Who: George Weasley and Lee Jordan When: Wednesday morning Where: Diagon Alley What: Couple of awesome guys doing awesome things. Rating: PG-13ish for language and bromantic themes?
Something was not adding up. George grumbled in frustration and wadded up the parchment and tossed it over his shoulder into the fireplace. He raked his hand through his hair and picked the quill back up to start over. Yes, he was better than Fred at the numbers part of business, but this was just not working out. Fifty galleons don't just walk away on their own.
He sighed, put the quill down, and screwed the cap back onto the ink bottle. He folded the financial forms in half and slipped them in his pocket as he stood from his desk. Dimming the lights, he stepped out into the main shop floor to find Nell browsing Witch Weekly behind the counter while a pair of young men examined a punching telescope.
"I'm going out, Nell," George said as he passed the counter, "Think you can manage things until I get back?"
The girl nodded without looking up from the magazine. George spared a glance to the obnoxiously purple and gold urn on the mantle behind the counter. "Keep an eye on her, won't you?" He said under his breath. The urn made no reply, which of course it wouldn't, considering it wasn't alive.
That was sort of the problem, you see.
George fastened his cloak and stepped out of the shop, heading up the Alley toward Gringotts. The goblins gave him the creeps, but they might be able to work out what had gone wrong with his funds.
A light rain was starting and George picked up the pace, hoping to reach the bank before the raindrops soaked through to the parchment in his pocket.