April 28, 1999

                                    

                                          
I had a lot of fun with Terry and his parents, reliving the old days of our youth and talking about the little kid things we'd done together. It felt right to be gossiping with his mum and to be discussing business with his dad and to be laughing again in that house.
                          
So I agreed to another date. I was meeting Terry at Finnegan's Bar and Grille down the street of the shop for dinner.
                          
I walked in, scanning the tables for him as I took off my coat. He stood up when he saw me and waved his hand. I smiled and made my way over to the booth with a view of the street outside.
                          
"Evening, Isabella," Terry said brightly. He gestured for me to sit. "How are you?"
                          
"I'm doing alright. How about you?"
                          
"Just about starving." He picked up his menu and I did the same. "Have you been here before?"
                          
"No," I confessed.
                          
"I suggest the beef stroganoff; it's delicious."
                          
"I'll have whatever you have," I decided.
                          
He smiled a big cheesy smile. "That's what I'm getting."
                          
A waitress came and asked us what we'd like to drink.
                          
"Giggle Water, please," I said.
                          
"Butterbeer," Terry replied.
                          
When she left to retrieve the drinks, Terry asked "How is the shop doing? Are there tons of customers pouring in? It's the end of Easter holiday, after all."
                          
I smiled, knowing that the holiday had ended for Hogwarts students over a week ago but decided not to mention it. "They've died down. I need to think up a new product to entice people to come, but I've had no inspiration."
                          
"Ohh, I see." Terry nodded.
                          
"Would you have any ideas?"
                          
He looked confused. "Me?"
                          
"Yeah, you! You're smart enough."
                          
His eyes showed uncertainty, but I could tell the wheels in his brain were turning. It was a look he always wore presented with a challenge.
                          
"A practical joke?"
                          
I nodded. I watched him work out whatever was in his head until his face lit up. "Invisible handcuffs!"
                          
"What?"
                          
"Invisible handcuffs! Make a potion that bonds two people together for a short time."
                          
"Hmmm," I said. "That one would be difficult. I'm not so sure I could do it."
                          
"You're smart enough," Terry teased. Although, the way he was looking at me told me he truly meant it. I shuffled under his gaze, uncomfortable. Had I made him feel like this when I'd said those words? I hadn't meant to.
                          
I looked out at Diagon Alley, searching for something to change the subject. "Speaking of pouring," I said.
                          
Terry looked out the window. "Oh, yeah. It started raining in the blink of an eye, didn't it?"
                          
"Yeah."
                          
"Here you are," our waitress said, setting down drinks.
                          
"Thank you," Terry replied.
                          
I took a sip of my Giggle Water and tried to realize my feelings. Was I doing the right thing by being here? 
                          
I opened my mouth to speak but instead of words came my laugh. I glanced at Terry, waiting for his reaction.
                          
He grinned, his face displaying pure joy at the sound.
                          
That's what did it for me.
                          
I got up from the booth and began putting on coat.
                          
Terry looked up to me. "Isabella?"
                          
I could feel tears coming to my eyes. "I'm sorry," I told him.
                          
Terry stood. "Isabella," he pleaded.
                          
I grabbed my bag. "I'm so sorry, Terry. You don't deserve this." I began to walk away.
                          
"Isabella." He caught my hand. "Why?"
                          
I heard the brokenness he felt in his words. I couldn't turn to face him. I knew if I did, I'd give in. 
                          
"I don't find as much joy in you as you find in me."
                          
He let me go then, my hand falling to my side with the weight of a thousand pounds. "I'm sorry."
                          
I left.
                          
I ran into the pouring rain, unwilling to look back on the mess I'd just made. I ran down the street and into the shop, cast a Quick-Drying Charm on myself and the floor, and proceeded upstairs, my only want to get in bed and sleep the day away.
                          
My stomach grumbled; I hadn't eaten. Groaning, I hurried into the kitchen, placing a pot on the stove for a quick and easy dinner of macaroni.
                          
Growing impatient, I took the handle and moved the pot around with the intent of hurrying up the boiling process, and I sloshed the hot water on my hand.
                          
I hissed in pain and began to cry. Nothing would ever go right for me ever again. I slumped on the ground and pulled my knees to my chest, wallowing in my physical and emotional pain. I sobbed for a long time. I couldn't get ahold of myself.  I'd let everyone, including me, down. My grandpa, my mum, George, Terry, Fred...I couldn't stop myself from thinking that if Fred were here, everything would be okay. I knew that I could deal with anything and everything with him there by my side.
                          
I faintly heard the sound of steps on the stairs and tried to get myself together. "Oh, how wonderful life is!" George sang. "Isabella, where are you? Isabella, she kissed me! She really did!" He sighed happily. "Isa - oh no." I looked up at him and broke down again. 
                          
"No no!" George knelt down and took my hands to bring me off the floor.
                          
"Ow ow ow." I yanked my hand away from him but stood up.
                          
George glanced at my hand and saw its redness. He looked angry. "What the devil did he do to you?"
                          
Despite it all, I managed a chuckle. "No, George." I pointed weakly to the stove where the water sat, boiling. His shoulders relaxed a little.
                          
He gently took my hand and led me to the sink where he put the burn under cold water. Then he went over to the stove and poured the box of noodles I had set out into the pot and cooked them, using no magic. He knew that was how I liked my food. We didn't speak as he stirred and I stood with my burn.
                          
He finished and prepared a bowl for me. Then he shut off the water and led me to my room. He waited until I was situated in bed to hand me my dinner. I accepted it graciously. 
                          
George sat on the edge of my bed and looked me over. "What happened?" He asked.
                          
I turned away, not wanting to disappoint him. I knew that George, sweet George, deserved an answer, but I just wasn't ready to give him one.
                          
He sighed. "Is your hand feeling better, at least?"
                          
I shrugged and held it out to him. He took out his wand and muttered something so softly I couldn't hear. He looked at me, once again waiting for an answer. I gave a half-hearted smile.
                          
He put on fake pouty lips and said, "Would you like me to kiss it better?"
                          
It was so unexpectedly expected, for him to do that. I laughed a genuine laugh and said in a small voice, "Would you, Mum?"
                          
He raised my hand to his lips and pecked it, exactly the way a mother would her child when they knew they would be alright.
                          
George stood and I took back my hand. We grinned at each other. "Night, Isabella."
                          
"Night, George."