Falling For

I buried my father the next week. The funeral, a small ceremony held in the woods near his house, went off without a hitch. I stood beside George, his hand sweating in mine as I shook with whatever grief I had left. Noël was behind me, his hand on my shoulder. Mum was with her live-in de facto, Wendell (a relaxed old gypsy who kept his long hair in a ponytail), humming songs of hurt under her breath.

Afterwards, Noël offered to take George and I out for a quick tea. The skinny, tall thing that I had once known had grown up; stockier, fuller faced and less boyish, but still bright-eyed and lithe. In the few months I had not seen Noël he had changed drastically. It was like I had lost years off my life.

George accepted before I could think over the offer, leading me away to apparate to a small teashop in Hogsmede. Standing outside the cosy looking place, I recognised it from the few trips during school I took with Noël from a time where we were both younger and more naïve about the parts we would play in each other’s lives.

Suddenly laughing, George took my hand. I looked up at his cheerful nature, and he pointed to the love hearts gracing the ceiling rafters. The garish decoration of the place was so ridiculously comical it started to cheer me up instantly.

“Madam Puddifoot’s, eh Noël?” George snorted at the brunette man who was pulling out all of our chairs. His blue eyes reached up to meet the gingers, flickering from discontent to a hearty laugh. “Trying to take me out on a date?”

“So the truth it out.” Noël sighed, sitting down in front of us. He waved at the tall redheaded woman behind the counter who I recognised as Amelie, the girl he was seeing almost a year back. “I get free tea here, though.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And I figured it wouldn’t be as crowded as a pub. Sit.”

I sat down next to George, crossing my legs and leaning my elbows on the table. I must have looked a mess, but I dismissed it to the back of my mind where makeup stains weren’t that bad at all. I figured that a small tea date with two of my favourite people would probably help the healing process.

“I’ve noticed,” Noël started, his eyes running up and down my hands, probably eying off the noticeable line between my old skin and the babied pink layer that wrapped around my three last fingers. It was a bit odd looking, I assume. “I’ve noticed that it’s getting very dangerous out there.”

“Half of Diagon has shut down.” George had his business voice on and I just sat between the two, unaware of anything else but the conversation. Barely paying any attention though, I drifted into thoughts of my father who was now living out the rest of his eternal life underground, spilling into the contents of his coffin through his lovely new dress robes.

It was a rather bizarre feeling knowing that I could never be mad at him again for never wanting to see me. How dark the world had become, I noted quietly as George and Noël laughed about the recent tale of an escaped Pygmy Puff.

The tea that was sat down in front of me a good two minutes later woke me out of my stupor, giving me reason to move my body. I downed it, regardless of it’s scalding demeanour.

“Are we awake now, Mignon?” Noël nudged me softly in the ribs and I perked up.

“Sorry, got lost in my thoughts again.” Rubbing my eyes, I looked at the two. “What were we saying?”

“Right,” Noël started again, more confident this time. “Times are getting really quite bad as of late.” He nodded at me and I nodded back. “Listen, I don’t want to sound like a right daft man saying this, but if you two ever get into any trouble, please don’t hesitate to come to me.”

I watched the man lean forward on the table.

“I’ve moved into a small house at Godric’s Hollow. It’s not necessarily a huge deal, but I just want you two to know that I’m here if anything happens. It would be a right upset to have you or your family in any form of trouble.” He sighed at the end. “So, if anything happens or if any of you ever need a place to stay, please just let me know.”

He pulled over a napkin and summoned a quill from the counter, quickly scribbling down his address. “I’m connected to the Floo Network. I’m generally at work from 7 until 5 but it doesn’t mean that much considering.”

I looked up at the tall ginger boy beside me and he had his fist in a ball, covering his mouth in thought. I chewed my lip, wondering what exactly could have been going through Noël’s mind at that point in time.

“Now I don’t expect you to be jumping at the idea.” Noël was the only one who talked. “I know you have a successful business to work on and you seem quite happy where you are, Mignon, but I’m simply putting out this offer before it’s too late.”

George, who had been contemplating for a good five minutes, finally sat forward and reached over to offer his hand.

“You’re a good man, Noël.” He took the stockier mans hand, shaking it with a firm grip. My face brightened, letting out a breath of air.

“Thank you.” I told him, reaching over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

“I’m only part of the big picture, Mignon.” He finalised. “I’m only part of the future. I know what’s going on around us and I know I want to help.”

“Thank you, Noël.” I breathed back and his face softened.

“Not a problem.”




“There is absolutely no one in Diagon Alley!” George returned from his morning walk to get the paper, the Prophet tucked neatly under his arm. “There’s a few of the regulars, but half the bloody street is closed down.”

“We’re going to go into negatives soon.” Fred moaned from behind the counter, leaving me to stop rearranging the display of Snackboxes.

“You’d think people would need a bit of cheer in their lives during this time.” I mumbled at them both, returning to my tedious job. Verity had quick a few weeks before, mentioning something about an engagement to some muggle man. “But it’s okay, boys, maybe we need a little holiday.”

“That’s true.” George said, giving me a quick kiss on the head before looking down at the large paper bag with thick handles. “I have something for you to look at!”

“Oh yeah?” Pointing at the bag, I watched as Fred perked up behind the counter.

“What’s in the bag, Georgie?” He pushed the gate open, heading towards his twin with excited eyes. “You didn’t!”

“I did.” He placed the bag on the floor, retracting lumpy bits of metal from it with his wand. “It was sitting right outside Slugs and Jiggers and the old witch said I could have it. It’s half working but I’m sure we can fix it.”

“Such geniuses.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re going to get yourselves killed, be it by explosion or by ambush.” I walked away from their little parade in the middle of the shop floor, both of them pulling out parts of the radio broadcasting station they had been pining for for three or so months.

“Such a downer.” Fred shot back and I grinned at him, crossing my arms.

“How about you boys take this upstairs and I’ll make a pot of tea and some biscuits.” Offering all that I really could, I leant against the doorframe and shrugged at them before slinking up the stairs to the unit.

Potterwatch was birthed on our lounge room rug by the likes of Fred, George and Lee (who had decided to stop by just at the right time). With compliments to me on my chocolate biscuits, I spent the cosy afternoon reading one of Fleur’s books until I fell asleep curled up in the lounge chair, my lullaby the clanks and laughter of happiness re-ignited.