Between the Cracks

The introductions went better than expected. Nova was easy and talkative, and chatter naturally appeared wherever she decided to go next. She had visited the shop before, but visiting after hours always created that special feeling, and she was practically walking around with heart eyes as she spoke to the twins.

When it came to actually helping in doing the work – well, that was a different story. Most of the time she spent leaning on shelves and chatting with one of the twins, but Leigh liked to imagine that even that sort of company lightened up the room a bit. Especially after the recent...incident.

The twins had annoyingly prohibited Leigh from physically carrying any more of the boxes, claiming she should take it easy. This, together with Nova not volunteering to carry anything whatsoever, meant the task was placed with the twins, much to Nova's delight. More times than one Leigh caught her taking an extra peek at a flexed bicep, or the traces of back muscles underneath a shirt. Although she had to admit that she understood her friend...to some extent.

Instead of carrying the labelled boxes, Leigh had opted to use magic to transport the other unlabelled boxes from the shop floor to the storage room, all meanwhile the twins walked up and down the stairs.

The atmosphere wasn't too bad, despite what had happened earlier. She attributed much of the lack of tension to Nova, who immediately started speaking of anything near and far, much to Leigh's appreciation.

Still, Leigh couldn't help but remember Fred's words from earlier. 

I care about you. 

Strange. 

She flicked her wand and the next box started hovering from its place on the shop floor to the storage space. It plopped down upon another one of the boxes.

Leigh glanced over at Fred. He stood over by the other boxes, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. No dress shirt today, just a regular long-sleeve. The casual look suited him well. The strands of hair caressing his neck had grown damp with sweat from carrying boxes up and down the stairs.

Perhaps she looked at him for too long, because Fred soon looked up to meet her gaze, and Leigh immediately coughed to herself, getting started on moving yet another box. She saw him trying to suppress a smile.

Minutes later most of the boxes had been moved away from the floor, both the labelled and unlabelled ones. Fred and George had disappeared up the stairs to get them something cold to drink, while Nova and Leigh stood around the shop counter, talking absentmindedly.

"It's a shame George is seeing someone," Nova spoke, and Leigh immediately raised her eyebrows.

"He what?"

"You didn't know?" Nova looked at her friend expectantly.

Leigh shook her head. "I've been telling you, Nova, I don't know them that well. Even when I'm here we don't really speak too much."

Her friend shrugged. "If you say so. Yeah he's seeing some quidditch girl." Then quietly, further words followed, "The other one seems to only have eyes for you. Fred practically looks at you like you could fall apart any second."

Leigh shuffled on her feet, turning towards some items hanging to the side of the till, and fiddling with a keyring of the famous 'WWW' logo. "Alright, no need to over-do it," Leigh replied quietly. "I told you, he's just bored. He's lived in London for years - imagine how many girls have come by to talk to them there."

Nova smirked beside her. "Someone sounds jealous."

"I'm not. Just realistic, that's all. I like their company, just like they like mine," Leigh spoke and glanced up towards the top of the stairs, imagining a certain someone coming down any second.

Nova smiled. "You were right, they are quite nice. I get why you like them. I kind of expected them to be more asshole-y. Or more arrogant at least." Nova sighed, looking around the area and nodding to herself. "It's quite a nice place. I understand why you come here to study all the time."

"I don't know if all the time is accurate but–" 

She was interrupted by the thumping of steps coming down the stairs.

The four of them had a nice time drinking some cold drink and eating some biscuits, chatting mindlessly about whatever came to their minds.

Nova had other plans later in the day, and stood up before the others after they had chatted for 20 minutes or so. She bid her goodbyes, delivered Leigh a wink, and moved towards the door. The three of them left stood up to bid her goodbye, looking in her direction as the exit bell rang and she went out of sight. 

Leigh chuckled quietly to herself. Nova truly went in here with the one aim of meeting the twins and seeing the shop after hours, and did exactly that, without doing any work. It was admirable, truly.

George started clearing up the table, the clanking of plates and the thuds of footsteps up the stairs filling up the shop space.

Someone appeared beside her, a familiar tall figure looking in the same direction.

"Feeling any better?"

Her gaze, previously set on the door, glanced to her side, up towards Fred. "I felt better about 1 minute after I woke up," she replied playfully, looking at him with a tilted head. 

He shrugged. "Well. Better safe than sorry."

"Does this mean I can help carry the final boxes?" 

He smiled, still looking towards the door. "Absolutely not." He patted Leigh's shoulder. "Get back to the magic, partner. Boxes won't hover themselves around."

-

"It's cold enough outside for mulled wine, isn't it?" George asked as he was mindlessly looking through some cabinets in the kitchen area in the flat upstairs. 

Leigh had moved the last boxes downstairs, and Fred still had the last few labelled boxes to carry upstairs before today's work was officially over. She had been in the flat only one time with a box earlier in that day, and was finally able to take a real look.

"Oh, definitely," Leigh replied, walking deeper into the flat. "Always a safe bet." She peeked around a corner. "So the two of you live in here, huh?"

George chuckled. "Yeah, unless one of us is away to Diagon Alley, which does happen quite a lot of the time nowadays actually."

"Is it weird? Being away?"

George shrugged and considered the question for a second. "In a way, yeah." He put the mulled wine on the hob to heat it up. "But also quite nice I think, for the both of us. Although I have to admit some moments are quite boring, but maybe that's just me," he said with a smile. 

She laughed. "I don't think that's just you. I mean why do you think I'm invited here so often nowadays when you're away?"

George looked at her with raised eyebrows, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "Boredom?"

She nodded, turning on her heels to look at some quidditch poster on the wall. "Bingo."

She heard George hum behind her. Not a hum of agreement, but rather a hum of contemplation. "Right..." George trailed off, and the sound of cups clanking together prompted Leigh to turn back around. Three cups were now placed and ready on the kitchen counter. "You're staying a while longer, aren't you?"

"Yeah, why not," she replied and took a few steps towards the kitchen area, following George's example and leaning against the counter.

"How's the arm?" George asked casually, looking through the cabinets for some spices, or something else fun he could find.

Leigh had put on a sweater since the fainting incident, and pushed the sleeve of it up to look at the arm she fell on earlier. A bruise was very clearly forming. "It's alright."

"Sorry for Fred's little outburst," he added. "He can be a twat at times."

She chuckled. "I mean, yeah. I think it's fine though. We spoke about it."

George hummed, and the shadow of a smile was seen in the corner of his lips. "Good, good. Give me some teaspoons, will you? First drawer to your left." She fished them out and handed them over to him, who thanked her quietly before looking back down at his preparations. "What do you see when you face the fake dementor?"

She wasn't ready for the question and almost choked on air. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, glancing at her. "You don't have to answer. I'm just curious. They're a bit spooky. Very realistic." He started pouring the now hot drink into one of the cups.

"They are," Leigh agreed, thinking back to the incident earlier. George's neutral yet caring tone almost made it so easy for her to just spill. She hadn't been joking when she said he would've been a good healer. "I see Evan. My friend– was my friend. His death," she stumbled over the words. 

George gave her a sad, comforting smile and only hummed, letting her take her time. A few seconds passed before he spoke.

"I see Fred, you know. From the battle."

She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean from the battle?"

He looked up to meet her gaze, having just finished pouring mulled wine into the three cups. His eyes searched for something in her own. "You don't know?"

"I– No, I don't think so–"

"Know what?" Fred spoke as he entered through the door with the final box. He dropped it by the others before looking towards his twin and the hob. George scrunched his face up at the sight of him.

"What you so sweaty for? Are those guns only for show or what?"

Fred shot him a glare, and he glanced at Leigh briefly, acknowledging her presence, before replying. "Says you. Instead of helping you're standing here making a...a what? A stew?" 

"It's not a stew. It's mulled wine."

This seemed to have piqued Fred's interest, and he came forward to take a whiff. "Really? Oh, that's nice." Leigh couldn't help but smile at his reaction.

George and Leigh grasped their cups and made their way to the seating area in the flat while Fred went to wash his hands by the sink. Leigh sank into the couch, and George sat himself down in a sofa-chair on the other side of the low table. The hot mulled wine was like a warm hug as it travelled down Leigh's throat, heating up her chest. It was definitely appreciated in this cold weather.

"Know what?" Fred asked again from the kitchen area, wanting to be caught up on their conversation.

George seemed to consider whether or not to bring it up again, but finally spoke after a moment.

"Know about what happened to you in the battle."

A second of silence followed before anyone spoke again. "Oh," Fred replied before he put on the tap and started to wash his hands in the water. 

"I'm surprised Ron hasn't told you," George continued, speaking to Leigh and looking into his cup. "It was quite bad."

Fred made his way over to the seating area with the third cup in his hand and sank into the couch beside Leigh. "You really don't have to," he spoke quietly, looking at his brother.

George seemed to contemplate it for a second but finally parted his lips again, deciding to continue. "I...I don't know where to start really," George started and chewed at his lip. Leigh revisited the day in question. It was all still quite a blur. She remembered fragments, being in the castle, finding herself outside the castle, not knowing how she got there.

"In the middle of all the chaos there– apparently there had been an explosion and a wall fell down on– on him." George nodded in Fred's direction, who shifted beside her and let both his hands encircle the warm cup. "And we just couldn't find him," George continued. "We searched for what felt like hours. Ripping up rubble and pieces of stone. My fingertips were bloody by the time we found him."

Leigh watched George warily as he told the story. She couldn't imagine how he felt in that moment, and how he felt now, recounting it.

"We knew he had been buried under the rubble but...it was worse than that. The explosion got to him too. Messed him up. By the time we got to him there– there was so much blood. He laid there, you know, looking so frightfully peaceful. I nearly lost it right there. I felt like I was being pulled through the ground just looking at him. I was so incredibly scared that he was gone." George let out an exhale. "I can't imagine living without the dimwit."

Fred delivered a crooked smile across the table. George continued. "I'm so lucky to have that just be a fright. To have him open his eyes and cough the dust out of his lungs." He shook his head at the memory. "He looked bleak and horrible...and his whole side was...messed up. His shoulder was out of place and the side of his torso was practically blown open. Even when I saw him take a breath again I was scared that he was hanging on by a thread. He just looked up at me, you know? No jokes, no smile, no fear. Nothing. His eyes were just...completely empty." 

Fred gulped beside Leigh, scratching his jaw, and she couldn't help but move closer, letting her hand venture towards him and gently touch his arm. He glanced down at her to see her looking at George, waiting for him to continue.

"The fear I felt in that moment - when I thought I had found him just to see him slip away right in front of my eyes... I wouldn't wish that upon anyone." George cleared his throat and met Leigh's gaze. "But thankfully he was okay. It took a while before he came to properly - before he became aware. We were worried his head had been affected, but no brain injuries, thankfully." George's gaze moved over to Fred. "His mind wasn't more messed up than it had been before."

Fred frowned back at him and scrunched his face up playfully, as if to say 'don't be rude'. "I'm really not sure if this is a heartfelt conversation or a bullying session," he spoke, and George gave him a smile in return. Leigh couldn't help but do the same. 

"But so he got better," George went on. "Took a while to get him fixed up. That explosion got him really bad, and it was difficult for them to patch him up given that it was a magic-caused explosion, but eventually he started getting better. Started healing."

George let his gaze meet his brother and gave him a nod, who seemed to catch on. Fred looked down at Leigh beside him, pressing his lips together before carefully moving her hand from his arm and lifting the side of his long-sleeved shirt. 

Her eyes scanned over the exposed side of his torso, and her mouth fell open in shock at the view. The scarring. Reaching all across the side of his body; from the middle of his ribcage to his back. Scars wrapping themselves around him like an invisible claw. She took a shaky breath, imagining the moment they had been caused. Instinctively, her hand reached out towards him, and her fingers carefully traced along one of the marks, feeling the bumps of it underneath her fingertips. She pulled her hand back. 

"Sorry," she said breathily, but Fred simply shook his head with a faint smile. 

"It's okay."

She looked back down at his skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore," Fred replied, looking at her softly. He slowly lowered his hand again, letting the fabric of his shirt drape across his skin and shield it from view.

Leigh looked back at George, who had also watched Fred's actions, gaze running over the exposed skin. He cleared his throat with glossy eyes.

"Every day I'm grateful that he's still here. Every single day." 

Fred looked at his brother, a look saying more than a thousand words, and George gave him a sad smile before he lifted his cup to his lips. On the couch, Leigh scooted closer to Fred, placing her hand upon his wrist and letting herself lean against his arm.

"Me too," she whispered softly and quietly, not even sure if either George or Fred had heard her.