AUGUST 11, 1998
HARRY
"GEORGE, WE'RE HERE!" Harry yelled as him and Ron entered the upper level of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
It was a quiet nine p.m., and most of the shops- besides the restaurants- were closed. The store was empty and dark, but Harry could see lights up the stairs.
Members of the family took rotating shifts to keep George company. Since there were over twelve of them, the time was shared evenly, but the first month was the worst. He couldn't get out of bed for the first three weeks, and refused to eat the next one. He had to have someone, normally Mrs. Weasley, there at all times. Now he was mostly fine the majority of the day, but they still apparated in once at night to be there for him and once in the morning to make sure he woke up. Last time Harry was there was a week ago, and George almost set the kitchen on fire when he wasn't concentrating and tried to boil water with the wrong spell. He had apologized profusely, rubbing his tired eyes and blaming himself.
"D'you hear that?" Ron muttered to him, ginger eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"Hear what?"
"Talking,"
There were voices going on upstairs. It was too quiet for him to distinguish who the voices belonged to, though. He and Ron moved quickly up the stairs, concerned- they were the only ones supposed to be there. They threw open the door, and-
Harry thought George would be on the couch. He wasn't. He somehow was voluntarily at the dining table, a place that Harry once coaxed him for an hour to sit at. His hair looked like a mess, but he wasn't wearing his pyjamas or his wrinkly robe, but a pair of navy robes that Mrs. Weasley had tried and failed to get him to put on. And he was drinking a Gillywater.
So was the person sitting opposite him. With slightly frizzy brown hair and a pair of linen robes, Harry couldn't see them. Before he could ask, Ron said: "George, who's that?"
George blinked up at them, hazel eyes clearer than they'd been since May. "Hello, Harry. Ickle Ron. This is B-"
And then Harry recognized her.
"Billie?" he interrupted.
She turned around, her blue wire-rimmed glasses catching the lamplight, and Harry watched as the corners of her cornflower eyes crinkled up in a smile. "Hi, Harry,"
"Who- what's going on?" Ron asked, pointing in between the two.
"Oh- Ron, this is Billie Holt. She's a seventh year and her dad made the banoffee pie,"
Ron gasped. "Really? You've got to get the recipe for that. That pie was the best thing I've had in days,"
"Have you all just forgotten about me here?" George said grumpily.
"Oh, thanks!" Billie replied to Ron, ignoring George. "I can get it from my Dad if you'd like,"
"-So how do you two know each other?" Harry interjected, confused at her and George's closeness.
"We only met yesterday, Ickle Harry," George leaned back in his seat, and Harry frowned at the nickname, though the twins had probably used it a million times on him. "But Miss Holt here won me over with her charm,"
"Don't be ridiculous," Billie scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"Well- it's good to see you up and about, George," Ron said, clapping George on the back gently. "We missed you,"
A flicker of pain flashed in George's eyes, but he swallowed and gave what seemed to be his extremely rare smiles normally reserved for his mother. "So sentimental, Ronniekins,"
Billie laughed. Ron looked at her sharply. She covered her mouth. "Oops,"
"Anyways, join us, boys. We were just talking about future jobs for Itty Billie here," George said, and scooted his chair over.
"Which jobs do you like right now?" Ron asked.
"Well, I quite like history and writing, but I'd rather not teach. I was thinking of writing books, actually. But I don't feel like I have originality in my bones to produce entire novels by myself," she said.
"What about being an editor?" Harry asked, and Billie turned her gaze onto him. She stared at him for a moment, pondering what he said, and Harry fixed his glasses instinctively.
"Yeah. That isn't a bad idea,"
"Well, whatever it is, you'll have to find a way to juggle it alongside running the ice cream shop," Ron reminded, and Billie looked down to the table, her lower lip jutting out.
"Yeah," she muttered, seemingly disappointed.
"Whatever it is, you'll be great," Harry assured her, seeing her upset expression, and her face brightened as she looked at him.
"Thanks, Harry. What do you do for work?" she asked politely, fiddling with her hands.
"I'm an Auror, and so's Ron,"
"Oh! You must've done really well in school, then,"
Ron snorted.
"Or did you?" Billie raised a brow, a devious smile on her face.
"Sort of," Harry said, making an iffy gesture with his hands.
"Well, that's an impressive job," Billie said nonetheless, fiddling with her hands. "What are you two working on right now?"
She wore quite a lot of rings, Harry noticed. There was one on every singe finger besides her thumbs, and she stacked quite a few on some of them too. They were all gold, with different designs of butterflies, stones, and leaves on them. She had freckles at first glance, but if you drew closer, they were actually acne scars. Little brown hollows that looked like the indents of sun kisses on her slightly tanned skin. They weirdly matched the color of her hair.
"Nothing much. Made a list of the Lestrange brothers' offenses today," Harry said casually, bumping his glasses further up his nose.
"Oh. I guess your jobs are quieter now that the war's over,"
"Well, Itty Billie," George said, raising his red brows. "If you ever think your future job's getting quiet, you can come work at Wheezes,"
"Hold on," Ron said, uncrossing his arms. "Just- adressing the elephant in the room; George, I-"
He looked puzzled for a moment as he thought of what to say.
"-I'm...glad you're finally up and about,"
"Oh," George said, the smallest smile on his face. "Thanks, Ronniekins. I owe a lot of it to Itty here,"
He pointed at Billie, who looked down, embarrassed.
"Are you sure you're not tired?" Ron pressed.
"Ehmmm," he said, thumbing his chin. "Actually, I am a little doozy. I s'pose being out of bed for so long drains you,"
"I can help you to bed," Harry said, standing up concernedly.
"No, no, you can take Itty Billie home," George said, pointing between the two. "I'm a big boy now," he yawned.
Ron fussed over George in a way that was reminscent of Mrs. Weasley as George slapped his hands on his knees before getting up.
"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Billie said, twisting her rings around.
"No, bye-bye," George called, heading into the next room.
Harry turned his attention on the seventh-year. "Let's go back?"
"Sure," she said, and the two headed out.
It was late, and most of the restaurants had closed by now. The streets were almost empty, and most of the light came from the buzz of the lamps.
"So...how did you and George meet?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual while ignoring the nagging curiousity inside him.
"It was an accident, I sort of ran into him while I was looking for Self-Inking Quills," she laughed. It was a short laugh, and it reminded him of how it felt to step outside in a spring day after a long winter.
"What else did you buy that day?" said Harry, laughing as well.
"Ooh. I got a Pygmy Puff. Named him Bat, after my sister...she died in May," she said, mumbling the last part quickly. He caught on that in May meant in the Battle of Hogwarts.
"I'm sorry,"
"Don't be. She..." Billie blinked rapidly a few times. "She said she always wanted to go out with a fight, and she did. The Gryffindor way,"
"Are you in Gryffindor as well?"
"Yes. Though I don't always feel like one," she said lowly, and Harry felt like he was pressing upon a topic more personal, and he relented.
"...In my fourth year," Harry said, trying to think of something to appease her. "I was there when Voldemort returned. I was trapped in a statue, and I didn't feel brave,"
"I'm...not sure I believe that. How else did you make it out alive?"
"I nearly didn't. My wand- it's complicated, but Voldemort's wand caused a rebounding effect, and all of its past victims, including my parents, materialized in front of me.
Harry paused, savoring the memory, as he seared his parent's smiling faces into his mind once more.
"They helped me. They helped me Portkey back," he finished, swallowing the memory of touching Cedric's rapidly cooling skin, looking into his empty eyes.
"Oh," she said, and there was an even longer pause, before her blue eyes, framed by glasses, looked back up at him. "Did you feel brave when you killed You-Know-Who?"
Harry paused for a moment.
"I- you don't have to answer if you don't want to," she said hurriedly.
"No, I just- haven't thought about that before," he said slowly. "By the time I killed him- in the end, I already knew I would win. I'd known that his plans were foiled because his Horcruxes- those were a whole other story- were gone. So I guess I wasn't scared,"
"Hmm. That's still brave, facing the Dark Lord,"
"I s'pose," Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched the lamplights shine over her light brown hair. "Er- so where do you live now?"
She looked taken aback at the change of subject, and Harry resisted the urge to bite his tongue at the carelessness. "Um, well, my mum and sister passed during the War, so I live with my Dad in Henley-On-Thames,"
They reached Florean Fortescue's. Harry held the door for Billie, who stepped in with a smile and an invisible flush on her cheeks. The shop didn't have any lights on, but the silver glow of the moon and the gold of the lamps outside shone through the windows.
"Cup of tea?" she asked, waving her wand, and a teapot came over.
"I-" Harry was about to say he had to go back, but Ron would be fine on his own. And there was something about the yellow lamplight and the silver moonlight hitting her face on both sides that enveloped her round features into something delicate, angelic. "Sure,"
"So, you were going to say something about Henley-On-Thames?" she prompted, as the teapot poured two cups of tea into pink teacups.
"I remember going there once over a weekend in the summer," Harry said, scoffing lightly at the memory. It was as if the words flowed from his mouth like butter, and he couldn't stop himself from divulging his secrets to the younger girl. "My Muggle cousin, Dudley, kept pushing me over to see over me whenever a race went by,"
Billie pinched her face. "That's rude," He watched Billie as she poured an entire sugar packet into her tea, but didn't add any milk.
"Yeah. I lived with him and my aunt and uncle all my life before Hogwarts,"
"How were your aunt and uncle?"
"Oh, they were even worse," Harry laughed. "Uncle Vernon was angry all the time- he resembled a turnip. And Aunt Petunia was always sneering at something or someone,"
"Damn," Billie said, eyes wide as she took a sip of her tea. "That must've been awful, living with them,"
"Yeah. Well, I didn't have any other family. That I knew of . I- realized I had someone later. Anyways, it wasn't the best, but they acted like my family in the end,"
"That's nice," Billie smiled sadly. "You mentioned you found out about another person?"
"I- he's gone now," Harry said, the heat grew on the tip of his tongue, the beginnings of a cry.
"I'm sorry. You don't have to say any more,"
"No, I-" Harry pondered over it for a moment. Whether to tell her.
We are a part of you. Invisible to anyone else, had been his last words to Harry.
"It was Sirius Black," he said, gauging her reaction.
"Oh," her brows furrowed in surprise. "Right- I remember reading about his innocence in the Daily Prophet,"
"Yeah, but the Prophet got it all wrong. He was innocent, yeah, but anything else they said was a lie," he said fiercely, eyes flashing
"I know that. We all read the truth in the Quibbler, Harry,"
"Oh," he said. "Sorry,"
"Don't be sorry. The Prophet wasn't nice to my family either. They kept saying my uncle had it coming when he was kidnapped. And when he died, they kept blaming my mother for it, saying it was her fault her brother got tortured because she breeded with a Muggle," Billie said bitterly.
"But that's a load of-"
"-I know," Billie cut him off. "The article was published while you were on the run. But it's over now. The Quibbler published the truth about us, too,"
"I guess," Harry mumbled. Then he grinned. "It's a great paper,"
"Oh, yes. Interesting, but great," she giggled. "Back during Umbridge and her reign of terror- I would walk into the girls' lavatory and see people being slipped copies of your interview between stalls,"
"Wow," Harry said, laughing in astonishment.
"Oh, Umbridge," Billie sighed. "Batty- my sister, was the one who put the Niffler in her office. She didn't get caught for that, thank god, but she Confounded one of Umbridge's cats. I was there too, trying to talk her out of doing it, but she did it anyway, and Umbridge caught us both,"
Billie twisted her arm, holding her hand out in front of him. Flexing her fist against the moonlight, there were a few words, thin scars that marred her hand just like his.
I must not abuse innocents
"Ironic, isn't it?" she laughed as she rolled her sleeve back up. "Since it's the only thing she ever did,"
Harry stared at the spot where her hand was, a feeling of unpleasantness curdling in his chest. He had seen many an Umbridge scar, but hers was different. She was only a fourth year, who should've been worried about boys and her friends, not be dealing with someone like Umbridge.
He imagined her sitting in Umbridge's office, innocent, her pretty face wincing again and again as the words carved and recarved themselves into her pale hands.
She didn't deserve this.
"Harry?" her voice snapped him out of his trance. "Are you okay?"
His eyes snapped up to meet hers as he glared at the spot on the table. "Yeah. I- I should be getting back. To George. Do you-"
"-Oh, no, not at all-"
"-Right," Harry said, his mind spinning with anger, shock, and confusion. "Erm-"
"Um- bye," Billie said awkwardly, and Harry gave an equally awkward dip of his head, before leaving the shop, his tea untouched.