Cast Aside

Muggle Liquor and Traveling Shops

There was a water spot darkening the ceiling on the right side of his room just over his small window. Here and there the wallpaper was cracked and in the small kitchen, the pipes had begun to leak beneath the sink. All these things would have been easily fixed with magic, but George couldn't be bothered.

Two years ago, when he and Fred first moved into the flat, they had been too excited about the freedom of their own place and the prospects of their shop to concern themselves with small cosmetic details. Looming war hadn't been enough to truly dim their arder, so brilliantly did they burn together.

Now, that all felt like so much ash.

And all George could see when he looked around their flat were the imperfections and painful memories. A few days before, he'd folded himself up to peer beneath the cabinet to try to fix the leaking pipes. They were difficult to get at and it was cramped so he grumbled to himself about expansion charms as he tried to look about. When he'd tapped the leaking copper with his wand and cast a diagnostic charm, a familiar magical signature had prickled along his skin and set goose pimples running up his arm.

Fred had evidently been the one keeping the pipes working properly. No wonder they'd started leaking again. With him dead the charms had begun to fade.

George hadn't attempted any other projects after that. Now he lay in bed, staring at the damp bit of ceiling and wondering how much longer he could get away with avoiding everyone. His family was too painful. Whenever his Mum looked at him, he knew she saw Fred and the sorrow in her eyes was too much to bear. Most of his friends were the same way and their pity was nearly worse than his Mum's tears.

Just about the only person he didn't avoid was Hermione. She missed Fred too, he knew, but she had lost so much herself that she didn't seem to have any pity left to spare for George. Or maybe it was just that she somehow knew he hadn't any use for it and so tried to act as normal as she could manage. Either way, Hermione was the only one he found remotely tolerable.

A tapping at his window pulled him from his thoughts and tore his eyes from the patch of discolored ceiling. Hermione's new owl, Jacksy, waited patiently with a note from his mistress.

With a heavy sigh, George drug himself from bed and let the bird in.

"Evening, Jacksy." The owl butted his head affectionately against George's hand before extending his leg for him. Hermione had bought Jacksy in Australia after finally giving up hope she could ever restore her parents' memories. Leaving her beast of a cat with them—for she could hardly take him from them—she'd wandered the local magical district and found the greater sooty owl and bought him at once. 'Jacksy' had been his name and she hadn't seen fit to change it.

Knowing there weren't any owl treats in his bedroom and that she would likely require a response, George opened the door and stepped aside for the bird to follow him through.

"Come on then. I'll get you something while I read this."

In the kitchen, he fished for his owl treats and read her letter... or note rather.

George,

Stopped by the burrow today. Your Mum sent me home with more food than one person needs, as usual. Think I'll grab some butterbeer and pop round to share. I don't feel up to eating alone tonight.

Hermione

"Hmm. Guess you don't need a response after all."

The owl, having finished his treat, hooted softly at George and hopped across the counter to the nearest window to be let out. George leaned against the chipped white laminate and watched the grey owl fly off down the alley for several moments, wondering if he should have sent her a note to stay home after all. But then Jacksy banked out of sight over the buildings and he knew it was too late for that. Besides, it had been a few days since her last visit. Maybe he shouldn't be alone tonight either.