This is rather exciting for me. I actually had a huge burst of muse and was able to get the first few chapters of Where Have You Been completed on time. If any of you readers are people who read RW, I truly thank you for coming over to check this new piece out. For everyone else… THANK YOU. I really do appreciate every person who even gives my fic a chance.
Like I said in the past this fic is a bit different from most things I have ever written. It is a mixture of drama, mystery and romance. A triple threat deal! I promise it to be quite different then anything else so please bear with me seeing as the first few chapters might be slow and a tad confusing. Trust me they will all begin to unfold as the mystery reveals itself. So with that said and done I'll be quiet and let you be the judge. PS: Don't forget to let me know what you think via review!!
Where Have You Been?
Chapter 1
Some days just seemed to drag on longer then others. Today just happened to be one of those days, and George couldn't help but groan over and over again as people just passed by WWW without a second glance. It was quite unusual considering their business had been up over the last few months, but with the approaching Valentines Day it seemed like more people wanted red roses and less wanted Stink Pellets. It didn't make any sense in his eyes, or Fred's eyes for that matter. Who wanted to be showered in diamonds when they could have a supply of disappearing ink? Brushing his hand along the countertop, George removed a big ball of dust that had snaked its way into the supply of Chewy Quills on the front desk. Normally he would have left it there to add a little ambience to the shop but today he was far too bored. Anything was better then staring at the door for another four hours.
"This is probably the slowest day we have had in the last month." Dropping his forehead down on the table he groaned again drawing the attention of an already frustrated Angelina.
It had been like this for weeks, and frankly Angelina was growing tired of it. Of course she knew how stressed George had been lately but they were all stressed! Why did he get to throw tantrums like a five year old while the rest of them had to pretend they didn't care. "Look George if you are so damn bored call it a day and get out for a bit." She rolled her eyes as her feet carried her down the sliding ladder. "I mean your constant groaning is just giving me a steady headache and I'd much rather pull your end of the shift then listen to you whine for the next few hours."
Quirking a brow at her suggestion, George pushed himself up from the desk. "Are you serious?" Knowing the way Angelina joked he wouldn't have been surprised if she threw a book at his face and laughed uncontrollably.
"Of course I'm serious. Besides Fred is coming back soon and I'd like to have some alone time with him without you pissing and moaning about how bored you are. Do me a favor and just take off for a couple of hours." In her head she silently wished he'd just disappear for the next week but that was like asking Ron to roll around in a barrel of spiders for an hour. " Just go and…" Her eyes suddenly lit up and she eagerly clapped her hands together, "better yet…" Running towards the small desk in the back, Angelina yanked open the top drawer and pulled out a small piece of parchment. "Take this!" Jogging back towards George she extended her hand out and offered him the piece of parchment. "I was supposed to go visit Katie and Lee at their summer house a week ago but couldn't get there. They came home now so their summer house is vacant for the next few days before they lock it up for the fall. They told me to use the portkey ticket and still go up but I'd rather be here with Fred. You should go instead. Take a day or two off and hit up the streets of Austria. I hear they are beautiful" Nodding eagerly she pushed the ticket towards him.
Well that was the last thing he had expected. Taking the ticket from Angelina's hand George was sure to study the look in her eye for a good long minute. "This is legit right?"
Last time he had taken a gift from Angelina he had been thrown in the holding cells at Gringotts until they were able to clear up the small mix up that had been put on the paper. Apparently Angelina thought it would be hilarious to change all the names on his forms to Lord Voldemort. Of course he had been to preoccupied with some girl who was on line to notice the change and when he had handed the papers in the goblins went on a tirade. Angelina had thought it was hilarious, but George had the scratches on his back for weeks to prove how lethal those little buggers could really be.
"Of course its legit. I swear to you on Fred that I was really gonna go visit Katie and Lee." Crossing her index finger over her heart Angelina grinned. "And if for some reason something happens I will take full responsibility for it. In fact if something goes wrong I'll give you a nice satchel of fifty galleons."
The sudden thought of money entering his pocket was enough to satisfy his worries and tightening the ticket in his hand, George began heading towards the staircase to pack a small bag for a few days. Merlin the thought of getting away for a few days was fantastic. "I love you Angie. No matter what anyone else says I swear you are absolutely wonderful."
Pushing open the door to the apartment he faintly heard Angelina yell something along the lines of 'what does everyone else say', but he was already making a straight line towards his closet. Pulling out clothes without much regard to what matched, George summoned his suitcase and flicked his wand so his clothes would start packing for him. The last time he had been out on vacation he had spent three days with the Wizard flu which of course wasn't much fun. While everyone was out having a great time he was stuck taking awful tasting potions and hovering over the toilet for twenty hours. In all it had been a vacation from hell. Hopefully spending some personal time at the Jordan summer house would be a lot better. From what he had heard the bars in Austria were absolutely amazing.
Tossing the last piece of clothing out of his closet, George moved towards the suitcase and slammed the thing shut. Snapping the locks he paused for a moment and scanned his room once before placing his wand back into his pocket and grabbing the handle of the case. The less time he spent in his sodding miserable apartment the more time he could have away from the shop and out on the town. Adjusting his hand around the handle, George bumped into the edge of his night stand and sighed as a few photos fell out from behind one of his old broken picture frames. He really needed to stop shoving pictures into the frame without removing the old ones. From the looks of it only a few pictures had fallen out and quickly tossing the suitcase onto his bed he began picking up the fallen photos from the floor. One contained a smiling Angelina three weeks after Fred had proposed to her. Another was a picture of the five of them from Katie and Lee's wedding. The last picture that had fallen to the floor made him draw in a sharp breath. He wasn't sure what year the picture was taken, by the looks of it he was almost certain it was their seventh year, but that was questionable.
It didn't really matter much when it was taken. All he knew was staring into those hazel eyes brought back those blasted feelings he had tried so hard to forget about. "Five years…" Turning over the photo he let his thumb trace the lipstick kiss she had placed on the back, and for a brief moment her soft laughter filled his head. Everyone said it would be easy to forget the pain, but every time he stumbled upon memories he was thrown back into something he could never forget. She was frozen in a time he couldn't let go of, and George had been circling in his own misery for the last five years.
"Are you leaving?" Jumping in his place, George flickered his gaze towards Angelina who had somehow appeared in the doorway. "What are you looking at?" She shuffled across the room far too fast for him to put the picture away. Instead she took in the same gasp when her own eyes settled on the picture he was holding. "That was Lici's seventeenth birthday party." Her hand managed to find its way to George's shoulder, and she grinned. "Gods she was beautiful."
Shoving the picture in his pocket, George just nodded rapidly before grabbing the suitcase from his bed again. He couldn't go back to that place again. It had taken him so long to dig himself out of that whole, and he'd be damned before he fell face first again. Turning towards Angelina he opened his mouth twice to speak but was still too overwhelmed by the picture. Finally after an elongated pause he just gave a frantic wave goodbye before heading out the door and down the stairs. Somewhere behind him he heard Angelina's concerned screams, but he quickly threw his hand out in front of him and flung open the door. The sun immediately blinded him, and as his mind began to focus in on something else the picture in his pocket became a frozen memory again.
The trip to the Ministry was less than three minutes and as he stood on line for the Port Key travel agency George couldn't help but let his mind wander back to the picture that was shoved in the pocket of his pants. He knew it would eventually happen. Every time he came across something of hers he acted like this. Fred often consoled him by saying it was one of those normal humanistic traits that he'd just never be able to push aside. George managed to push it aside several times with the help of Firewhiskey. A few glasses of the awful liquor and the past five years became an immediate blur.
"Can I help you?" An elderly voice brought him out of his dreamland and offered him a friendly smile. "I see you have a Port Key ticket…I'll take that sir." Her bony fingers reached out and snatched the ticket from his hand. For some reason he didn't even move, and instead of bidding her a farewell he proceeded to take the new ticket and walk away without bothering to acknowledge her.
In a very un-George like state he took the new ticket and approached another long line of people. One thing he hated about the Ministry was the stupid lines. When things had been chaotic in the past he understood why the lines were there and why so many people bustled around the important building. With the fall of Voldemort and the initial downfall of the Dark Arts he had figured things would have at least settled down a bit. Running his free hand up through his hair George studied the back of the woman's head who was in front of him. Her long flowing brunette hair gave off a brilliant shine and for some reason he longed to reach out and let his fingers run through it. She used to like when he did that. There were many occasions she would pounce on him and sprawl herself out so she'd be comfortable. Without letting him get a word in she would lift his hand to her hair and force him to play with her hair. Merlin how he missed those simplistic moments.
"Excuse me?" Again a voice brought him out of his daze, and George found himself focusing in on the woman in front of him. Normally he would have just said hello but judging from the annoyed look on her face he figured that wouldn't go over very well.
"Yes?"
She didn't bother saying anything to him, but instead made a very obvious gesture towards her hair with her eyes. George followed her gaze and let out a strange gag as he settled on the image of his hand entwined in the woman's hair. "Geez…I'm sorry…really I am. You just don't understand that I -" Before he had a chance to finish apologizing the woman had already turned and made her way to the next available Port Key booth.
Shaking his head George recalled the last time an incident like that had occurred, and almost made himself laugh. It was two years since the mistaken identity, but he could play it back in his head as though it were yesterday. After all it wasn't every day you accidentally kiss your sister-in-laws mother because she happened to have the same color eyes as your former lover. Hermione had been awfully pissed that George had snogged her mother, but he wasn't sure if he could say the same for Mrs. Granger. The woman wouldn't leave him alone for the rest of the night, and from that party on they referred to her as Mrs. Robinson after some muggle movie Katie had forced them to watch.
Chuckling under his breath, which seemed to ease a lot of pent up tension, George spotted the next vacant booth and with his suitcase in hand he shuffled down the row and to the machine. With the constant influx of muggle technology into the wizard world the usage of Port Keys had become so much simpler. All you had to do was obtain the right ticket from the reservation desk and then find one of the empty Port Key machines. Sticking the ticket into the slot it would ask you to place your hand on the screen and prepare for travel. It took about a second or two, but by the time you opened your eyes again you were in the Port Key office of the place you were intending to arrive in. "And to think those dunderheads wanted to rid the world of muggles." Snorting back a laugh George inserted his ticket and pressed his hand against the screen. Closing his eyes he took one last look over his shoulder at London before the world around him blurred and then quickly vanished.
Just as soon as he had closed his eyes he felt himself touch down on solid ground again, and a sigh of relief washed over him. Not fond of traveling, George opened his eyes and glanced around the Austrian Port Key office. To be honest it looked almost identical to the one in London, and shrugging at the boring similarities he steadied the suitcase in his grasp and grabbed the emerging receipt ticket from the dispenser. At the very bottom of the paper he could make out an address, but figured getting outside into better light would solve the forced squinting he was doing. "Excuse me but how do I get out of here?"
A rather tall blonde man pointed towards the door across the room and then continued on his way. George nodded a quick thank you and then made a beeline for the exit. Still convinced that this was some sort of trap Angelina had placed him in, George glanced back over his shoulder half expecting the Austrian Auror unit to come barging through the doors to take him in for some sort of absurd questioning. When the doors to the security office remained closed a satisfied smirk rose to his lips, and he pushed the door open allowing the sweet smell of Austrian air to fill his lungs. "Merlin I needed this." Holding the ticket up towards his eyes again the street address became a thousand times clearer, and he quickly stuck out his wand signaling for travel service.
It took a moment or so before a large brown buggy came speeding into view, and George, used to the luxury of the Knight Bus, cringed at the sight of the rickety old thing. One wheel was practically hanging from its hinge, and the door was merely a brown curtain hanging across a flimsy piece of rope. The driver, a portly man sitting up front, tipped his cap as he pulled to the curb. "Ah Ah a traveler I see. Marvelous Marvelous…" George quirked a brow at the mans odd behavior. Realizing that it was perhaps the only service in the area he sucked up his suspicions and looked down at the address again.
"I need to get to Cobbler which I believe is located in…"
"Der Hierher Hügel… I know this." Motioning for George to get inside the buggy the man began shouting out things before clapping his hands together in the most peculiar fashion.
"I knew Angie didn't come for a reason…the place is cracked." Pushing the curtain aside he found himself staring into the faces of very baffled strangers. "Hi." He pursed his lips together as the lot of them remained quiet. Realizing that that probably weren't English speaking George ran his hand over his face and groaned. "Friendly buggers these blokes are…" The buggy lurched forward, and the vacation he had been waiting for slowly began to take a turn into something he hadn't quite imagined. Especially considering he was going to have to figure out a way of communication without looking like a complete wanker. One thing he absolutely hated about going places was feeling completely out of place. Why in the world would Angelina send him to Austria knowing how much he hated that awkward feeling. "And how didn't I realize they wouldn't speak much English?" Frowning at his own stupidity, George sat back in one of the cushion seats as the buggy began to trek through the green hills of Austria.
Luckily enough he had managed to grab a seat next to a small circular window, and as the buggy bopped around on the streets he was able to take in the lush environment around him. She would have loved it. Doing his best to memorize every single detail George closed his eyes and imagined her sitting there beside him. After five years he promised himself he wouldn't do this anymore, but being in this sort of place seemed to negate those promises. She had loved the outdoors, and she had adored traveling. If only there was a way to go back and change the outcome of things he would have sacrificed his own life to see that hers was taken care of. "Gods I miss you Spinnet…" Rolling his chin deep into his chest he let out an aggravated breath as the buggy came to a lurching halt.
"Ah Ah…English boy…Cobbler for you." The drivers voice carried through the thin walls of the carriage, and George, saying goodbye to the fluent Germans, parted the curtain and stepped out into the sunlight again. "There she is." He pointed to a small cottage that was located at the end of a narrow winding path. "Closest town is ten miles from here, but the people who were here over the summer stored brooms in their backhouse."
Tossing a wave of thanks to the man George took out his wand and summoned a floating charm for his suitcase. Shoving his hands deep within the pockets of his pants, George strolled down the winding path determined to set his mind on something else. It wasn't healthy to harp on the past the way he did, and to be honest he was growing tired of burying himself over and over again. "Its been five years George." He repeated softly to himself. " Five years and you have yet to let it go." Did he want to let it go? That lingering feeling of guilt always sprang up at this exact moment, and as if on cue he placed his hand across his chest and pushed down to try and suppress the pain.
How long was a person supposed to take to grieve for another person? Especially when the person was the very essence of your soul. George had witnessed Alicia's funeral five years ago, and he had even delivered the eulogy when no one else was capable of finding the words to describe her. George could have stood there for hours describing her. He could have built bridges with the words of adoration and love he used to praise her. When he had finished speaking there was not one dry eye in the entire place, and George himself had to do his best to keep his composure. Five years had gone by and those same feelings he had held in that funeral home were the same feelings that coursed through him every time he saw something that reminded him of her. She was his best friend. She was his lover. Alicia had been the world at his fingertips, and he didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to her.
Just like every other good thing in his life she managed to slip through his grasp without ever truly knowing how much he loved her. Course Angelina tried to make him understand that Alicia always knew. She said that Alicia always spoke about the love of soul mates and how difficult it was to actual find the right one. Alicia would drone on for hours about the power of love and the important roll it played in peoples lives. Things, love in particular, happened for a reason, and no matter the outcome one was blessed to know those feelings at all. Angelina swore to him that Alicia had always believed George was her soul mate. George had cried for six days straight after hearing those words leave Angie's lips.
Now he struggled again to believe that anything like that could be true. If someone was your soul mate then why did the world rip them away before they even had a chance to proclaim it. Sure he had told Alicia he loved her before she had left him standing in the streets of Hogsmeade. He had said a lot of things to her on that sodding platform, and not one of them seemed good enough now. If he had known it would be the last time he'd get to hold her, kiss her or stare into her hazel eyes he would have done things differently. He wouldn't have let her walk away.
Coming to the front door of the cottage George turned the handle and let himself into the summer home of Katie and Lee Jordan. Upon Alicia's sudden death there seemed to be a whirlwind of proposals and marriage. Lee and Katie didn't waste a minute, and George found himself standing in as best man for their small secluded wedding. Angelina and Fred, though still deciding on a date, had declared their engagement a few weeks after the Jordan wedding which pushed Ron and Hermione into an early settlement as well. One by one the people who he had seen fall in and out of love began to find those feelings he used to share with Alicia. For a moment he had hated them all and secretly wished for failed relationships. Somewhere in the back of his head he heard Alicia tell him not to be so bitter, and at that he had accepted to be Best Man whenever Fred and Angelina tied the knot.
Dropping his suitcase onto the floor George let himself glance around the place before deciding what to do for the next few days. He had expected to waltz into the place and be surrounded by photos he'd rather not see, and breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed the bare walls. Crossing the room towards the kitchen he pulled open one of the drawers and removed a jumble of papers. With a flicker of luck he most rightly deserved he grinned as he sorted the papers out on the kitchen table. They looked like travel brochures for the area, and figuring his best bet was to rely on the guides George closed his eyes and dug his hand into the messy pile. His fingertips hovered over them for a moment before finally touching down and brushing into one of the corners. "Bingo." Pulling the winning brochure into his hand he almost groaned at the sight. "A museum!" Glaring at his hand he shook his head as if utterly disappointed. "of all things you could have chosen you chose the museum! I'm ashamed."
Knowing he could reach back into the pile and do it again George quickly shuffled the papers together and placed them back into the kitchen drawer. It was already settled. Tomorrow morning he was going to wake up early and head into the town to check out the museum. Besides it was about time he was infused with a little more culture. Glancing over at the clock on the wall he practically laughed as the blasted muggle contraption read seven. It was only seven at night and he was going to turn in for bed. Merlin he really needed to start getting out more. Heading back to the first room to pick up his suitcase George paused in his steps and shook the odd feeling that had suddenly come over him. Normally he was used to these feelings but something about the rising one was different. Shaking it away and proceeding towards the staircase he mulled over what the hell was going on with him only to decide that he was just stressed like Angie had concluded.
Whatever it was that was making him feel so edgy just needed to go away, and as he found the bedroom and settled in for the night he planned on beating away the odd feelings tomorrow once and for all.
"Excuse me but could you tell me which way to the Art Museum?" George, still groggy from his early morning rise, stood in the center of Vesper Village.
The town had seemed friendly enough so he had decoded to ask the next person who walked by hoping that they spoke English. To his luck the man at least understood the word museum and pointed off down the main road towards a rather lavish looking building. Nodding a quick thanks in the mans direction, George adjusted his sweatshirt and began the short trek down the cobbled streets towards the museum. Angelina had actually set him off in a decent direction for once. The atmosphere was absolutely amazing, and finally for a single moment he could enjoy himself without the pending thought of work or worry. A vacation like this was much needed, and George inhaled the sweet scent of morning just to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming.
Strolling up towards the large front entrance George found himself pausing for a moment just to take in the massive building. Yesterday he had practically cursed himself for choosing this place for his first visit. Now as he stood outside the old building he was glad that this was his first stop. Something about history and art drew him back to a time that he used to adore. A time when she had been alive. Stepping in through the doors he dropped off his donation of money before proceeding into the first large chamber of work. There wasn't much to spy on the walls seeing as it was the first area of the museum, but directly to the left looked to be the less populated area. Crowded spots always drove him crazy and so he found himself moving across the room towards the East Wing.
The massive paintings on the wall reached out to him in such various ways that he couldn't help but grin at the beauty they held. Sometimes he truly forgot how much he loved art. Art. Alicia had loved art. Even when they were eleven and in their first year she had known so much about paintings and sculptures. Alicia would have loved a place like this. His eyes roamed carelessly across the hall and he grinned at the Donetta Torrelli masterpiece that hung above the main doorway. Lowering his eyes to a small group of people entering the room, George found himself instantly drawn to a young girl standing outside the men's room. Merlin how often he saw Alicia in such random places. It didn't matter how many years it had been since she had gone because regardless of time passed he still saw her figure everywhere. It was like a disease he just couldn't shake, and he tilted his head as the bathroom door opened and a little boy ran quickly to the woman's side.
Something wasn't right.
The way she reached out and took the boys hand sent an eerie chill soaring through his veins, and he watched closely as she walked from one end of the corridor to the other. There was an all too familiar swivel in her hips, and a twinge of recognition the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder. Alicia had those same gestures. His heart stopped beating. It was Alicia. But it couldn't be! Alicia had died five years ago when the Death Eaters had ransacked her home. Yet the way she moved was a replica of the Alicia he knew so well, and suddenly a violent wave of sickness washed over him. Was he going mental? Or had she gone into hiding when the Death Eaters attacked her home? Perhaps she never perished in the house and the woman before him truly was the girl he had dreams of every night. It was possible wasn't it? No! Alicia was dead and the girl in the museum was a fevered wish from his imagination. If she had been alive all this time she would have surely contacted someone!
Yet in the back of his head he felt that it was her, and suddenly the emotions possessed him and whether or not it was her was blurred by the hope coursing through him. If it truly was her what had she been doing for five years? The thoughts began to control him, and he repressed the urge to scream her name. The rows of statues that lined the corridor became a blur as his eyes focused in on a figure he had last seen drift down a road almost five years ago. Her hand was still latched onto the hand of a tiny boy and even from the distance he was at he could tell that she was teaching him about the different sculptures in museum. Could he even find the strength to speak to her? Was it her? After all he had witnessed her disappear from his life and had never received an owl after almost five years of believing she was dead. It didn't matter. He had to speak to her. How could he possibly pass up an opportunity like this when it was practically begging him to take an initiative? He'd be a complete fool to just turn his back and pretend he never saw her. George Weasley was no fool.
Finally finding the courage somewhere deep within the pit of his stomach George took a breath and began the short trek across the corridor towards the skinny looking brunette. Her once long and flowing locks had been chopped to the shoulder giving her a much more mature look to her very childish face. Though that wasn't her fault. She had always looked younger than half the students in their year, and George had found that one of her more endearing qualities. Approaching her side he remained quiet for a moment while he took in the conversation she was having with the little boy.
"But whys it missin' 'is nose?" The freckled face boy turned his inquisitive eyes towards her which only made her smile.
"Now James what did I tell you about the sculpture before this one?" Her voice was soft and calm just the way George had recalled it. For a second it felt like she had never left his side.
"Cause they're old. Right Mommy…" When she nodded the young boy, rather pleased he had answered the question himself, puffed out his chest in an all to familiar fashion.
George quirked a brow. Mommy? Studying the features on the woman's face again he shook his head. It couldn't be her! If she truly had lived through the Death Eater attack there was no way she would have passed up her passion for Quidditch to raise a family. She had her life planned out since she was in her first year, and to settle down wasn't her style. No he had to be wrong. His eyes were just playing tricks on him all along. The woman before him was a stranger who he had mistaken for someone else. Closing his eyes and placing his hand over his face George let out a sigh but was cut off as someone bumped into his shoulder.
"Oh! I'm sorry…" The soft voice, her voice, filled his ears again, but thoroughly convinced that it wasn't her this time he opened his eyes and smiled at the girl. From head to toe it looked like her, and he disregarded it knowing that there was no way the woman standing before his eyes could be her. Hell, if it was she would have surely recognized him by now.
"Its ok…no problem at all." His eyes flickered towards the woman's son, and for a second he fixed his eyes on the freckles that sprinkled the bridge of the boys nose. " It was my fault anyway. I was standing in the…" Somewhere his words trailed off when he brought his eyes back up to meet hers again. There in the same exact spot on the left side of her chin was that scar he had pointed out in their seventh year. His legs began to waver beneath him, and quickly he steadied himself against one of the nearby benches. His mouth, which he was so used to running at a mile a minute, became dry and at a loss for words. Only one thing was able to pass through them, and in the pit of his stomach he hoped the answer he received was the one he wanted. "Alicia?"
The woman cocked a brow, which he had taken as a good sign, but that sign was lost as she flashed a genuine smile and held out her hand. "Yes…Yes I am. Alicia Warrington…do I know you?" Her hand remained out in front of her while she waited for him to grasp it.
George's jaw went slack. Warrington? Did she just say Warrington? Somehow in the midst of his confusion he reached out and took her hand gently in his. He didn't know whether to kiss it, hug her, or just shake it so he just continued to let it hang there in front of him. The girl, who he still didn't believe was Alicia, blushed slightly and retracted her hand from his. It was a rather uncomfortable sight, and Alicia, uncertain of what was going on glanced down at her son and merely shrugged. The boy giggled a bit and stuck his own hand in the air imitating his mother.
"Hi!" He yelled rather loudly which was enough to knock George back into reality.
Removing his eyes from the scar on her chin, George glanced down at the sandy haired young boy and slowly took his hand. "Hello." If anyone else had been watching this interaction they'd surely think George was mental. The trouble was he couldn't decipher whether or not this was really happening to him. Had he slipped into some alternate reality where Alicia was alive? Worse, had he slipped into an alternate reality where she had married Slytherin scum? Shuddering a bit, George steadied himself and focused on the young boy again. "What's your name?"
Looking up towards his mother with a goofy expression on his face, James let out another childish laugh. "He doesn't know my name Mommy…" Finding this rather amusing the boy grabbed his stomach and giggled again.
"James Arthur Warrington!" Leaning down to the boys level, Alicia took the boys hands and turned him so he was fully facing her. "That was very very rude! Not everyone in the world is going to know who you are sweetheart. People know your name here because you live here. Now I want you to turn to this nice man and apologize." Her eyes were soft but stern, and the boy groaned softly at his mothers request.
George stood there with a semi smirk curled on his lips, and when the boy turned and apologized he simply leaned down and extended his hand again. "You are forgiven, young sir."
"Mommy I'ma go sit." James pointed to the bench George was leaning on and Alicia nodded in approval.
George was still dumbstruck. Why the hell didn't she recognize him? Where had she been? There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, but they all seemed to be nullified as the most important one lingered on the tip of his tongue. How had she escaped the Death Eaters? Her house had been turned inside out when The Order went to retrieve the bodies. His father told him that they wouldn't allow anyone who remotely knew the Spinnets inside because the display was that horrific. How did she escape, and why was she pretending like she didn't know him. And most of all how the hell did she end up married to Warrington? Unless of course it was a different Warrington all together which would save a lot of his questioning.
"So you know my husband Cassius then?"
George groaned. Ding Ding Ding. He had a winner. How the hell did she end up with that Slytherin bastard? Granted there was that brief moment in their seventh year when Warrington had tricked her into dating, but he had left her heart scarred. After everything he had done to her she went and married him? The last time Alicia ever spoke Warrington's name it was out of pure hatred and absolute anger. George had been there the entire time, and he had been there to pick up the pieces when he had ripped her apart. Now she was married to him? Where was the sense in that?
"Alicia…it's me." Holding out his arms as if waiting for her to stop joking around, George grinned. Alicia didn't crack a smile. " Alicia, don't you remember me?" His voice wavered slightly, and the sudden happiness he had felt when he saw her was beginning to be replaced by anger. Why was she looking at him like that, and why wasn't she telling him anything? "Alicia." This time he spoke her name in a monotone manner, and when she quirked a brow he snapped. "Alicia, this isn't remotely funny. Where the hell have you been? We thought you were dead."
Suddenly disturbed by her surroundings Alicia moved around George and reached out to take James by the hand. "I'm sorry I have no idea what your talking about. I've lived her my whole life, and I'm sorry if I don't recognize you…I meet many people throughout the year. My husbands a diplomat for the Austrian Ministry." Leaning over she scooped James up in her arms and began backing away. "I think you may have me mistaken for a different Alicia. I'm terribly sorry, sir." Though an odd feeling of déjà vu suddenly enveloped around her, and she paused in her steps. She knew everyone in this small town, and there was no reason at all why she should feel so strongly for a stranger. A stranger. That's all he was. A tourist visiting the area before the winter washed in with the cold. "I'm sorry we can't stay to chat any further. James needs his nap…"
"No I don't!" He piped up.
Her eyes focused on James and the boy settled back down. " James needs his nap and I have errands to run before the nightfall. It was lovely to meet you Mr…I'm sorry I didn't get your name." Again that feeling weighed down on her and she shook it away before it gave her the creeps.
"George." Was all he replied with before wiping his hand across his mouth.
"Lovely to meet you George, but we must be off. Enjoy your visit to Austria." She called back over her shoulder, but she was already out of the wing before he had a chance to answer her.
With his eyes still fixated on the door, George slapped himself lightly across the face. "What the hell just happened?" Not bothering to waste a minute of his time he spun on his heel and headed for the opposite exit. He needed to get back to the house and owl everyone back in London. He needed to set things straight. He needed to talk to Angelina about the papers the Ministry filed then night Alicia was 'killed'. He needed to owl Warrington. He needed to talk to Fred. He needed to see her again. He needed to figure out why she didn't know him. He needed to feel alive again because without her in his life he had been nothing more than dead himself.
Running at warp speed towards the house, George didn't even bother to stop and ask for a ride. With the adrenaline rush he was on it only took a matter of ten minutes before he was storming through the front door and dashing towards the kitchen. Out of breath and still completely perplexed by the days events, George pulled open the cabinet drawer and grabbed the first piece of parchment he saw. Something was scribbled at the top of it but he crossed it out with the spare quill he found pressed up against the drawer front. He scribbled down everything he could remember not really caring if it made any sense. He was sure they'd figure it out. Katie was intelligent. She'd figure out his stream of babbling.
This probably wont make much sense but I'm not even sure how to make it sound believable. Alicia is alive. Here in Austria! I have no idea how Katie and Lee missed seeing her. She was right there. The painting. I saw her in the museum with a kid. Her son! Alicia has a son! It was her. I know it and you have to find out what happened at her house when the Order went in to check out the scene. She's married to Warrington and she's here. She's mental.
George
Folding up the letter he scribbled the address on the outside and quickly moved from the kitchen out into the backyard. He knew Lee had an outdoor owl that roamed around because the bloke spoke nonstop about how brilliant the dumb bird was in every sodding letter. Sure enough as soon as the backdoor opened a large tawny owl flew down from one of the branches and perched itself on the little stand next to the door. Maybe Lee was right about the bird after all. Attaching the letter to the owls leg, George instructed in on where to go and let out a deep sigh as it drifted up into the air and disappeared behind the clouds. They'd receive the owl by tomorrow morning the latest, and when they did he'd be waiting at the house for their arrival. Alicia was alive. His Ali was alive. Now all he needed to do was figure out where the hell she had been for the last five years.