a steady voice, so glad his voice didn’t crack! “I’m just, er, still trying to figure out that water explosion.”

“Yeah, I’m still confused about that, too. Then again, the maintenance bloke couldn’t figure it out, so maybe it was just a one-time thing.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey, I could go for some latte. You want anything?”

“Hot milk.” That should be better than tea or coffee. He really didn’t think he could handle any extra caffeine right now.

Harry nodded and busied himself behind the bar. George took a seat across from him, and he watched Harry work. It didn’t take long before Harry sat next to him and handed him a steaming cup of milk.

“Here you go.” Harry’s warm breath ghosted over his ears; George suppressed his shiver, grabbing onto his cup as his personal lifeline.

“Thanks.”

They drank in a companionable silence. Having Harry so close made George feel dizzy as he breathed in Harry’s wonderful, intoxicating scent. George took a deep breath. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . ” It was on the tip of his tongue. He only had to say those three words — three difficult words — but while his mind was ready to say them, his tongue decided to freeze up.

Harry gave a side-glance with a slight frown. “No offence, but are you really all right? You’re acting very strange.”

Great balls of Hades! Where’s that Gryffindor courage of yours?! Just say it, you twit! Somehow, he heard Fred through their twin connection — something that hadn’t happened in ages — and he finally said it after he remembered Fred’s threat about the Silencing Charm.

“I like you!” George shouted, startling both Harry and himself. He focused his gaze on the bar’s surface, quickly lowered his voice, and said, “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I know you like blokes like I do, but I wasn’t sure you’d ever like me — please don’t think I’ve got a low self-esteem, I don’t — and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over all this, so I didn’t tell you before. And I’m sorry I didn’t, but I . . . oh, fuck it! I can’t stop thinking about you, so that’s why all those accidents happened, except for that machine. Now that machine, I swear it must be possessed because I didn’t do anything to it, and it decided to turn into a waterfall on you, but never mind about that ruddy machine, but–”

Thankfully, Harry stopped him from babbling. George appreciated it. Really he did. He just didn’t expect Harry to kiss him. But he was being kissed by Harry, and it felt so, so, so good. Harry’s lips were so hot and so soft, and they became more so when he kissed back, tongues and all, and oh, Harry tasted delicious — better than any of the pastries and coffees he’d been having since this shop opened. His arms automatically wrapped around Harry’s neck, and he grabbed Harry’s head in the back, threading his fingers through the loose ponytail, and pulled him closer until they were both off their bar stools. George felt the bar digging into his back, but he didn’t care. They continued to snog each other heatedly. It was actually an awkward kiss — Harry’s glasses were in the way, and he could feel them poking his cheekbones, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Harry’s warm body against his and how he finally could touch that arse he’d been dreaming about for weeks. Before he slid his hands down there, though, he forced himself to break the kiss.

Both were panting, but neither of them let go of each other. This was the time to say something serious, but George ended up saying, “Your glasses are fogged up.”

Harry laughed. “Well, that was a pretty . . . steamy kiss.”

“So, er, you like me, too?” It was rather stupid of him to ask, but he wanted to confirm it. He already had plenty of accidents to his name right now. He didn’t want a misunderstanding to be on his long list of bloopers.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I’ve liked you for a while, too, and I wanted to say something to you, but you acted like you weren’t really interested, so I was waiting for you to make a move.”

“So essentially, we were both liking each other, but neither of us really had the balls to say anything.”

“That sounds about right.” Harry blushed. “I was really thinking you might have been interested in me on the day when that machine got me wet . . . but when you just dried me off, I thought I was wrong.”

George groaned and turned red. “Trust me. I was very, very interested in your wet state that time. It was all I could do to not jump you that day.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t.”

George’s entire body temperature intensified at that comment, making his tongue melt. So instead of saying anything, he just pulled Harry into another deep and passionate kiss.

And that was as far as they went that night. George — through his twin connection — was told to not go fast like a Thestral on speed, and he reluctantly agreed with that notion. Though his libido protested against him, he had no desire to fuck — no puns intended! — things up between him and Harry. He’d had to go through many trials to get him, so he’d do things right. In fact, before they parted that night, they planned their first date — Harry invited him to his house, and they were to have a Terminator marathon. George had no idea what a Terminator marathon was, but he looked forward to it.

He also looked forward to making things up with Fred. He felt silly for trying to isolate himself from his twin. He realised that while things were different now that they were adults, they’d always be there for each other, and they’d always be close.

Besides, payback’s a Boggart. It’s time to give Fred and Angelina a taste of their own potion!

Click on the image for the larger version. Fanart by Heldrad.

Harry!

— Gred and Forge

As the powerful stench of garlic invaded his nostrils, Harry took trepid steps into the dangerous room known as the WTTR — Weasley Twins’ Testing Room — or the “Lair” as the twins fondly called it. Whatever they called it, it was a room no sane human — Muggle or magical — would enter. That was especially true for vampires or anybody allergic to garlic.

Harry watched Fred and George mumble to each other, and he cautiously peered into an open box, curious to see what their latest new product was.

Well, he didn’t exactly see a product, per se, but he did see a ton of garlic, all peeled and proudly displaying its pale, yellow-coloured exterior. He reeled back from their familiar scent; he could practically taste the garlic.

“Oh, hello, Harry!” Fred cheerfully said.

“Real glad you could come, mate!” George added.

“What . . . what are you making here?” Harry managed to wheeze out. He was starting to feel light-headed, and oddly enough, he began to crave garlic bread of all things.

George pulled out something, and it took Harry few minutes to figure out what it was. “What do you think?” George asked.

“It’s . . . it’s a bra, right?”

“Yes,” Fred answered.

“Made out of garlic.” He stared at the bra, stared at the breast covering and the straps, all made with garlic.

George nodded eagerly. He dangled the bra closer to Harry. “The cloves are magically attached to each other, and it took ages for us to figure out how to make it flexible so that once someone puts the strap on, it will magically clasp itself in the back. It will automatically adjust to fit any breast size.

“And,” Fred continued, “this is our other design. For the kinkier folks.”

Harry ogled the second design. The garlic cloves were put together to form an outline of the bra, and in the centre of each breast covering part — he had no idea what the proper term was — there was a single clove of garlic there, obviously meant to cover the nipples. Otherwise, the breasts would be fully exposed if it was worn. He coughed. “Well, it’s certainly . . . kinky? But what’s with this fascination with garlic?”

“You know how we went to South Korea to see if we could expand our business there?” Fred explained. “Well, we discovered that the Koreans there are absolute fanatics for garlic in their cuisines. Everything they make–”

“–garlic is always included,” George piped in. “In fact, one of our potential business partners joked that South Korea is one country vampires would never visit because of all their garlic. That’s when we had this idea . . . ”

” . . . to make garlic undergarments!” Fred finished with a beaming smile.

Harry’s mouth dropped opened. “I guess it’s a creative idea, but how is this going to appeal to the public?”

“It will. Especially when we finish the Speedo-style pants. This will be perfect for those who want to ward off unwanted advances,” George spoke as he jotted something down on his notebook.

“And if they want the advances, all they have to do is say ‘Allium sativum’ — that’s the Muggle scientific name for garlic, mind you — and it will change to chocolate, which is perfect since we all know chocolate is a delicious aphrodisiac!” Fred clapped his hands once. “Now, we’d like you to test this product for us.”

“Excuse me?” Harry couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “Test it?”

Fred and George both nodded with evil, identical smiles. George summoned something, and he promptly gave it to Harry. “As our silent partner, you have the honour of getting the first garlic boxers from our store. Thankfully, we know your lover likes both garlic and chocolate.”

Flushing, Harry felt warmth in his cheeks and his ears. “Well, I suppose Neville likes both, but–”

“No buts!” Fred began to push Harry out the door. “We won’t accept your refusal. Just try it out and let us know how it goes. And don’t worry. We’ve charmed it so the garlic won’t be so spicy that it hurts your privates or wherever it touches!”

“Good to know,” Harry muttered as he walked out the door.

“Let us know in twenty-four hours how it went!”

Not sure and not caring who said that last bit, Harry Apparated to his flat — the one he shared with Neville — in a daze.

The Quibbler
Special Edition #10 — March 2001

Endorsed by war heroes, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, these products have gained quick popularity. We at The Quibbler theorised that the Nargles and the Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks also like these products, and they are affecting the wizarding society’s sexual behaviours, making wizards and witches of all ages enjoy these unique bits of paraphernalia.

If you haven’t tried these ingenious undergarments, we highly recommend it. Perfect for those who love garlic and chocolate, and excellent for those who wish to ensure no vampires will sneak into their bed as they sleep.

“He Mourns for the Change that has Come Upon Him and His Beloved, and Longs for the End of the World” by William Butler Yeats

Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns?
I have been changed to a hound with one red ear;
I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns,
For somebody hid hatred and hope and desire and fear
Under my feet that they follow you night and day.
A man with a hazel wand came without sound;
He changed me suddenly; I was looking another way;
And now my calling is but the calling of a hound;
And Time and Birth and Change are hurrying by.
I would that the Boar without bristles had come from the West
And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky
And lay in the darkness, grunting, and turning to his rest.

Prologue

From the Journal of Fred Weasley
May 2001

It’s been three years since I’ve arrived in this wonderful locus amoenus, and while it really is a paradise as it claims to be, it’s also very monotonous. So monotonous, that I’ve decided to start a journal on a semi-regular basis.

Every day, I watch Mr and Mrs Potter — they keep on trying to get me to call them James and Lily, but it still feels weird — fretting over Harry about this or that issue, and when they are not combusting over their son, Mr Potter and Professor Snape are exchanging heated words while poor Mrs Potter plays referee between them. Then there’s Sirius helping Mr Potter torment Professor Snape, too, while Remus and Tonks try to mediate between them as well. The other Mr Black — whom I call Reggie — just rolls his eyes at this fiasco and keeps to himself.

Then there’s little old, lovable me. The first of the Weasleys from my family to arrive here. Half the time, I plot ways to prank others since that’s what I do best. With this place being boring at times, someone needs to bring some craziness here, and who’s a better choice than me? With my pranks, I receive input from Sirius, Remus, and Mr Potter; really, I was quite surprised to find out that they were the Marauders! I only wish I could have known this titbit when I was alive and still kicking.

When I’m not busy talking to those blokes, I am running away from my horrendous Aunt Rachel, who likes to reminiscence all one-hundred plus years of her life history to me. With my speed and my cunning intelligence, I usually escape her and manage to find a quiet area to get away from all the hustle and bustle around here.

This is when I brood for a while. This is when I realise just how much I miss George. My twin. My other half. My better half.

And it pains me to say that I know he misses me, too.

Maybe this is why I’m keeping a journal. I want to write and share some entries with him, and when he does arrive here, I can tell him some hilarious events that have happened here. Such events like Mr Potter spelling Professor Snape’s hair pink for one is something I know he’d crack up at.

But for now, I need to figure out a way to make him happy.

He’s miserable, and as his one and only twin, I want to somehow help him leap over that self-destructive slump he’s in. I need to prove that he’s capable of finding happiness without me there to hold his hand like some ninny!

While, I cannot interact with the real world, I can influence the people there to a certain degree by visiting them in dreams. I suppose that’s kind of an invasion of privacy, but with my twin, I’ll have to do something. I’ve been given permission to do this three times, and I’ll have to think this through carefully, lest I make a big mistake. I already have a plan . . .

Oops. Aunt Rachel’s coming. Bugger it! Time to fly!

Part I: In the Darkness

With a dull, almost lifeless expression etched on his face, Draco lounged back into his favourite armchair. A tumbler of brandy and a newspaper had been placed next to him on a small table beside his chair, and the fireplace glittered wildly as the warm colours reflected his grey eyes. He gazed at the flames, wondering if he could somehow spell it to cooler shades of blues and greys to match the emptiness he felt inside of him. Slowly, almost as if he were in a trance, he reached for the brandy, taking a long sip as he savoured the rich flavour. He twirled the liquid in the tumbler, studying how the colour of the fire and the brandy blended into one.

He tilted his head to look at the newspaper. Its front page headline blared, Harry Potter’s Testimony Clears All Charges Against Narcissa and Draco Malfoy!. Sighing, he took another long drain of his drink, and he closed his eyes as he tried to forget the article, but that was easier said than done.

Draco Malfoy felt lost.

All the plans he had for himself, all of his purpose in life, and all his motivation and determination had disappeared once this verdict against him and his mother came through. He knew he should be thankful that the sodding saviour’s words had saved him and his mother from the fate of imprisonment, but he couldn’t feel anything remotely resembling gratitude. He wished that his father had been included in the pardon, but that didn’t come through; his father would have to face fifteen years of imprisonment at Azkaban. At least it was no longer guarded by Dementors, but Draco couldn’t help but feel bitter at his father’s outcome.

However, his feelings of confusion and the lack of purpose in his life overwhelmed all feelings of hatred he felt towards Potter and his group of do-gooders.

He simply didn’t care.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” Draco said, his voice devoid of any emotions. Without turning his head, he heard the door open and shut, and he heard his mother’s soft steps. She appeared in his line of sight. She sat down in another armchair next to his occupied one, looking elegant and proper. Her robes were immaculate as usual, but the red rims of her eyes and her ragged fingernails told him that she wasn’t as collected as she normally was. He could see the subtle signs of his mother’s exhausted state, and he knew he probably looked the same — if not worse.

“Draco, darling. Have you stayed in here all day?”

He looked closely at his mother’s face, which appeared passive and calm, but her eyes held a hint of worry. Before he answered her, he took another long drink. The brandy burned as it slid down his throat. Draco closed his eyes and leaned backwards in his chair. “Yes.”

She sighed. “Draco, you . . . you can’t be doing this to yourself.”

“Doing what, Mother?” Draco now glanced away from her. He knew what she was going to say. He knew her too well.

“This!” She raised her voice a bit, sounding firmer than usual. “Just staying here, in this one room, barely eating and only drinking alcohol! I do not want to see you like this. You’re throwing your life away!”

He gritted his teeth to prevent himself from saying something rude and nasty to her. “I’m not throwing my life away.”

“Then do something. You’ve been pardoned. You have a chance to do something other than brooding around here. I know you’re upset about your father not receiving a pardon, but at least not all of us were thrown into that horrible place.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair. “Do what? Go out and find a job?”

“Yes. You did take your NEWTs after the war and did well on them. It’d be a shame for you to not use your skills and intelligence.”

He sneered and snapped at her. “Who would hire me? Who would hire a former Death Eater right now?”

Draco saw his mother’s eyes narrowing as her lips thinned. Her voice came out tight and formal. “You will not speak to me in that manner. You’re an adult now, but I’m still your mother.”

“I apologise, Mother.” He ducked his head and let out a soft, weary sigh.

A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “Now, I want you to get out and do something that’s productive for you. Starting tomorrow.”

He didn’t say anything. He had no intention of doing anything tomorrow, but he knew better than to state his current thoughts out loud.

It was his mother’s turn to sigh, but it was an exasperated one unlike his. “If you don’t do anything tomorrow, I will start my search for a wife and force you into a marriage.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Draco hissed out, feeling panicky and angry all at the same time. “You know I don’t–”

“I know you prefer men over women, but if you’re not going to take the initiative to direct your life in a better direction, I will do it for you!” He saw the determined glint in her eyes, which frightened him since he knew she wasn’t playing with her threat.

Grudgingly, he nodded.

“Thank you.” She stood up and leaned over to kiss his forehead. She brushed his fringe out of his eyes and said, “I’ve taken the liberty to have the house elves hide all the alcohol in the manor. They’ve been instructed to not give you any until you shape up your life. Enjoy that last tumbler.”

Draco glared at her, but it had no effects on her as she straightened up. With a composed expression on her face, she smoothed her silvery robes with her hands, and she gracefully walked out of the room, leaving Draco to glower at the fireplace at his mother’s unwelcome meddling.

“George? Oi, George!”

George looked up at the closed door, hearing the pounding that followed after whoever called him. “What? Is that you, Lee?” He waved his wand and the door swung open.

Lee walked in and gave George a glare. George stared back nonchalantly. Surrounding him were all sorts of equipment and plans for new prank ideas he’d been coming up with. Lee looked at the mess and asked, “Have you been in here all night?”

George didn’t answer. He avoided looking at his friend, and he fiddled around with the item he’d been fighting with for hours.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

George still didn’t respond. He put down the item and pulled out a fag and lit it. The room, already reeking of cigarettes, became smoky.

Lee exhaled noisily and took a seat next to George. “You need to stop this, mate.”

“What?” George asked, smoke coming out of his mouth. “I’m just working.”

“There’s a difference between working and trying to kill yourself. You’re going to die early if you keep this up.”

“So?” George grinned sardonically. “Maybe that would be the best.”

Lee scowled. “I don’t mean to sound like a prick, but you’ve been my mate since our very first day at Hogwarts. So was Fred, and he wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.”

“Shut up,” George answered in a low voice. “Don’t talk about Fred like that.”

“I will if it gets you to stop acting like this! And I only say this because I care about you, George! So does Angelina! Your family, too! But your actions are worrying us! Fred–”

“Shut up!” George shouted. “You and everyone else can piss off! Nobody can understand this! Nobody!”

Both of them looked at each other fiercely. George’s red face matched his hair, and Lee’s dark eyes glowered in anger. A few minutes of silence passed before Lee broke it. “Look. I may not be a twin, and while you’re right on us not being able to understand what you feel, but we all lost somebody in this war. That we can relate to, but . . . blimey, George. You need to move on.

“Besides, I miss the goofy George.” Lee let out a dejected sigh. “I dunno, mate. You still pull pranks and stuff, but . . . somehow you’re not the same as before. It . . . it feels forced. As if your heart’s not in it anymore.”

“We all change,” George grumbled.

“Yes, you’re right. But your change is not helping you. Just . . . don’t overwork yourself. When’s the last time you got laid?” Lee joked.

George shrugged; he didn’t have time to go looking for willing guys to be his bed partner.

“Okay, if I have to hire a rent boy for you, I will.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” George was horrified.

Lee smirked. “You know me. I can’t turn down a challenge or a dare. Why do you think I got in so much trouble with Filch over the years with you two always daring me?”

George didn’t answer that. He only lit another fag, which hung precariously at the edge of his lips, and he went back to fiddling around with the newest invention of his.

“Fine. I’m not giving up, though. I’ve got you some food. It’s fish and chips. Eat it. I’ll be around. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Lee set the food down in front of George and left the room.

With his friend gone, George put the joke item down, some new sweets — he was thinking of calling them Tortoise Shell — that would slow a person’s movement down. He had to admit, Lee was right. Everything that loudmouth said was true. He was overworking, and he had changed into a person he would have never considered years ago. But he missed Fred so much. With Fred gone, he really felt like the world had ended. He even wanted to close Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes down, but he only kept the store opened as a legacy towards Fred. Yet it was hard running it without his partner-in-crime.

As he sat alone in the small room, he lit another fag and stared off into space.

Click on the image for the larger version. Fanart by Lolasangel.

Draco scowled at all the rejection letters he received from each workplace he had applied for. While he had predicted this, he still hated how his assumption turned out correct. He was being discriminated with his former Death Eater status, and he hated it. While he’d never admit it out loud, he now knew what it meant to be a victim of discrimination.

All those years of him being prejudiced towards Muggle-borns and half-bloods came back to bite him in the arse.

He threw the last of the rejection letter from St Mungo’s into the fire, and he paced around his private chambers. He stewed and ached for some alcohol, but he remembered his mother’s sneaky plans, and he instead decided to eat some chocolate to soothe his anger.

But even the few pieces of the most expensive chocolate didn’t help him as he imagined the coolness of the brandy in his mouth, the burning sensation that followed when he swallowed. He imagined the smell, the taste, and the aftertaste. He couldn’t stop thinking about the brandy as he mentally listed the names of his favourite brand.

Figuring that he needed to get out, he Apparated to Diagon Alley.

He walked around the crowds, ignoring the stares and the jeers from other wizards and witches. Despite being pardoned by the almighty Potter, he and his mother were still seen as evil incarnates. He held his head high, though, and went to Flourish and Blotts. There, he looked around for any new books that caught his interest, but he didn’t see anything worthwhile. Instead, he bumped into Theodore Nott.

“Nott,” he said, nodding towards his former housemate.

“Malfoy,” Theodore replied. “It’s been a while.”

Although he wasn’t that close of a friend with him, Draco never really had any problems with him. Not even when Theodore had declared neutrality along with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode in their seventh year. The Carrows and whoever harassed them — not as harsh as they did to the others like Neville Longbottom and his posse — but it was still enough to have a divided house in Slytherin.

“How’ve you been?” Draco asked stiffly.

“I’ve been well. I’m on my lunch break from my job at the Ministry. I’m going to grab something at the Leaky. Care to join me?”

Draco nodded. It was a change seeing a friendly face compared to all the sneers he’d been receiving from everyone else.

The two headed to the Leaky Cauldron, and they sat at a dark corner where nobody would bother them. When their food and drinks came, the conversation started.

“So how’s your job at the Ministry? What are you doing there, anyway?”

Theodore chewed and swallowed before answering. “I’m an office assistant for one of the departments. Are you working right now?”

“No,” Draco said, trying not to sound resentful and bitter.

“It’s a bit difficult trying to find a place that will hire you. I’ve been there myself. The war really brought a bad reputation to all of us Slytherins.”

“Even for you? But you weren’t a Death Eater.” Draco was surprised by Theodore’s revelation.

Theodore gave a wry smile. “Yes, but I was a Slytherin. It’s horrible the way they judge all of us based on our houses. Yet I still applied for many places, hoping someone will not see Slytherin and think I’m an evil bastard. I must say that it was rough. And though this was not a job I really preferred, it’s still a job to start with.”

Draco nodded.

“At any rate, while I may be a Slytherin, I’m proud to be a member of the house. I will not hide and lie about my background. I figure that if those employers only see me as an evil Slytherin, they’re not someone I will want to work for.”

Draco and Theodore quietly continued to eat. Draco wondered why he didn’t try to be better friends with Theodore, who always was one of the more logical ones from his housemates, but he’d been too busy hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle.

Towards the end of the meal, Theodore and Draco talked about the Muggles. Draco was surprised to find out that Theodore was actually a half-blood. He never knew that. He always thought Theodore was a pureblood like himself.

“I didn’t know,” Draco said, feeling a bit like a fool.

Theodore gave a knowing smile. “I never advertised it. My mother, who’s a witch, warned me that if I were to be sorted into Slytherin to hide my Muggle background.”

“I see.”

Theodore shrugged. “That’s what finally landed me a job, though. I think I was eventually hired because I put down half-blood on the applications.”

Draco sighed. “That isn’t right.”

“It isn’t, but it’s what helped, I think.”

When they were done, Theodore looked at Draco sympathetically. “Don’t give up, Draco. You’ll find someone who will give you a chance and look beyond your name and your past affiliation.”

The two promised to keep in touch, and Theodore went back to his workplace, and Draco mulled over what Theodore told him.

“Hey, Mr Weasley!”

Verity’s loud voice broke George’s concentration, and he looked up at his assistant. “What is it? And how many times must I tell you to call me ‘George’?”

“I’ll call you whatever I want! In the meantime, you gotta hire another person to help me out in the front, or I’ll quit.” Through her threat, she grinned. “Well, I won’t, but I do admit it’s a bit crazy down there all by myself while you’re up here doing whatever you genius do in a stuffy room.”

George backed away from his worktable and stood up. “Is business that good for you to feel overwhelmed by it?”

Verity rolled her eyes. “Sir? Where have you been this entire time? Of course business is great! You do come up with more and more great products. Have you not checked the books lately?”

He lit up a fag and shook his head. “Sorry, I guess I’ve been too busy being an inventor rather than a businessman.”

“Well, don’t lose that thinking cap yet! You will needta conjure up a new assistant fast, or I’ll collapse from overwork, and you will owe me some huge medical payment.”

George gave her a faint smile. “No, I wouldn’t want you to collapse and pay for it either. That would make me look like a sod. Let’s go. I’ll help you in the front until I can find a suitable helper.

“Thanks! She grabbed his wrist and dragged them down to the front.

At the front, George and Verity worked hard to please their customers, organised the shelves, and changed the decorations of the store whenever the place quieted down a bit. He worked and put up a fake, cheerful front. He didn’t want to scare his customers away with his brooding, after all.

While he worked, he remembered the excitement when he and Fred had first bought this space with Harry’s generous contribution. He reminisced fondly of the nights they stayed up late to plan and organise their store. That was the best time of his life, aside from all their previous adventures of pranking and joking at Hogwarts, and George wished he could go back to those days before things exploded to hell.

But he knew that no matter how much he wished and hoped for it, Fred would not come back.

When the store closed, and when he was back in his workroom, he had some firewhiskey and his pack of fags next to him, and he drank and smoked his unfulfilled wants away.

He woke up next morning with a headache and a dry mouth, and he reeked of cigarettes.

He quickly showered, not wanting Verity to gripe about his unpleasant odour, and he planned out a job advertisement in his head.

Hiring a new assistant would not be the same as having Fred back, but it would help Verity and him with their job. With three people back in the store, he figured it would feel less empty.

Draco flipped through The Daily Prophet. He saw the same jobs he’d already tried to apply with no luck. He skimmed through the meaningless words and was about to throw the paper aside when something caught his eyes. He read closely and saw an opening for an assistant position for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. The ad also said that they wanted someone to do the bookkeeping and the accounting. That interested him some more. The advertisement stated for all interested applicants to come to the store.

He grimaced. He didn’t have fond memories of the horrible Weasley twins, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but think that the twins did have some clever pranks, even if they were a waste of time. He grabbed his cup of tea, sipped on it, and thought about this prospect. While he didn’t particularly want to work for someone like George Weasley, what other offers were there? All the good jobs he was qualified for were being given to the “good” people, unlike someone tainted like him, and it really wouldn’t hurt to try.

Glancing at the time, Draco saw that the store would close in another hour or so. He decided to try his luck.

He bid his mother farewell, telling her that he was going out job hunting, and then he Apparated into Diagon Alley. He approached the store with some trepidation, and when he saw the garish, bright, and outlandish decorations outside the store, he almost lost what little determination he had. But he forced himself to continue walking into the store. He strolled down the aisles, looking at the various products that nearly screamed for Draco to use on poor, unsuspecting blokes like Goyle. He bit back a smile as he remembered the days of pulling his own pranks on Goyle, Crabbe, and those idiotic first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

He glanced around the rest of the store, and he didn’t see that many other customers. He stepped towards the till. There he saw George, in magenta robes, working with a woman he didn’t know, and he steeled himself for the inevitable meeting.

Draco didn’t miss George’s surprised expression. He watched the expression turn grim, almost suspicious.

“Malfoy.”

Draco nodded. “Weasley.”

The woman looked up. Draco saw the multiple piercings on the woman’s ears, and he studied the neon orange streaks in her short blue hair. He eyed the magenta robes and back to the hair, and he briefly wondered if the woman was colour-blind. “You know him, Mr Weasley?” she asked.

“Yeah, we went to Hogwarts together.”

She looked at him curiously, but a customer came up, and she scurried away to help.

Draco looked back at George. Their eyes met, and Draco looked into George’s brown eyes. George quickly averted his gaze, and this allowed Draco to study George’s appearance. When they were in Hogwarts, Draco remembered George always smiling or smirking. He recalled how Fred and George always looked so vibrant and upbeat. Now a tired man with only one ear greeted him. Draco could see the bleary eyes, the slumped posture, and the place where the ear used to be. This was not the same jokester he knew in school, and he briefly recalled Professor Snape talking about hexing a Weasley twin’s ear off with the same spell Potter used on Draco before. He did not want to remember that incident.

George cleared his throat. “How can I help you?” Draco heard the cautious edge in George’s deep voice.

Draco answered, “I’m here because I saw your job advertisement.”

“Oh?” George lifted an eyebrow.

Draco refused to cower under a Weasley of all people. After Voldemort, nothing could really scare him — except maybe his mother, who could be quite frightening when she turned angry. Hell really had no fury compared to a woman’s scorn. He continued, “I’m interested in the job.”

“Hmm,” George stepped around from the counter. “Are you?”

Draco nodded. “I enjoy bookkeeping, and I can help with the finances and the accounting.”

“Oh, yes. You’re a Malfoy, after all. You’ve had plenty of finances to balance out over the years.”

Draco nearly lashed out at the insult, but he stopped himself since talking back would surely lose his opportunity. Plus, he didn’t hear any malice in George’s voice, but he only heard a voice that sounded familiar. It sounded like a voice of a lost person. Draco pondered over that revelation. Did he sound like that?

“Weas — I mean, Mr Weasley, I do wish to work for your establishment. I would really like to help out with the books and whatever else you need.” Draco stood still; he refused to fidget. He might have been nervous, but Malfoys didn’t fidget.

“You do realise,” George began, “that this job’s starting salary is very low and that there will not be any benefits until I deem appropriate?”

“Yes, I did read all that in the advertisement.” And Draco surprisingly didn’t care. Right now, all he wanted was a job to get his mother off his back and to move on with his life.

“You took your NEWTs?”

“Yes, I did. I received ‘O’s in Charms, Potions, Transfigurations, and Arithmancy and ‘E’s in Herbology and Ancient Runes,” Draco tried to sound neutral about it. He didn’t want George to think he was bragging.

“Well, those are good results,” George mumbled.

Draco didn’t say anything.

George led the way to what looked like a workroom, and he made a gesture for Draco to come inside. “This is my workroom. This is where I usually come up with new products. I’m working on one right now. They’re ‘Belching Beans’,” George told him with a fond look at the beans. Then his face fell. “Or at least they’re supposed to be. There’s been a slight hitch. Anybody who takes it is supposed to belch for at least an hour, but from the tests . . . well . . . they become quite ‘excited’.”

“Excited?”

“Randy.”

Draco frowned at that, but he still remained quiet. He saw an open notebook with messy scrawls, and he tried to decipher the handwriting.

George continued, “Any idea on how I should fix this?”

For a minute or two, Draco studied the notes, and then the answer hit him. “Replace the cinnamon with ginger.”

“Why?”

“Cinnamon’s an aphrodisiac. Ginger will help with the digestion instead, and it will aid the person into belching.”

George looked thoughtful and took down notes. “That makes sense.” He set the notebook down and started to smoke a cigarette. “Well, I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know of my decision on your employment.”

Draco felt dismayed at this odd job interview, but he only nodded and said, “Thank you.” He turned and left the room. In the front, he bumped into the woman.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to bump into you”

“Quite all right,” Draco said, giving her a small smile.

“By the way, what’s your name? Other than Malfoy?”

Draco gave her an incredulous look. Everyone in the wizarding world knew him by now, no thanks to all that publicity on his father trial and his and his mother’s pardon. But the woman maybe didn’t really follow all that. “Draco.”

“Draco Malfoy, eh? A pleasure. I’m Verity. Did the interview go okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied.

“Great! I do hope George hires somebody soon. It’s mad crazy here with just the two of us. I had to pull overtime lately, and my guy complains he doesn’t see me much.”

“Er, I see.”

“Whoops! I better go help that poor customer over there. Later, Draco!”

Verity cheerfully bounded off, and Draco only stared after her, wondering if all colour-blind women were that cheerful.

Draco left the store, and he sighed disappointedly. “Back to scouring that damn paper,” he muttered to himself. He Apparated home since he didn’t have anywhere else to go. When in his room, his first instinct was to request some alcohol, but since he couldn’t get any, he decided to out for a broom ride.

As he flew around the darkening sky, he cursed himself for even bothering the interview. He was glad George hadn’t kicked him out of the store at least, but he felt that it was a waste of his time, and he was back to where he was since he’d started his job hunt.

If only his mother would let him stay lost. Being lost and half-drunk was better than feeling shame and disappointment in himself and hating the bigots who wouldn’t give him a chance.

With a sigh, Draco flew into the night. It wasn’t a particularly good night for a broom ride, but he needed to distract himself from the long day.

“Are you gonna hire that Draco bloke?”

George was about to light up another fag in the front before he remembered that Verity hated when he smoked there. “I dunno.”

“Why not? He seemed like he’d be good for this place.”

“Yeah, but I remember him as a prick back in Hogwarts.”

“That was in the past, Mr Weasley. You don’t strike me as the type to hold a grudge.”

“Mmm.”

“Well, it’ll be up to you.” Verity quickly finished the rest of her tasks. “I’m done! I’ll see you on Monday!”

“Have a good weekend.” He watched Verity flipped the Come in if you dare sign to the We’re snoozing and boozing sign, and George was alone in the store.

He went back to the workroom to try the ginger Draco had suggested, and when he decided to quit for the night, he saw that it was very late. Luckily, he could sleep in tomorrow, so it wasn’t a huge deal for him.

He went to his bedroom, passing by Fred’s room, which he adamantly refused to change or get rid of despite his family and friends’ protests. Once in his room, he grabbed his fags and his firewhiskey, and he drank and smoked until he passed out.

Before he slept, he expected that night to be like any other night. He had no idea he was going to have a visitor in his dream.

“George?”

He ignored the voice.

“George?”

He batted his hand out. “Leave me alone, Lee.”

“I’m not Lee!” the voice said indignantly.

“Oh, for fuck–!” He opened his eyes, and he saw he was back in his workroom, and right next to him was Fred.

George’s mouth dropped opened.

“Didn’t know you went all fish-like on me,” Fred said with his customary smirk. “What? Surprised?”

“How the . . . you should be . . . ”

“Yes, I’m truly dead, but I figured a visit here and there won’t hurt.”

George stared longingly at his twin. Slowly, he reached out to touch Fred, but his hand went through. “So you really are . . . ”

“Oh, stop being such a ninny,” Fred grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t suit you. Look, I can’t stay long, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What?”

“About Malfoy.”

George wrinkled his nose. “What about him?”

“Are you going to hire him?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

Fred let out a sigh and drawled out George’s hated nickname. “Georgie.”

“Don’t call me that, Freddie!”

“Okay, fine.” Fred grinned. “Look. Hire Malfoy. Of all the applicants who came to you so far, none of them could figure out your problem. Plus, he was the only one who could read your awful handwriting.”

“That’s true,” George said slowly. “But have you forgotten what a wanker he was, especially when he became a prefect and sided with that ghastly Umbitch woman?”

“I haven’t forgotten! How could I ever forget that? Sure, he was a fucking prick, but he’s changed.” Fred paused and gave George a sad smile. “And you did, too.”

George shrugged and reached out for his fags before remembering this was a dream. “So you’re saying I should give him a chance. Why?”

“Because it’ll be good for you.”

“Excuse me?” George exclaimed. “How’s hiring Malfoy supposed to be good for me?”

“That you have to figure out on your own.”

George scowled. “Since when have you turned into a cryptic bastard?”

“I reckon since we were born.”

“Oh, piss off,” George said, feeling a pang of remorse inside of him. “You know I really do . . . ”

“I know. I feel the same way. No need to turn into a woman on me.”

“Prat.”

“I love you, too. Now, you hire Malfoy, or I’ll make you regret it when you get your arse up here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I just want the best for you. As your older–”

“Only by two damn minutes–” George interrupted.

“As I was saying, I’m the older twin, and I do have to look out for you. Whether dead or alive.”

“Okay. You’ve gone not only cryptic, but you’ve also went quite morbid up there, haven’t you?”

“Sure, but at least you don’t have to constantly run away from Aunt Rachel.”

George gave Fred a puzzled look. “What?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Fred said, winking. “Now, I’ve gotta run. Hire him . . . and for Merlin’s sake, quit your smoking and drinking before you kill yourself!” Fred’s brown eyes twinkled, and he disappeared.

A few minutes later, George sat up gasping in his bed. He looked around and saw the empty pack of fags and the bottle of firewhiskey. He glanced around the room where nothing had changed. Lying back on his bed, he stared at the ceiling, wondering why he had that kind of dream. A dream of Fred telling him to hire Draco.

George sighed and stifled back a sob. When Fred had died, he hadn’t cried. In fact, he had yet to grieve and cry for the death of his twin. But he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to face the fact that Fred was really gone.

But now with that dream, he finally saw reality. Fred was gone.

Alone in his room, he cried until he could cry no more.

During all of Saturday and most of Sunday, Draco moped around the manor. He ignored his mother’s attempt to offer advice, and he only went out once to do his weekly visit to see his father. He hated how stifling Azkaban was, and he hated how everything there was so depressing. Both he and his mother could not wait until his father was released.

Despite being in the miserable place, Draco was surprised to see that his father looked at peace. It was almost as if Lucius had accepted his consequences and was not going to dwell on his past.

Oh, his father was still arrogant and smug, especially when they bought him good food and wine, but Lucius looked as if he tried not to let his current living condition bother him. Then again, that was what Slytherins were good at. Adapting.

Yet Draco felt like he couldn’t adapt to his own life. He didn’t feel like he’d ever get out of this slump he found himself in.

Draco left before his mother did, giving his parents some of the privacy they wanted.

He Apparated back to the manor, and there he was nearly assaulted by a very impatient looking owl.

He saw the magenta envelope in the owl’s claw, and he scowled as it reminded him of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Really, what was so great about that colour? What was wrong with green? Or blue? Or just plain red?

He took the envelope and sent the owl to the owlery to rest and get some treat. Before it flew off, it gave him an owlish frown, and Draco glared back at the impertinent creature.

In his room, he opened the dreadful envelope and read the letter. It was written in a familiar messy scrawl, and it said:

Malfoy,

— George Weasley

Draco blinked at the letter. Magenta. Again, what was with that bloody colour? But if this was a job offer, he could live with it. It was the only job offer he received anyway. If it was one thing Draco learned during the war, it was to take what he could get.

He perused the short letter again. He mused over the “Get ready for it” sentence and wondered just what George meant by that. Get ready? For what? To be a test subject? Would George make him eat some horrible sweet that would turn him into a ferret? He hoped not. That wasn’t included in the job description, right?

He felt apprehensive, and he greeted Monday morning with a mixture of nervousness, wariness, and hesitance.

He Apparated to the store at 7:59, and he entered it at 8 o’clock sharp. He looked and saw Verity, who was sweeping, and she grinned at him.

“Morning, Draco! I’m so glad George chose you to work with us.” Her neon orange and blue hair clashed with her magenta robes as usual, and Draco wondered if he could spell himself colour-blind to not look at that all day.

After a pause, he answered, “Good morning, Verity.” He searched for George. “Where’s Weasley?”

“Mr Weasley will come down soon. He’s prob’ly hungover, so he’ll take his sweet time.” She rolled her eyes, but he saw affection in them. She stopped her sweeping and went to the backroom and came out with a magenta robes. “In the meantime, here.” She handed him a magenta robes. “Uniform.”

He sniffed at the robes unpleasantly and sullenly grabbed it. “Where do I change?”

She pointed towards the loo, and he went there and changed into the ugly thing.

When he stepped out, Verity exclaimed, “Hey! Magenta does look good on ya!”

Draco was taken aback by that compliment. “I doubt it.”

“It does!”

Draco still didn’t believe her. How could he when she herself was quite challenged with colour coordination?

But before he could say anything, he heard someone clearing their throat. It was George, and he was looking at Draco with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve come,” George said.

“Of course. I’d like to start off right,” Draco lightly retorted.

An awkward silence surrounded all of them as George still gave Draco an enigmatic look.

“Right. Then let’s start,” George announced.

All day long, George paid attention to Draco. While George explained how the business worked, how they stocked items, how the bookkeeping worked, and how to deal with temperamental customers, George watched for Draco’s reaction. While they did all that, he waited for the moment where Draco would explode in anger.

George still wasn’t convinced that Draco would be a suitable employee in his store. Because of his uncertainties, he had set up tricks and pranks for it to activate when Draco touched them. For an example, when George led Draco to the office where they keep all the books, he had Draco sit in a chair that farted out loud as soon as Draco’s arse hit the seat. Whatever writing utensils Draco used would explode ink on him. One time, Draco was even given a cold shower as a bucket of freezing water covered him when he entered a room.

With jokes and pranks like that, George was waiting for Draco to resign in anger, but Draco surprised him. Draco gave a tight-lipped smile and clenched his fists, but that was all he did.

When Ron had helped out before, he would explode after the second prank, but Draco maintained his temper, and George figured that was good. After all, in order to work here, one needed to have some sense of humour!

As he thought about Draco throughout the day, he recalled Draco in the magenta robes earlier. He heard Verity’s comment on Draco looking good in magenta, and he secretly had to agree. Draco had looked quite fitting in that colour, and George felt something inside of him awaken at the sight. Despite the pointy face and the haughty expression, Draco looked dashing. He was slim and lithe, and with that blond hair and steely grey eyes, George came to the conclusion that Draco was his type.

He was glad he’d been able to hide that reaction though. While he did prefer the blokes, he didn’t think Draco would appreciate his thoughts like that. He wasn’t sure if Draco even looked at blokes like that.

By the end of the day, George called Draco into his workroom. With his usual fag, he turned to Draco and said, “You passed all my tests.”

“Pardon?” Draco asked with a confused frown. “What tests?”

“All those pranks. You reined in your temper. I think you’re suited to work here.”

Draco continued to look perplexed. “You mean when you said ‘Get ready for it’ . . . ”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” George inhaled and exhaled the smoke, watching it create patterns in the room. “Hope you didn’t mind.”

Draco shook his head. “I’ve pulled a few pranks of my own in the past.”

“Oh?” George lifted an eyebrow. “Really? And here I thought you were just a rich, spoilt brat who had a stick up his arse like Percy.”

“I am not a stiff.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Then I guess I should also say that you’re not the buffoon I thought you’d be.”

“A buffoon?” George blinked at that instead of getting angry as he should. “That’s a new one on me.”

“Oh, I can think of more suitable descriptors for you, but I’ll save them for another time.”

George chuckled at that, but then he sobered up. “That’s the kind of stuff Fred would say to me . . . ”

A minute passed before Draco simply said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Good job today. Tomorrow you can organise that mess in the bookkeeping room.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m looking forward to that,” Draco said sarcastically.

“Well, I hope you’re more organised than myself or Verity. And Ron. He can’t organise worth shite. Fred was always the one better at paperwork and filing.” George waved a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Draco nodded and said, “Good night.” He left the room, and George was left alone to his thoughts.

Draco left after saying good night to Verity. Grumbling to himself at George’s so-called tests, he opened the door and stepped outside to bump into a child.

“Owie!” the child exclaimed. He looked up at Draco with a smile. “Sorry I bumped into you mister.” He backed up to grab his guardian’s, an older woman, hand.

“Quite all right,” Draco said. He glanced at a familiar looking woman. He nodded politely to her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she answered in a crisp voice that Draco recognised as one belonging to the wealthy wizarding class. She looked at him closely. “Are you Draco Malfoy?”

He stiffened, wondering if this woman would sprout out unpleasant statements of him belonging in Azkaban. That already had happened to him before, and Draco didn’t really want to face that. “Yes, I am.”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “I’m Andromeda Tonks.” She gestured towards the child. “This is my grandson, Teddy Lupin.”

“I’m this many!” Teddy held up three fingers.

Draco looked at his aunt and his first cousin once removed in surprise. “Aunt Andromeda?” He looked at his disinherited aunt. She looked like a mixture between his mother and his aunt Bellatrix, but she had a friendly aura about her.

“Yes, Draco, it is I. How are you? How’s your mother?” She had a worried expression. “I do hope you’re all doing well with your father’s imprisonment.”

“We’re all right. Have you been in contact with Mother?”

She shook her head. “No, but if you could tell her . . . tell her that if she ever wants to meet, I wouldn’t be against the idea.”

He politely said, “I’ll pass on the message.”

“Grandmamma?” Teddy tugged on her hand. “D’you know him?”

Draco studied his cousin closely. He was a cute looking boy, with bright turquoise hair and happy brown eyes. He had a dimple in one cheek, and his Chudley Cannons t-shirt was a little too big on his small frame. Draco had to bite back a groan. Why were there so many colour-blind people around him?

Andromeda nodded. “Yes, dear. He’s your first cousin once removed.”

“Removed? Why’d he be removed? Did he hasta go somewhere?”

Draco couldn’t help it. A soft chuckle escaped him at the innocent question. Without thinking, he crouched down to be at the same height as Teddy. “No. Your grandmother and my mother are sisters. That means your mother is my cousin, and since you’re her child, you’re my first cousin removed.”

Teddy scrunched his face in confusion. “Then are we elated?”

“Elated?” Draco echoed in confusion. Then he figured out what Teddy was trying to ask. “Oh! Related? Yes, we’re related.”

“Then we’re family?” Teddy asked, his eyes huge and imploring.

He was taken aback by the child’s frankness and simple acceptance. Somehow, that lifted some gloom off of him, and he smirked as he poked Teddy’s soft cheek. “Yes, we’re family.”

“Yeah!” Before Draco could stop him, Teddy wrapped his small arms around Draco’s neck. Looking over Teddy’s shoulder, he looked at his aunt, who was trying not to look too amused, and he slowly hugged Teddy back.

After Teddy let go, Draco stood up. “I’ll tell Mother about our meeting. I’m sure she’d want to meet up with you one day.” Although his mother would never say it, he knew she was lonely since his father was in Azkaban. Maybe, just maybe it was time to renew relationships with each other.

“Thank you, Draco. Whenever you want, you’re more than welcome to visit Teddy and me. I think he took quite a liking to you.”

“Do you fly?” Teddy asked, after she finished.

“Yes, I ride a broom.” Draco looked at the way Teddy’s eyes lit up in happiness.

“I like to ride, too! But Grandmamma won’t let me ride it by myself,” he recited solemnly.

“How about if I take you up one day?” Draco asked.

“Promise?” Teddy looked hopeful and excited.

“Promise.”

Teddy launched onto Draco’s leg. “You’re my favourite cousin removed now!”

Draco and Andromeda laughed. Draco quickly added, “I’m your only cousin.”

“You’re still my favourite!”

“Well, Teddy, we have to go home now. I’ve got a surprise for you at home.”

“Okay!” Teddy tugged on her hand and waved at Draco. “Bye bye!”

“Goodbye, Teddy,” Draco responded. “Goodbye, Aunt Andromeda.”

Andromeda and Teddy walked away, and Draco went his way, feeling a bit lighter than he had in ages.

When he arrived home, he and his mother enjoyed a meal together. Draco talked about his job briefly before he mentioned his aunt and Teddy.

Narcissa took a long drain of her wine. “So you ran into my sister.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And Teddy.” She had a faraway expression on her face. “You know, I did like her. She and I were close. When she opted to be disowned and marry that Mud — I mean Muggle-born, I had to stop all contacts with her because of my loyalties to my family and husband . . . ”

Draco sipped at his non-alcoholic drink. “Yes.”

“But perhaps it’s time to get reacquainted with her.” She smiled slightly. “I do miss my sister. She’s the only one left of my family from the Black’s side. I think I’ll contact her soon . . . and I’ll invite the two of them over here.”

Draco remembered something about Teddy. “Isn’t Potter his godfather?”

“I think so.”

Draco tried to not make a face. “Are you going to invite him, too?”

“I should. He did speak up for us.”

Draco stifled back a groan. His mother was right. He only hoped Potter would decline the invitation.

After dinner, Draco was in his room, trying to read, but he had so much on his mind. His job at the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, his run in with Andromeda and Teddy, and then there was George. Draco didn’t know why, but he felt like the two of them were in the same boat somehow. He felt like they were both suffering from existential angst of some sort, and then he wondered if it was a coincidence he got hired over there.

Whatever the case was, for the first time since the end of the war, Draco didn’t feel as lost as before.

Intermission

From the Journal of Fred Weasley
July 2001

Nothing’s changed up here.

I’m still escaping from Aunt Rachel. Mr Potter and Sirius are still tormenting Professor Snape. Remus and Lily still scold them, and Reggie and I are actually becoming quite friendly with one another. But he’s a bore, still. Too stiff. Almost makes me wonder if he’s somehow related to Percy. He probably is. After all, most of the wizarding pureblood families are related somehow. Reggie probably ended up with the Percy gene — never mind that Reggie was born before Percy. Poor Reggie. Wait. Did I just write that?

While that’s going on, I still keep a watch on George and Malfoy. Nothing’s happening. They’ve both established a working relationship. That’s all. How boring!

I have a feeling I’ll have to make my appearance to George again one of these days. I don’t mind. After all, if I don’t knock some sense into George, who else will do it? Lee tries, but he isn’t very successful. Verity’s too wrapped up with her own life to help George any more than she can. And Malfoy is just as clueless about what his mission in life is supposed to be.

Oi. There are far too many dunderheads down there.

Great. I’m starting to sound like Professor Snape. That’s not good, I think.

Oh, well, time to fly! I think I hear Aunt Rachel’s annoying voice! Poor me! Can’t she find someone else to torture?!

Part II: Follow You Night and Day

George looked up from his newest invention. He saw Draco at the doorway of his workroom. “What’s up?”

“I finished the books. Do you need anything else?”

George raised his eyebrows. Over the last couple of months, he was impressed by Draco’s work ethic. True, he believed Draco to be a snot-nosed brat who was incredibly lazy and self-centred, but Draco proved to be quite a good worker. Ever since Draco came on board, their files were meticulously organised, and everything ran smoothly. He’d discovered that Draco did have a sense of humour, one that was drier compared to his and Verity, but they all balanced each other out.

Draco never complained about the work George made him do. Sometimes, Draco even seemed to anticipate George’s requests before he made them. One morning George came in and was about to ask Draco to clean the loos when he realised that they were already sparkling. Since Verity would never touch them, he could only assume it was Draco.

Plus, Draco even managed to make a few useful suggestions regarding his new line of inventions.

“How about creating a snack in the shape of a taco? Make it taste like one, too. Except when someone eats it, they will have some awkward consequences,” Draco offhandedly said one day.

“Hm. So when they eat it, the snack will make them rip out a roaring fart?”

Draco sniffed. “How crude, but that does fit the definition of awkward, doesn’t it?”

“And embarrassing.” George sniggered. “That’s a good idea! I’ll call it ‘Awkward Taco’.”

And that was what George had been working on. It would be a fun prank item once it was all perfected.

George glanced at the clock and saw it was almost closing time. “Want to order some fish and chips from the Leaky and share some firewhiskey?”

“What?” Draco stared at George.

George was quite astonished by his own invitation. He’d just invited Draco to have some food and drinks together, and he wasn’t sure where that idea came from. However, the more he thought about it, the more he decided he didn’t mind. After all, despite Draco being Draco, George did want to get to know his employee better.

“Let’s get some food and drinks,” George said, trying to sound suave.

“Well, I, er,” Draco stuttered and his cheeks turned slightly red. “Thanks. I’ll finish closing up the shop with Verity and go get the food.”

After Draco left hastily, George had to bite back a laugh. Calm, composed, and collected Draco Malfoy had transformed into a not so calm, composed, and collected Draco Malfoy. George found that amusing. Especially the blush. Briefly, he wondered if Draco could blush in other situations.

Realising what he was thinking, George banished those thoughts far away and muttered, “I will not think of Malfoy like that. I will not think of him like that!” He contemplated summoning a blackboard just so he could write it down a hundred times but then decided that it wouldn’t be helpful.

He busied himself with his work while his mind kept thinking of Draco in some compromising position. George groaned. He really needed to get laid, especially when he thought about shagging Draco. Not that it would be bad, but he really didn’t need to scare off a good worker like that. Also, he figured Draco, being a Malfoy, probably already had some nice witch in line to marry soon. As a rich, pureblood male, Draco would need to produce an heir to the Malfoy line. George knew that was how the rich wizarding families operated. His mind knew Draco was out of his reach, but his libido didn’t.

George groaned again. He really needed to get some. Soon. He made a mental note go out with Lee and Angelina one evening. After all, he was thinking of Draco in a sexual context. It was wrong. Terribly wrong. He needed to think of worse things. Thinking of Hagrid in a pink tutu, prancing around with Fang in a purple tutu worked.

Just in time, too, since Draco eventually returned with the food. They ate and drank. And then George tried to make small talk. He was never particularly good at it, but he wanted to talk. The silence was a bit stifling.

“Have you been flying lately?”

Draco nodded. “Have you?”

“Naw. Haven’t felt like it.” It was true. Since Fred died, George didn’t want to fly.

Draco probably figured out the reasons for his lack of flying since he changed the subject. “How’s the taco prank coming along?”

“Great. Need to figure out some kinks, and it will be a seller.”

“What’s the problem?” Draco asked curiously.

“The fart’s not loud enough,” George said with a straight face.

Draco gave him an incredulous look. “Just how loud you want it to be?”

“Pretty loud. Loud enough that the people in the next room can hear it.”

“What’s with you and loud noises?”

George shrugged. “I like them. Makes a better impact, dontcha think?”

“I guess we can’t all be polite.”

“You mean a prude?”

“Are you implying I’m a prude?” Draco knocked back a shot, looking like someone who hadn’t had alcohol in ages, and George found Draco’s throat interesting all of the sudden.

“You said it. Not me,” George grinned. He blinked at that proclamation. This bantering . . . this conversation with Draco felt like he was talking with Fred. Almost. Draco was more sarcastic than Fred ever was. Fred was always the more sarcastic one compared to George, though, and George missed the snarky comments from his brother.

Plus, talking with Draco made him feel light-hearted. It was almost as if Draco filled this big gaping hole in his life.

“George? Are you all right?” Draco’s voice broke his thought, and he realised he’d been staring at Draco.

“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“What?”

“Nothing important.” He refilled their shot glasses. “Let’s drink.”

Draco so far enjoyed working here. Once he got used to the pranks and Verity’s awful colour scheme. He came to the conclusion that he liked Verity; she was easy-going and fun to be around. Working with George was pleasant. He just needed to watch out for all the tricks that were in the store, but after a while, Draco figured out what was tampered with and what wasn’t.

He enjoyed working with numbers, and he didn’t mind the paperwork. He’d rather do that then deal with some of the customers, but if things were busy, he’d help with no complaint. Then again, complaining wouldn’t really take him anywhere, and it wasn’t as if George demanded his presence in the front. And since George didn’t order him, Draco found himself willingly helping out when he was needed.

Sometimes, when he was alone in the filing room, which sort of became his private office of some sort, he’d pause to look at something on the wall, to give his eyes a break. His mind would then wander towards George, and Draco noticed that George looked a bit happier than before. He wasn’t sure when George looked less gloomy, but he preferred a more cheerful George than a George with a dark cloud over his head.

Draco even realised he was slowly starting to see George in a different light. He was sort of attracted to George, and that was a bit shocking and embarrassing to admit even to himself. After all, George was his employer, his boss. Draco thought of George’s red hair, the brown eyes that held a mixture of sadness and mirth, and George’s stocky body.

He turned red in the face. He really shouldn’t think like that in the middle of his work. He didn’t need this kind of distraction!

Returning back to his work, Draco wrote and filed necessary information for another half an hour. His stomach growled to let him know he needed food, and Draco went out to the front to see if George or Verity wanted anything from the Leaky.

“Hey, Weasley! Verity! Do you want–” he cut himself off as he stared at another red-headed person there. It was Ron. Draco’s eyes narrowed, and Ron glowered at him. Draco looked around and saw it was a slow day. There were no customers at the moment. Which was probably what prompted Ron to say what he said next.

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked in a disgusted tone.

“I work here,” Draco answered coldly. “Why are you here?”

“I came to visit my brother.” Ron turned his attention to George. “Is he for real? Did you hire this prick?”

George nodded, and Draco tried to decipher George’s facial expression. It looked odd. “I did hire him, little bro, and he’s turning out to be a pretty good worker.”

“That’s a load of dung! Malfoys, especially this one, are too rich to work in a place like this,” Ron retorted nastily.

Draco was tempted, so tempted to insult Ron, but he held his tongue. It really wouldn’t bode well for him to insult his boss’ brother. He ignored Ron and turned to George and Verity. “Do you two want anything from the Leaky?”

“Oh, please! Here let me write down my order for ya!” Verity looked relieved that Draco suggested this. She found a piece of parchment and quickly wrote down her order.

“What about you, Weasley?”

Ron exploded before George could answer. “Why the fuck are you letting him call you ‘Weasley’ and letting him get away with it?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ron. Will you take it easy? I call him ‘Malfoy’, so let’s just leave it that.” George rolled his eyes at his brother before looking at Draco. “Just get me some fish and chips.”

“Will do.” Draco avoided looking at Ron, grabbed Verity’s order, and left the store. Just as he closed the door, he heard the beginning of Ron’s new rant.

Muttering to himself, Draco said, “That Granger sure has a lot of work cut out for herself with Weasel’s anger problem.”

When he reached the Leaky, he ordered the food through Hannah Abbott, and then he waited in a quiet corner. He ignored everyone’s stares and whispers by mentally going through a checklist of chores and errands he needed to do later in the afternoon. His checklist was rudely interrupted, though, when Ron stalked over to his corner and came into his private space.

Draco looked Ron up and down before drawling, “May I help, you, Weasel?”

He watched the way Ron’s eyebrow twitched in anger, and he instinctively backed away when he saw Ron’s face looming in closer to him.

“I don’t know what you did to my brother,” Ron started, his voice low and dripping with disdain. “But I saw that look he gave you. I’ve never seen him give anyone that look, except maybe towards Fred, but I don’t like it. If you do something to him, I swear I’ll cut your bollocks off and feed them to one of Hagrid’s pets.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Draco said, unimpressed by Ron’s threat. “I don’t know what you’re thinking in that puny brain of yours, but I’m not doing anything to your brother.”

“Don’t give me that shite. You had a similar expression, too. You stay the fuck away from George.”

Draco grew perplexed. He had no idea what Ron was alluding to about their facial expressions. “Then, perhaps, do you want me to look at you the way I looked him?”

“Merlin! You’re . . . disgusting! I don’t . . . no! Ugh!”

Whatever reaction Draco expected, this was not it. He scowled, “Oh, piss off, Weasel. You’re making no sense!”

Ron grabbed his wrist, and Draco winced at the harsh grip. “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

Draco tried to wrench his arm out of Ron’s hand. “No! Let go of me, you fucking peon!”

Ron released Draco, and Draco’s glare grew bigger. “Now, either tell me what you’re thinking in that hapless mind of yours or I’m leaving!”

“You do know . . . ” Ron trailed off, looking a bit sick. He tried again. “You do know he’s gay, right?”

“Gay?” Draco echoed, unsure if he heard Ron correctly.

“Yes. You know a poof? Fairy? Dumble–”

“I know what you mean by that word!” Now Draco felt sick as images of Dumbledore came quickly in his mind, the same wizard he almost tried to kill. A move he’d regretted.

“Yeah. George’s like that.”

“I knew,” Draco lied through his teeth. “Surely you’re not implying that he and I . . . ” George was gay? How did Draco not realise that sooner? He was gay himself, and he considered his “gaydar” to be quite accurate, but maybe it just didn’t work on George.

“That’s why I said if you do anything to him, I’ll kill you.” Obviously, Ron didn’t feel sick any more. But rather, he looked like he was ready to pounce on Draco in an effort to protect George.

“I don’t know what you’re smoking, Weasel, but there is nothing going on between us.”

“I don’t believe you. And I know George.”

Draco scowled and pushed Ron aside. “Whatever. My order’s done. Piss. Off.” Leaving Ron, Draco quickly thanked Hannah for the food, and he went back to the store, his mind whirling with thousands of different things. His mind stayed on one thing, and that was George’s sexual orientation.

Somehow, that made Draco feel uncomfortable. It was strange. It wasn’t as if he was against George being a poof, no. He just never really thought of George as gay, and with Draco being physically attracted to George, that opened up plenty of new opportunities he’d never considered. He wasn’t even sure if he’d consider them, anyway. Fraternising with the boss? Not a good idea. Would George even consider him? Probably not. Ron was a dim-witted and daft fool, so whatever expression he claimed to see on George could be wrong. So the chance of him getting together with George? Zero.

That was what Draco convinced himself as he entered the store. He assured himself that he and George would only maintain a professional relationship.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Draco was now unable to look at George directly in the eyes. Instead, Draco started to avoid George whenever he could.

A few days later, George frowned at the way Draco quickly left his workroom. He noticed a change in Draco, and George finally realised that Draco was avoiding him. Whenever they saw each other, Draco didn’t look directly at him. Whenever they were in the same room, Draco only concentrated on business and would leave right after they finished. Whenever Verity left the two alone in the front for a loo break, Draco didn’t talk unless George talked first.

He puzzled over Draco’s bizarre behaviour, trying to figure out if he’d said something or done something to make Draco act like this.

He couldn’t figure it out. He even asked Verity about it when Draco was off doing the books.

“Hey, Verity,” he asked, trying to look casual. “What’s up with Draco?”

She looked at him innocently. “Nothing as far I can see.”

“He’s acting strange lately.”

“Strange?”

“He’s, er, avoiding me.”

“Then it’s probably all your fault, Mr Weasley,” she said in a disappointed voice.

He gaped at her. “How, in Godric’s name, is it my fault?!”

She gave him an are-you-kidding-me-look. “You must have pulled a prank on him, and it must have upset him lots.”

” . . . He should be used to that.”

“Well, we all got our limits, you know. Though . . . ” She looked thoughtful. “He did start to act funny since Ron’s visit here.”

“You know . . . ” He thought about her theory. “You don’t suppose he was upset about that, was he? I got the impression he didn’t particularly care what my brother said.”

“But maybe Ron’s attitude did upset him?”

“Maybe . . . Ron does need to work on his manners. Maybe I’ll suggest that to Hermione one of these days. Though, she might get upset and hex me instead!” he joked, despite feeling quite upset at Ron himself. He could not deny Malfoy’s rich and spoilt attitude, but he knew Draco was a hard worker. Draco had proven himself to be an asset to the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and George respected Draco.

George respected Draco enough to defend him against Ron’s complaints, who had left the store in a huff.

“Maybe you should talk with him?” Verity suggested, and George snapped his attention back at her.

He nodded. “I will. If he keeps this up.”

Just then the door opened and in walked Lee and Angelina.

“Oi, George!” Lee greeted. “You’re looking less dreadful compared to my last visit.” He turned towards Verity. “He’s not overworking and getting drunk up in that workroom, is he?”

“Oh,” Verity said dryly. “He still is. Just a wee bit less than before.”

“Good, because we’re going to kidnap him after you all close the store. He’s coming to a party with us,” Angelina announced.

“A fun party,” Lee affirmed. “And we’re also going to make sure he gets laid one way or another.”

“Lee!” George exclaimed, turning bright red. “Let’s keep my love life private, shall we?”

“What love life, mate? You got none!” Lee cracked up.

“I’ll close with Draco. We can handle things around here,” Verity cheerfully offered.

At that point, Draco walked out, looking surprised. “A Gryffindor gathering, I see.” He waved a hand, an indifferent expression on his face, and continued towards the storage room. “Don’t mind me. Carry on. I’ll have to check the stock in the back.”

“I’ll help,” Verity volunteered.

George tried to look Draco in the eye, but Draco walked away too fast, and George stared at Draco’s retreating figure.

“You, er, hired him?” Lee asked, looking aghast.

“Yeah,” George replied, still staring at the door Draco disappeared behind.

“Why? Have you gone barmy?” Lee persisted.

“No, I haven’t. Now about that party. Count me in.”

Angelina looked at him in surprise, and Lee quickly grinned and looked at her. Lee gleefully said, “Pay up!”

George pretended to look really angry. “So I’m now an object to gamble on?”

“Naw. You’re just a friend we all worry about,” Angelina said.

“Whatever,” George muttered, rolling his eyes.

Verity walked back out. “Still here? You can go, Mr Weasley. We’ll make sure this place doesn’t burn down.”

“Thanks, Verity,” Angelina exclaimed. She grabbed George’s arm and dragged him up to his room. “Let’s go spiff you up.”

As Draco worked out in the front, his mind wandered to what Lee had said earlier. George was going to go to a party of some sort, and he had plans to get laid.

Somehow that idea made Draco feel jealous, and he forced himself to not look disgruntled about it. After all, why should he be jealous? What George did in his private life was none of Draco’s business, so he really had no reason to feel unhappy at the prospect of his boss getting some.

Really, he didn’t, but Draco still felt unsettled by the images of George making out with some random guy at the party.

“Ya all right there?” Verity asked.

Draco smirked, pretending nothing was wrong. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“O~kay,” she said in a singsong voice, obviously not believing him. She didn’t push the issue, and they both cleaned up and closed the store.

Outside, after making sure the entrance was locked, she slapped his shoulder. “Have a good night and don’t be so moody!” She flounced off to the direction of the Leaky.

He shook his head at her antics, chuckling slightly to himself. He was about to Apparate home, but he stopped himself. He really didn’t want to head home just yet. He felt too tense to go home, so he opted to Apparate to this nearby park he discovered a couple of weeks ago.

He came into a hidden clearing with a loud pop, and he walked out into the open, enjoying the tree-filled lanes and the peacefulness of the park. He walked past Muggle couples, youths on some sort of rolling contraptions, and children who were running around with their parents. Slowly, he strolled over to an unoccupied bench. He sat and breathed in deeply to smell the scent of nature. He was glad it wasn’t that warm out, and with the nice breeze around him, he relaxed his posture and lazily watched the scenery.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, he heard a familiar voice saying, “Higher, Grandmamma, higher!”

The voice came from behind him, so he turned around and saw Teddy riding the swing with Andromeda pushing him. Teddy let out a squeal of delight as he soared high in the sky, but since he hadn’t mastered the art of leg pumping, he didn’t go as high as he could. Draco watched the way Teddy acted, so happy and innocent. Watching his little cousin enjoying a more carefree childhood than his own, Draco felt warmed by it.

Draco turned to look at Andromeda, and he noticed that while she looked happy, there was a bit of wistfulness lingering on her pretty, aged face, especially when she briefly looked at the happy couples and families around her. Draco knew that his aunt was most likely thinking about her husband and her daughter.

He wasn’t sure why, but he stood up and headed towards them. Maybe it was loneliness. Or maybe it was the prospect of trying to strengthen his relationship with them, but Draco waved as he neared them and said, “Hello, Aunt Andromeda. Hello, Teddy.”

“Draco!” Teddy joyfully said. With his short leg, he reached out to stop his swinging, and he jumped off the seat.

On instinct, Draco knelt down on the ground, and Teddy ran straight into his chest. “Oof!” Draco pretended to almost fall over from the impact, which made Teddy giggle more.

Andromeda came towards them. “Hello, Draco. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

“Oh, I just decided to stop by here after work to unwind.” Draco stood up, with Teddy in his arms. “What brings you two here? Other than the swing?”

“We live nearby. This is the park Nymphadora used to play in when she was little, and it’s not surprising that Teddy here loves it.”

“Yeah! I love this place. Grandmamma always push me on the swings! She tells me to pump my legs.”

Draco chuckled. “I see you’re having fun.” He tousled up Teddy’s red hair, which reminded him of George, and he tried not to think of his boss right now.

“Yeah! But I wanna go home. D’you wanna come? I wanna show you my toys!”

Draco and Andromeda shared a look. Andromeda spoke up first. “We would love for you to come over for tea or something. Did you have supper?”

Draco hesitated. While it was true his mother and his aunt had made contacts with one another by owl correspondences, it was unfortunate they hadn’t met up yet. He wasn’t sure if he should go to their house before his mother, but he figured his mother had plenty of chances to visit Andromeda, so he decided to accept the invitation. Moreover, it wasn’t as if he had plans.

“I’d love to. And I’d love to see your toys, Teddy.”

Draco nearly lost all hearing in his ear as Teddy screamed in it. He didn’t care, though, and he carried his cousin all the way to the house.

For the rest of the evening, he played with Teddy after supper. Teddy had plenty of Muggle action figures and stuffed animals to play with, and they acted out various scenes. At one point, Teddy played Albus Dumbledore and Draco played Gellert Grindelwald, and the two of them pretended to fight each other until they were both too busy laughing. Soon, after Teddy was tucked in, he and his aunt talked for a while over tea. It was a pleasant evening. Draco felt happy to be reconnecting with this branch of the family. Yet he couldn’t help but think of George and think that something was missing.

“Angelina? M’not wearing those leather trousers,” George deadpanned.

“Why not? You’ll look great in them!”

“No.”

“Lee!” Angelina whinged. “Help me convince him.”

Lee backed away with his hands up. “Don’t involve me with fashion. If he wants to wear them, he’ll wear them. Otherwise, let him wear what he wants!”

Angelina pouted. “Oh, fine! Wear something boring. See if I care if you don’t have guys lined up for you!”

“My charming wit will bring the guys in, anyway,” George said, giving her a cheeky grin.

As George changed into a nice pair of khakis and a button-down shirt — leaving the top buttons alone to expose his pale and freckled skin — Lee cocked his head and stared at George, who noticed the look and became uneasy. “Do I have something growing on my face? Why are you staring at me like I’m your next conquest? Never mind that I’m not a girl!”

“Nothing.” Lee made a face. “Even if you were a girl, I’d never shag you. You’re not my type full-stop.”

“Thanks a lot!” George exclaimed as Angelina sniggered.

“Anyway,” Lee continued. “You seem happier than before,”

“Excuse me?” George asked incredulously.

“No, really. You changed . . . makes me wonder if a certain someone did the trick.” Lee and Angelina shared a conspiratorial glance.

“What are you mumbling about?” George now sounded exasperated.

“Nothing!” the two chimed.

“Whatever!” George shook his head. “Are we going or what?”

The three Apparated to the club. They were greeted by Seamus Finnigan, who was hosting the party with his wizarding and non-wizarding friends and their friends and so forth so on. George looked around the crowded and noisy place. Music — or at least some sort of music — blared from the speakers, and he saw many couples gyrating and dancing with each other. Apparently sexual orientation didn’t matter here as he saw gay and straight couples.

One gay couple passed by him, and he saw a red-haired bloke with his blond-haired partner, and George felt something squeeze inside of him. He shoved that weird feeling aside, and he went up to the bar to get a drink. Since it was a Muggle establishment, they didn’t have firewhiskey, so he settled for some scotch on the rocks — the brandy selection was utter crap — and he drank it, letting the burning liquid go down his throat.

As he sipped on his drink, he watched Lee and Angelina with their respective dates. They looked like they were having fun, and George felt envious of his friends. His eyes scoped out the crowds, and he saw one pair meeting his. The grey eyes belonged to a stranger with brown hair. George smiled, and the stranger smiled back. The stranger walked towards George, while smoking a fag, and he said, “Hello there, handsome.”

George laughed, feeling at ease with the man. “You flatterer.”

“Oh? I only speak the truth. The name’s Dylan. You?” Dylan’s hand rested on George’s shoulder, and George felt its warmth and its strength in that large hand.

“George,” he managed to croak out.

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah. Are you alone as well?” George asked, trying to sound smooth.

“Oh, yeah.” Dylan leaned in closer, and George could feel the hardness of Dylan’s body at his side. “I fancy coming to places like this alone. It’s an adventure to meet new people.”

George let out a gasp when he felt Dylan’s hands on both sides of his hip. Really, it had been too long for George. He already could feel aroused by Dylan’s touches and his sultry voice. George tried to maintain his dignity, though. “It sure is. Do you fancy somewhere a bit more private?”

“Sure. I’ve got a hotel room not far from here. Want to go?”

George hesitated. While he didn’t mind frolicking around with random blokes, he still couldn’t get rid of this unusual sensation inside of him. It felt almost as if his subconscious disagreed with what he was doing right then and now. Yet when Dylan began to nip at his neck, he shuddered and escaped from his momentary chasteness. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the hotel room was a blur as George only remembered wanting to go there as fast as he could. Once in the room, Dylan climbed on the bed first, dragging George up with him. They kissed roughly, teeth clashing and tongues fighting and seeking for dominance, to which Dylan finally gave in. Hands were everywhere. George’s fingers found Dylan’s nipple through his clothing. He teased it while Dylan’s hand disappeared into George’s trousers.

Things started to escalate as George dipped his finger in the oil on the nightstand next to the bed, where it soon began to pleasure Dylan in ways that made him scream and writhe in pleasure. Soon, George was the one gasping and moaning, and when they both reached the climax together, George called out Draco’s name. Dylan’s body was replaced with Draco’s own blond-hair and lithe form, and George only saw Draco,

As he slumped over Dylan’s body, he felt dazed and confused. Instead of feeling the post-orgasmic feeling he sought for, he only could think of one word. Fuck. It repeated throughout his mind as he realised that somehow, somewhere in the past couple of months, he had begun to fancy Draco Malfoy more than he ever expected to.

With Dylan now asleep, George fixed himself up and made his escape. For the rest of the night, he walked all over London and chain-smoked his lungs out as he thought about his newest predicament.

Draco stared at George discreetly from behind one of the cabinets in the store. A couple days ago, he’d been the one who avoided and ignored George because of his unexplainable feelings towards his boss, but now he noticed George doing the same thing. Or at least he thought George was avoiding him. Before, George had tried to talk to him, tried to make their eyes meet, but now George did neither.

It unsettled Draco. He couldn’t help but feel he did something to offend George. If that was the case, what did he do wrong? Was George upset that Draco had been ignoring him? Or did something happen at the party? That was the only logical conclusion Draco could come up with, but even if that party did have something to do with George’s current attitude, it didn’t really explain why George was acting that way towards him!

Despite all that, though, Draco still avoided George. Yet there were times when they had to work together when Verity went on her breaks. When alone, Draco often found himself staring at George’s large hands. He studied the freckles on the back — even seeing two that were attached to each other to form a shape of a peanut — and he studied the long, sturdy-looking fingers. He thought of those hands touching him in ways that should be inappropriate, and he tried to hide his blush.

However, the more he tried to avoid those thoughts, the more aroused he became. At one point, during his break, he even Apparated back to the manor to take a cold shower. A freezing shower that had him shivering at work for the next hour or so even with all the warming spells he cast!

It grew worse, though. His feelings towards George. Though, he wasn’t sure what was worse. His growing attractions or George avoiding him. Unable to determine the lesser of the two evils, Draco grew more and more distracted. Every time they bumped into each other, George’s robes would brush against his, their hands would grazed each other, and Draco even began to have nightly dreams of him and George doing some interesting activities in positions he wasn’t sure actually existed. He really wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.

A week after that day George went to the party, George reached out to grab something that was next to Draco’s hands. Their hands met for the umpteenth time, and Draco suppressed the urge to grab that hand he constantly dreamed of.

George mumbled something like “I’ll be in the workroom,” and he quickly walked away, leaving Draco alone with his lust-filled imagination.

Alone in the front, Draco allowed his forehead to bang onto the counter. He muttered, “This is going to kill me. I’ll die from obsessive wanking, and the wizarding world will have fun over that news. What a way to die.”

Verity, in her newest hair colour of green with gold tips, walked in, and Draco quickly straightened up. His eyes narrowed at the new hair colour and then eyed the magenta robes. She noticed him staring and beamed. “Like my new hair colour?”

He nodded. “It’s . . . different.”

“I decided on a symbolic look of combining Slytherin and Gryffindor colours.”

“A symbolic look?” He repeated.

“Yeah. I always think it’s neat how those two houses are polar opposites from one another, you know. One house is headstrong and brave; the other is more crafty and plotty.”

“I, er . . . ” He paused as he tried to follow her train of logic. “I see? But why combine them?”

She made a face at him, put her hands on her hips, and declared, “If you can’t figure it out, then I’m not telling!”

“What?” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“And I thought you were smarter than that . . . ” She muttered.

“Why are you insulting me?”

“Because I can.”

“Whatever.” Draco walked off to the loo, and inside he muttered, “I’m never going to understand how a woman’s brain works! Especially one strange as Verity’s!”

In the workroom, George let out a relieved sigh. Ever since his epiphany dealing with Draco, George felt like he’d been walking on a bunch of thorns. Really, he felt like a nervous teenager around Draco, and he forced himself to appear normal, but it was a bloody challenge!

Just the mere encounter of their hands about nearly made him want to pounce on Draco, and George couldn’t recall feeling like this since his days of having the world’s biggest crush on Oliver Wood.

Alone in the workroom, George lit a fag, and he tried to focus on his work. But that proved to be futile as every little thing reminded him of Draco. The grey letters on the parchment made him think of Draco’s grey eyes. The strawberry-cream filled biscuits he had were Draco’s favourite. The paleness of the parchment brought images of Draco’s pale skin in his mind. Even the magenta robes he wore reminded him of just how Draco looked good in that colour!

“Blast it!” George smashed the cigarette out, and he began to pace around the small room. He felt trapped and nervous. He felt like his skin was tight with tension.

He needed a good wank. That was what he desperately needed.

But he was not about to do it in his workroom.

Yanking the door open, he went downstairs to where Draco and Verity were. He was going to tell them that he was going to take a nap in his personal quarters, an excuse for him to take a long needed wank, but before he could open his mouth, Verity said, “Good timing, Mr Weasley!”

George blinked. “What’s up?”

“I’ll need your help to help with something,” she said, beaming at him and Draco. “I have something you two will need to do. Oh! It’s not here, though.”

At that moment, Angelina and Lee appeared. Verity continued with her instructions. “They volunteered to watch the store while we do this.”

George looked at his friend, and his eyes narrowed. He recognised the scheming look on Lee’s face. “Why are you two here all of the sudden?”

“We’re here to help with an important mission,” Lee announced with a grin. “Go ahead, Verity. We’ll be good!”

George knew he’d regret whatever was coming up, but he still followed Verity outside. Draco walked in front of him, and George couldn’t help but stare at the way Draco’s body moved under the robes. He dragged his eyes away and sighed at how he wished he was back in his personal quarters, jerking off to get rid of these sexual frustrations and fantasies he had about Draco.

The trio marched down the streets of Diagon Alley, and George felt conspicuous due to the strange looks and mutterings he received from the spectators, but he ignored them as he only followed his two employees.

Verity entered the Leaky, and she nodded towards Hannah, and then she led them upstairs to a room. Once they were in there, she swiftly walked out and charmed the door to lock.

Both George and Draco exclaimed, “Hey!”

From behind the closed door George heard her say, “Now, you two stay in there until you snog each other senseless or something more I will not dare say in public!”

“What?” Draco now stared at the door, looking quite horrified.

“Verity! This is ridiculous!” George growled out, pounding on the door. “Let us outta here!” He remembered his wand in his pocket, and he whipped it out and tried to cast a spell to open the door, but it didn’t budge. He looked at Draco helplessly, who tried a different spell to no avail.

“I can hear you two casting spells! Sorry, boys, but it won’t work. And I am not letting you two out. If I go another day with you two dancing around each other from sexual frustrations, I’m gonna be the one to go nuts. Have fun in there! Lee and Angelina will help me with the store. I told Hannah to let you out after she hears some interesting noises from this room. Ta!”

Draco and George awkwardly looked at each other. When their eyes met, George quickly looked elsewhere. He cursed himself, wondering if he was that obvious to the others with his strange attitude towards Draco He also cursed Verity, Lee, Angelina, and hell even Hannah for conspiring this sodding plan to . . . to what? To snog Draco? To shag Draco? What in the world were his friends thinking?

Feeling quite dazed from this turn of events, George walked over to the lone bed and sat on it hard. He covered his eyes with one hand, and through his fingers, he peeked at Draco, who was still standing near the door, appearing quite embarrassed and out of place at the moment. Draco also looked quite annoyed — if his thin lips pressing together were of any indication. George studied the slightly reddened cheeks, pondering on just how much redder Draco could get.

He pulled his hands away from his face. He avoided looking at Draco and cleared his throat. “So . . . er . . . ”

Apparently Draco decided to be blunt. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

George raised his eyebrows at the haughty tone. “What about you? Seems like you’re hiding something as well.”

“Humph.” Draco remained tight-lipped.

Since it looked like Draco wasn’t going to really make the initiative, George decided to be the mature one for once by being honest. “Fine, fine. I . . . er . . . ” Even though he’d planned to say it, it still wasn’t an easy thing to say that he fancied his employee. “I . . . erm.”

“You erm?” Draco repeated mockingly.

George rolled his eyes. “I fancy you! Though I doubt you’ll ever feel the same way!” He felt his cheeks warm up, and he knew — without a mirror — that his face was red. He avoided looking at Draco, and although it was too late to take back his words, as he waited, he desperately wished for some hole he could fall into and hide until Draco became senile.

“And here I thought Ron was the one who blurts things out without thinking,” was Draco’s dry response.

“Eh?” George looked up, and he saw a frown on Draco’s face.

“Well . . . ” Draco finally walked over and sat next to him on the bed. An ample amount of space was between them, though. “I guess we ride the same boat.”

“Huh?” George felt like an idiot asking for clarification.

“I . . . I prefer blokes, too,” Draco admitted.

“Oh!” Realisation dawned on George as he sputtered, “I thought you were supposed to do that pureblood duty thing. You know, the whole ‘get married and have an heir’ thing.”

“What about you?” Disdain dripped from Draco’s voice. “You’re a pureblood, too! Where’s your wife and heir?”

“Hey! Bill, Percy, and Ron can do that crap! I’ll just be the loving uncle who spoils his nieces and nephews.” George noticed they were drifting off topic. “But, er, yeah. I’ve been seeing you in a different light lately. I must say that being around you makes me rather hard.”

“Don’t be so crude!”

“I’m not!” George grinned cheekily. “I’m being honest.” He sobered and said, “And you . . . do you feel the same way?”

A long pause arose as Draco took his time to answer. “I . . . yes. However, I do not think it’s a good idea to fraternise with the boss . . . ”

George reached out to cup one of Draco’s still blushing cheeks. “Yeah, it’s not good idea . . . but what if you considered us to be friends first and then move on up from there? If you want, that is.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends. We haven’t been enemies, and we’ve already established a working relationship . . . let’s up that to friends, eh?”

Draco let out a huge sigh before he grabbed George’s hand, the one still on Draco’s cheek. “Fine, fine.”

George eyed the firewhiskey and two shot glasses on the nightstand. “Now, let’s drink and talk like friends, Draco.” He liked it. He liked the way the name sounded off his tongue. It sounded much better than Malfoy.

“But, Wea — George . . . ” Draco made a face. “Didn’t Verity say something about Hannah won’t release us until she hears ‘interesting noises’ from here?”

George shrugged. “I know of a good moaning spell. Let’s cast that later, after we get a few drinks in us and talk our arses off.”

“Does that also include a so-called snog or shag as well?” Draco quipped back, his grey eyes looking quite smouldering.

“If you want.” George eyed the thin lips, watching the tongue slipping out to wet them. “But I refuse to do it under these circumstances.” Honestly, he really did want to snog Draco right then and now, but not when both were tricked into doing it! George could see the humour in this — and yet he wanted to smack his friends — but he didn’t want to take advantage of this situation at all. No, George would do whatever he wanted to Draco at a different time and place.

“My, my. I didn’t know there was a gentleman amongst you Weasleys.”

“Oh, I can be more than that,” George said. He lit up a fag and started to pour them some drinks. “But for now, let’s drink. I think we deserve it.”

For the next hour or two they drank and conversed on everything regarding from Quidditch to joke items to their days in Hogwarts and even their likes and dislikes. Every once in a while, they’d cast the moaning spell, and in semi-drunken stupor, they sniggered and even called out each other’s name in exaggeration.

George at one point asked, “Think we’re loud and convincing enough?”

“Nah. Let’s make the bed move, too!”

More muffled laughter came out as they spelled the bed to creak and bang against the wall, disturbing the poor soul in the next room. They made plenty of noises, giving anybody an earful of their so-called shag. Eventually, they sprawled out on the bed, their hands touching against each other, and George stared up at the ceiling. He was happy. Draco felt the same way, and he couldn’t wait until they really did get together as a couple so he could snog and shag and do whatever he pleased.

It was evening, when Hannah let them out. She gave them an apologetic look. Her blush didn’t get past George, and that was when he knew that Draco and he had succeeded in making the entire Leaky believe they were having mad, animalistic sex!

As they walked back to the shop, George leaned over to whisper in Draco’s ears, “Help me plan a good revenge on those three.”

Even in the darkness, George saw the smirk on Draco’s face, and that stirred up his suppressed arousal in his groin. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll do something to get back at them.” Draco’s voice sounded silky; unfortunately for George, that only made him feel more lust towards his new friend and potential lover.

A few days after the Leaky events, Draco Apparated home feeling content. Another good work day came to an end. Now that Draco and George’s feelings were out in the open, Draco no longer felt uncomfortable working at the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. In fact, they both would joke around, and whenever Verity wasn’t nearby, they whispered and tried to come up with the joke of the century to pay back Verity, Lee, and Angelina. They didn’t come up with anything unique or special, though, so they continued to plot for the prank.

In between all that, Draco and George continued to talk more about themselves, ate their meals together whenever they could, and helped each other come up with more products for the store. Working and being friends with George felt a bit odd for Draco at first. He never really had a friend like this. In the past, Crabbe and Goyle were more of his bodyguards than friends. Pansy was too possessive and clingy for his liking. And he never really got to know his other housemates because of the impending war and the sides they all took. So Draco never really had the chance to have a friend he could consider in a deeper sense. With George, things just happened naturally, and Draco went with the flow.

As he freshened up in his room, he hummed a song George had been singing earlier, some new Weird Sisters’ song, and he quickly went to the dining room and greeted his mother with a kiss.

They ate, and his mother asked him about how his day went, and Draco did the same. It was around dessert when his mother said, “I’ve invited my sister and little Teddy for dinner here in two days.”

“Oh?” Draco nodded with a stoic expression, but inside he felt glad that his mother finally made the next step. Though he wondered why his mother took so long. What was she doing? Counting all her expensive china so she could show them to his aunt? “That’s great, Mother.”

“I also invited Mr Potter, who accepted the invitation.”

Draco forced himself to maintain his neutral face. Great. Potter would be in his home soon. He only hoped Potter wouldn’t bring any of his wild adventures — like the ones he went through in Hogwarts — here. “That’s nice.”

“Also, do invite Mr George Weasley as well.”

At that moment, Draco had taken a sip of his wine. It took every upbringing in him to not spit it out. “Mother!”

“What’s the matter?” she asked, giving him an innocent look. Draco didn’t fall for it. He knew his mother was up to something. “He’s your boss. He gave you an employment opportunity, so I think it’s only fair to invite him, yes?”

Draco coughed before answering. “I suppose.”

“Besides, I want to meet the man who my son has fallen for.”

Draco’s mouth dropped opened. “Mother!”

“Am I wrong? I’ve seen the way you’ve been acting these past weeks. I know when your heart’s been taken by someone.”

“I . . . ” Draco blushed. He knew that arguing against her would lead him nowhere. Yes, his mother was definitely craftier than Voldemort ever would be. He let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, Mother. I’ll invite him.”

Therefore, Draco found himself inviting George, and to Draco’s surprise, George accepted easily. However, he still warned George about his mother. “I should let you know . . . she figured out that I like you.”

“Oh.” George paled a bit. “Then I guess I shouldn’t bring any samples of my products to her.”

“Right. I don’t think she’ll appreciate them.”

George brightened up at his next words. “However, I can say they are for Teddy!”

“Don’t spoil him now.”

“Aw, come off that high horse. You were probably more spoiled than Teddy is!”

Draco sniffed. “Oh, shut up.”

George smiled and placed his hand on top of Draco’s. “Don’t worry. I’ll woo your mother into thinking I’m an absolute angel.”

Draco responded with a strange look. “I’d love to see that.”

Although George would never admit it to Draco, he felt very nervous Apparating to Malfoy Manor the night of the dinner. Before he did, he checked himself out in the mirror, making sure nothing was out of place. He made sure he had his gifts, and he reluctantly even opted to not bring any of his fags with him. When he found himself in the elegant waiting room, he regretted his decision as his worries made him chew on his gum rather hard. But then he remembered that gum was also considered rude, so he quickly spat it onto a piece of parchment before Andromeda, Teddy, and Harry Flooed in.

“Hey, George!” Harry greeted him. “It’s been a while!”

“Uncle George!” Teddy rushed over, throwing his arms around George’s waist. He eyed the bag Teddy was carrying. “What’s that?”

“Now, now, dear,” Andromeda said. “Let’s not be rude.”

“Okay, Grandmamma.” Still, Teddy eyed the bag.

George greeted Andromeda, and Narcissa and Draco walked in then.

“Welcome!” Narcissa said, going up to her sister. The two kissed each other on the cheeks, and Narcissa bent down to greet Teddy. “And you must be Teddy. My, aren’t you a big boy.”

“Yeah!” Teddy beamed. “I’m three!”

George watched the way Harry and Draco eyed each other warily.

“Potter, welcome,” Draco said stiffly.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Harry replied with equal amount of stiffness.

“Oh, Mr Potter. Thank you so much for coming,” Narcissa said smoothly.

Harry smiled at her. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Narcissa then turned toward George. Their eyes met. Her cool blue eyes contrasted with his brown ones, and he suppressed a shiver that wanted to overcome him. Quickly, he reached into his bag, and he brought out a bouquet of dark pink roses — fresh from Neville Longbottom’s nursery. “Mrs Malfoy. I wanted to thank you so much for this lovely invitation.” He handed the flowers to her, who gave him a surprised look.

“Oh, thank you! But you didn’t need to do this.” She accepted the flowers and gave him a pleased look. She snapped her fingers and a house elf appeared. The house elf wordlessly took the flowers, and Narcissa said, “Please put it in my personal chambers.”

“Yes, my mistress! Libby will do so!” With a crack, she disappeared with the flowers.

Draco walked over to George. Draco’s slender fingers grabbed his hand, squeezing it. George looked into Draco’s eyes, and George came to the conclusion that he had jumped over the first step without any problems.

Harry saw their exchange and said, “I guess the rumours are true? Especially the . . . ah . . . the Leaky rumour?”

George and Draco both glared at Harry who shrank back a bit.

Teddy spoke up, his large eyes looking between Draco and George. “Are you two boyfriend and boyfriend?”

“Teddy!” Andromeda gave an apologetic look towards them. “That’s not polite.”

“But Grandmamma . . . they are acting like Ron and Herminny and Harry and Nev and Bill and Flower. It’s just means they really like each other, right? Right, Grandmamma?” Teddy’s simple acceptance brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Even Draco’s face softened at Teddy’s questioning. It was funny how Teddy, only three, seemed to know more compared to other children his age. George and Draco later talked about Teddy’s maturity, and they both wondered if it stemmed from Teddy’s werewolf genes or not. Or maybe, they thought, Teddy was just a smart child.

In the meantime, George watched Draco kneeling down in front of the young boy. “Right, Teddy,” Draco said. “We do like each other.”

“Then do you still like me?”

Draco chuckled. “Of course I like you. We’re family.”

“Okay!” Teddy grinned, and everyone relaxed.

George remembered his bag, and he handed it over to Teddy. “For you.”

“Yeah!” Teddy looked inside and saw all the sweets and the joke items. “All for me?”

“Well, sort of. Share the sweets with your grandmother.”

“Okay!”

“And . . . ” George caught Andromeda’s warning stare. “Don’t use the joke items on your grandmother.”

“I won’t! I’ll use it on Harry! He likes them!”

“Now,” Narcissa interjected, “let’s all eat.”

The meal went better than Draco had expected. Narcissa and Andromeda conversed with each other. Harry, George, and Draco discussed some Quidditch news amicably. During all that, Teddy would pipe up and ask questions, making everyone laugh at the way he interpreted the answers like a child would.

At one point George whispered to Draco, “Did I win your mother over?”

Draco nodded. George definitely won some points with her with the flowers, and Draco really was pleased by George’s thoughtfulness. He was also impressed by George’s gifts to Teddy. “Yes. You did. She didn’t chew you out, so you made a good impression.”

“Great!”

Everyone was soon stuffed and satisfied. Narcissa and Andromeda excused themselves first and disappeared into the sitting room.

“Now,” Draco looked at the remaining guys and young Teddy. “We have extra brooms, and tonight’s weather is actually quite nice. I also owe Teddy a broom ride. Anybody want to join us?”

“Broom ride!” Teddy squealed. “I want to fly!”

Harry agreed in a calmer tone. George hesitated, his eyes showing the conflicted emotions. Draco remembered how George said he hadn’t flown for a while. Draco had suspected that it dealt with Fred’s death. Before he could say otherwise, though, George agreed. Draco gave George a comforting squeeze of the hand, and he led them outside. “This place is warded, so nobody will see us flying. He pointed at the brooms nearby. “Pick your choice.”

Teddy jumped up and down in excitement, and when Draco readied the broom, he helped Teddy to sit in front of him. “Hold on tight!”

“I will!” Teddy shouted.

Draco gave a strong kick, and they soon soared through the air, with George and Harry nearby. Teddy’s happy laughter and shouts punctuated the otherwise quiet area, and Draco grinned. He remembered when he first went up on the broom with his father, and he’d never forgotten that feeling of the wind rushing past him, remembering the adrenaline-filled ride and feeling like an eagle soaring majestically through the skies.

He knew this was what Teddy was feeling.

Later, Harry offered to have Teddy ride with him, and with Teddy not on his broom, Draco flew around with George.

“You know!” George shouted. “I never noticed it before, but you fly like Fred.”

Draco blinked. “I do?”

“Yeah. The way you hold the broom, that posture . . . it’s just like Fred.”

Draco felt something like dread inside of him. This wasn’t the first time he’d been compared to Fred. While it wasn’t a bad thing per se, it didn’t leave him screaming for joy either. However, he decided to just accept what George said. “Thanks!” He figured he’d deal with the Fred thing later.

“You know . . . seeing you interact with Teddy . . . you’re really good with kids.”

“I think it’s just with Teddy.”

“Whatever’s the case . . . ” George’s face lit up. “I just thought of an idea! I’ve thought of the perfect prank to get back at those three!”

“You did? Tell me!” Excitement filled inside of him, and they flew further away from Harry and Teddy to talk amongst themselves.

After Draco agreed to the brilliant idea, he whispered, “How do you feel flying?”

“Like coming home,” George said, looking a bit sad. “I did miss it, as much as I miss Fred, but flying is really a wonderful thing to experience. I . . . I don’t think I could ever play Quidditch again, though. At least not as a Beater.”

“I understand,” Draco softly affirmed, and he did.

George gave Draco grateful look. “Thanks, Draco. Thanks for reminding me how much I’ve missed flying.”

“Draco!” Teddy’s voice broke the serious mood they were in. “I want to ride with you! Harry’s gonna show me the ‘Wonky Fen’!”

George and Draco both laughed at the way Teddy butchered the name of Viktor Krum’s signature move, and they both flew back to where Teddy waved impatiently from Harry’s broom.

“Are you ready?” George asked. Today was the day. Today was the day he and Draco would play that prank on Lee, Angelina, and Verity. He felt excited. Just like all those times he and Fred conspired their finest pranks, he felt the thrill at the upcoming event. Really, doing this with Draco almost felt like Fred was back with him, and George felt happier than he had in months.

Draco nodded, looking quite unwell. “Yes.”

They entered the front from the workroom, greeting Verity.

She eyed Draco. “Are you all right?”

“I . . . ” Draco rubbed his stomach. “I think so . . . ”

She looked at him with doubt in her eyes. “I dunno. You look like you need to go back to bed.”

George put on a worried face. “You want to . . . ?” But before he could finish, Draco dashed off to the loo. George and Verity heard the muffled noises of retching and the toilet flushing. When Draco came out, looking very pale, George’s face tightened. “That does it. I’m taking you to St Mungo’s!”

“I’ll be fine,” Draco protested.

“No, you’re not fine!” George looked at Verity. “Can you call Lee and Angelina and ask if they can cover for us?”

“Of course!” Verity quickly had them come. Lee and Angelina soon came into the store, looking worried. It was a good thing both Lee and Angelina worked night jobs currently, so their mornings and afternoons were free.

“What’s up?” Lee immediately asked.

“Draco’s not well,” George said, with a grim expression. “I’m taking him to St Mungo’s.”

Angelina glanced over at the still pale Draco. “Right. We’ll stay as long as you need us.”

George grabbed Draco by the arm, and he slowly led them out of the store. When they were near a hidden alleyway near St Mungo’s, George quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm and a Silencing Charm on them. George burst out laughing.

Draco laughed as well. “I think we fooled them.”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait until we deliver the final scene.”

“I can already imagine their reaction. It will be great. I must say you are pretty sneaky . . . a very Slytherin trait for a Gryffindor like you.”

George smirked. “Well, the hat did tell both Fred and me that we’d be perfect for that house, but we both argued against that idea.”

“I’m glad you guys did! The Slytherin dungeons would not be standing if you two were there.”

Draco leaned against the wall of the building, letting out a satisfied sigh. George stepped closer to Draco, and with his hands, he trapped Draco against the wall. Putting on a fake glare, he declared, “The dungeons would still be standing even if we were there.”

“Promises, promises.”

George leaned in closer until there was barely any space between them. One of his hands reached out to stroke Draco’s pale cheek, which still looked a bit sickly from a spell Draco had cast earlier. “Here’s a promise I can fulfil right now.”

Draco’s voice hitched. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “What?”

“This.” George closed the remaining gap and started a slow, teasing kiss. He heard Draco’s soft moan of pleasure, and George grew more excited as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing Draco’s lips, which soon parted. Taking that as a permission, he slipped his tongue inside Draco’s mouth, and his tongue entwined with Draco’s. That made something in his groin come alive, and George soon was groaning into Draco’s mouth.

When they parted, Draco said breathlessly, “You kiss well.”

“Of course. Name something I’m not good at!” George said, his lips trailing down to suck on Draco’s neck.

“Mmm. Your handwriting is quite atrocious.” Draco tilted his neck, giving George more access to the delicious skin there. One of George’s legs slipped in between Draco’s, and it stayed there comfortably as he started to suck the skin on Draco’s sensitive and willing neck. He felt Draco’s strong grip on his shoulder, his robes being scrunched up in Draco’s hands, and that somehow turned him on more.

“Of course my handwriting is crap. I’m an inventor. Not a professional penmanship person.”

Draco’s groan excited George, so he dared to unbutton the robes a bit and allowed his hands to explore the chest and the torso there. “G-George! We’re in public!” Draco hissed, which didn’t sound as effective considering their current predicament.

“We’re blended into the wall.”

“But still . . . ah!” Draco cried out when George’s fingers found one of the nubs. George lightly pinched and twisted it, turning it into a hardened pebble.

“You like it?” George grinned and move onto the other nipple.

“Shut up . . . ” Draco shuddered out, his sensitive body writhing against George’s. “As much as I enjoy this . . . can we please not do it in public?”

“Not an exhibitionist, are you?” George teased before he gave Draco another kiss. Then he let go and stepped back with a sigh. “Fine, fine. But what are we going to do to make the time go by? We can’t return to the store this soon.”

Draco glared as he fixed his robes and his appearance. “I don’t know. But next time you do this, please do it in a private room!”

“Oooh! You didn’t want me to stop, right? That’s why you’re pouting.” George enjoyed this. Teasing Draco like this was quite exciting and amusing. It was as if nothing really fazed him, but now George knew just the way to break that icy exterior.

“Oh, piss off.” But Draco smiled a bit. “You know . . . you do overwork yourself too much at time. You should relax more.”

“You can help me with that!” Draco’s reaction to that was to whack George on the head. “Ow!”

Draco continued as if he hadn’t hit him. “Let’s go on a date. For all this trouble you put me through, you owe me a dinner at that new, ritzy restaurant in Hogsmeade.”

Now, George pretended to pout. “Spoiled brat.”

“Yes, and I’m your spoiled brat.”

George sniggered. “Okay. It’s a date. Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight.”

“Excellent.”

Draco gave George a devious smirk. “Do I still look as if I’ll need to spend my time in the loo?”

“No, you look quite ‘pleased’ with that glow.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco opened the door to the store, and they entered and saw three worried faces behind the counter. Verity spoke up first. “Are you all right? What they say? You got a bug of some sort?”

“Well,” Draco drawled out, clutching his stomach. “Not a bug per se, but I do have something.” He took a peek at George, nearly smirking at the proud look at George’s face.

“What?” both Lee and Angelina asked.

Draco and George looked at each other before Draco answered, “We’re expecting a child.”

For the next minute or so, nobody said anything. In fact, it was so quiet, that Draco could literally hear the store’s clock ticking away. When the three finally overcame their shock, they all started exclaiming various statements.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” This was Verity. Her mouth was opened so wide, that Draco wondered if he should start throwing stuff in there to practice his aim.

“No way!” Angelina’s eyes bugged out from her face. Draco couldn’t help but think this was a good look on her.

“That’s bloody impossible!” Lee’s antics were the most amusing. With his hands on his head, he started to pace back and forth.

Draco retorted at the last comment. “That’s not impossible at all.” He gave them a scowl. “We’re wizards! Anything is possible.”

“Yeah, but a man getting pregnant is not one of them!” Lee said, looking quite ill, probably at the idea of a man carrying a baby. He stopped pacing and looked warily at Draco’s stomach. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Oh, it’s a girl,” George piped out. He grinned in a silly manner and reached out to rest a hand on Draco’s tummy.

“Right, so we’re going to have to go shopping for baby paraphernalia soon . . . ” Draco turned joyfully towards George. “Instead of pink, I want our daughter to have purple. I really can’t stand pink.”

“No way!” George disagreed. “I want red and gold to be her colours.”

“I am not going to let our daughter be in those hideous colours.”

“Well, she’s not wearing green and silver.”

Oh, for Slytherin’s sake. I said purple! Not green and silver.” Draco clucked his teeth at him. “Has the excitement destroyed some of your hearing?”

“I think pregnancy is already making you quite bitchy. Doesn’t that mood swing issue start later on?” George asked, looking thoughtful.

“Uh, guys,” Lee interrupted, his eyes now gazing at Draco’s stomach. “Did you tell your . . . families yet?”

By now, Draco really had to bite his lips to prevent the laughter that was threatening to escape him. Really, their reactions were better than he’d expected. He and George shared a knowing look, and they both started to laugh.

“Whoah,” Lee muttered. “If having a baby makes the parents insane, then I don’t think I’ll ever have children myself.”

Draco laughed harder, which prompted a glare from Lee. Gasping, Draco tried to compose himself. However, one look at a disgruntled Lee had him starting again. “You tell them, George!”

“Tell us what?” Verity asked, a confused look gracing her face.

George quickly recovered and said, “We fooled you! Draco isn’t pregnant! You guys fell for it!”

“The fuck?!” This time Lee, Angelina, and Verity said this together.

Draco finally stopped laughing. “Consider this payback from before where you guys plotted us to be locked in that room at the Leaky.”

Verity gave them a dirty look, but it disappeared as she started to giggle herself. “I can’t believe we fell for it. I mean, really. Men can’t get pregnant!”

“Not yet, anyway,” Angelina said. “I guess we deserved that joke. I must say . . . it was quite brilliant.”

Draco pointed his thumb at George. “Meet the mastermind of the prank.”

Lee sighed. “I should have known. Actually, I should have expected this.” He cocked his head to the side. “This was definitely something you and Fred would have come up with. Though the idea of you and Fred shagging like rabbits is very, very frightening.”

A disgusted look came on George’s face. “I know where your mind is all the time now. I mean . . . ew! Lee! I knew you were perverted, but this is beyond gross!”

They all laughed, and Draco, feeling funny at being compared to Fred, stopped laughing first. He looked at his new “friends” around him, and he felt happiness lingering in him. But something was off. Something he knew he had to confront sooner or later.

He decided it would be later. Right now, he had a date to look forward to.

Intermission

From the Journal of Fred Weasley
August 2001

Well, well, well. Things are finally moving around down there while things remain the same up here. I’m glad my twin and Malfoy are finally together . . . sort of. I have to say they are a better match than I expected. The prank they pulled off against the three had me laughing. When I told that story to the Marauders, Mrs Potter, Professor Snape, and Reggie, we all had a good laugh. Well, I should say that the Marauders and Mrs Potter did. Professor Snape and Reggie just looked rather sour at the whole male pregnancy thing.

I’m pleased by how happy my twin seems to be lately. Malfoy, too. As long as that Ferret doesn’t hurt Georgie.

The only thing left now is for them to really come together and do the mating ritual that they’ve managed to bypass before. But before that happens, I sense some kind of trouble brewing between them. A problem that I might have to help resolve by verbally smacking some sense into George. I think that time to finally use up my second visitation right will be here soon.

In the meantime, though, Reggie wants to play a round of Exploding Snap. I shall fulfil that request . . . only so I can beat him. Who knew a guy like Reggie would be an excellent player? Oh well. Better him than Aunt Rachel!

Part III: Looking Another Way

“Hey, Draco.”

“Hm?”

George grinned at how hard Draco concentrated on his work. Then again, he could not fault Draco’s work ethics. Things at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had never been more organised like before. The books were all in order, and since Draco had taken over writing the orders, businesses had stopped complaining about his horrible handwriting. Draco had the neatest copperplate. Everything was running smoothly with his business.

George was pleased, of course. He was also feeling less morose than before. Sure, he still missed Fred, but somehow the stabbing pain in his heart had lessened. He had Draco to thank for that. His family, especially his parents noticed, which led to what George had to ask Draco next.

“My mum’s been asking for you to come over to the Burrow. Would you like to come tonight? For dinner?”

Draco looked up from the books, a wary expression gracing his pointy features. “Well, I reckon it would be impolite to turn down your mother’s hospitality.”

“Is that your way of saying yes?” George teased.

“Oui, ja, si, hai, nae . . . ” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’ve said yes in French, German, Spanish, Japanese, and Korean. Is that sufficient?”

“You’re a wanker, you know that?” George wrapped his arms around Draco and planted an affectionate kiss on one of his cheeks.

“I try to be. But yes, I’ll go tonight.”

“Great!” George let go and was about to tell Draco one other thing before he heard Verity hollering from the front. “Whoops. The banshee’s calling me.”

Draco sniggered, and George walked out of the room to help Verity with whatever she needed. He figured he’d tell Draco later.

But he never had the chance. At least not until they were outside the Burrow. He turned to Draco and said, “Just to let you know, everyone’s here.”

Draco clutched at the bouquet of flowers he’d somehow managed to buy before they closed the store. “What do you mean ‘everyone’s here’?”

George began to count off on his fingers. “Bill’s family’s here, Charlie and his boyfriend’s here, Percy and his girlfriend, Ron and Hermione, Harry and Neville, Ginny and Dean, and my parents. Oh, and I think Teddy’s here, too. Andromeda’s busy with something, so I think Harry and Neville have been watching him.” At each names, Draco’s pale face turned paler, though it brightened considerably when he mentioned Teddy.

“That many people?” Draco looked very uncomfortable.

“Well, you know I have a rather large family.”

“Yes, but I just thought it’d be us and your parents . . . ”

“Not at the weekly gathering.”

“You just had to invite me to the gathering, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I want them to meet the man I’m dating.”

“I had no idea you were such a sentimentalist,” Draco said dryly, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.

“Now you know!” George cheerfully led them inside. In the dining room, he saw that they were the last to show up, but nobody noticed them at first.

Teddy’s happy “Draco!” halted all conversations, and all eyes were turned towards them. George saw several different expressions. He saw a few surprised faces, a couple of wary ones, a happy face, a neutral face, and one full out glare.

“What is this git doing here?” Ron gritted out.

“Ron!” Both Hermione and their mum exclaimed. His mum quickly stood and walked around the long table bulging with food. She stopped and gave George a hug. Then she turned to look at Draco.

“I’m happy you’ve decided to come over, Draco.”

George had to bite back laughter at the suave look on Draco’s face. In a silky voice, Draco brandished the flowers and said, “I thank you for the invite, Mrs Weasley.”

“Oh!” She accepted the flowers with sheer surprise and happiness, tears coming to her eyes. “Oh, dear! You didn’t have to do this.” Still holding onto the flowers, she crushed Draco and the flowers into a big embrace. Draco let out an “oof”, and slowly he hugged her back.

“Now, Mum. Let’s not hold up dinner any longer than necessary,” George said, helping her let go of Draco before he suffocated. “I’m starved!”

“Yes, yes! Have a seat!” She hurried off to the kitchen, most likely to put the flowers into a vase.

George squeezed in next to Bill, and Draco sat next to him. On Draco’s other side, Teddy sat there.

“Draco! I got a new toy today. Can I show you after we eat?”

“Of course,” Draco ruffled Teddy’s hair, making Teddy giggle. “I hear you’re staying with Po — I mean Harry and . . . Neville. Are you making them rip their hair out yet?”

“No! But they take forever to find me when we play Hide n’ Seek! I’m good at that game.”

His mum came back to the table then, and she said, “Eat up before the food gets cold!”

As he ate, he watched Draco. He’d expected Draco to look tense, but Draco looked rather relaxed as he chatted with Teddy about new toys. He looked at the others, and they all acted as if having a Malfoy at the table was a usual occurrence. Well. Almost. Ron still glowered angrily, but he and the rest of the family ignored the death glares directed at Draco.

At one point, it was Bill who asked, “So how’s the store?”

“Oh, it’s great!” George said. “Draco here is a big help. The other businesses . . . ”

” . . . don’t complain about his handwriting anymore,” Draco finished up.

“And with Verity still there . . . ”

” . . . who has some interesting colour choices . . . ” Draco interjected.

” . . . things are running smoothly.” George smiled as they shared a knowing look.

Everyone at the table stared at them. Ron spoke up first, “Why are you two finishing up sentences like Fred . . . Ow!”

“Ignore him,” Hermione said crisply. “Please pass the salt.”

George saw the slight frown on Draco’s face, but it was only there briefly. Quick as a Snitch, it disappeared, and Draco turned towards Harry and talked about Quidditch.

After that, aside from Ron constantly muttering under his breath, dinner went without a hitch. Draco and everyone acted civil. George considered it a success. He was pleased, and he wanted to show Draco just how happy he was by doing something more than just snogging, but he decided to wait. He wanted to do it when it was more special.

He smiled sardonically to himself when he was alone in his room later that night. Since when did he become such a sentimental sod? If Fred was still here, he’d surely tease George endlessly. Then George would find something to tease Fred about until both then turned to tease someone like Ron.

As George thought about all this, he felt a tug on his heart. He fell into a dreamless sleep, with Fred and Draco the last thing on his mind.

Draco was glad he survived that massive gathering last week. Although he knew things were still shaky — especially with Ron and maybe even Dean and Ginny, he knew that George’s family and friends were getting used to the idea of George dating a Malfoy. He was surprised that they were able to put the past behind and accept things as mature people. He was expecting the worse, actually, but the Weasley clan acted otherwise. Had it been a gathering of Slytherins to which he had brought George, he knew things would have turned rather unpleasant.

Thankfully, he survived that dinner, but something about it left him feeling unsettled. That one comment Ron almost blurted out gave him a revelation. He’d been trying to ignore and deny his gut instincts on the matter, but now he really couldn’t avoid it. He really wondered if George liked him or was only replacing him as Fred.

His stomach clenched at that realisation, and he knew he’d have to confront George one of these days. His only problem was how he should approach it.

The day came sooner than he expected.

Both Draco and George were working on a new invention, a project that made them stay up really late. In fact, they both had fallen asleep at the table in the workroom. Draco woke up first, groaning at the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. He glanced at George, who sat next to him, and Draco sniggered since George was drooling on the table. He shook the George awake, who woke up startled.

“Who, wha–?” George rubbed his eyes. “Oh. I guess we both knocked ourselves out here for the night. Good thing we’re closed today.” He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Draco’s cheek.

“Yeah. My neck’s killing me.” Draco grimaced as he turned his head back and forth. The kiss was nice, but Draco wished for something more. George really wasn’t taking the relationship much further. Draco wondered if he’d have to start the next step. He didn’t mind, but he decided he’d try something after he made his soreness go away. “Mind if I borrow your bath? I think I’ll need to soak in some hot water for a while.”

“Go ahead! Just don’t stay in there for three hours like before,” George said, reminding of their last all-nighter project. “You’re just like Fred. I swear, you two practically live in the bath until the water gets cold.”

Draco was about to ask George to join him, but that invitation all but disappeared as he stared at George. His stare slowly turned into a glare as he said, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” George looked perplexed.

“Stop,” Draco clenched his fists, “comparing me to him!”

“Who?”

“Fred!” Draco couldn’t believe how thick George was acting. “You’re comparing us. I . . . I don’t like it.”

George stood up quickly, and Draco followed, ignoring his muscles protesting his action. George gave Draco a hurt look and said, “Look. I dunno what you’re trying to say, but I don’t mean to compare you to Fred or to anybody.”

“You are, though. You . . . I . . . I feel like you’re only seeing me as a replacement for him.”

“What?!” Currently, George looked more upset as he lashed out with, “Why are you uttering crap like this? It’s . . . are you mad? Nobody can replace Fred! You’re fucking deluding yourself if you think your high and mighty self can replace my twin!”

“High and mighty?” Draco sneered out. “Is that how you see me? You prat!” He turned around and stalked off to the door. “Forget about your offer! I’ll just do it at my place.” Without waiting for a response, he left and Apparated to the manor in a huff.

As he paced around his room, his bath now long forgotten, he muttered, “How dare he say crap like that. Then again, I’m sick of him comparing me to Fred. Of course I can’t be Fred’s replacement! I’m not Fred! I don’t want him to see me as Fred. Why can’t he just see me as who I am?”

A knock on the door interrupted his tirade. “Come in,” he grumbled out.

The door opened, and Draco was taken by surprise at seeing Teddy. He then remembered that his aunt was busy with her work, so she asked if Teddy could stay at the manor starting last night.

Teddy stepped inside, looking around while he sucked on a finger and clutched onto a stuffed bear and a blanket. “Draco? Are you talking to a ghost?”

Draco wasn’t expecting that question. “Uh, no?”

“I heard you talking.”

“Oh. I was talking to myself.”

“Oh!” Teddy walked up closer, his blanket dragging on the floor. He eyed the sofa, and he climbed onto it, looking so small. “I do that, too. Talk to m’self. It’s fun, but it’s boring. It’s more funner if I talk with someone else other than m’self and ‘Harry Teddy’.”

Draco’s mind was probably still asleep since he had a hard time following what Teddy just said. Holding back a sigh, he sat next to Teddy, and he had to ask, “What’s ‘Harry Teddy’?”

“Oh? This!” Teddy stuck the bear in Draco’s face. “Grandmamma bought this for me. She called it ‘Harry Teddy’. She said both me and Harry’s name!”

Draco studied the bear. He still didn’t grasp why it would be called “Harry”. He touched the bear, feeling its fuzzy fur. It was certainly a furry bear, and Draco found it quite cute, but where did Harry Potter come into it? As he fingered the fur, he finally understood. Furry is equivalent to hairy. His aunt probably said the bear was hairy, and Teddy mistook “hairy” as “Harry”. Draco held in his laughter and said, “Well, I am very honoured to meet ‘Hairy Teddy’.”

“You want to talk to him? You can talk to me, too!” Teddy plunked the bear on Draco’s lap. “When you talked, you sounded like a lion. Are you angry?”

The lion reference reminded him of Gryffindor, which then reminded him of George, and Draco sighed. “I am a bit upset, yes.”

“At me?” Teddy’s wide eyes nearly melted him, and Draco couldn’t believe how a mere child could have such an effect on him.

“No! Not at you, Teddy.”

“Then Uncle George?”

“You’re only three. How did you know?” Draco teased, covering up his surprise at how astute a three-year old can be. Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised. He and George did discuss how Teddy seemed to understand adult concepts better than his peers.

“I’m almost four!” Teddy said indignantly. “But what did Uncle George do?”

“Oh . . . ” As Draco tried to think of a simple explanation, he figured out then just how stupid and how immature their argument had been. Actually, Draco wasn’t happy with the way he’d handled the argument, acting almost spiteful at the whole Fred thing. He chalked up his poor behaviour from the lack of sleep and his sore neck. Even then, he really shouldn’t have acted like that. He should have stayed and tried to talk to George about it, not blowing up like a hormonal teenager or something.

“Draco?”

“Oh, sorry, Teddy. Just thinking. George and I just had a silly fight.”

“Did he take your toys?”

Draco chuckled. “Nothing like that. We just had a misunderstanding. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Okay. You should! Grandmamma always says we should talk and use our words nicely. That’s why I talk with ‘Hairy Teddy’ and Grandmamma and Harry and Neville and you! I like talking to grown ups. With Mummy and Daddy gone far away . . . I have lots of other people to talk to.”

“That’s true.” Teddy’s innocent chatter hit him. Maybe he was too harsh to think he was being Fred’s replacement. Maybe he was just judging this wrongly and making stupid assumptions. It was obvious George missed Fred, just like Teddy was always missing his parents, and Draco wasn’t really thinking from their point of views. Then again, aside from Crabbe, nobody really close to Draco ever had died yet. How ironic that talking to a three-year old could open Draco eyes in ways he’d never considered before. It was also ironic that George Weasley and Teddy Lupin of all people were making him feel like he had a purpose in life again. He remembered just few months ago how empty his life had seemed, the endless black hole he thought he’d never come out of if it wasn’t for his mother giving him that push. Now, though, he had a lover, a little cousin he enjoyed being with, and a decent job that challenged him and brought him unexpected and fulfilling happiness.

“So now what?” Teddy asked.

Draco picked up the bear in his lap and rubbed Teddy’s face with it, making him giggle. “Now, how about some breakfast? Then a broom ride! Today will be your special day. We’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Yay!” Teddy hugged Draco. “You’re my favourite realtive.”

“Realtive? Oh! Relative?”

“Yeah! I’m glad we’re cousin one removed.”

As he burst out laughing, Draco ruffled Teddy’s hair. “Me too, Teddy. Me too.”

George scowled at the wall as he lit up a fag. Not only was he pissed off at Draco’s accusations, but he was tired as all hell as he walked out of the workroom and headed to his room, passing by Fred’s unchanged room. Upon reaching his bed, he threw himself on the mattress, and the bed squeaked and groaned from his impact. Still smoking, he now frowned deeply at the ceiling.

“Just what the fuck was that about?” George asked to the ceiling, expecting no response, of course. “Who does he think he is to think I’m mistaking him for Fred? Hasn’t anyone figured out that nobody, nobody can replace Fred? Fucking hell . . . ”

He stewed in anger for a little while before his eyes closed on him. He barely remembered to put his fag out as he allowed himself to get some kip.

A few minutes later, though, he was rudely “awakened” when a bucket of water was poured on his head.

“What the hell!” he spluttered, wiping his eyes as he looked his workroom for the person who was going to be his newest hex victim. When he saw it was Fred, he started to grin, which soon faded when he saw an unpleasant expression on his twin’s face. He transformed his face into a frown. “What was that for?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “You do. Stop being so thick.”

George let out a sigh. He felt happiness, sadness, and annoyance whirling inside of him. Happy to see his twin again, sad to know this was only a brief dream sequence, and annoyed at Fred’s cryptic attitude. “Fred, why are you here in my dreams? I mean you were here before telling me to hire Draco as the assistant. You wouldn’t tell me why before, but I’ve figured it out. You wanted us to get together, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, that was it. And it worked. Until both of you started to act like stubborn teenagers.”

“I didn’t act like that,” George retorted defensively.

“Okay,” Fred grinned. “Maybe not like that, but you should stop comparing Malfoy to me. I mean . . . come on. How can you even compare us without wondering how that’s possible?”

“I don’t compare him!”

“No, you do. Not all the time, but you do make comments that makes Malfoy feel like he’s my replacement.”

George looked away, his eyes flashing with emotion. He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he continued. “Do I really make it seem like I only see Draco as your replacement?”

Fred nodded. “But I know you don’t do it on purpose. It’s probably subconscious. After all, how can anyone not miss me?” He gave a cheeky grin, and George sadly smiled.

“Yeah. Only fools would.”

“Hey! Not nice! Then again, you’re calling yourself a fool!”

“Shut up!” George exclaimed, a grin appearing on his face.

“But really, Georgie. You need to move on. I think you’re doing pretty good so far, but you still need to jump over that invisible hurdle.” Fred reached a hand, which touched George’s cheek. It felt cool as George watched the fingers curved. “I hate how I can’t really touch you myself. Sucks that I can’t even pinch or punch you.” Fred casually put his hands on the back of his head while he toed the ground with his foot.

“Whatever you say, Freddie,” George said, trying to disguise the sadness at the fact that he couldn’t touch Fred either.

“Also, quit smoking! You’re lungs are probably black with all that inhaling you do! And one last thing? Stop treating my room as a shrine! That kind of weirds me out, you know? You treat me like I am some ancient deity of some sort. While I’d love for pretty birds to worship me as a sex god or something, I do not want you to enshrine my room like that!”

George rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. When are you gonna shag Malfoy?”

“Fred!” George now admonished Fred.

“What? You love the git, don’t you?”

“Love?” George sighed. What Fred said was the truth. Somewhere, somehow, he’d fallen in love with Draco. With the truth said out loud, George felt relieved. “How’d you figure it out before I did?”

“I’m your twin. I’m the older twin. That means I’m the smarter one.”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin . . . ” George rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Anyway, when are you planning on doing some shagging? And none of that fake crap show you put on earlier in the Leaky!”

“Are you always spying on me? Blimey, Fred! Are you gonna watch . . . never mind! Piss off! That’s none of your business!”

Fred sniggered. “Shag him soon! I think both of you are suffering from sexual withdrawal — hence that unnecessary argument you two had! Now, I’ve got to get going. Snog and make up with him, all right? Oh! One last thing. When you come up here, you owe Aunt Rachel ten hours of your marvellous company while I get to beat the pants off of Reggie at Exploding Snap!”

With that final statement, George jumped awake.

Groggily, he rubbed at his eyes, and out of habit, he reached out for the fags before he remembered Fred’s “request”. He snatched his hand away and instead just lay there, thinking about the dream he just had.

He felt bitter at the fact that Fred was dead. He felt bitter at the argument he had with Draco. But what he really felt deep inside of him was fear and dread. He didn’t want to lose Draco like he lost Fred. Of all the guys he’d been with, he felt the deepest connection with Draco. Maybe it was because they started off in a platonic relationship. Maybe it was because of Draco’s charming and sarcastic personality. Maybe, at the beginning, he had inadvertently seen Draco as a Fred substitute, but Draco was anything but Fred. Yes, he did see many similarities between Fred and Draco, but Draco had his differences, too. Draco was Draco, and George knew he’d be miserable if he and Draco were to separate. As Fred said, George loved Draco, so not having Draco would be pretty dismal.

A little while later, he left his room, and he stopped in front of Fred’s room.

After Fred’s death, George had only been in there once. He had cast a dust-free spell and other spells to ensure nothing went mouldy. Since then he hadn’t been in there because it was too painful for him to be in his twin’s room. In a way what Fred had said to him was true; he’d been keeping this room as homage, a shrine of some sort, but perhaps it was time to move on. He’d always grieve and miss Fred, but Fred didn’t want him to act like this.

Taking a deep breath, George opened the door and took tentative steps inside. He was greeted by the afternoon sun coming in through the window. The curtains there were in the deepest shade of navy blue, Fred’s favourite colour, and as the breeze wafted in, the curtains fluttered gently. He stared at the Falmouth Falcons poster on one of the walls. A smile crept on his face as he remembered how Fred had declared that if their joke shop ever failed, he’d take over the Falcons and rename it to “Fred Falcons”. George would always tease and say, “How about Freddie Falcons instead?” using Fred’s hated nickname. That would always cause Fred to throw a pillow or harder objects at him, and they both would start a fight that usually made the room turn into a huge clutter.

Just thinking about their fights made his chest hurt, but George ignored it and stepped up to the bed. He sat on the mattress and leaned against the headboard surrounded by pillows. Fred had loved pillows, and he always made sure there were at least five of different sizes, unlike George who’d rather have two and be happy. He gazed at the fake spider collection on the dresser. Both he and Fred liked all sorts of insects and spiders; it was a shame most of their family members didn’t share their enthusiasm, especially Ron. He smirked at the memory of how they had started Ron’s arachnophobia.

That then made him remember the beginnings of their plot to start up a joke shop. It was their second year in Hogwarts. They had created their first invention — a candy that changed anyone’s or any animal’s hair or fur into the brightest shade of pink. Mrs Norris had found a piece — which incidentally they left behind — and she had eaten it. They were thrilled to see Filch screeching his pretty head off at this one third year. But then the third year snitched on them, so Filch gave them a good chase. Luckily, they escaped into a hidden passageway in the castle, and once Filch was gone, they laughed and discussed about their future career.

Since then, they hatched jokes after jokes on unsuspecting victims. They were proud of their achievements. But the day he’d always remember and knew that Fred would always remember as well, was the day Harry Potter had given the Triwizard Tournament winning to them. Harry’s generosity was what allowed them to reach their dreams.

It was a shame Fred had died, though, leaving George alone with their dreams. George sighed as he felt tears in his eyes. He and Fred had always considered crying to be the antithesis of what they believed in. Laughing was what they always favoured. Crying was only allowed if they’d laughed too much. However, he decided to forget about their preferences, and he cried.

When he was done, he left Fred’s room. He planned to change the room into a guest room. He thought of Lee, thought of Angelina . . . and he thought of Draco. The room would no longer be Fred’s room. It would be just a room.

But first, he needed to send an owl.

By evening, Draco was exhausted. Entertaining Teddy all day long had been fun, but as someone who’d already didn’t sleep enough the night before, trying to keep up with a three-going-on-four-year old was enough to test anyone’s stamina! Draco was puzzled. He couldn’t comprehend on how someone so small can have enough energy for ten people.

As exhausted as he was, though, he still joined dinner with Teddy and his mother. Teddy chattered on about all the activities they did today, and Narcissa listened intently.

“Well, Teddy dear, I think you wore out Draco.”

“Wore out? He’s still wearing clothes, Auntie Cissa.” Teddy looked at her with a bewildered expression.

She giggled softly. “I mean I think you made him tired.”

“Really? Do all old people get tired quick?”

“No, dear. Just Draco.”

“Thanks a lot, Mother,” Draco huffed out, but he only pretended to sound annoyed.

“My pleasure, darling.” She took a sip of her wine.

Their meal was interrupted with a loud “Hoot”. Draco looked and saw a familiar owl landing next to him. He saw the letter and eyed the magenta envelope. George. He quickly gave a treat to the owl — ignoring the glare the owl gave him like last time — grabbed the letter, and said, “Please excuse me for a minute.”

Leaving the dining room, he stared at the letter for a minute or two before he opened it and read the very short letter in the barely legible writing.

Draco,

Thanks,
George

He clutched at the letter, trying to read in between the lines. It was succinct, and that made him nervous. Was George going to break it off? Was George going to fire him? Since when did he start to worry about such matters? If he broke up with George he could always get another guy, right? And another job, too, if someone hired him! But Draco knew he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to lose George at all. Plus, he liked his current job. It was nowhere near what he envisioned when he was younger, but it was a fun job. Each day was different, what with George’s constant pranks and Verity’s new colour scheme, and he surprisingly liked how his routine would be mixed with spontaneity. Was he turning into a Gryffindor? Then again, he was in love with one.

Love. Yes, he was definitely in love with George Weasley, and he didn’t care about the fact that he was a Weasley. Strange, since just a few years ago, he’d have Crucioed whoever told him he’d be in love with George Weasley of all people, but now he couldn’t deny that fact.

Shoving his worries aside, he went back to the dining room and sat at his spot.

“Anything wrong?” his mother asked.

“No. George just wants me to come in earlier tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“Draco?” Teddy started. “Can Uncle George come tomorrow? I want to play with both of you.”

“We’ll see,” Draco promised absent-mindedly. “We’ll see.”

Next morning came too soon for Draco’s liking. Inside, his stomach was doing the its own dangerous Quidditch moves, his throat felt like he had a Galleon lodged there, and his hands felt clammy like he was near a Dementor. On the outside, though, he tried to stay calm and stoic. He met George in the front.

“Morning,” George said first.

“Good morning,” Draco answered stiffly.

“Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Juice?”

Draco wondered if this was how a break up happens, though he had no idea just how beverages correlated to a break up. He shook his head. “I don’t need anything.”

“Okay. Wanna go talk in my room?”

“Fine by me.” At this point Draco hadn’t really looked at George directly, but now he tried to meet George’s eyes, who unfortunately turned around too quick. Instead, he followed George to the room. Once in there, they both sat on the bed. Draco couldn’t help but sense the similarity of their current situation to the Leaky incident. He rested his hands in his lap and stared at them.

George cleared his throat. “I want to apologise. I, er, all these times had no idea I’d compared you to Fred. That was never my intention. You and Fred are alike at times, but you’re not Fred. I . . . I . . . ”

Draco looked up then to see a bright red blush on George’s cheeks. “Yes? You what?”

“I love you. I mean. I love Fred, too, but not like that!” George quickly amended. “Please don’t think like Lee. I’m not perverted like him! I mean, I’ll never think of Fred like that! I mean . . . Merlin forbid! I . . . fuck. I’m bollocksing this up.”

George looked so flustered. Draco couldn’t help but feel pity towards him. He reached out to grab the side of George’s face, and his other hand rested on George’s jean-covered thigh. He momentarily paused to study the red hair and the red cheeks. It was a good match, surprisingly, as images of George in a tomato costume ran in his mind. Mentally, he shook his head, bringing his attention back to George. “Are you done rambling? I understand what you mean, and I . . . I love you, too, okay? And because of that, I think I was more upset with the idea of you seeing me as Fred’s replacement. I want to be your partner, your lover. Not your twin. I, I . . . ” Apologising was not Draco’s strong point. But he wanted to say it because he did mean it. “I’m sorry for overreacting and not talking about this with you in a mature fashion.”

George’s face softened at Draco’s explanation and apology. “I think we were both idiots yesterday.”

With his hand still on George’s face, Draco’s thumb began to trace George’s lips. They were chapped, and he felt the uneven ridges. George grabbed that hand and stilled it. “Can . . . I want us to . . . make love.”

Despite himself, Draco smirked. “So polite and gentlemanly now, aren’t we?”

“Oh, you . . .” George grumbled. “Fine! Can we shag?”

“You, my good sir, have zero skills in the wooing department,” Draco deadpanned.

“Ah, but I do have good skills in other departments!” With that George leaned in and captured Draco’s lips with his.

“Mmmph!” Whatever Draco was going to say next was muffled by George’s passionate and eager lips. He felt George’s tongue seeking entrance, and he let it in, his own hands burying themselves in George’s hair. The kiss deepened, the tongue in his mouth caused electric sparks that made him grow excited in multiple ways. Soon, though, he needed oxygen, a very important necessity in his life, and Draco broke the kiss. “Well, you’ve proven you can kiss well.” Panting, he ran his hands all over George’s hair and face.

George smirked, and Draco smirked back, fully intending to wipe that off George’s face. This time, Draco initiated the kiss, and he kissed fervently, even pushing George down on the bed. To get comfortable, Draco straddled George, and that was when he had proof on just how much George wanted him.

The kiss broke a second time when George flipped them over, and Draco found himself on his back. “Someone’s excited . . . ” Draco panted out.

“Yeah, and so are you.” George began to unbutton the robes, revealing Draco’s pale skin. Upon each revealing, George kissed the area, the kisses soon turning into light nips. Moaning, Draco arched his back, his sensitive body seeking more of George’s ministrations, his hands grappling to grab onto George’s own robes.

Their lovemaking progressed from there. It wasn’t long until Draco was being prepped gently and lovingly by George. It was painful, but Draco didn’t mind. He knew the pain would subside and be replaced with pleasure soon. When George finally entered, Draco was bombarded by all sorts of senses. His hands were entwined with George’s, his hair was all out of place, and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He could taste George when they kissed again. And when George began to move, Draco joined him, feeling like he was flying, but in a different way. As they both soared through the imaginary sky, Draco and George reached the goal together.

It was over soon, but Draco knew this was only the beginning of a change.

They lay there, cuddling together, basking in the afterglow, and George said, “I’m finally going to change Fred’s room to just a room. Also, I’m going to quit smoking.”

“Oh? That’s good. At least you’ll smell better from now on. And you’re changing the room?” Draco quirked his eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a guest room or something. Will you help?”

Draco teased, “With the room and helping you quit that habit? Yes, of course. Will I get a bonus pay for dealing with a cranky boss who’s trying to quit?”

“If you want. Or better yet . . . bonus sex!”

“And you said Lee’s the perverted one? I wonder who’s really the perverted one.”

“Shut up.” George then glanced at the time. “Shite! We’re have fifteen minutes to open up the store!”

Right on cue, they heard Verity’s loud voice calling, “Are you two up there or what? Do I needta get a crowbar to separate you boys?!”

“Coming!” George shouted, looking around for his clothes. Draco followed, at a much slower pace. His lower body felt quite tender. George noticed. “Take your time.”

Draco grimaced. “Yes, Mother.” He then remembered something. “Can you come over today to the manor? Teddy, who’s staying with us for a couple of days, asked for you.”

“I’ll be glad to.”

“Excellent. You can take Teddy up for a broom ride, today.”

“Why? Oh . . . oh!”

“Yes, you can be thick at times,” Draco sniggered.

“Whatever. At least I’m not the one with a sore arse.” With that George escaped the room, and Draco let him go for now. He’d plan a revenge for later. Right now, he had to hurry up and dress up. He didn’t want Verity to see him naked. And though he’d never admit it out loud, he also grew quite fond of the magenta robes.

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did Verity give me a scheming grin and thumbs up all day today?”

George took a sip of wine before answering. “What do you mean?” He kept his face straight, even though Draco could read him pretty accurately.

“What,” Draco’s eyes narrowed, “are you two hiding?”

“Hiding? Nothing!” George grinned.

“That grin says it all. Please, whatever you’re plotting, don’t do it here.”

Here was the fancy restaurant in Hogsmeade George had been manipulated into taking Draco to weeks ago. “But I have to! It’s part of my plan.”

“What plan?”

George smiled. He’d told Verity his plan, and she agreed it was perfect. He worried about one thing, though. He wasn’t sure how Draco would react. He took another sip of wine and he took a deep breath. “Draco Malfoy? Would you . . . ” he paused.

“This isn’t a marriage proposal, is it?” Draco asked curiously.

“Not really. Well, sort of?” George hurried on before Draco turned sarcastic. “I want to promote you, Draco. You deserve it. You do more than a regular shop assistant by doing the books, helping me with the invention, and promoting businesses with other companies. I want you to be my full-fledged partner in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”

George was tempted to duck his head. He didn’t want to see any negative reaction on Draco, but he kept his head up. Draco’s face was neutral, and that nearly drove George mad as he waited for Draco to say something. Anything.

“Will the store name change to ‘Malfoy and Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’?”

Well, that wasn’t quite a reaction George had expected, but it was better than Draco throwing hexes around or something. “If you want,” he said as calmly as he could.

Draco laughed. “I’m just kidding. We’ll keep the name the same. I . . . you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Like I said, you deserve it.”

“Well, naturally,” Draco said smugly. “I’ll be happy to accept your business proposal. Though I don’t see how this is different from a marriage proposal.”

“Oh, stop being a wanker,” George bit out, though he now smiled widely. “Now, let’s celebrate for real!”

The celebration went well. Draco and George talked about new business ideas over a delicious meal. Lastly, they had what Verity would call “wild monkey humping adventures” in George’s room.

As they lay in bed, George thought about how much things had changed since Draco came in to his life. Had he not listened to his twin before, he’d probably still be smoking, still be depressed, and still be the overworking joke shop owner who put up a false face to pretend he was a cheerful prankster. He didn’t have to do that now, and it was all thanks to his twin and Draco.

That night, Fred visited in his dream one last time.

“Hey, you. I’m glad you finally fixed your life,” Fred said as his greeting.

“Yeah, yeah. You want me to grovel at you, right?”

“That’d be nice, but it’s not necessary. I’m glad you and Malfoy found each other.”

“Er, how do you feel about him being my new . . . ”

“Business partner?” Fred finished up. “Good choice. My last suggestion regarding business is to hire that Nott kid in the future. He’s got a good head on him. He’ll only waste away in his current job.”

“Since when have you turned into a Slytherin supporter?” George teased.

“Oh, since I’ve met Reggie. He’s an amusing Slytherin. Unlike Professor Snape who’s anything but amusing. But hire Nott, will you?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Oh, whatever.” Fred gave George a bittersweet smile. “This is my third and final visit to you in this manner. Next time we meet will be when you finally leave here. I’ll be waiting for you, okay, Georgie?”

“Yeah.” George’s throat constricted, and the words could barely come out. “Fred . . . thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Fred’s eyes twinkled like before. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? Be happy. Live your life to the fullest and all those fun philosophical quotes.”

“I will,” George said, and he woke up. He looked down in his arms and saw Draco in his embrace. With a soft smile on his face, he kissed Draco’s cheeks and repeated, “I will.”

Epilogue

From the Journal of Fred Weasley
September 2001

Finally. Now George can live without my interference. I can finally relax here without worrying my arse off about him.

Now, all I have to do is maintain this journal, figure out a way to find someone else to be Aunt Rachel’s victim for the next century or so, and beat Reggie at that bloody game!

Oh, and I’ll still keep an eye out for George and Malfoy. Looks like Nott’s a nice addition to their business down there. Too bad I’m not there. Things would really be hopping if I were still alive!

Then again, maybe when they all come here, we can create a joke shop here! Hey . . . now there’s an idea! Plus the Marauders are here! It’ll be perfect! And I have plenty of time to convince the authorities here to open up a joke shop! Ready or not, the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes will have a new branch soon!

Ending Notes

– The whole “Harry Teddy” thing stems from this drabble I wrote (which can be read here: http://snarky-slytherin.net/id/drabbles/hairyteddy.html) and this is the teddy bear I was thinking of when I pictured it in my mind: http://www.christiebears.co.uk/images-cb/gallery/large/124.jpg.
– I’m aware Verity’s a bit different from what little is portrayed of her in canon, and I felt like since she really didn’t have much exposure in the book, I decided to add a bit to her character. I still see her as “proper”, but I figure once she got used to working at the WWW, she’d be more outgoing. Also, her hair . . . yes, she’s blonde, but let’s just say she went through a life crisis of some sort, and instead of buying a sports car or something, she decided to experiment with her hair.

Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them. — Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Five-year old Teddy, holding onto his daddy’s hand, skipped down the long corridors of the Japanese Ministry of Magic. He was so excited — so excited that his hair was turquoise, his happy colour. He was going on a trip, a portkey trip, and he couldn’t wait. He loved travelling by portkey; he didn’t mind that strange tug in his belly. He just found it fun that they could travel somewhere like that.

They entered a room, and a young Japanese worker greeted them with something dangling from his hand.

“Daddy!” Teddy pointed at the yellow Pikachu keychain. “Is that Pikachu going to take us back to England from Japan?”

Daddy tousled Teddy’s hair. “It will. When we both touch it, this man will activate it for us, and we’ll be in London’s Ministry of Magic.”

“Wow!” Teddy looked at the worker named Hangata with a grin. “Can I have this Pikachu, Hanagata-san?”

Hanagata chuckled. “Sorry. This belongs to the ministry. How about I give you this Charmander keychain instead?”

Teddy looked at his daddy hopefully, who smiled and said, “Go ahead. And what do you say?”

“Thank you!” Teddy hugged the keychain to himself. This was going to be his new favourite thing to show off. He loved Pokemon and their many species.

“Are you two ready?” Hanagata asked. “If you are, please touch the keychain. Mr Lupin? Teddy? Good luck in England.”

“Is this London, Daddy?” Teddy asked, his eyes huge as they looked around the busy streets. He watched the people pass by him, the red double-decker bus on the streets, and the English language all around him. He saw that the people were dressed differently here than the Japanese did. He didn’t see anybody wearing kimonos or anything of the like, but he did see colourful hairstyles and clothing that were wild like the ones he saw in Tokyo. He didn’t see any shrines or temples nearby like he did in Tokyo. London was different from Tokyo, yet he could sense that it was a busy and crowded place like his previous home.

“Yes, it is.” Daddy’s calm voice soothed him, and Teddy grabbed his daddy’s hand tighter. He didn’t want to get separated from him.

“It smells different.” Teddy sniffed at the air, and although he couldn’t explain how it smelled different, it did. In Tokyo, he smelled takoyaki, ramen, fish, green teas, and the cherry blossoms. Here, he smelled potatoes, meats, some different kind of tea, and some sort of a flowery scent that he wasn’t able to figure out yet. Tokyo had smelled very unique to his nose, along with Osaka and Kyoto when he had visited before, and now he sensed that London had its own scent. All of these new sensations intrigued Teddy. Daddy had explained to him about how Tokyo was on the other side of the world from London. Teddy was told that things were never the same from one place to another, so the new experience of being in London made some sense to him.

Daddy let out a quiet laughter “Are you ready to go meet your grandmother?”

“Grandmamma?” Teddy perked up. “I want to see her! I want to show her my new Charmander keychain!”

“Well, then, let’s go. It’s a short walk from here.”

“Okay!”

When they reached Andromeda’s house, Teddy met and saw many people there. There were many of Daddy’s grown-up friends. He lost count of how many legs he had hugged. Some legs were in trousers, some in jeans, and some were covered in robes. He liked the robes. They reminded him of kimonos; though the robes were less pretty than the designs and the colours of the kimonos.

With his grandmother, once she picked him up and hugged him tightly, Teddy could smell this flowery scent coming from her. She was warm and kind, and Teddy liked her immediately, even though he’d only met her once last year. He still loved his grandmother.

There was a party going on with many good food and sweets. Teddy looked at the foreign looking food, so different from the Japanese food he was accustomed to, but he liked them, especially the sweets. He always liked the Japanese chocolates, so when he tried the English chocolate, he was amazed by how much sweeter they were. He liked it. Then again, he and Daddy both loved sweets.

As the grown-ups talked amongst themselves, Teddy wandered around the sitting room until he ran into Harry, his godfather. His godfather had black hair that was wild. The hair fascinated Teddy. He always hated it when his hair needed to be brushed, but it looked like Harry never brushed his own. Teddy wondered if Daddy would let him not brush his hair, too.

“Harry!” Teddy squealed, running into the open arms. He laughed and giggled as Harry swung him around.

“You’ve grown so much, Teddy! What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s my Charmander keychain. Hanagata-san gave it to me! He’s the portkey man!”

“I see.” Harry nodded. Teddy saw a glint of happiness in the deep green eyes, and Teddy tried to change his own eyes to match that colour.

“Is it green?”

“Your eyes? Yes, they are. And your hair is now black. You’re pretty good at this.”

Teddy beamed at the compliment. He enjoyed his metamorphmagus ability. He and Harry talked until someone came near them, and Teddy saw it was a red-haired man with one ear. Teddy stopped talking, and he stared at the unknown man.

“Oh, hullo, George,” Harry said.

There was a sad look to George’s eyes, and Teddy remained silent. He was a bit frightened by George. He had never met a man with one ear, nor did he ever meet a man with such sorrowful eyes. But George was smiling. It was strange. Teddy always thought when someone was sad or happy, they were just that. Not both. He stepped back, bumping into Daddy.

“There you are, Teddy,” Daddy said. “Having fun with Harry?”

Teddy nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave George. “Yes.”

Daddy reached out and rested a hand on George’s shoulder. “This is George Weasley. He’s the owner of that joke shop I told you about. The one Harry is the sponsor of.”

“Really? He’s the owner of the WWW shop?” Teddy brightened a bit at that. Daddy had told him about the store and had promised to take Teddy there one day. But Teddy was a bit stumped. He’d imagine joke shop owners to be bright and bubbly, yet George seemed neither bright nor bubbly. But his mind wandered on, and another question popped in his head. “Are you named after Curious George?” That was the only George Teddy knew. Teddy loved those books Daddy would read to him. He’d always imagined that he was George and the man with the yellow hat was Daddy. Only, Teddy didn’t try to get into all those mishaps like George did!

George and Harry both blinked as Daddy laughed. “No,” Daddy explained. “I don’t think he’s named after that.” He turned to look at the other two. “Curious George is this character in one of his favourite Muggle book series. It’s a monkey that gets into a lot of sticky situations due to his curious nature.”

Teddy watched as George crouched down to his level. “I’m not named after a monkey, but I can act like one if you want.” Teddy giggled as George scratched his armpits and let out an “Ooh, ooh, aah, aah” sound. He then pretended to unpeel an imaginary banana and eat it. “How’s that?”

“You’re funny!” Teddy exclaimed, feeling more comfortable with him. Maybe being around George wouldn’t be as scary as he thought. He liked George’s goofy nature. “That’s not how Curious George acts, but you act like a good monkey.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t really like bananas. I prefer chocolates,” George continued.

“Me too! I like chocolates!” Teddy agreed excitedly. Aside from Daddy, he didn’t know that many people in Tokyo who liked sweets like they did. Teddy wasn’t sure why a lot of Japanese grown-ups didn’t like many sweets, but it seemed like the grown-ups in London liked it more, at least.

George reached into his pockets, and he pulled out a package of chocolate and gave it to Teddy. “Here, have some Chocolate Frogs.”

“Can I, Daddy?” Teddy asked.

Daddy nodded. “But that’s your last chocolate for the day. I don’t want you to spoil your appetite.”

Teddy took the Chocolate Frog, and he said, “Thank you!” He quickly ate the frog before it tried to escape from him, and when he finished he asked, “You own that joke shop, right? Can I see it?”

A dark look came on George’s face. It was really quick, but Teddy didn’t miss it. It was rapidly replaced with a smile, and George answered, “Yes. I’ll give you and your dad a special tour.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Woooow. This is so cool!” Teddy couldn’t keep his mouth shut as he walked up and down the aisle with Daddy and George. On the shelves he saw so many items that his eyes were crossing from trying to look everywhere. Next to each of the products were little monitors that showed the jokes’ effect on the screen. He watched one where a taco shaped treat caused someone to breathe out fire and fart really, really loudly. That was extremely funny, and Teddy found himself laughing and saying “Ewwww”.

He saw another product that transformed someone into a canary. That grabbed his attention. Although he had the ability to change his appearance, he had yet to figure out if he could transform into an animal. He looked at George hopefully and asked, “Is there one that can change someone into a Pokemon?”

“Er, a Pokeyman?” George looked bewildered.

“A Pokemon! You know, Pikachu? Charmander? Bulbasaur?”

“It’s another Muggle thing he likes,” Daddy explained, his eyes twinkling.

“Yeah!” Teddy pulled out his toy Poke Ball and showed it to George. “The Pokemon live in these things, and when I want to summon them, they come out of them!”

“Hmm.” George’s face changed into a thoughtful expression. “You know, while I probably can’t really do Pokeyman since I’ll run into some copyright issues, I can probably come up with some ideas equivalent to that.” A scheming look came on George’s face. “What do you say, Teddy. Do you want to help give me ideas?”

Teddy nodded, feeling proud that a grown-up was asking for his advice. “I’ll help!”

Again, Teddy saw a flicker of uncertainty on George’s face, but like before, it went away quickly. “Let me show you my inventing room. There’s a lot of stuff in there that goes ‘boom’, but it’s all harmless. I think you’ll like it. Especially the candy floss fireworks.”

“Okay!” Teddy couldn’t wait to see what was in the room. He was very fond of explosions.

After a long and exciting day at the shop, Teddy was tired and happy. He and Daddy came back with bags of free samples of George’s products, and Teddy couldn’t wait to try them all out. He’d wanted to try them out now, but it was bedtime. Teddy was too tired to beg to stay up longer.

Teddy snuggled comfortably into his bed; the same bed that came with him from Tokyo. The sheets were blue — his favourite colour — and his Pokemon blanket featuring the main characters covered him. When Daddy came back with a book to read, he said, “Daddy? I like George.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but why does he only got one ear?”

“Only have,” Daddy corrected. “That’s because he was in a fight with some bad wizards and witches before. One of them spelled it off of him.”

“Really? That must have been a big owie.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Daddy?” Teddy yawned. “Why does George look sad sometime?”

“Well, he lost someone important to him.”

“Like . . . ” Teddy paused, unsure if he wanted to ask about his mother and Sirius. He noticed that whenever they were mentioned, his daddy would turn sad.

Daddy nodded, giving a small sigh. “Yes, like your mother and Sirius. He lost his twin brother.”

“He’s a twin like Daisuke and Hikaru?” They were Teddy’s neighbours in Tokyo.

“Yes, just like them.”

“But George’s brother, Mummy, and Sirius are in that happy place now, right?”

“Yes, they are.” Daddy ruffled Teddy’s hair and opened up the book. “Now, let’s read a bit before you sleep.”

“Okay.” Teddy tried to stay awake for this nightly ritual. The only time they didn’t do this was when his daddy went off on his monthly business trip. Whoever stayed with him during the trip would read to him, but it wasn’t the same when his daddy read to him. He loved listening to his daddy’s soft voice reading the stories he enjoyed. His daddy was able to change his voice to fit the characters of the stories, making Teddy laugh. He called that skill “Daddy’s Voice-a-morpmagus Skill”.

Before he slept, he turned his hair into a mixture of violet and pink just like his mother’s favourite hair colours, and he thought about the shop and George. He hoped George would stop looking sad soon. He didn’t want the people he liked to be unhappy.

Teddy was supposed to be taking a nap, but he wasn’t tired. He didn’t want to take a nap. He wanted to play with his Pokemon and with George’s joke items. Quietly, after Daddy left his room, Teddy grabbed his toys and snuck out from his room. He crept downstairs, and he went into the sitting room. There, he played on the floor next to the sofa, and he quietly imagined and acted out his own Pokemon adventure. He pretended to be Ash, and he pretended to travel with Pikachu and his other friends. He and his other companions were taking a break by getting ready for camp in a forest, and he and Pikachu walked off to get some water from a nearby stream. There, he heard the running water and heard voices coming from the camp. Suddenly, Pikachu stepped on a balloon that appeared out of nowhere, and it let out a loud pop!

Teddy was startled from that noise. He was no longer in the forest. The loud popping noise he’d imagine was real, and he knew someone came over. In the kitchen, he heard three voices. Two of them were Harry — who was visiting — and Daddy. He wasn’t sure who the third voice belonged to yet. When the voices grew louder, Teddy realised that they were coming to the sitting room. He quickly gathered his toys, and he squeezed behind the sofa. As still as a mouse, he listened closely. The newcomer’s voice belonged to George.

“What brings you here?” Daddy asked.

Someone crashed onto the sofa, nearly startling Teddy out of his hiding place, but Teddy held his breath and remained still.

“I just told Ron that I wanted to close down the shop. For whatever reason, Ron yelled at me and told me to go take a walk to clear my head. I didn’t want to take a walk, so I decided to come here. I hope you don’t mind. I just needed to talk to someone who’s not family. I’m tired of my family’s nagging at times.”

Teddy’s eyes widened. George wanted to close his shop? Why? It was a wonderful shop filled with so many great stuff. Teddy didn’t want George to close it down.

“Harry,” George continued, “if it weren’t for you, Fred and I would have never opened the shop this quickly. On our behalf, I do thank you for all your support over the years, but . . . it’s already been five years, and it’s just been ruddy difficult running that shop without him.”

Fred? Was that George’s twin brother? Teddy wasn’t sure, but that was what he guessed.

“I understand, George. If you decide to close the shop, it’s your decision. I’ll support whatever you do. And it’s really nothing. I didn’t want that money,” Harry’s voice sounded heavy. Teddy wondered why grown-ups over here were always sad. The grown-ups in Tokyo weren’t like this, so why were the ones in London so depressing?

George spoke next, his voice sounding equally miserable. “I love the shop, don’t get me wrong, and I know a huge part of me will regret closing it, but . . . I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” It was Daddy suggesting that. “Ron and Verity can run the shop for you while you take a well-deserved break. From what I’ve seen in the shop, there are enough products in stock before you have to create more. So take some time off. See if this is what you really want to do.”

“Maybe . . . ”

Teddy couldn’t help himself as he shouted, “Don’t close the shop, George!” He heard someone yelling, and he heard the sofa’s coil squeak loudly followed by a loud thud. He crawled out from his hiding place.

“Teddy!” Daddy admonished. “Why are you here? You know eavesdropping is rude!”

“I’m sorry,” Teddy automatically apologised. He saw George looking a bit dazed on the floor, and he scooted over to him. “Don’t close the store, George. I’ll miss it.”

George gave Teddy a crooked smile. “Merlin, Teddy. You were behind there the entire time? You were so quiet. I’m impressed!”

Teddy knew this trick. He knew that grown-up trick of trying to distract him. His nanny, Megumi-san, did that whenever he asked her a question. His lower lips came out, and he said again, “Don’t close the shop. I don’t want you to.”

“Teddy, I think you need to go back to your nap. And we’ll have a talk about your eavesdropping behaviour later. Go to your room.” He heard the firmness in his daddy’s voice, and he knew he’d better listen, but he still gave George a begging look with his eyes.

George shook his head. “Your puppy eyes are very convincing. I won’t close the shop yet, but I do need to think about it. Now listen to your daddy, Teddy.”

“Okay,” Teddy answered quietly. He didn’t believe that George was telling the truth, but he saw the warning look in his daddy’s eyes. He quickly gathered his toys, and he went to his room. Climbing into his bed, he grabbed his stuffed Pikachu. He whispered to it, “I hope he doesn’t close the store.”

Teddy woke up with a start. He’d been dreaming of catching Pokemon. He’d just caught a Pikachu, and it had kept saying, “Pikachu. Pika? Pika, pika, pikaaaa!” But then it began to say something new. It was now saying, “Teddy? Teddy? Wake up, Teddy.” The Pikachu’s voice sounded suspiciously like his daddy, and that was when he woke up. Daddy was sitting on his bed, and Teddy felt something inside of him twist at the stern look on his daddy’s face.

“Did you have a good nap?” Daddy asked, his voice sounding gentle despite his expression.

Teddy nodded. He wanted to talk about his dream, but he knew he was in trouble at the moment.

“You know it’s very rude to eavesdrop on people, Teddy. And you were supposed to be napping, but instead you snuck out from your room to play behind my back. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Teddy hung his head, his hair turning back into its natural, dull shade of brown. He knew what he did earlier was naughty. He hated disappointing his daddy like this. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again.”

Daddy smiled, and Teddy tentatively smiled back. “Good. I know you won’t.” He opened his arms, and Teddy went for the hug. He rested his head against the warm chest, listening to the steady heartbeat inside, and he felt protected by the strong arms around him. “Did you dream while you slept? You had a smile on your face when I tried to wake you.”

“Yeah!” Teddy proceeded to talk about his dream. When he was done, he asked, “Can I ask a question?”

“May I.”

“May I ask a question?” Teddy repeated. Daddy nodded, so Teddy asked, “Is George really going to close the store?”

“Teddy, it’s really none of our business on what George ends up doing. Whatever he does, we must respect his decision, but right now he’s thinking about it. So when you see him next time, don’t bother him about it.”

“I won’t.”

His daddy stood up with Teddy still in his arms, and Teddy giggled when Daddy pretended to put on a show on heavy Teddy was. “Oof. Soon, I won’t be able to carry you like this.”

“Because I’ll be a big boy?”

“Yes, now how about we go to the playground for a while. Then we’ll get some pizza for supper.”

“Yayyy!” Teddy loved going to the playground, and he loved pizza. He knew then that Daddy was no longer upset at his naughtiness.

Teddy was a bit curious on something. Lately, George was at their place a lot. Teddy didn’t mind. He liked George. He wasn’t sure whether George still planned to close the shop or not, but he didn’t ask. He remembered Daddy’s words on not pestering George about it. But he did know that George was still taking a break from the store, and it seemed like George mostly just hung around with him and Daddy.

One of the things George did with Teddy was flying. Daddy didn’t particularly enjoy that activity, so Teddy would usually go flying with Harry. But Harry was too busy with his job, so whenever Daddy was busy with his own work, something dealing with freelancing, George would take him flying. Then, when they were done, they’d stop by the Burrow, and Mrs Weasley would give him delicious cakes.

Then, in the evenings, all three of them would do something together. Sometimes Harry and all these friends of his would join them, but Teddy preferred just himself, Daddy, and George. He loved playing at the playground with them, and he made George watch Pokemon together. He was pleased that George ended up enjoying the show. In fact, they would all watch other films together. Teddy particularly enjoyed some of the Disney films.

During all of this, Teddy wondered just what Daddy and George talked about a lot. He noticed that they would sit really close to each other on the sofa, and he saw them share a secret look between them. He knew something was happening, but he wasn’t sure what. But he also noticed that Daddy seemed more relaxed and happier than before.

But Teddy was still curious and wanted to know what was not being said. He knew he was only a kid, but he was also getting to be a big boy, and he wanted to be treated like one.

Although it was Saturday, Teddy still had to take his nap. As usual, he didn’t want to, but Daddy insisted, so he listened.

He took a short nap, and he woke up. The house was quiet, and Teddy wondered if George was around like he usually was, so he quietly padded towards Daddy’s room. He noticed that the bedroom door was closed. That confused him since the door was always opened during the day.

He knocked on the door like Daddy told him to always do, and then he opened it. “Daddy . . . ? George? What are you guys doing?”

Daddy and George were on the bed. George was on top of Daddy, and he saw that their clothes were rumpled. They were also breathing rather hard. Teddy blinked at their current state, and he noticed that their faces had gone red. George’s entire head was red, reminding Teddy of a tomato.

“Oh, er, Teddy. You’re up already?” George pushed himself into a sitting position.

Teddy saw the two of them exchange looks. “We were, er, we were . . . ” Why was his daddy not able to speak? Teddy found that quite odd.

“Wrestling!” George blurted out in a strange sounding voice. “We were trying to see who’s a better wrestler between us!”

“Yes, wrestling,” Daddy agreed quickly. “And I think I’ve been beaten by George, here.”

Teddy frowned. “George beat you?” He walked closer to the bed. “Nobody beats my daddy! I’ll beat you now!” he declared and climbed onto the bed. He threw himself against George, laughing as he tried to push him down. George fell back onto bed with a loud shout, and Teddy grinned as he playfully punched him. “Bam, bam, bam! I got you!”

“Not bad,” George said. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“Of course! I eat my vegetables. It’s supposed to make me strong. Especially spinach. I want to be like Popeye!”

“Like who?”

Daddy let out a loud guffaw. “Popeye. This Muggle cartoon character.”

“Ooooh! Well, then I better eat more vegetables, too!”

“But first,” Teddy said, climbing off of him. “You got to beat me!”

“Remus! Your son is too tough for me!”

Teddy saw the proud look on Daddy’s face. “He is. He certainly is.”

“Can I play with that stuffed Pikachu when you’re done?” Sophie Jordan asked. She was Teddy’s neighbour, and was a cousin of George’s friend. Teddy was glad to have a friend his age. As much as he liked being around grown-ups, he wanted more friends his age.

Teddy handed over the stuffed Pikachu, and he said, “You know what I did yesterday?”

“What?”

“My daddy and George were wrestling, and I wrestled and beat George!”

“They were wrestling? Outside?”

“No, in Daddy’s bedroom.”

Sophie gave him an odd look. “But that’s what my mummy and daddy do alone. They never let me wrestle in the bed.”

“Really?” Teddy frowned and pursed his lips together.

“Yeah, and they also kiss together in bed, too.”

“Kiss?”

Sophie nodded. “Yeah. I caught them kissing in bed once, and they said they were wrestling and then when they finished, they decided to kiss. They told me that two grown-ups who love each other will do that. And my mummy and daddy love each other.”

“Oh. I wonder if Daddy and George were kissing, too.”

“Do they love each other?”

“I don’t know.” Teddy didn’t think too long on that. Sophie wanted to go on the trampoline, and he wanted to jump up and down, too. “I can jump higher than you!”

“Nu-uh! I can!”

Teddy grabbed her hand, and the two dashed off to the trampoline.

Later, during supper, George ate with them. Teddy watched the way they interacted, and he noticed that whenever George and Daddy looked at each other briefly, their eyes would soften, and they looked as if they spoke to each other with their eyes. Teddy remembered his conversation with Sophie, and he asked, “Daddy? Do you and George love each other?”

Their reactions amused him. Daddy spluttered and coughed on his tea. George turned very red, and he froze in his seat, as he dropped his hands on the table, leaving the fork dangling in his mouth.

Daddy managed to rasp out, “Why do you ask that?”

“I told Sophie about me catching you guys wrestling, and she asked if you guys kiss during wrestling, and she said two grown-ups who love each other only do that.”

Again, George and Daddy looked at each other. Nobody spoke, and Teddy waited forever for someone to say something.

George finally answered. “Teddy, I do like your father, and well . . . it’s a little too early to say I love him, but I think I do love him . . . ”

Teddy looked over at his daddy. “Daddy?”

His daddy nodded, but he didn’t answer right away. Another long silence passed before he cleared his throat and said, “I agree with George. I love him, too.”

Teddy accepted the answer. It was a strange answer, but then again grown-up were confusing at times, including his daddy. “So does that mean George’s going to be my new ‘daddy’?”

George chuckled. “We’re not getting married yet. We’ll wait on that, but if we do get married, yes I’ll be your new ‘daddy’.”

“So I’ll have two daddies?” When both George and Daddy nodded, Teddy felt happy by this turn of event. He didn’t mind his small family growing. But at the same time, it’d always been just him and Daddy. Daddy and him. With George being part of their family, that mean Daddy would have someone special for him. Then where would that leave Teddy? In a quiet voice he asked, “So now that Daddy and George love each other . . . will you still love me?”

His Daddy and George both left their chairs. Teddy moved in his seat to face the two who were now crouched on the floor. One of Daddy’s large hands was on his shoulder while the other smoothed his hair down. “I may have found someone to love — a grown-up kind of love — but nobody will ever replace you, Teddy. You’re my son, and if I ever have to choose between you or him, I’ll choose you. I will always love you, Teddy.”

“Just like he said, Kiddo. Your daddy here will always love you. And I will love you to.” George grinned as he continued. “I’ll choose you over him, too, because honestly you’re more fun to play with than your old man, here. At least you’re a much better flying partner than him.”

His daddy glared at George. Teddy giggled since he recognised it as a pretend glare. “I’m not old.”

George rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I mean young man. A handsome young man. Anyway, Teddy, don’t worry. I won’t take your daddy away from you. I may play pranks and own a joke shop, but I’m not cruel, okay?”

Teddy smiled as he felt his hair become turquoise. He was embraced in a “sandwich hug”, and he knew that things would turn all right. “I love you Daddy. I love you George.”

“I’ve decided something. Something very important.” George announced.

“What, what?” Teddy asked. “Are you going to go to Tokyo?” Lately, there had been talks about George wanting to visit Tokyo, and he was hoping he could go back and visit there, too.

“I’ve decided I’m taking you both to Tokyo with me, but that’s not my news.”

“What’s the news?” Daddy asked. Teddy was surprised that even Daddy didn’t know George’s secret.

“I’m not going to close the shop.”

“Brilliant!” Teddy shouted, a phrase he’d picked up from Ron. “You’re going to keep it open? Forever and ever?”

George laughed. “As long as I live, yes, I’ll keep it open. I’ve decided that I want to keep it open in memory of my brother . . . and because of you two.”

“What did me and Daddy do?”

“Both of you brought me back happiness in my life. Before you two came, I was feeling not happy.” Teddy nodded. He remembered George looking sad before. “And you two, especially you, Teddy, reminded me why Fred and I opened up that joke shop. We wanted to spread happiness and laughter in the world, and seeing how much you love the shop and how much you love my pranks and jokes . . . I want to keep spreading that joy. With your Daddy. Who I’d like to ask to be my business partner. As the last of the Marauders, I think it’s appropriate to ask him to be my partner.”

Now his daddy looked really surprised, and Teddy thought he saw tears in his daddy’s amber-coloured eyes. “George . . . I . . . ”

“Daddy? Will you?” Teddy didn’t exactly know what a business partner or a Marauder was, but it sounded like a good idea.

Daddy shook his head a bit, and he chuckled. “Well . . . all right. Someone needs to help you with the books and the accounting, after all.”

“And giving me some critiques and suggestions on the products,” George added.

“Hooray!” Teddy cheered.

George let out his own loud joyfulness, and he lifted Teddy up in the air, twirling them until Teddy felt dizzy. “Hooray, indeed! Now, let’s go back to my shop! We have a party to throw!”

“A party?” Teddy loved the idea of having a party in a joke shop. He especially wanted those candy floss fireworks. He loved watching the item burst into brightly coloured candy floss in mid-air. “Can we blow up all your candy floss fireworks?”

“Definitely! We’ll explode everything that can be exploded in the shop until we lift the whole building up into the sky!”

Teddy beamed. He knew that wasn’t possible, but it would still be neat to see all that! He couldn’t wait to do more fun things with his daddy and his new “daddy”.