Depression was evidently not the cause of the restlessness Fred normally felt, as he was still in quite a chipper mood from the day before and could not abide the thought of staying to work in the lab or going home to his empty flat. Instead he strolled along the pavement in Diagon Alley after locking up the shop for the evening, hands tucked in the pockets of his favorite leather coat, though it was unbuttoned over his chest, letting him enjoy the light chill to the air. He'd thought to stop by Aiden's pub and say hello, since he'd mentioned it to Katie and had honestly missed the chats with the friendly barman. Heading in that direction at a leisurely pace, he paused occasionally to view the window displays and say hello to the shopkeepers who knew him on sight.

There was a crowd thronging around Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Fred stepped streetside to avoid the mass of people milling back and forth between the shop's door and a display easel set up out front.

Greg wanted to snarl at the crowd, badly. This week had taught him a couple of things: he was irritable without vodka and he loathed being alone. Alone was a very bad place right now. He tended to throw things, though his damn mother hen house elf had ensured that he didn't actually break anything. Shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground, he skirted the crowd around Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had half a mind to stop in at WWW and see Fred but stopped himself. He'd also stopped himself from bugging Katie at The Broom Shed. Neither of them needed to see him like this.

He was shoved into the crowd and growled, "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Pulling up short at the sound of a familiar voice, Fred looked around and spotted Greg disentangling himself from a waspish-looking woman. He noticed Greg's scowl and the angry hunch to his shoulders, and decided to see if he could use some of his cheer to dilute a bit of that unhappiness. Stepping casually over, dodging a man waving something in front of his face, he caught Greg's arm and turned the taller man to face him.

Angry, and more than a bit ready for a fight, Greg had a nasty comment on the tip of his tongue when he was turned around. It slid away when he registered that Fred was standing in front of him. Glancing down at Fred's hand on his arm, Greg halfheartedly smiled. There was just something...special...about the way that Fred or Katie seemed to appear when he needed company the most. "Hello, Fred, any idea what this is all about?" he asked with a nod for the crowd, stepping back and bringing Fred with him.

Fred snagged one of the paper things that the barker was flapping around at all the bystanders, ignoring the man's shout of protest as Greg pulled him away from the crowd. It was a calendar, and he remembered hearing an advertisement on the Wireless that morning about the release of the Witches of Quidditch promotion. He let it fall open in his hand and blinked as he was presented with a picture of Katie in entirely not enough clothing, at least if other people were going to be seeing her. "Really, princess," he addressed the page, exasperated, "it had to be that bikini? Why not the black one? It doesn't go transparent when wet..." He trailed off into a mutter, not really needing Greg to think him insane for talking to a sheet of paper.

Greg scowled and then chuckled a bit at Fred's response as he'd thought the same thing about the white suit. Then he stilled, staring at his Pixie's picture which was blushing prettily at the both of them. Fred had seen her in a bikini, more than one in fact. Fred called her princess. His throat was dry as he asked, "I take it you and Miss Bell are friends?"

Blinking at Greg's somewhat unexpected question, Fred nodded, answering, "Yeah, we have been since school. Played quidditch together, you remember. George and I as beaters, Katie, Angie, and Alicia chasing, Wood as keeper, Harry as seeker once he started school. Katie was the one to keep in touch most after we left, though; she's about the sweetest person you could meet, which why I'm a little appalled at this picture, though completely not surprised that she's blushing."

"Me either," Greg muttered before he realized just how telling the comment could be. He stepped away from Fred with a wince and waited for the inevitable questions.

"Hmm?" Fred intoned in surprise, arching an eyebrow at Greg. "I didn't know you'd met her, outside of Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch." He tossed the calendar back at the barker, suggesting, "Here, why don't we have a pint? You look like your day deserves one, and where I was headed can wait."

Greg wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't lie, on a whole, and definitely didn't want to do so to Fred. So, he evaded and said, "Sure, I could do with a pint."

Fred wandered them in the directed of the Leaky Cauldron, as it was closer, a bit puzzled by Greg dropping the subject of Katie. "Care to enlighten me as to the storm clouds following you around, or is this going to be a conversation-free sort of evening?"

Greg was thinking that his third day of no alcohol was going to be his last. He'd only just talked himself out of laying his problems at Fred's feet like some weak-willed pillock and yet here he was contemplating doing just that. It didn't make much sense no matter how many times he thought it through. He did, however, feel better now that he had Fred at his side...or he was at Fred's side... Oh fuck, what is going on? He sighed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Just in a mood, I suppose." He sighed again. "I...aw hell...my assistant and I stumbled into Snape's shop on Tuesday. He wasn't happy, to put it mildly..." he trailed off unwilling to spill anything else. He wasn't like this. He shouldered his own burdens. He decided a quick change of subject was in order. That, and he was curious. "How good of friends are you and Miss Bell?"

There it is, Fred thought to himself, having wondered where the inquiry would come in. "I don't know that Snape has whatever it takes to allow a person to be happy, so I wouldn't worry too much on that front if I were you," he placated, pushing the door of the Leaky open and waving Greg in ahead of him. It was early enough that there were still tables open, and Fred dropped into a chair along the wall, looking at Greg to address his question. "I wouldn't mind knowing why you're interested, but I'll answer you first. Katie's my best mate, has been for years... she's one of my 'too many people'," he explained, dropping his voice as he referred to their conversation from the previous weekend.

Greg turned the chair next to Fred around and straddled it, facing the room with his back to the wall out of habit. He feared what was coming, though part of him had already accepted his eventual dismissal, as much as that rankled. He wasn't weak and he never let anyone lord over him. He squared his shoulders and prepared for the consequences. "I consider her a friend. A really good friend," he amended, "though I've only known her a little while."

Nodding, Fred accepted the pint the barmaid handed his way, somewhat thrown by the fact that Katie hadn't mentioned meeting Greg, either. "Fair enough. She's a good person to know. Her smiles are contagious, and she gives great hugs." He wasn't quite sure why he was sharing that, especially since he was fairly sure Greg fancied Katie. He didn't know how Katie felt about the matter, either, but considering it was his mark she'd had to cover for quidditch practice that morning, his arms she'd wriggled so reluctantly out of to get ready, he wasn't overly worried.

Greg sighed. "Yes, she is..." he trailed off, not quite ready to let it go. Not now that he was feeling a bit more confident. Fred hadn't told him to stay away, that had to be a good thing. "So," he said twirling his glass in his hands and remembering Katie's comment on Wednesday, "just friends then?"

Smiling tightly at the confirmation of his suspicions and watching Greg fidget, Fred shrugged. "No. I'm not exactly sure how I'd explain us, but that's not it." He knew it was the polar opposite of what Greg wanted to hear, but it was true, and he liked Greg well enough to give that.

Greg sat back in his chair, not stunned, not really. He did feel as if he'd been slapped though. Hard. Upside his head...twice. With a beater's bat. Even his thoughts were a jumbled, nearly incoherent. The urge to run fast and far was riding him hard. Of course, his mind screamed, you utter and complete moron, of course they're together. Run. Leave before he tells you neither of them want you. Why would they want him? Hell, damn, fuck...half the time he didn't want himself. Katie's goodness, her light, would be good for Fred. Fred...well he would be the best for Katie and she deserved the best. Leave. Go. No one wants you here. He made a show of looking at his watch. Sighing, he chanced a glance at Fred. "I forgot an obligation. Good luck to you and Katie, you deserve each other."

His goodbyes having been said, he was up and across the pub, ducking out the door without giving Fred any time at all to react.

Fred sat, dazed, for a moment, watching Greg's retreating back as the man strode toward the door. "Deserve each--" he muttered, sliding out of his seat, "what the shite is that about?" Yanking his wand from his back pocket, irritated that Greg had run away from him, he employed a spell that had been a favorite of his and his twin's during the war: Dimension Door. He reappeared outside the pub, directly behind where Greg ought to have stepped if he'd rushed out planning to Apparate away, reaching for the sleeve of the black leather coat a split second too late. Greg Disapparated with a sharp 'crack'. "Fuck!" Fred swore emphatically, fingers curling into a fist in frustration. He doubted Greg would head for his flat, and wasn't sure the wards would still let him in, anyway. Growling, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed for home, wondering, among other things, how he was supposed to bring this up to Katie now.



[Summary: Fred and Greg figure out who they have in common.]