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“What’s wrong?”
George didn’t look at him, fidgeting a little in place as he stared at the opposite wall. He hadn’t said a word ever since the Ministry Official left.
Lee walked around until he was facing his face, squatting in front of him, resting his hands gently on George’s knees.
“George… what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” George weakly smiled, shaking his head, “Paperwork, you know?”
“George, please.”
George looked everywhere but at Lee. As the remaining twin turned away, from him, the sleeves of his shirt rode up just a little, revealing developing bruises that Lee knew hadn’t been there before, the dark green and purple marks standing out on the pale, freckled skin.
Looking up sharply at him, Lee saw George close his eyes, almost in shame.
“George.” Lee whispered, softly running his fingers over the marks, seeing that they were shaped like a hand, “George, look at me.” He fought to keep his voice soothing, “Please… tell me what happened?”
The red-head hiccupped, before the over-whelmed and frustrated tears fell freely.
“It’s okay.” Lee whispered, “It’s okay.”
He let his friend cry for a little longer, unsure over what to do.
He didn’t know what he could do to help.
Eventually, George either managed to calm down or he just had no more tears left to shed, leaning back in his chair. His face was red and puffy, and his cheeks were damp.
“George… tell me what happened.” Lee had to know. He had to know so that he could fix it.
“I-I can’t”
“It’s okay… I have you okay?” He offered him his hands, feeling George grab them as he fought to breathe, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths.
“Apparently… I should be more willing to do whatever it takes to keep this shop open.” George whispered, “Whatever it takes.”
The implications were clear, and Lee could feel the rage bubbling up inside of him. “What did he say or do?” He asked through clenched teeth.
No answer.
“George… please?”
“… He mentioned Mum, and how many children she had, so it must be a genetics things…. Willingness to spread legs and all that.”
“… You know, you could mention that to Molly, and she would make them regret their entire existence.”
“I can’t hurt her like that.”
Lee understood that. Still, the idea that someone had basically told George that he should sleep with them just to get a deal or a bit of help… it pissed him off. “Is that-Is that all he did?” Lee knew what the answer would be, after all, he could see the developing bruises right there, “George?”
“… He grabbed me.”
“And then?”
George just shook his head.
“Please?”
“… He tried to open my shirt, but I pushed him away.” George got to his feet, his temper starting to flare up, “If Fred-If-if Fred were here, they wouldn’t have dared do that!”
Lee didn’t point out that it was because Fred had been killed, that the Ministry thought they could get away with this. How often had this been tried with other single store owners just starting up.
“We need to call an Auror.” Lee stated, “Kingsley? You know he’s fair.”
“… I don’t want to bother them.”
“This is literally their job!” Lee was already conjuring his Patronus, hoping that George didn’t see how similar it was to his. That was a conversation that he didn’t want to have right now, “Let them at least try to help, you know?”
George stared at him for a moment, before nodding shortly and turning away, “Fine.” He whispered, “Okay.”
……………………………………………………………………..
George was stubborn.
It was a Weasley family trait, and it had served him well so far. After all, if he and-if he and Fred hadn’t been stubborn enough to stand against their mother’s wishes for them, then this shop wouldn’t exist.
He wasn’t about to let one bad incident stop him.
Even if he was tempted to go back to his room, crawl under the duvets and not get out of bed for a week.
“George?”
He was usually happy to hear Lee’s voice from the shop entrance… Lee had a way of cheering him up that didn’t make him want to cry in frustration. His family still treated him with kid gloves, not realising that that only made him feel worse.
“George, are you up there?!”
“Yeah! Just-just give me a minute!” Forcing a smile onto his face, neatening out his clothes in the hope they wouldn’t look slept in (which they were), he headed down the stairs, only to freeze when he saw a couple of familiar faces following Lee inside.
“Hey Kingsley.” George waved, “Hey-hey Percy.”
Percy.
What was Percy doing here? He wasn’t an Auror?!
“Ummm… have a seat?” He gestured at the bright orange stool that sat around the store, “Or… we can go to my office?”
“That would be nice.” Kingsley gave him a warm, reassuring smile, “After you.”
George turned and rushed up the stairs, not giving his older brother a second glance.
He’d been the last to see Fred alive. He was the last one Fred spoke before he-he died.
It hurt to see him, and he just knew that Percy was more than aware of that.
“So…” He clapped his hands together, “…. What’s all this about then?”
“George.” Lee gave him a disapproving look, “Mate, you know what this is about.”
George glanced between them all, already feeling his face pale a little. “I- “
“- George.” Percy’s voice was barely heard, “If you want me to leave, I-I can- “
“- No!” George wasn’t sure what spurred that reaction on, feeling his face flush just a little, “No I-I want you to stay, but you can’t tell Mum or Dad, right?”
Percy winced, muttering something about that not being a problem as George took the seat opposite him, opened his mouth, and told his story.
…………………………………………………..
It started off as just a regular Friday.
And then George was following his brother out of his store, trying to stop Percy from just apparating to the Ministry and giving the official a piece of his mind.
“Percy, come on- “He winced, grabbing his older brother’s arm before Percy could leave, knowing that Percy wouldn’t dare apparate when George was unprepared for a side-along apparate.
Percy turned to look at him, and that was when George noticed just how much Percy had aged over the war, the older brother looking more like his father than he ever had before.
Then again, none of them had come out of the war with a bright, sunny disposition in their eyes.
All of them looked haunted.
“What else am I meant to do?” Percy asked, voice trembling a little, “The Ministry’s in tatters from the war, half of them see me as a bootlicker who made nice with Death eaters to keep his job, the rest know why I was actually there. I have no influence there, but I need to do something or- “
“- cursing a Ministry official probably isn’t going to make things better.” Still, George appreciated it, “Unless you think you can get away with it?”
“I can get away with it.”
And you know what, George believed him.
“It’s still a no.”
“Please?”
“Nope. Let’s have something to drink.”
“Fire whiskey?”
“Obviously.”
“… We’re going to do something about this, right?”
George remained silent.
“Yeah…yeah of course Perce.”
No.