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The Flat Above the Wheezes | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Angst, Comedy, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Mild Language, Negative Alcohol Use Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 15 Summary: All is not well in the flat above the Wheezes. Ginny's determined to get her brother's shop up and running before he loses it for good, but George's refusal to help complicates matters. Add on the ghosts of her previous year at Hogwarts, handling her grieving family, and the Harry Potter of it all, and it's starting to feel like she's in over her head. Hitcount: Story Total: 4964; Chapter Total: 1420 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Her conversation with Harry had left her with restless energy too massive to be kept in the flat. Venturing out into Diagon Alley on her own wasn’t something she had ever done before, but she was almost seventeen and there was no one there to stop her. So Ginny pulled on her trainers and locked the flat up behind her. It was too soon for the rush of returning Hogwarts students. Without them, Diagon Alley was quiet. She didn’t have a destination in mind but from the look of things, her options were limited. The entrance to Ollivander’s was badly damaged, door half-obscured by pummeled stone and dust. At least half of the storefronts were still boarded up, but Florean leaned through the window to give her a friendly wave. Despite the bleak surroundings, it felt good to give her legs a bit of a stretch. The sun made her eyes crinkle in discomfort as she looked for a place to get out of the street and settle for a moment. The secondhand store her family had shopped at for years called to her from across the alley- safe and familiar in a way things hadn’t felt for a long time. The bell over the door chimed when she entered. Ginny winced when the other patrons turned to look at her. “Well, look what we have here…” Someone snaked their arm around her shoulders. Before Ginny could think, her elbow shot back sharply, hand wrapping around her wand. Luckily, Mrs. Rutterman sidestepped just in time to avoid being struck. “Sorry!” Ginny said urgently. “I’m so sorry!” The old shop owner smiled. “You always were a plucky one, little miss Ginny.” Ginny grinned back, though guilt twisted hard in her chest. Mrs. Rutterman had owned the shop for longer than Ginny had been alive and she had always been a friend of the Weasley family. “Tell me about your mother,” the older woman ordered. “How has she been faring?” “Mum’s alright,” she answered as she was being dragged behind the counter by the arm. A stool appeared behind her. Ginny dutifully perched herself on top of it and accepted the candy Mrs. Rutterman unearthed from her pocket and pressed into her hand. Mrs. Rutterman snorted and readjusted the quill holding her hair out of her face. “I’m sure she’d never let anyone think any differently.” “No,” Ginny admitted. “I suppose not.” They chatted a while about Ginny’s family and the Rutterman’s only son who had graduated Hogwarts two years earlier. Yes, Ginny agreed that her father worked too hard and that Nelson ought to write his mother more now that he lived in Belgium. “He asked after your brother in his last letter- said he wrote to offer his condolences but never heard back, not that there’s any trouble in that.” She winced. “George has had a lot on his mind.” Ginny suddenly wanted more than anything to be shut up in the flat above the Wheezes, so much so that the idea of a five-minute walk home seemed unbearable. She wanted to run, to skip the pleasantries and take off, but she was certain the news of her impoliteness would get back to her mother before she got as far as the magical menagerie. She pushed herself onto her feet and pointedly eyed her watch. “I’m sure he does,” Mrs. Rutterman nodded, seemingly unaware that Ginny was looking to make a move. “You let him know that if he needs any help getting open before the deadline, I’ve done this all before.” “Deadline?” “For the revitalization! There’s quite some time left, of course, but if he hasn’t already, he’ll want to pay a visit to the goblins for his share of the putting-things-right funds.” Frowning, Ginny feigned interest in some nearby boots that were probably old enough to qualify for an apparation license three times over. She was positive George hadn’t been anywhere near Gringotts this summer, unless it was to sit on the bench outside and avoid conversation with her and everyone else. Across the shop, a customer called for assistance with a rack of flapping, feathered hats that had banded together and created a swarm. The elderly shopkeeper rushed off to disband them. “Mrs. Rutterman!” Ginny called, wincing as one of the hats was propelled into the wall by an aptly swung cane. “Some time left before what?” “August the fifteenth, dear. The organization responsible for Diagon Alley development wants everything up and running by then. Any shop that doesn’t comply will have their lease terminated. It’s part of the revitalization effort- bad for property values to have these storefronts sitting empty.” “So if George doesn’t have his shop open before August fifteenth…” Mrs. Rutterman stopped consoling the hat-pecked customer long enough to send Ginny a sympathetic look over her shoulder. “Then he won’t be opening it back up at all.” Flustered, Ginny nearly collided with three different pedestrians on her walk back to the flat. After the third threatened her with a heavy looking handbag, she decided to step into a nearby alleyway and collect herself. Her face felt hot, and while the midday sun certainly wasn’t helping matters, she didn’t think that was the cause. Was George going to lose the shop? It meant so much to him. He’d always been so proud of the legacy he and Fred had built from the ground up when they were barely eighteen. The twins had never seemed as sure of themselves as they were once they had achieved the title of business owners. Esteemed proprietors of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. They’d signed every letter sent to her during her fifth year that way. Her stomach flipped as she pictured the shop boarded up or worse, taken over by some stuffy imported cauldron shop. Ginny breathed deeply, focusing on slowing her racing heartbeat. She was getting worked up over nothing. George had this all under control. She was certain of it. _~_ Harry tumbled through the floo, covered in soot and disgruntled to realize that he had an audience. On the sofa opposite the fireplace, Hermione sat with her nose in a book and her feet in Ron’s lap. She nodded vaguely in his direction. Next to her, Ron yawned. “You were gone for ages,” he observed. “Negotiating your tip?” Harry turned out his pockets for show. “Not very well it seems.” “Yeah, Ginny’s rotten like that,” Ron said, grinning fondly. There was a restless energy ticking in his chest. His visit with Ginny had gone better than any of the very few interactions they’d had before she’d gone off with George. It felt foolish to cut their time short while his tongue was finally untied and Ginny was giving him that smile that made his stomach flip. But Harry was deeply aware of the fact that he had nowhere to be which could easily lead to him wearing his welcome thin. He slumped into the armchair nearest to Ron and leaned to snatch a leaflet off the floor. “So, what have we learned about memory charms?” Hermione’s lips flattened until they disappeared, but she didn’t look up from her book. “We have learned,” she started bracingly, “that memory charms are very difficult to undo. And that you shouldn’t place them on the people you love.” Harry winced. “Research not going so well, then?” When it seemed like Hermione was content to mumble something affirmative and go back to her reading, Ron gently pried the book from her hand and stuck it down between the sofa cushions. Harry frowned harder but Hermione just sighed, seeming more relieved than affronted. “Not as well as I had hoped,” she admitted through a miserable smile. “But it will be easier to wrap my head around once I actually have them in front of me.” “Did you get your portkey arranged?” Ron nodded. “Week from tomorrow. You’re sure you don’t want to come along, mate? Has to be better than being stuck here all day with just my mum.” At the mention of Mrs. Weasley, Harry’s eyes were pulled to the staircase. Ron’s mother spent the majority of her time in her bedroom with the door pulled shut. She claimed to be knitting when anyone asked, but the tiny blue square that would supposedly become Teddy’s first Christmas sweater never seemed to grow. He knew the rest of the Weasley’s were worried. Percy stopped by often, two sometimes three times a day, and the excuses for his visits were getting thinner and thinner. (He’d been over that morning, claiming he needed help with the first-year spell used to reattach buttons.) Mr. Weasley was working long hours at the newly reformed ministry but he seemed to know when Ron’s mum had an especially reclusive day, even though he wasn’t there to see it. Harry felt strangely anxious at the idea of her being alone at the Burrow if he were to join Ron and Hermione in Australia. He wondered if Ginny felt the same way about George. “Positive,” he said certainly. He could tell by the way Hermione was looking at him that she had put her concern for her parents to the side and focused in on him. Her lips were twisted into that thin little smile that never meant anything good for his pride. “I’m sure Harry will find something to occupy his time while we’re gone.” “I’m sure I will,” Harry said, face feeling very hot all of a sudden. “Maybe I’ll finally get around to branching out and making some new, better friends-” But Hermione would not be deterred. “Tell us how things went with Ginny. Did you ask about spending some more time with her?” “Yes, eventually she realized that’s what I was asking.” “Because first you asked her…” “…a question that made her angry. Let’s leave it at that, alright?” “Oh Harry, we talked about this! You knew what to say!” “I did know what to say! But then I got there and it just…came out different.” “Did she hex you?” Ron asked eagerly. “I’ve been waiting for her to do that. You want her to get it out of her system, mate. The longer she stews in it, the worse it’s going to be for you. Have I ever told you about the time I ate her Easter candy and she didn’t get back at me until August?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Ginny’s not angry with me.” He didn’t think she was anyway. Granted, they hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen words before this afternoon. But that was mostly because he didn’t know what to say to her and it seemed like Ginny was hardly talking to anyone but George. He was almost certain she wasn’t harboring any hard feelings towards him. She’d clung to his hand at Fred’s funeral and while she’d been tense in his arms as the Weasley’s received the mourners, she had allowed him to hold her. The pitiful nature of that thought hit him as soon as he had it. Yeah, that’s truly promising. She didn’t have it out with you at her brother’s funeral. She’s clearly madly in love with you. Ron shrugged. “It’s your nose, mate. I’m just trying to mitigate the size of the bats.” Harry shuddered at the thought. He really hoped he was right about Ginny not being angry with him, for more reasons than one. _~_ “George!” George looked up from where he was fiddling with the wireless and idly shook his wand at her. “Where were you? Did I give you permission to go somewhere?” He grimaced, like the question left a nasty taste in his mouth. “Can I give you permission to go somewhere?” She waved him off, used to older brothers mistakenly thinking they were the boss of her. “Obviously not. When were you going to tell me about August fifteenth?” He blinked once and opened his mouth, to lie to her she was sure, but Ginny slammed her wand down on the table and fixed him with a look that she hoped conveyed how terrible that plan would be. “Ginny…” He sighed, eying Fred’s old chair warily before lowering himself into it. “Come sit down. I didn’t want to do this just yet, but I think I should tell you about what’s going to happen with the shop.” Her heart hammered against her chest. He didn’t need to say anything, she knew what was coming by the look on his face and it wasn’t what she had been expecting when she walked through the door. She’d anticipated some sheepishness and maybe an admission that he wasn’t being as responsible about reopening the store as he maybe should have been. But this sounded like… “You’re closing it!” she shouted, distantly recognizing that her temper was flooding in to numb the hurt. “I know you’re not going to be happy about it, but this is my decision.” Ginny scoffed and stomped closer to her brother. “You’re not making a decision, you’re giving up!” George didn’t flinch, raising one infuriating eyebrow at her. “If I am, that’s my right.” “You don’t have the right to be so INCREDIBLY STUPID-” “HEY!” His voice echoed so loudly that the flat seemed to shake for a moment. Ginny’s eyes snapped open wide. It was so rare for George to raise his voice in anger that it took her a moment to process what had happened. “Sit down.” George snapped his fingers and pointed at the armchair opposite him. “And calm down. Start yelling again and I’m walking away.” Reluctantly, Ginny sat, balling her fists at her sides. She choked down a deep breath, feeling it stutter in her throat on the way down. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down, but George had threatened to walk away and she knew that he would. She’d seen it done. One of the rare blow out rows she’d witnessed between the twins had ended that way. George had given his warning and when it was ignored, he disappeared up the boys’ staircase. Fred spent hours that night complaining to his sister, who nodded along in sage, thirteen-year-old wisdom. Ginny’s hands shook at the memory. “Alright, then?” She nodded, eyes on the floor. Suddenly, the pattern on the rug began to move, and Ginny realized that her brother was using his wand to pull her chair closer to his. He didn’t stop until she was staring at his mismatched socks on the floor next to her bare feet. The sound of him taking a deep breath, his much steadier than hers had been, made the gnawing guilt that always resided in her stomach creep partly up her spine. It really wasn’t fair to be yelling at George. “Ginniekins…” Her head snapped up to scowl at him, but she couldn’t go through with it when she saw him smiling at her. “It’s alright that you’re angry,” George said softly. “I’m angry at me too.” “George.” “No,” he said. “I am. I wish I had it in me to go back in that store and be the person I used to be, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.” “It doesn’t have to be soon!” Ginny urged. “We can help, you know. You don’t have to do it by yourself.” He laughed, and she had to suppress the urge to visibly cringe. She didn’t hear it often but his laugh was different now, gnarled and reedy. The feel of it sat uncomfortably in her chest. “Aren’t you the one that charged in here a second ago, reminding me about how soon it would have to be?” “Yes,” she said, a little defensively. “But you wouldn’t have to jump in right away. I could…I could get it running for you, and then Verity could run it until you’re ready.” “You have absolutely no idea what you’re volunteering yourself for.” “I’m volunteering to keep you from making a mistake that you’re going to regret later.” George scoffed, aiming a gentle kick at her chair. “It’s a lot more than that. Do you know how much work it would take to get that place put right again?” “No,” she admitted. “Not a clue. But I don’t care. I would do it. For you.” And for Fred. Sighing, he stood up and stepped away, absently adjusting a picture on the wall instead of looking at her. Ginny’s heart sank. Finally, George turned around and jabbed a finger at her. “I don’t want you pestering me about this,” he said sternly. She sat up a little straighter, wondering if that meant- “If this is how you want to spend your last summer before you graduate, that’s your own special kind of nutters. Don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re in way over your little freckled head. Gah!” He’d been unprepared for her to fling her arms around his neck. George sputtered and tugged on the end of her plait but after a second of necessary protest, he relaxed into the hug and thumped her on the back. “Pity I didn’t know sooner, I could have had years of you doing all my-” He yelped and jumped away when she drove her toe into his instep. In the morning, the magnitude of what she’d gotten herself into would register more clearly. At that moment, Ginny was thrilled to have some purpose to her days. A feeling she could tentatively label as ‘uselessness’ had set in around Easter, and while it briefly abated with the end of the war, it was prone to resurgence when she was left to her own thoughts for too long. It felt good to have a direction for her energy. On top of that, her heart preened at finally having a way to help George. Granted, she knew she couldn’t do it all by herself. She needed some help. And she knew just where to find it. |
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