Diversion From Our Moment **Harry Potter/George Weasley Story** (BOOK4)

Chapter 8: Alex Is The Witch That You're Too Scared To Mention

"She's been throwing up?" I asked, sitting in a stool and leaning over the island, swiftly taking a slice of George's toast,

"No ... Well, I don't think so anyway." George shrugged. He seemed suspiciously unfazed by his girlfriend's illness. I squinted my eyes at him,

"What do you mean you 'don't think so'?"

"That. C'mon Al, it's not difficult."

"I don't believe you're really as casual about this as you're acting."

"There's not a lot I can do."

"Bullshit." I raised an eyebrow at George,

"Al, I don't know what you want me to say. She didn't wake me up--"

"I believe that."

"So I didn't wake up. And when I found her this morning, looking, yes, quite a lot like living death, she said not to worry--"

"I believe that too."

"Because she's fine. So I'm not worried."

"And here is where I call bullshit." I put my hands up on the counter, "She can break a nail and you will freak out."

"That's not true."

"Shut up, yes it is."

"Uh, no it isn't." I rolled my eyes,

"George, you do know what day it is?"

"Yeah, it's a Wednesday. We have a shop to run. You have an Auror class tonight. Lottie has ... N-Nothing."

"I know you're lying." I told George. He shrugged,

"She told me not to." George put his now empty plate next to the sink and my fist curled up. I opened my eyes properly and glared over to him. He didn't pick up and sauntered out of the kitchen humming. I spun slowly in my chair as I watched him leave, more suspicious than when I had entered.

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I pushed George's plate back into the washing bowl after I had finished my breakfast, ensuring I made extra emphasis to producing a more excessive amount of noise. There wasn't much activity down in the alley from what I could see out of the kitchen window, so I retired back to the living room to catch up on the news by the newspaper, since I couldn't watch my dad now because the twins blew up my TV. Little fuckers.

I stopped as soon as I was down the step into the living area, seeing Lottie emerge from her bedroom. She had the duvet over her shoulders, like a puffy, oversized cape, and a grey bucket hanging from her right elbow joint, like a tacky, non-expensive handbag. I raised an eyebrow, "You do look like living death."

"It's only a bit ... Of flu." Lottie looked like she could have laughed, but she only managed a quiet 'ha'. George was totally worried. Even I was a little worried,

"What you got up for? Hungry?"

"Merlin ... Merlin, no." Lottie shook her head extremely slowly, "Water."

"Geez, sit down. I'll get you some damn water." I nodded towards the couch. Lottie sighed and shuffled towards it, her duvet cape dragging along behind her. I brought up a plastic cup rather than a glass. She looked grateful, but she didn't manage thankyou. I forgave her. This once,

"Right, well I'm going to work." Fred entered from the hall, his robes floating slightly from the breeze by his moment. He came over and went to kiss my forehead. I held out my hand and stopped him,