despondency - George Weasley

{eight}

Chapter Eight

"George?" Astrid called, tentatively knocking on the oak door that led to George's office.

"Come in."

With a gulp, Astrid pushed the door open and entered the office. George sat silently at his desk, not bothering to look up at her as she approached, his eyes focused on a piece of paper in his hands. Astrid strode across the room and sat in the large green chair in front of his desk. As much as Astrid wanted to avoid him for the entire day, Astrid knew it would be wrong to not at least check in with him before she left for the day.

"Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?" she asked, tapping her fingers against her leg nervously.

"No," George said after a moment, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers, "just make sure to lock up on your way out."

"Alright, George," Astrid said, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and mustering a small smile, "have a good night."

He nodded in return and Astrid quickly got to her feet and made her way towards the door. Right before her hand touched the handle, she hesitated. Her hand floated just above the handle as she thought. She knew if the joke shop wanted to keep succeeding, they needed to start developing new products. No matter how awkward or embarrassed she felt, she knew she had to talk to George about it sooner or later. She decided sooner would be the better option.

"Actually," Astrid said, spinning around to face a confused George, "do you mind if we have a quick chat?"
"I suppose."

"I want to talk about the shop." she said, once again taking a seat in front of his desk.

"What about it?"

"George, we really need to start putting new products out-"

"Do you have any ideas, then?" Astrid was shocked when George cut her off, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice, "it's not a simple task."

"W-well I was thinking we could look through the ideas in this!" Astrid said nervously, but trying to sound confident as she got up to pick up the orange leather bound book on the floor beside George's desk, "if you want, you can tell me which ones you would want to sell, and then I can start trying to make prototypes!"

"We don't need new products, Astrid!" George insisted, throwing his hands up in frustration, "this is not part of your job, so don't worry about it."

"Tell me then," Astrid replied, refusing to back down, she was not going to give up without a fight, "are sales up?"

"Sales are... fine," George said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head with one hand, "they're lower than usual but our profit is still good."

"George, you know Zonko's is coming out with product after product, after a while we won't be able to compete!"

"We'll be fine, Astrid."

"Fine," Astrid spat, trying to keep the anger that was building in her from erupting, "but don't blame me when things go under and you see that I was right."

Astrid pushed her chair back forcefully as she stood up, she could see the surprise in George's eyes. She marched back towards the door, but once again, before she opened the door she turned around to say one final word.

"You wouldn't know this, because you never leave this fucking office," Astrid said, a fire in her eyes like George had never seen, "but if you saw the look on the faces of those poor kids who are devastated when I have to tell them that we don't have anything new for them to see, you might change your mind."

"Astrid-"

"Don't," Astrid shook her head, her anger was slowly fading but she could feel tears threatening to spill, "you don't have to disappoint them everyday when you tell them there's nothing new on the shelves. You don't have to see them leave with their heads hanging. I know you don't care about making the shop better for yourself, but at least think of doing it for those kids who are so much like you were at their age, they look up to you so much."

Without giving him a chance to speak, Astrid left George sitting silently in his office. He was used to the silence, but this time it felt heavy, almost suffocating. He couldn't stand to be alone in it, he couldn't stand what he was feeling and what his life had become.

He reached a shaking hand to the bottom right drawer of his desk and pulled out an unopened bottle of Firewhiskey. His trembling fingers fought with the cap, hurriedly bringing it to his lips the moment it opened.

And he drank.

And drank.

And drank.

Until it all felt okay again. 

A/N

Hey guys! Hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter! 

I'm so glad I've gotten back into writing, I know this isn't the best story but I do love writing it and I hope you guys enjoy reading.

Let me know if you have any suggestions for the story! I would love to hear them!