Just Around the Corner || A G. Weasley Story

Out in the Open

CW: alcohol use

Cassandra felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she started down the stairs into the club holding George's hand, he felt the buzzing of cicadas.

The hazy memories, the faces of the women that night, the seer, those sisters, the attack... it was all coming back.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything. It won't. George was repeated those phrases like a devotional.

"Oh wow! Look at the ceiling!" Cassandra cried, pointing upwards with the cutest smile on her face. She didn't know. She didn't need to. George considered himself a semi-decent actor so, he nodded, forcing a smile. "You see Fred anywhere?"

She didn't reply, just dragging them over to the barstools George had tried to drown her memory on, only a month ago at the most. This is fine.

The same bartender was there, thick Scottish accent and everything. Fucking hell. She kept looking at George like she was trying to piece together an old face from a photo, George turned his eyes away.

He felt dirty. So dirty. Like he had fallen into muddy water. Glancing over at Cassandra, he could see her through its dim reflection, walking away. It was him drowning all over again.

They had sat down on the barstools, Cassandra in the very same one that... no. Thinking about that was wrong.

"You've never been good at hiding," the bartender spoke, seeing right through him. Cassandra was looking at him, he could feel it. It burned icy cold just from his guilt alone. She leaned over and whispered, "What was that about?"

He downed the firewhiskey, "I think the establishment is suppose to have seers, fortune telling and all that hogwash."

"Doesn't sound like hogwash to me," Cassandra murmured.

You're right, you have no idea how right you are, he thought. He didn't like the look on the bartender's face. He didn't like being here. Where the hell is Fred?

"Hello?"

George refocused in on the world, looking at the perfect woman beside him. He was so lucky... but when does luck run out? "Sorry?"

"I said, you're paying right? Because as you might recall I've been freshly fired from my work," she was smiling, trying to tempt banter out of him.

Snap out of it. "Course I'll pay, whatever you want baby, you get." He leaned over and kissed her temple, taking the opportunity to glance around the club.

"Where the bloody hell is Fred?" He was on edge, Cassandra was starting to notice. She didn't press him on it, instead pointing to a small booth in the corner of the room, "Over there, c'mon!"

She was hopping off the barstool and dragging him in his direction before he could fully process, before he could fully process the familiar face also sitting in the booth.

But, there she was, George's worse nightmare surfacing, well second worst. He froze as Cassandra finally made it to the table. Both of them stopping, Cassandra waiting on George, George waiting on Cassandra to melt away. She surely would now.

"Hi! I'm Mandi Richards, nice to meet you! You are?"

George's eyes were about to pop out of his head, roll across the floor, never to be seen again. He was turning into stone, so frozen in place. There was quite literally no other option than facing the past, looking right at him. Cassandra, Its been nice loving you.

"Hi there, I'm—"

"Cassandra," He interupted, tone a bit too serious. "Can I have a quick word?"