Flourish and Blotts//George Weasley

Aurella de Clare was 98% sure there was floo powder up her ass.

She hated travelling by floo. The shiny green powder clung to her knit pink sweatshirt and loose jeans even as she tried desperately to brush it off. The powder fell off of her clothes and onto the wooden floor of her dad’s flat above Diagon Alley.

Aurella sneezed once and dropped her truck, stepping into the living room. Sun streamed through the open window, scattering over a coffee table and a couch covered in worn books. A cup of cooled tea was sitting on a knit coaster.

“Dad?” She called. She took a few more steps until she could see the whole flat. Both bedrooms-- her dad’s and the one that she stayed in when she visited in the summer-- were empty, and the kitchen was silent. There was a plate in the sink, left over from breakfast.

With a frown, she tucked her wand- walnut with unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches- into her back pocket and headed downstairs.

Her dad lived on the third-story flat above his bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. Even early in the morning, Aurella could hear the bustling crowds of the London shopping district through the window. Witches and wizards were out looking for school supplies and potion ingredients.

Aurella bounced down the stairs, past the storage unit on the second floor. Her dad must have gotten a restock recently; The Monster Book of Monsters was snapping at their cages. He only stocked those right before the school list came out.

Curly honey-blonde hair bouncing behind her, Aurella pushed through the swinging door into the back of the shop. She was almost instantly hit with nostalgia. Her parents had been separated since she was a baby, and she always spent the last month of the summer here, returning to France to attend Beauxbaton in the Fall. The smell of books and dried ink crawled into her senses, curling around her like an old blanket.

“Dad?” She called again. “Where are you?”

There was a cheer of surprise, and a second later, Michael de Clare came around one of the shelves. His face split into a grin. His face was more wrinkled than she remembered, and his tortoiseshell glasses had new frames. There were thin streaks of grey splitting through hair the same colour as hers.

He picked up the pace and met her halfway, joining her in a tight hug. Aurella grinned against his shoulder, hugging him back. She could feel the rough wool of his green knit sweater beneath her fingers. Despite the sunny day outside, there was a distinct chill in the air of the bookshop.

“How have you been?” Her father squeezed her tight. Beneath the dusty smell of the old bookshop, Aurella could smell her dad’s cologne. He had been buying the same one for as long as she could recall from a witch who worked in the Leaky Cauldron part-time. “Is there any news of your specialization yet?”

Aurella shook her head. “I’ve been good, and no, no news.” She had sent him a letter recently, detailing everything that had happened in the last month. Well, almost everything. She had left out a few things about Henri. Specializations were for older students at Beauxbatons, where they got to apply to focus on a certain magical study. Normally letters were sent out by August, but they were late this year. Aurella had applied for three, with Ancient Runes and Language Translation being her first option.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in,” Michael spoke. “I’ll close up early and we can pop over to the Leaky Cauldron, have you eaten yet?”

Aurella shook her head. Other than a light breakfast when she left Paris-- she didn’t trust the floo powder to not cause her to throw up-- she hadn’t eaten.

Michael nodded his head quickly and waved his wand at the cash register, which chimed as it began to count its own money. He was about to turn and lock the door but wasn’t fast enough. The door to the shop opened, a chime echoing through the shop. From where they stood amongst the tall aisles of books, they couldn’t see the door. Aurella frowned. It was rare for people to be shopping for school books this early in August.

“Sorry, we are going to close early today, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.” Her father called through the shop, putting on his polite tone. Aurella followed him as he weaved through the stacks, narrowly missing getting snapped by The Monster Book of Monsters.

“You don’t even have time for an old friend?”

Aurella paused behind her dad and smiled slightly. She knew that voice. Michael turned a corner around a stack of books and entered the foyer of the shop.

“Arthur! You old fool, had me thinking I was going to have to kick you out.”

Aurella followed her father around the corner, joining her father. She had been smiling at Arthur’s appearance. He and Michael had been friends since they were both sorted into Gryffindor together. Her smile dropped, however, when she noticed one of the gangly red-haired boys behind him.

George Weasley.

She scowled, stiffening her posture. She had been hoping to mostly avoid him this summer-- it was difficult considering how good of friends Michael and Arthur were-- but to no avail. The infuriating boy bared his teeth at her in a grin. Beside him, his identical twin Fred gave her a more genuine smile.

“Ella!” Arthur cheered, quickly making his way over to hug her. She hugged him back, smiling at the scent of tea on him. “I didn’t know you were arriving today.”

Aurella smiled at him. “Yes, I’m here for the month before I return to school.”

Fred leaned over behind him and whispered something to George, who elbowed him in response, glaring at him. They both wore jeans and sweaters-- Fred’s was green and George’s was blue. Aurella fixed him with another brief scowl before returning her attention to Arthur.

“Have you told her yet?” Arthur asked Michael. There was a smile on his freckled face, not unlike every child of his. He wore loose trousers and a sweater with elbow patches on it.

“Told me what?” Aurella asked, looking at her father, who was pointedly avoiding her gaze.

Her father cleared his throat. “No, I haven’t. She’s only just gotten here.”

“Told me what?” Aurella asked again, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her father smiled at her. “I was going to wait until this evening to tell you, but I guess now is as good a time as any. Arthur here has secured tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. We are going to be sitting in the Minister’s box.”

Aurella’s eyes widened and a smile spread across her face. She could no longer be bothered by the Weasley twins. Her school wasn’t as dedicated to Quidditch as the English one, but she had been raised watching matches with her father. Since neither France nor England had made it to the final this year, they had decided via letter to support Bulgaria.

Quickly she squeezed her dad in a hug, excitement in her body. Then she turned to Arthur and hugged him as well, before stepping back to stand next to her dad. “Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled at her. “It’s no problem. We needed to give the tickets to someone. The whole family is coming, along with some of Ron’s friends.”

Aurella’s flickered to George and Fred. The former had a scowl on his face. If she had to guess, he hadn’t known she’d be coming either. The whole thought of spending the next week or so at the burrow would’ve been exciting if it weren’t for George. Her hand twitched towards her wand in her back pocket. Maybe just a small charm-- a hex that would change his hair yellow or something, just to make up for the tickling spell last summer. She was allowed to do magic now that she had passed her NEWTs.

As if he could read her mind, Michael’s hand had wrapped around her wrist before she could reach her wand. His fingers dug in, preventing her from action. Aurella kept her face impassive, silently curing her dad’s intuition.

“It’s been lovely to see you, Arthur,” Michael smiled. None of the Weasleys seemed to notice the tiny strain of annoyance in his voice. “I’m going to help Aurella get settled in, but we will see you tomorrow.”

Arther and the twins vanished out the door and Michael locked it, before turning back to her and placing his hands on his hips, sighing.

“Really?”

Aurella gave him a sheepish smile. It wasn’t as if it were her fault George was an idiot prick who deserved to have his hair dyed yellow.

~~~

Aurella poked at her pasty pie. The Leaky Cauldron was busy in the evenings, with witches and wizards from all over England pilling in for an evening meal. At the bar, Aurella was fairly certain there were a few veela, though they wore hoods over their silvery hair. The rickety table next to them had a couple of men playing with muggle cards.

Across from her, Michael ate pea soup. The owner of the pub was an old friend of her dad’s and typically gave them a discount.

Just as Aurella put some of the pie into her mouth-- warm salty flavours spreading over her tongue-- her dad looked up. He pushed up his glasses and stared at her. In the dim lighting, his eyes looked darker than they truly were.

“You understand, that while we are staying at the Weasleys, you are to be pleasant and a good house guest.”

Aurella balked, almost offended at the implication. She hadn’t sat through eight years of Beauxbatons etiquette classes and had another four years to go. “Of course, I will behave myself.”

Michael looked at her, that same steely stare that had her confessing to lies in childhood. “You will not, under any circumstance, start fights, cast spells, or purposely provoke George Weasley. Do I make myself clear?”

Aurella grumbled and sank slightly in her seat before etiquette training snapped into her mind and she straightened up. She could almost see Professor Post’s scowl at her momentary lapse.

“Fine. I will not do anything that could harm George Weasley. I will avoid him at all costs.”

Michael, apparently satisfied with the answer, settled back to enjoy his pea soup. “Good, I expect it will be an excellent time.”

Aurella frowned. Certainly an excellent time.