WHO: George Weasley & Angelina Johnson WHAT: Another day at work for Georgie WHEN: April 13, 2005 WHERE: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes RATING: PG STATUS: Incomplete
George didn't have to have sales at his shop, but Merlin's saggy balls, he bloody well loved them. For one, he could afford it. Sure, he had habits to support, but he also had money to do it... and their original five year business plan had set them up for two, not one. So, George could have sales just because he felt like it. For two, the looks on the faces of the gleeful masses. Shit was too bloody depressing these days, even for him. George got by because everyone else wasn't depressed, and now the burden was getting too much to bear again, so what did he do? Threw himself into his work and had a brilliant sale.
George was sitting on the steps to the second floor, hair a brilliant neon blue, which looked horrid on his complexion. Monday had been horrible, and the week hadn't gotten much better, but it was teh least he could do to provide a little laugh. His assistant, Eric, walked over and handed George some paperwork to sign. The kid still got nervous from time to time, and looked like he was having one of those moments where he wanted to say something, but couldn't figure it out. He sort of looked like a fish when that happened.
"What isit, Foreman?"
"Well, Mr. Weasley, I just thought—well, isn't it a bit i-innapropriate to have a sale this week?" George rolled his eyes and handed the kid back his paperwork. Poor bloke was barely out of Hogwarts and didn't have a clue sometime.
"Kid, ministry's already deemed that everything's innapropriate these days. Hell, I'm half-tempted to spike everyone's food with laughing draight just to see everyone smiling. It'd be a nice change of pace," George said, though he was kidding. Wasn't right to make folks laugh when they didn't genuinely feel it. But this, this George could control, he thought, looking out over the store. Folks were genuinely happy, buying gags and gifts that made them giggle, or chuckle, even if it wasn't as loud or heartfelt as normal. It was still sincere at least. Eric was still standing in front of him looking googly eyed.
"Get back to work, Foreman. Finish the inventory and take an early lunch, yeah?" Eric nodded hurriedly, realising he'd been gawking, and slipped back off to the stockroom. George looked back around his shop and sighed. The paper this morning had been awful, and bloody brilliant at the same time. He hoped it was an eye opener to the people who were on the fence about the Ministry. He'd already owled his solicitor and told him to stop the quarterly contributions to Mungo's and start looking to donate to non-discriminate Healing practices.
For now, though, the most George could really do was provide a few laughs where they were needed. He'd think about better ways to help, but in the mean time, he'd settle for seeing a few more kids—and adults—laugh.
"Hey! Hot fingers! You're paying for that free sample you just snuck, right?" George stood from his seat and gave a shit-eating-grin to the ten-year-old with a piece of candy shoved in his mouth. George laughed and walked over. He had work to do.