LIONHEART ❃ george weasley

035 | lifting the blindfold

Perhaps afraid to.

Albany didn't speak to the twins for several days following the reveal. She couldn't stand the idea of seeing George's face; by extension, that meant she wouldn't be seeing Fred's either.

She knew she was being petty. And though a small part of her argued that George was very well allowed to attend the ball with whoever he liked, she didn't listen to it. After all Fred had told her, after all the quiet moments with George... it was a betrayal. And of all the people to betray her with — Faith Moran.

He didn't know about your situation with her, the voice pleaded. Shut up, she told it firmly. He still could have said no.

Merlin was also being avoided. He was incessantly irritating; constantly trying to convince her to talk to George, to find the girl with golden eyes, to stop being bitter and jealous — she didn't want to listen to him either. So she would pretend he wasn't there when he appeared, and swallowed her guilt.

The only person she would speak to was Carly. Carly, who, bless her heart, was the only one who didn't bring up George. Who didn't bring up Albany's anger or jealousy. Instead, Carly taught her French.

"The only French you know is... casse-toi?" the girl had echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Albany shrugged. "It seemed useful that I know it. And it kind of was."

The two were seated in the library, as Albany was sure it was the one place they wouldn't run into the twins. Carly still helped out Madam Pince with books every couple of days, too, and had earned the woman's respect; which in other words meant Pince let the two girls get away with talking a fraction louder than her normal rules allowed.

Carly was tinkering with the Game Boy again as they spoke, having opened up the back of it somehow. She would sort through wires and other odd pieces of Muggle tech with the tip of a pencil, and take notes in her little book of spells, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. At the same time, she had a library book open to the side titled The Various Forms of Magic, which Albany pointedly ignored. She knew why Carly had it.

"Okay, do you want to start with greetings?" Carly asked, glancing up very briefly from her work.

Albany shrugged. "Sure."

"You should know bonjour," Carly began, and Albany nodded.

"Yeah, I know that one, actually," she said, and tried the word on her tongue. "Bonjour?"

"Do not — er, pronounce the 'n'," Carly instructed, and pulled her wand from somewhere in her hair, pointing it at the Game Boy. "The 'r' is very soft also. It sounds like bow-jeur, not bawn-jower."

"Bonjour," Albany repeated, following the girl's advice. It flowed much smoother this time, and she gave a small smile of triumph.

"Better," Carly noted, though grimaced as a small cloud of smoke rose from her project. "Bonjour is a more formal greeting, though. Most people use salut when speaking with friends or family."

"Salut?"

"Sah-loo," Carly corrected her. She sighed as something sparked in the back of the Game Boy, and set down her wand, pulling over the library book on magic instead.

"Salut," Albany repeated quietly, watching the girl warily. "Are you okay?"

Carly had sat back into her seat, rubbing wearily at her eyes with the heels of her hands. Perhaps Albany was only just now realising how flustered the girl appeared; her curls were a little wilder than usual, her face a little more flushed. When she let her hands fall from her face, there were shadows beneath her eyes, which gazed dully at the work she had lay out for herself on the table.