𝘀𝗺𝗲𝗲, george weasley

˗ˋ 03

CHAPTER THREE
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-: the beginnings :-

── IN WHICH AN AGREEMENT IS MADE

. . .

Following quite the talking to from their mother, Fred and George Weasley spent the rest of the day painting the front of their shop. It would've been much easier to do with magic, but there were parts that were fiddly and intricate, and magic could make a mess.

And whilst their main priority was that, the both of them also spent the day surveying the crowd for a certain head of white-blonde hair. It would be very recognisable amongst the mushed dark colours, but it wasn't as the afternoon progressed later and later did they see her.

"Hey - George." Fred nudged his brother, and the two of them peered down the cobbled street to see the girl once more, her dress somewhat deflated since that morning, but looking just as ditzy as before.

"Rhea Lovegood, was it?" George stepped forward as she passed by their store, and she stopped at the sound of her name, turning towards him. "You know how much trouble you got us into?"

"I'd like to put in a wager and say a lot." Rhea folded her arms over her stomach. "I didn't intend to get you into trouble, I simply remembered that time and well.. I have a tendecy to speak my mind."

"But wouldn't we remember you being at Hogwarts?" Fred frowned, looking supicious.

"Oh, I was definitely there." Rhea nodded. "And my hair was just like this for the first couple of days. Then someone pointed out how it bared resemblance to a rather weasel-like Slytherin boy.. weasel is the wrong word it was more like a..." She trailed off, features pointed as she tried to think of the animal.

"Ferret?" George offered, the Lovegood girl clapping and smiling at the suggestion. "Malfoy then. I suppose I see it - you see his hair tends to take on a rather yellow twinge." He said.

"And it tends to be shorter. Makes it a lot more distinguishable, you know?" Fred continued, Rhea's eyes flickering with amusment. "But back to the story - why didn't we notice you at Hogwarts last year?"

"Well because I charmed a hair pin to change my hair colour to dark brown when I put it on. It made me look rather pale." Rhea shrugged. "I came with Beauxbatons last year, my friend Fleur was the champion. I didn't really go with intent to enter.. I just wanted to see my sister."

"Loony.. Luna?" Fred quickly hurried to correct himself. 

"Is that what they're calling her these days? Luna's nice, she wouldn't correct anyone on it." Rhea mused. "My mother would be proud of such a nickname. Anyone who's just the slightest bit interesting has to be crazy."

It seemed like the twins had lost her too her own imagination once before, a dazed glint to her eye as her gaze travelled over the front of the shop, her hand moving upwards and drifting lazily above her head, seeming to be batting away something.

Fred and George glanced at each other, before back at the girl, almost unsure of what she would do next.

"I didn't intend to cause any trouble with my words." She began once more. "So I would like to make it up to you. How can I help?"

"Help?" Fred repeated, eyes wide as he glanced at his twin.

They often thought similarily, but mostly not the same. However it seemed then that they were thinking pretty much the same thing. They had arrived at Diagon Alley the night before, picked up their keys to the place and stayed overnight in the old apartment above the shop.

For the business, they were really yet to do anything. Inside, dust sheets covered boxes upon boxes of products and they really needed it all organised. With two of them, it wouldn't take too long to get it to a presentable state in which they could hire people to continue to help them with it.

But a third person from the beginning would be far too useful for them to pass up. However - it did seem too much. Sure, they had gotten told off by their mother but it was nothing they weren't used to, or couldn't get over quickly. 

But, it was too useful to pass up. "Say, Lovegood." Fred began, and Rhea's gaze snapped from her focus on something in the window of a nearby shop. "Do you have any particular obligations around here?"

"Obligations? You mean like jobs.. well I've been doing the odd thing here and there. That's what I was doing this morning when I went to Carkitt Market. I've been trying to find a permanent post, but all I've been doing is helping out with whatever I can and covering for Mrs Bixby at the Pharmacy." Rhea shrugged. "Why?"

"You could help us with setting up the shop, if it isn't too much." George continued. "Just painting, helping us organise displays." Rhea looked like she was considering it, and he glanced at his brother before continuing; "And when it comes to looking at permanent staff, we could have a look at you for a position."

"What?" Fred looked over at his twin, who shrugged. Rhea glanced between them, landing on Fred - an question resting in her eyes as she wondered whether or not he had a problem with that, somehow all portrayed in that look. "I mean.. that would be a good idea. We need permanent staff."

"Perfect!" Rhea exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked between them. "I should go tell Mrs Bixby - she has been worrying, you know. She'll be so grateful, and I can get Mrs Potage for one of her cauldron cakes. They're famous, you know. And made in one of her cauldrons - she owns the shop." 

"I see." Fred nodded. "Would make sense. You can start tomorrow morning? Half eight?"

"Yes - oh thank you." Rhea smiled before rushing away, dashing between the crowd and the twins watched as her snaked in and out of darkness until it disappeared around the corner.

"Do you think she forgot she's doing this as a favour to us?" George tilted his head, looking towards his twin as they reached for the paint brushes once again.

"Don't worry about it, we've got the help and hey - think of the free cauldron cakes." Fred replied.

And so they did, continuing to paint the front of the shop until it became too late to do so, and retiring to the old apartment above the shop, unaware that the girl who was helping was doing the same just a couple of streets away.

But instead of a joke shop, it was above an apothecary, and with a Honeyduke's chocolate-brown cat called Clemency curling up by her feet.

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