Republic of Newfoundland (RP AU)

Pale and limp as ever, George was now clean, though his hair was still tangled and in his face. He moaned softly, sensing a change, but then went wilent again.

A tiny orange kitten appears suddenly. She had trouble mewing, due to the long and heavy wand she's dragged in behind her.

She paws at Dumbledore's foot, dropping George's wand.

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This is effing metal.

Sal couldn't help but grin as she sat upstairs, hammering away on Othello, her fingers flying over the frets and sending a very rambunctious rendition of Pachelbel's Canon in D out into the air.

Then Kurt appeared without warning. Sal gave the E string a little too much vibrato. The E string snapped and her pick flew out the window.

All of a sudden it was silent.

"What..."

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"Oh dear, we brought the pub's cat along." Albus stooped and picked up the wand, thanking the tiny creature gravely and then straightening to look around. "I hear Salinas and smell Kurt, so there are people about."

Jav just nodded and brought George inside through the open patio door, then carried him to one of the empty main floor guest rooms.

Kurt winced at the discordant sound. "Um... somevone appeared on the deck."

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Pika mewed happily and licked his fingers, then perked her ears as George shivered in the stranger's arms.

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She looked up at Kurt and grinned slightly. "I figured it was somethin' like that," she sighed, placing the battered (but not defeated!) Othello on the bed, brushing past him and heading for the stairs.

"Might be a guest," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder with a slight smile. "Be the first one we've had in awhile."

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"Ach." He followed, blushing under his fur at the smile and musing how she could affect him that way even when she was starting to get big with baby.

Jav met Sal as he came out of the room. "Granddad brought in some kid as tried drinkin' himself under."

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i-small-one.livejournal.com

Pika mewed absently as she was places in a shirt pocket to curl up in and poke her head out of, listening again as George tried to climb out of his sleep.

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"Really," Sal said, reaching the stairs and going down them as fast as her altered center of gravity would allow. "Who?"

Before reaching the guest rooms she grabbed a basket filled with brochures, towels, and those little hotel shampoos. Standard guest fare.

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"Some redhead." The hyper clone stuck his head in the fridge in quest of beer.

"It's an alternate of George Weasley," said Albus, coming out to see where she was as he absently patted the purring lump in his breast pocket and fiddled with the boy's wand with the other hand.

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"George Weasley..." Sal's face went blank for a moment, then brightened. "What's he doin' all th' way out here? An' drinkin'?"

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"Mourning his brother." He sighed.

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She swore.

"Why? What happened?"

She knew Fred and George. Who didn't know Fred and George? They were awesome people but had always existed as a pair.

Then she finds herself asking a very weird question. "Was it... Tom? And...what happened to Harry?"

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"I never had time to ask," he admitted, lifting his eyebrows bemusedly. "All I know is that he's not our George... though this makes me uneasy on our George's behalf."

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fire-in-flight.livejournal.com - Date: 2007-08-06 09:39 am (UTC) - Expand

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random_xtras - Date: 2007-08-06 06:26 pm (UTC) - Expand

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"Yes, but not very happily." He stepped aside to let her past, looking a little pale and worn beneath his beard. "I foolishly let him have free reign with a bottle of Screech, and then had to treat him. Which treatment included that green potion that Kurt makes for hangovers."

Which would turn a happy stomach, let alone one that had just puked itself senseless.

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"Fair enough," Sal said with a small laugh, opening the door to the room just enough to place the basket on the end table. "He can look through the contents on his own time, I s'pose."

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George groaned and rolled over in his bed, tossing and turning in fitful dreams. Finally he woke, springing up with a gasp. "Fred!"

But when he'd woken completely he blinked, looking around, confused. Was he at St. Mungo's?

Frowning he turned and tried to get out of bed, but he learned the hard way that his abused and neglected muscels were in revolt, refusing to hold him up, and he toppled, hitting the floor with a clap and a groan.

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Sal knocked on the door quietly. "Y'okay in there?"

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George groaned, then rolled over.

"Where 'm I?" he said, frowning and looking up.

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She opened the door just enough to see inside. "My place. Me granddad brought ye here. Figured ye could use a nice place t' sleep off the booze. Yer in Port aux Basques, Newfoundland."

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"Grandad..." he frowned, the slowly sat up, hand on his head. His stomach told him he was hungry, but he ignored it.

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"George, right?" She leaned on the doorjamb, hands folded and resting on her slightly protruding stomach. "I'm Sal. Anythin' I c'n get fer ye, up t' and includin' a hangover cure?"

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