Chapter Thirty-nine - All Good Things

It was getting a little embarrassing, bending over a pool of resolutely black ink while the stench of the little pillow made her nose itch. Gabrielle thought waving her little wand while incanting "revealo, revealo" might help, until Ginny burst out laughing. The little wand itself was a distraction. Gabrielle had the impression that training it on Ginny would make the blond stick happy. That would be a humiliating contest, thought Gabrielle. She gave the wand a shake so she could concentrate, and try to decide how much more time she would have to waste on this pointless attempt.

The surface of the ink rippled suddenly, as if something had shaken the saucer. Gabrielle leaned forward - this was new. The dark puddle lightened, almost like it was reflecting light. Like it was reflecting the sky, thought Gabrielle. She could even see patches that might be clouds. There was a shape in the middle of the still sloshing image, dark against the reflected sky. Gabrielle peered closer still. Was there really something there? The curtains in Ginny's room were pulled back from the window, after all. What, wondered Gabrielle, could the shape be? Was it her own reflection, or something else? If she tilted her head and got lower, she could see something behind the shape. It was not a reflection, she was sure of that now. She could See, which was a talent, one that everyone would recognize. There were letters in the background! A jumble of letters she couldn't read, but some of them looked backwards. She could guess that meant eastern Europe. Gabrielle allowed herself to be impressed with herself; that was quite some distance for her first time. First successful time, reminded a stray thought. There was a darker patch just beyond the shape, where there was a glint. If I could just get the right angle, thought Gabrielle, I could See that also.

Abruptly, the dark shape changed, and red, beady eyes glared into her own. It was a rat! Gabrielle gave a little shriek as paws with sharp nails made the image ripple and splash, as if the view was looking up from water. Gabrielle pulled back. When she looked back into the pool of ink, the images were gone.

"(Did you see that? It was a rat! I saw it. I - Saw - it!)" exclaimed Gabrielle.

"What? What are you saying?" asked Ginny. She held out a handkerchief. "Here, clean yourself up."

"It was ze rat," repeated Gabrielle. She wiped her nose with her hand. "I - Saw - it! Zere was ze sky, ze rat, and ze letters which were -" Gabrielle noticed her hand. Oh no.

"Use the handkerchief next time," snorted Ginny. "You really saw something?"

"Oui," mumbled Gabrielle, looking at her hand. Indelible, that's what George had said. Which was the same as saying it would not come off. Mirror, hinted an alarmed thought. Gabrielle turned to the vanity, and the world ended. The locks of hair around her face were still a red, only it was a lot more orange than before. Her nose was a smear of black, and her face was now very pale from the sight of the awful visage before her. She looked like, like... like that muggle clown outside the bistro near the fountain, the pathetic clown that made the little children turn away and their parents cross the street. All she needed was some twisted balloons and she could scare off foot-traffic also. What was she supposed to do now? Wiping a tear only made it worse.

"Come on," said Ginny while pushing Gabrielle down into the chair. "Let's see what we can do. Scourgify. Scourgify! Um... delaver." The spells had no effect on the ink. Gabrielle had not even bothered hoping. "Erm, I think I'll just go and see if Hermione is up. You wait right there. And don't touch anything, all right?" As if, thought Gabrielle, I would go anywhere looking like this. She recognized the tone of Ginny's voice. It was the exaggerated calm used in hospitals, right before the healer's aide would, once clear of the door, break into a run.

Sometime later Hermione stepped into the room smartly, with several books. Just like, sighed Gabrielle, the needed healer the aide would have sought. She will now, predicted Gabrielle, claim that it is not so bad.

Gabrielle was almost right. Hermione swallowed a giggle before composing herself again. "Ah. Ginny made it sound much worse." Ginny looked rather doubtful about that, and Gabrielle select a Look of Death, class two. "All right, it is pretty bad. Where's the ink?"

"We were using this," said Ginny. She held the silver inkpot out to Hermione. Gabrielle noticed that that she now did this very carefully, using the napkin.

"That's from Gringotts," declared Hermione. "Didn't you recognize it? How did you get it?"

"I didn't. We never had reason to spend much time there," explained a pinking Ginny. "Verity dropped it off for Effy."

"Fred," said Gabrielle. "He gave it to me." This - the hair, the ink - it was all Fred's fault. More or less.

"Fred took something from Gringotts? That's not a good idea for a prank. Goblins can be rather, erm, testy about that sort of behavior," said Hermione. She closed the book she held and frowned, "Magic won't take it off, least not magic anyone has lived to write about."

"What do you mean by zat?"

"If wizards could change contracts and deeds at will, well, the whole economic system would just collapse! Gringotts insures that does not happen. Rather viciously at times, if historical accounts are accurate."

"You can not, eh, help zen?" asked Gabrielle. She thought about the pink slime George had used on her. And, relished a second thought, not on Matty. That would work, except she really did not want George to see her like this. Ginny, brightened Gabrielle, could ask George for her, and ask Fred about the colored hair.

"Perhaps we can floo Bill," suggested Hermione. "It'll wear off of skin, of course, but there must be a way to deal with everyday mishaps." Gabrielle liked her own idea better. There was less chance of Fleur finding out. "But honestly. How did you not notice the ink on your hand?"

"I might've, er, gotten the order wrong in front of Mum," said Ginny. "Effy was scrying, and got a little too close when she saw something."

v - v - v - v - v

Hermione was very surprised at Gabrielle's success, so much so that she sought corroboration from Ginny. The youngest Weasley could offer none, pointing out that she had not been able to see anything as Gabrielle had put her face into the ink. Gabrielle took affront to both the question and answer, so while she assured the two witches that she could recall all the important details of what she had Seen, she also told then she would not until they had gotten the pink slime from, she emphasized that, from George and had made Fred return her hair to normal. Hermione looked like she was about to argue, but Ginny laughed and told the older girl that they had been terrible influences on Gabrielle. Hermione wanted to argue that, but Ginny pulled her from the room. Gabrielle felt like she wanted to argue the last point as well, but she couldn't work out which side to take. Instead, she concentrated on remembering the writing. Some of the letters had been larger, those were probably most important.

Fred arrived shortly, and began laughing at Gabrielle's ink-stained condition. She was ready for that, though, and brought up her wand for the silencing spell. It put an end to the laughter, although that was more because of the surprise than the spell actually working.

"Is it a bank holiday? Witch-with-a-B day, perhaps?" asked Fred quite, Gabrielle was pleased to hear, quietly. " Finite! I've had more'n enough wands pointed at me already today. Having some trouble with your makeup there Gigi?"

"Eh what? It is ink, of course."

"Oh yes, of course. A French technique, I'm sure. We British just use a quill. You know, feathered thing with a nib on?"

"I was, eh, looking for, eh, zat Wormtail, for Harry, and -"

"Where? In a bottle of ink?"

"Shut up, Fred, and, eh, fix my hair," ordered Gabrielle with an imperial wave. She wondered if Verity had been among those pointing a wand at him.

Fred stepped behind Gabrielle. "Not really my thing - can never get braids straight. I'll give it a go, though." He raised his wand.

"No, not zat! I mean ze color," said Gabrielle in exasperation, pulling the orange locks forward. "Hermione tried to fix Fleur's mistake wizz zee new Wheeze, and zis happened."

"Hmm, I see," said Fred vaguely. "What do you want me to do?"

Gabrielle found herself counting. And wishing for a meat fork. "I am going home, eh, today. I want my hair as it, eh, was, for Maman."

"Oh. Easy enough; it'll wear off in a day or two by itself. But, er..."

"What? What will happen?" demanded Gabrielle. Why couldn't George be in charge of these things?

"Remember that talk about, er, not getting something for nothing?" asked Fred. Gabrielle nodded and her hopes dimmed. "This might sting a bit..."

v - v - v - v - v

It had stung, if by that one meant the feeling of thousands of needles being jabbed into one's scalp. It was much worse than Madame Pomfrey's mallet. Gabrielle could not help the tears that came to her eyes. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, broken only by her snuffling, it seemed to Gabrielle that even Fred was taken aback. He appeared to be at a loss as to what to do, shifting uneasily. Possibly this, thought Gabrielle, was where Verity looked for sweetness. Fred's unease did not stop him from finally producing a small package, and asking her, even with her head slumped into her hands, to see that the 'Toolies' received it. He astutely retreated after that, because Gabrielle had gone to her trunk to fish out her knife.

The pain faded, and Gabrielle inspected her hair. For all the agony he had caused, Fred had missed quite a few strands, leaving streaks in her pale blond hair. The effect was subtle, and Gabrielle decided that she liked it. Orange was not her best color, but the small amount added warmth. It was just as well that she hadn't stabbed Fred. Mrs. Weasley came by to remind Gabrielle that she was missing breakfast, and needed to hurry. The matron was left dumbfounded by the extent of the ink stain on Gabrielle's face, and suspicious of the vague explanation. Gabrielle was fairly certain, though, that Ginny would want to keep the scrying secret.

Hermione and Ginny arrived with bad news that took the form of a small ceramic jar. George was not at the Burrow. Yet. Nor was he answering the floo at the shop. So he was on his way over, hoped Gabrielle. Ginny had gone ahead and contacted Bill at Gringotts, and he had advised her to contact Fleur for an exfoliant. That ceramic jar meant that Fleur knew, and would probably stop by with her camera to record the incident. Gabrielle twisted open the lid. It was the green stuff - ick.

As Gabrielle gently abraded her face, deep cleaning as well as refreshing and moisturizing her skin - according to the label - she noticed that Ginny was very distracted. She asked what was wrong. The three witches were cramped in the hall bath.

"Bill said that the goblins are really upset right now. Erm, someone nicked all the, er, inkpots from the lobby. And from a storeroom in the back."

"You think Fred and George did it?" asked Hermione. "That they stole things Gringotts? That, that would be amazing and stupid."

"Well, I mean, the ink's from Gringotts, right?" noted Ginny.

Gabrielle turned to them green in the face with avocado. "Verity said zat Fred was, eh, passing ze inkpots out all day. George told me zat Fred was, eh, angry because zey did not get ze, eh, first page." He told only me, smiled Gabrielle to herself. That was followed by an inner frown - she had told them now.

"Is Bill going to be all right? Have the goblins worked it out?" wondered Hermione.

"Well I couldn't ask him that, now could I?" said Ginny. "Bill said the goblin warlocks were still trying to figure how far in they got. He's helping to work out how it was done, after all that was added after the last time. You know, Effy, you're going to need to scrub harder. I can still see some ink."

Gabrielle checked the mirror. 'Some ink' was an understatement. That they thought it would work at all was a wonder. Her coven sisters did not know, but the ceramic jar came from a small boutique near Rue Saint-Lazare. A thoroughly muggle boutique, full of what Gabrielle always thought of as the muggle version of potions. The products they sold were all like the goo, listing various recognizable plant ingredients before things like stearic acid, polycarbo-whatever and other mysterious things. She scooped some more of the gritty, green paste onto her face.

"This should help," said Hermione with a wave of her wand. A wash cloth leapt onto Gabrielle's face and attacked. "Stop thrashing about! You'll hurt your - Ow!"

"I've got her," said Ginny, catching up Gabrielle's arms. Gabrielle tried to pull loose - the cloth covered her nose and mouth, and it was hard to get a breath in. The vicious towel also got some of the exfoliant into her eye. Gabrielle attempted to kick Ginny, but since she could not see and Ginny was quick, it was to no avail.

After a minute of skin-shredding scrubbing, the wash cloth went limp and dropped back down to the sink. Then it flopped itself into the water and began swimming in a slow circle. Gabrielle was released, and glared with her one open eye at Hermione, who was holding a handkerchief to her face. "(You can not just cast spells on me!)" snapped Gabrielle.

"(I did not. I cast a spell on the towel,)" argued Hermione nasally. "Anyway, I think that's done it." Gabrielle seethed, and tried to decide what to throw.

"Give it a rinse and let's see," ordered Ginny. "You didn't want George to laugh at you, did you?" Gabrielle turned back to the sink, and, wary of the still-moving cloth, started rinsing. She did not want George to laugh at her, that was true, but she also wanted to be treated as an equal. She was a proper witch, with talents even. Talent, corrected the traitorous thought. She should not have to put up with others forcibly scrubbing her like she was just a child - even though it had worked, and her face was no longer stained with black. Now her face was just very, very pink and tingly.

"Now put some on your hand, and we'll finish up," said Hermione as if there was no other choice.

"And tell us about the writing," added Ginny. This, thought Gabrielle, did not feel very equal either.

v - v - v - v - v

On the other hand, smiled Gabrielle as her trunk was levitated down the stairs by Hermione, she only had to ask for something before answering the coven's questions. Ginny fetched her breakfast, then some juice, and then boiling water for making coffee. A definite step toward equality! Gabrielle sent her off again for a piece of chocolate cake, but Ginny hadn't returned. That either meant Ron had eaten all of the leftover cake, or that Ginny had had enough. Gabrielle had asked the redhead for the most, because Hermione's nose had been bloodied. Not that that, Gabrielle reminded herself, was really her fault.

Gabrielle continued on into the kitchen. There was a piece of chocolate cake left, from one covered in ganache. It sat on a plate on the kitchen table, next to Ginny. And Fred. Fred had a small egg-timer next to the mug in front of him. The two pulled apart as soon as Gabrielle entered. Mr. Weasley, whom Gabrielle was expecting to find, was not present. George, whom Gabrielle was hoping to find, was also not there. It made her worried. Harry and Ron huddled together, heads bent over a sheaf of parchment, the single quill they had constantly changing owners.

"Oh, I'm sorry Effy. I was about to bring this up," smiled Ginny innocently. She held out the plate to Gabrielle.

Gabrielle did not take it. Did Ginny think her stupid? There was no time for a Wheeze now. "Eh, no zank you," said Gabrielle with a forced smile and a roll of her eyes. Such a lame attempt, thought Gabrielle. She expected Fred would say something to Ginny.

"Are you sure, Effy? It's sweet; it's chocolaty. Sooo chocolaty. You can smell the aroma, can't you?" crooned Ginny, wafting the plate back and forth under Gabrielle's nose. Gabrielle found her eyes tracking the thick slice, and blinked rapidly. It smelled fabulous, looked scrumptious, and was definitely... suspicious. And what was Ginny doing to her? She was acting like Fleur!

Gabrielle pushed the plate away. "Zat does not work on me." At least this time. "Zere is not time for zis."

"Always time for cake," piped Fred. "Last piece too. Mum held it back just for you." Gabrielle could tell, could see that something had been done to it. There were patches on the top that looked the tiniest bit different. Why couldn't they have ruined something less delicious?

"And zen you did zee prank on it," accused Gabrielle.

"Moi? I am innocent," claimed Fred in an offended tone. There was a snort from Ron. "Oy!"

"Zen Ginny did. It was for me," complained Gabrielle, a hint of whine coming into her voice.

"Don't know what you mean," shrugged Ginny. "Here, I'll have a bit." She picked up the fork and carefully took a small amount from the side. Gabrielle guessed that she was trying to avoid the patches. Ginny took another strategically chosen forkful.

"Where's our Blond Bludger today?" teased Fred.

"What happened to you?" called out Ron in concern, standing up. Hermione had come into the kitchen.

"Oh, er, is it noticeable? I was giving Beebee a hand, and, quite by accident - " started Hermione before Fred jumped in.

"That's more like it, Gigi!" crowed Fred. He pushed a spoon at Gabrielle. "Sure you don't want any? It looks lovely. No? D'you mind then?" Fred scooped out a big chunk and stuffed it into his mouth. Gabrielle couldn't be sure if he had avoided the patches, but she was appalled that the sublime, decadent richness of the cake was totally wasted on Fred. That had been three bites worth in one swallow. This was not fair.

"Quidditch plays? You're working on quidditch plays?" blurted Hermione as she riffled through the parchment in front of Harry and Ron.

"No! No, it, er, it could, er, it's a kind of code!" declared Ron. Harry slapped his hands to his mouth. Gabrielle watched Fred dig out another huge crater from her piece of cake.

"A code?" asked Hermione in disbelief. "Is that what it is? Is that right Harry?" The boy-who-lived did not answer, and was turning red in the face.

"You bloody great git!" snapped Ron, shoving Harry over. Harry fell to the floor laughing. "That would have worked." Ginny aimed her fork at the point of the diminished wedge.

"Stop!" cried Gabrielle. She did not think that Fred was avoiding any part of the cake in particular, and the little tip had not looked tampered with. "Eh, I will try a small bite." Ginny shrugged and passed her the fork. Gabrielle cut off her favorite part, the nub from the very center of the cake, and put it into her mouth. It was every bit as good as she remembered, even better really, because this was always the best part. Gabrielle swallowed. Fred flipped over the egg-timer, took a drink from the mug, then passed it to Ginny who did the same. With a surge of frustration and shame, Gabrielle realized that she had been tricked. She snatched the mug from Ginny. It was empty. Gabrielle, however, was filled with anger. "(I knew it! I knew you did something! I hate you!)" She flailed at Fred with the mug, but he was ready for her with his wand.

"Oh, did you want some tea?" asked Fred innocently. Gabrielle was rooted in place, and couldn't move. Fred examined the egg-timer critically. "Feeling hot? A bit swollen, perhaps?" He and Ginny stepped back and ducked behind their former chairs. Gabrielle felt panic take control. Was she going to explode?

"What have you done Fred?" asked Hermione in alarm, giving up on the two boys.

Gabrielle was immobile, but not silenced. She could see the sand running down, and if she thought about it, she did feel a little hot. "(Mrs. Weasley! Mrs. Weasley! Help!)" Thank Merlin for the widened gaps, thought Gabrielle.

"Get off my legs Ron, I want to watch too," complained Harry from the floor.

Mrs. Weasley burst into the room. "What is going on?"

Gabrielle found she could move again, and turned to face her potential savior. "(Mrs. Weasley! I am going to explode! Make Fred stop it!)" she said quickly.

"Calm down, dear," said the matron. "What is this about?"

"(I am going to explode! There is no time to calm down!)" shouted Gabrielle.

"She is deranged," whispered Ron.

Mrs. Weasley took hold of Gabrielle's shoulders. "Gabrielle, I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"I am going to, eh, eh, burst," said Gabrielle less frantically. "Fred did zis!"

"What? I've done nothing. Nothing tangible," denied Fred with a wide grin.

"You're going to burst?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"She might mean explode," added Hermione helpfully.

"Oui! When ze egg-timer is fini! You must make Fred give ze tea!"

"You mean this egg-timer?" Mrs. Weasley reached over and picked it up from the table, showing it to Gabrielle.

"Oui! Oui!" exclaimed Gabrielle in exasperation. "When it is -" All the sand was already in the bottom chamber. She had not exploded. Fred and Ginny started laughing, and Gabrielle felt herself blush down to her toes. She had let herself be tricked. Again.

"I have warned you about the twins before, young lady, yet you insist on trailing after them," scolded Mrs. Weasley gently. She glared at Fred. "The excitement is over Fred. Am I clear on that?"

"You find Mad-Eye if you want - I've not given her a thing," claimed Fred.

"Alastor... has not been acting responsibly," sniffed Mrs. Weasley. "That, that..."

"Lothario?" offered Harry.

Mrs. Weasley left through the entry hall door, looking for Mr. Weasley. She was, judged Gabrielle, not in the mood for the levity that had followed. Gabrielle considered joining her since she had made such a fool of herself. But then, what if they did not return here before the port-key left? How would George find her?

"Go on, Gigi," encouraged Fred. "There's naught wrong with the cake." He leaned in to whisper, "It's your prank-prank." Gabrielle didn't know what to believe now. She poked at the cake, but didn't eat.

"Fred, how did you and George get into Gringotts?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, the usual way," answered Fred with a smirk. "Used the door."

"How did you get away then?"

"Same way. Blimey, I know we're good but we can't walk through walls," replied Fred. "Holes in walls, yes, but not your regular, bog-standard wall."

"You just carried off the inkpots under your robes, then? Right past the goblins and the probity probes?"

"No goblins around," shrugged Fred. "Allegedly, mind you," he remembered to add.

"You and George just walked into Gringotts after hours?" asked Hermione doubtfully. "There's entire books listing the spells used on even one door, and those are likely long out-of-date."

"Here's a secret, dear Hermione, bookworm that you are. No one writes down the really good magic. Least not in books they'll let you have. You have to go to the source - who's usually an ancient rotter with his hand out," said Fred with bitterness. "All it took was one trick. Allegedly," he added. Fred winked at Gabrielle. "A Veela trick."

"Where is George?" blurted Gabrielle before Hermione could finish her question. Gabrielle had no idea what Fred was trying to do, but she was not going to take the blame for the inkpots.

"In the workroom, back at the shop, last I know," answered Fred.

"He's not answering the floo," noted Ginny.

"Oh yeah? He gets like that," said Fred looking pleased. "Means he's working on something good."

v - v - v - v - v

Mrs. Weasley finally returned with Mr. Weasley, which thankfully brought an end to Hermione's inquisition. The older girl did not believe that Gabrielle had not revealed some ancient secret, and insisted that Gabrielle or Fred explain. Gabrielle knew that she hadn't; she didn't know any. Hermione even suggested, in desperation, that there was another book. That implied, of course, that there was - a - book in the first place, about which there was much male speculation and female obfuscation. Hermione jumped and winced several times as a result of Ginny's retribution under the table. The wand, as it is said, finally sparked for Gabrielle when Fred conjured a drawing of one of Grigotts doors. She couldn't believe he was serious in what he was suggesting.

George had not arrived with his father. Whatever, fumed Gabrielle to herself, he is working on had better be fantastic. She felt angry, hurt, and confused. Had he forgotten that she was leaving? Had he forgotten... the perfect moment? Had there been such a moment, asked a mean thought, at all?

And now it really was time to go. Mrs. Weasley gave Gabrielle an enveloping hug and told her she was always welcome at the Burrow. It further roiled Gabrielle's emotions, and left her watery-eyed. She got a hug from Ginny too, who offered to share her room if she did visit again. Hermione delivered a surprisingly crushing hug. Harry and Ron just stood awkwardly near to say their goodbyes, but Fred embraced her also. He did not even drop Gabrielle to the floor, which, she supposed, was him being sweet again. But what one would have to put up with! It was a good thing Verity was insane already. Fred did take the opportunity to remind her about the package for the Touliers. Gabrielle decided to play for time, and gave Harry and Ron a stiffly-received hug each. Then she delivered another to everyone else in turn, until Mrs. Weasley finally had to push her to the entry hall and door.

By then Gabrielle had remembered something else, something that would be both useful and would give more time for her tardy, almost-boyfriend to arrive. "Eh, Mrs. Weasley? Please, I can have ze apron wizz zee little egg? For ze souvenir?"

"Oh, er, yes. Of course. I have some nicer ones instead of that old thing, if you'd like," offered the house mother.

"Zank you, but, eh, I wore zat one to help wizz breakfast," explained Gabrielle. Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain, so Gabrielle smiled her best and added, "It will remind me of cooking wizz you."

It worked. Mrs. Weasley smiled back with misty eyes. "Go ahead then, dear, you've been a treasure."

The apron was back on its lonely hook in the kitchen proper, but Gabrielle looked for it in the drawers and cabinets anyway because that took longer. Then she bade farewell to the wafflemaker, the kettle, who blew steam at her half-heartedly, and Geff. At least, she might have said goodbye to the house-elf. He did not reply, and Gabrielle could not see to the top of the icebox. She might have only said goodbye to his little, eh, nest. Either way, at least a couple more minutes had been gained. Enough that an anxious Mr. Weasley came in to hurry her along, but not enough for George to have arrive. Boys, thought Gabrielle glumly, are stupid.

v - v - v - v - v

The auror Moody met them halfway across the clearing. He walked next to Mr. Weasley, gesturing animatedly at a brass pocket-watch. Gabrielle trudged behind; she noticed that Monsieur Moody's sling was gone. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey had caught up with him. Gabrielle doubted it, though, since he was not resting.

Gabrielle tried to decided whether or not to hope she missed the port-key. One part of her wanted to, since it would let her see George one more time, and maybe see the shop. The other part of her knew she would get nothing but grief from Maman if she did miss it, plus the possible humiliation of finding out that George was not late, but... uninterested.

A billow of white smoke erupted from the ground with a bang, a little ways to the side. Mr. Weasley stopped abruptly, letting Gabrielle's trunk drop, and he moved to place himself between Gabrielle and the cloud. Monsieur Moody, noted Gabrielle, was not alarmed and did not stop, only snorting in disgust.

George stepped from the cloud. "Ho, that's a relief. I thought I'd missed you."

Gabrielle closed her mouth, which had dropped open, then opened it again to exclaim, "George!" That sounded too relieved to her ears, without the anger she should be feeling. "George," tried Gabrielle again. That was curt enough, thought Gabrielle, but did it convey the need for him to make amends?

"Hullo luv, hullo Dad," greeted George cheerily, obviously not noticing the tone of her voice, to Gabrielle's annoyance. "Best not keep Mad-Eye waiting." He gestured to the auror who had continued stumping his way across the clearing.

Most wizards your age try to see how quietly they can apparate," hinted Mr. Weasley. He levitated the trunk again and started off. "You and Fred get louder each year."

"That wasn't apparition. That - was an entrance," said George theatrically.

"George!" said Gabrielle again, with a bit of the fury she had intended. That stopped him. He should, determined Gabrielle, apologize for being late, and even grovel a bit before she forgave him.

"Oh. Right. I made something for you," smiled George. "Come on, you don't want to miss your port-key." He reached for her hand, an unexpected moved that chased away Gabrielle's anger. "Now I'll just need a bit of your blood..."

"A bit - what? Ow!" winced Gabrielle.

"Steady on - a dab just there, and it's done," muttered George, firmly holding her hand. "Episky. Here, take a look."

Gabrielle took her hand back first. A present was good, yes, but she was really expecting a... bitter-sweet embrace and, as he contemplated the reality of her absence, a declaration of some sort. Like in Aunt Laurel's wireless program. She was not expecting to be stabbed. George held something floppy and brown in his hand. It might have been made of leather. "Eh, what is zat?" asked Gabrielle suspiciously. It did not look like the kind of gifts Fleur had always received from boys.

"It's a liner for you handbag," announced George with some pride.

"Oh. Eh... zank you," said Gabrielle slowly. She felt she concealed her confusion well. She also realized that there was much work to be done here.

"It'll only open for you now. It's like our boxes, except you can pull what you want out of it instead of whatever went in last. It won't disappear when empty either. Probably - try to leave something in it. Bloody expensive too. Er, don't tell Fred, right? I had to use a good bit of the dragon bladder supply," explained George. He was juggling the contents of Gabrielle's handbag with his wand while tucking the leathery item into place. Poisseux's frantic swimming motions caused him to tumble as he twirled through the air.

Unfortunately, assembling the improved handbag was not a one-handed operation. George solved that by launching Gabrielle's belongings some thirty meters into the air, to give him time to seal the new liner in place. He deftly caught most of the items with a swish of his wand, but her poor pets, being lighter than everything else, were taken by the breeze. As Gabrielle ran after her wayward familiars before she lost them in the undergrowth, it occurred to her that she had better make sure this Weasley was not actually Fred. After all, he did not appear to be affected by the skirt she wore.

"Go on, give it a try," urged, possibly, George, handing her back the handbag. Gabrielle opened it, and held it open which allowed George, or Fred, to drop its former contents back in from the air. There was no perceptible increase in weight, which Gabrielle thought might not be a good thing. How would she know if she had forgotten something? Looking into the bag was like looking down into the manor's foyer from the top of the stairs. Everything seemed so small and far away; she would need a handbag for her handbag. There also seemed to be quite a lot of things in the handbag already.

"Eh, it is nice. Eh, very nice, of course," said Gabrielle politely. "Zere are many, eh, things in it -"

"I put together a bit of a sampler from the shop," explained George, leaning in. Or Fred. He didn't smell like Fred, though. "'Thought maybe you could seed the market for us a little." Oh yes, the shop, thought Gabrielle. She would be expelled for certain. Gabrielle knew she would have to hide the contraband somewhere - well, pointed out a second thought, it's already hidden, and very securely too. She just might not dare to take it to Beauxbatons. Setting aside those worries, Gabrielle took advantage of George's closeness to thank him once again, with a bit more enthusiasm, and she managed a quick peck on his cheek. The ears did not lie.

The pause to recover her toad and puffskein, or the former of each, had put them some distance behind the auror and George's father. Mr. weasley waved at them to hurry up the hill, where Monsieur Moody was closely examining a raggedy old towel and a crushed plastic bottle. The towel, dirty though it was, won his favor and he held it up for Mr. Weasley's attention. The port-key had been found.

This was it. Gabrielle looked at George, who looked back at her. He stood at that awkward distance again, neither close nor distant. Gabrielle willed him to say something, to do something. She looked at him wistfully; she looked at him expectantly; she looked at him mournfully. Impatience got the better of Gabrielle, and she looked at George like he was the stupidest boy on earth. A mean thought in her head pointed out that Fleur never had to work this hard.

"You all right, luv?" asked George. Unbidden, Fred's story about George forgetting a girl's name after dating her for a year came to Gabrielle's mind. Was this how it started? "Fred an' I might do some location scouting later in the year, over near -"

"What is my name, George?" blurted Gabrielle. It sounded horribly desperate to her ears. Now the port-key could not activate soon enough.

"That's an easy one. 'G' is for Gabrielle, Gabrielle Jeanne Delacour," grinned George. "You do keep reminding us," he added teasingly.

Gabrielle was surprised. How had he learned her middle name? She never used it; it was too plain, even if it was quite famous. Gabrielle could not stand the uncertain distance any longer, and closed the gap between them. She had hugged everyone else, after all - even Ron. She would hug George as well, but what Gabrielle really hoped for was an embrace. A true, lingering embrace from his strong, warm arms that would reassure her that, even though they would now part, in their hearts they would always be together. It took an extra step than expected, because George stepped back, but Gabrielle was not deterred and caught up the front of his robes. He had, thought Gabrielle, probably noticed her skirt and was fighting for control.

"I, eh, must go now, George," said Gabrielle softly. In her head, violins began to play.

"Ah, right. Goodbye then, luv," said George, pulling her into a brief hug that Gabrielle lengthened by not letting go. "Think of us now and then, especially in detention."

"Tu m'ecriras? Attendras-tu, pour moi?" sniffled Gabrielle. The music she imagined was making her sad.

"Er, oui, d'accord," replied George. The way he looked at her, Gabrielle thought she might get a kiss. She tilted her head just so, but then George continued, "Je vais, er, acre, beaucoup." He held her tightly once more for a moment. George was able to take her hands and disentangle himself, because Gabrielle was trying to decipher his attempt at French. It had sounded, thought Gabrielle, like he was trying to say that he often smelled. What could he have meant? Was he saying he was not worthy of her love?

Gabrielle meant to allay George's doubts, but Mr. Weasley pulled her away firmly. That was probably due to Maman's, and particularly Papa's, interference, thought a peeved Gabrielle. With her trunk in one hand and the dirty towel in the other, Gabrielle smiled one last time at George.

"Make us proud, luv," encouraged George, which was not what Gabrielle was hoping to hear. That was possibly because Mr. Weasley was standing right there, she concluded. Their's was a forbidden, tragic love. "Oh! Did Fred give you a -" And then George and the Weasleys and Harry Potter and Hermione and the Burrow whirled away.

C'est la fin.