Before the Dawn | George Weasley

46

It was an unusually warm day, even for summer in London, but I wore a long-sleeved shirt as I walked down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

The Alley had been run into the ground, the empty storefronts and broken windows the skeletal remains of what had once been a busy, bustling street full of witches and wizards buying materials for school.

The only store with any activity was at number ninety-three, its brightly-painted storefront and tall windows standing in stark contrast to its faded, lifeless surroundings. I watched the animated sign run its course a few times, unable to gather myself enough to go in. So instead I walked up and down the street again, cursing myself for being such a coward.

When I'd made my way back to the store, I found myself rooted to the spot once more. I stood across the alley and watched as customers left the shop, arms full of various widgets and toys. I knew what I had to do, I knew I had to do it, yet I couldn't bring myself to even walk inside. I did one more lap up and down the alley, then, before I could stop myself again, I pushed open the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and walked inside.

I kept my head down as I navigated through the shop, dodging excited children as they explored the shop in wonder. I caught sight of one of the twins with their back to me, helping a girl choose between two different types of bottled potions—it was Fred, I thought, but I dreaded getting any closer to find out.

"Was beginning to wonder when you'd be along," a voice said close to my ear. I whipped around to meet the sparkling gaze of Fred. "He'll be thrilled. Hasn't been able to shut up about you since the moment we left Hogwarts."

I felt a lump rise in my throat, but coughed to clear it. "I need to talk to him."

We both looked over to where George had managed to sell both potions to the girl, watching her walk to the till with a sly smile on his face.

"Talk, eh?" Fred winked. "You can wait upstairs in our flat. I'll send him up and you two can 'talk' all you want."

He pointed to a staircase in the back of the shop, and I picked my way through the store to climb it. The stairs led to a single door, which I pushed open, hearing the noise of the shop below fall away—a silencing charm, I suspected.

Their flat was quaint, consisting of two bedrooms connected by a common area with a small kitchen. I peeked into each of the bedrooms, able to tell which one was George's by the stack of letters on his desk with my own handwriting scrawled across them. Both rooms were messy, clothes strewn across the floor, but the living area was rather neat. 

I gazed down at a copy of the Daily Prophet on the kitchen counter, feeling the pit of dread in my stomach grow heavier with every passing second.

The door opened, then, and my heart lurched. George's face lit up as he saw me, and he crossed the room in long strides to wrap me in a tight hug.

"Hiya, gorgeous." His voice vibrated through our embrace, and I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, trying to memorise the feeling of his arms around me, the comforting familiarity of his scent, the warmth of his very being—everything that I'd taken for granted for so long.

"Hi," I managed, avoiding eye contact as he pulled away. I knew if I looked at his face, met his warm gaze, I wouldn't be able to do it.

I wouldn't be able to break up with him.

"I'd been starting to worry, hadn't received an owl from you in a couple weeks," he mused.

"Sorry," I murmured.

"It's alright." George took my face in his hands, and I reluctantly looked into his eyes. "You're here now, and that's far better than any letter. Merlin, I've missed you so much."