Angels Brought Me Here (George Weasley)

All of the Stars

The Leaky Cauldron

"What can I get you, love?" Jenny was terrified, but hoped, as she had in her interview, that she could present as confident. She was serving her first customer. He was a strange appearance, she had to give him that. He had his hood up, but when it came down she could see he was completely dishevelled. She could tell a handsome man was within him, but she sensed he wasn't caring for himself as he should have been. 

"A fire whisky, please," The man's voice cracked roughly, as though he wasn't used to speaking, as though he didn't do it often and it was a rarity for him.

"Tough day?" She asked, and he shrugged, not quite meeting her eye.

"Tough year," She nodded in understanding, before turning to fetch the bottle of fire whisky he requested and handing it to him.

"I'll cover that, you seem like you could use a friend," Jenny smiled, and the man seemed genuinely grateful, before walking off into the corner. She made a mental note that she couldn't buy drinks for every handsome man that walks into the bar, but that this was a special case, as this particular handsome man seemed depressed as shit.

Her shift went as she had expected following the encounter, and as she served the customers that flooded in and out, the handsome man from earlier in the night slipped her mind completely, she never had the pleasure of serving him again, and she wondered if he had left.

She was going about her business, wiping the bar down and trying to get to grips with the till, when a man walked into the bar.

"Excuse me, you haven't seen George Weasley, have you?" The man seemed quite desperate, and though she knew the name from her time at Hogwarts, she was afraid she would never be able to picture his face, other than he was clearly red-haired. Jenny kept herself to herself at school, she had a few friends but never ventured out of Ravenclaw socially, and though she saw the Weasley's around, and playing Quidditch, she was never close enough to see their face, and certainly not to remember it years later.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't imagine I have. Are you his brother?" Jenny questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Yeah, Ron. If he comes by here, will you just ask him to respond to one of my owls? I doubt that he will, but it would be nice to know someone asked him, you know?" The boy named Ron was almost begging, and Jenny felt the overwhelming urge to give him a hug. She reminded herself to work on her boundaries.

"Anything I should look out for, appearances? I don't know him," Jenny stated sheepishly, and Ron looked as if he wanted to face palm.

"Yeah, course, sorry. Red hair, probably grown out by now, about six foot four inches, skinny, freckles. He's probably a bit dishevelled by now, he's let himself go a bit since the war," Ron described his brother, and Jenny's mind flew straight to the customer she had served first that night, and she wondered silently if he was around somewhere still.

"I'll keep watch. Do you know where he lives? Can't you go and find him?" Jenny asked.

"Yeah, he lives above his old joke shop. We know he's alive and still living there, we see his shadow through the curtains and stuff, but he never answers the door and we don't have a key," Ron shrugged.

"I'm really sorry he's not getting back to you, Ron. I'll watch out for him, I promise," And Jenny meant it. But she couldn't help but think that she had already met George, and that he was most likely somewhere in that very bar as she and Ron spoke, probably watching them from a corner.

And her suspicions would be correct.