Pre-Hallowe’en’s prob’ly the busiest time o’ year, even busier than April Fools’ Day. Some people prefer to trick, and for the treaters, we got quite a selection! The Maison’s been open the entire week for Hallow-hols, mostly readyin the staffers for Hogsmeade Weekend. Fredgie and me were thinking on having a first anni bash, but we’ve been far too busy and with no manager of the Maison to cut us a little slack.

With no Lee for ages or promise of, Trudes is still workin the Maison. She looks forward to seein her gal, which I’m right glad about, since Aley’s gone (she was a little mopey, havin her pal gone). So it’s Clone, Miles, and Me.

A young couple walks in the front door, just sorta wanderin around. She’s seems to be huffy bout something or other, and I can’t help overhearin a bit of their convo.

( Deja ew )

I look at the moleskin fabric in my hands and rub the butter-smooth surface. If only I could get it right. If only I could figure out what to do to make it work the way I want. I’ve studied so much about happiness, I got happiness pukin’ outta my ears. Only the facts, that is. Only the facts.

My clone…my clone’s in a real bad place at the mo. Never seen ‘im so down and hurt and desparin. I wanna wrap ‘im up in happiness, but I can’t get the Comforter right. I been tryin for months on end, on all my sleepless nights, but no luck. Well, marginal luck, but we want the whole page.

I’m sleepless again, but not for the nightmares like it was for so long. I am upset, but it’s about Fredgie. I’m worried. I remember how tough it was with Angie, and that was certainly understandable, since we was friends with ‘er for so long. We were mates all those years, teammates, above that. So yeah, it was a bit tough with her.

I look out through the fire from the secret nook in the back o the fireplace. Clone’s asleep in his cot, beside my empty one. I didn’t want him to be alone. We clones don’t do well alone. We’ve always had somebody around. We find it comforting. But I can’t hug him every livin minute. I may want to, but I can’t. We got work to do, businesses to run. But I’ll be here for him as much as I possibly can, and maybe even give ‘im a little happiness he can snuggle up with when he’s alone (iffin, say, I gotta use the loo).

I lift the bag o’ herbs and sniff at it. I soaked these bad boys in potions and solutions, so’s the smell’s real understated, but the effect of it (think they call it aromatherapy) is real intensified. It’s only part o’ what I did to the Comforter…well, haven’t quite done that yet, gonna do it now. But put a sorta modified cheerin charm on the moleskin and treated the fabric with some little solution I made when I was working on tryin to concentrate on the qualities o chocolate. It brings a boost to your spirits after an attack from a dementor. Thought I might give it a try for my happy blanket.

I use a slow spell to stretch out the herb bag, makin it stretch into a long noodle of a container. Want the herbs in there as even and unbulgy as possible. Once I got that done, I reach down for the rotten-tomato shaped pincushion. I turn myself so’s I’m facin outside the room to look at my clone, and as I fold over the unfinished edge of the blanket and wrap it around the now-spaghetti-thin sachet, I think back to the day when Fredgie came home…looking how I never wanted to ever see him. Heartbroken.

Fredgie’s in the kitch whippin’ up a mondo plate of his Nachos Murcielagombre (Batman Nachos) for our movie night. It’s the first time in a while we’ve got a chance to sit down and be clonish in the quiet of our Chez. Usually, one of us is off at the Maison, tweakin’ stuff, the other’s at the shop doin’ somesuch. ‘Tis a busy season, especially when kids is home from Hogwarts and the childers is home from primary. And where, oh where, are they gonna spend all their time and pocket money? Why, none other than the Wheezes.

The Maison’s been even busier. Wish The Lee would hurry up and prank us so’s we can relax a bit more. The kids got a taste of our Maison over Hogsmeade weekend, spread word, drag their mums and dads up there on the weekends to have a bit o’ fun. Invite their friends. We’ve had a few parties there. Thankfully, we’ve had the new graduates workin’ there. Trudes trains ‘em. Packlesby tries to teach ‘em bad habits. Dox gives ‘em lessons in how to be inventive with your pranks. Now we gotta figure who to keep beyond seasonal. But there’s still another couple weeks ‘fore we have to worry on all that stuff. In the meantime, time for a little rest and clonely time.

I sigh in satisfaction and snap open the Quibbler. Nothin’ much goin’ on these days. Them pesky metalmites keep chewin’ up cathedral bells and causin’ cacophonous calamity all over Great Britain. And there’s a how-to for brushin’ comb teeth. Other than that…

…well now that’s interesting. Might actually be something to it, too.

( Bugger the boggarts )

Our meeting for last month got postponed. Iva’d been gone for a good while, so she had tons to get caught up on, and the 20th just happened to be the only day so-and-so could make it to a meeting or some such, so we pushed our little rendezvous off.

But now, yes now, we are free to unwind, get rid o’ some knots, and make ourselves sore with some more enjoyable entertainment.

( Dinner and entertainment )

Iva and Aley owled yesterday to let me know they’re both comin’ back. Was a right relief, it was. Not that I was worried much, more I missed ‘em. I grab down the schedules for the Maison and WWW and bring the two owls closer to reread ‘em before I construct replies.

( Owls )

I been lookin’ for an excuse to go down, see Pip, chat ‘er up. I noticed she came inta work lookin’ a bit…more…pippy few weeks ago. Been meanin’ to ask her about it, but never have quite got the chance. Fred and I been inventin’ up a storm for the coming summer.

Well, now I got an excuse. Our newest show of genius is tested and ready for production, so I take it down to Pip’s mad laboratory.

I push the door open, and there’s our Pip, hair pulled back, stirring a madly bubbling cauldron an’ hummin’ to herself.

( Tryin' to get Pip to squeak )

I'm creatin' up the paperwork for a new raw materials distributor today. The clone's goin' over a few things at the Maison. Paperwork on both counts. Oi, I hate me some paperwork. One o' the drawbacks to business.

The door opens, and there's a knock on it.

"Oh, I know that look... that's the frustrated with work look," a teasing female voice says.

I lean back in my chair and smirk at my lovely Russian Lovely. “How couldja tell?”

( Surprise! )

Mmm, what a weekend. Iva surely knows how to make a bloke happy, though do wish I coulda touched her more often. Ah well, next time, we’ll pamper each other, so we get equal give and take.

In any case, I drag my pile-o-mush self into the Wheezes, to the catcalls o’ Trudes (I’ll get my chance, just you wait, now she’s got a girl), and head to the backroom to check on stocks for ingredients.
( Read More )

I got myself a carpetbag. Sorta reminds me of the carpetbag in Mary Poppins, where she stored the lamp and whatnot. But back in the good ol’ days, carpetbaggers were scoundrels, and I quite like the sound o’ that. Doesn’t quite go with my birthday fedora, nor the pinstriped suit, but I’m into clashin’ too. In a good ol’ fashioned sorta way.

Don’t quite know what Iva’s got in mind for this weekend, but she asked me to meet ‘er at ‘er house, so here I am with my fedora, pinstriped suit, and carpetbag, filled with clothes and gags and goodies I don’t even know if we’ll need.

Just as I'm at the door, it opens and Iva's there, looking like the lovely she is in a blue dress that's flowing around her. And suddenly I'm getting the head to toe eye look treatment.

"My my," she drawls out, leaning against the door jam. "You certainly fit a fedora and suit nicely, George Weasley... I am almost tempted to whistle at the sight before me."

“Mind if I have the honour?” I ask, givin’ her a once-over, too. “T’would be a crime not to, with what you present.”

She smirks. "Not at all, dear. Do as much as your heart's content."

I whistle appreciatively at her lovely frame and offer her my arm. “You do offer quite the view, lovely. Allow this carpetbagger to show you on ‘is arm?”

After the party, Fredgie and I went home (Fred looked especially star-struck and one guess why, when he disappeared with his snuggle later on in the party) and repaired to our rooms, not bothering to dis-Bmovieize ourselves, so my head was hovering about a foot over the pillow from all that puffy hair I had goin' on. I was high on spirits and not thinkin' anything could damper the mood. I'd just celebrated the twenty-third year of my clone and me bein' together, after all. What could be better?

But somewhere durin' the night, my dreams went back a year, and when I woke up, my skin was stickin' to the sheets from all the sweat. My pillow was also damp as anything, but it wasn't for the same reason.

( Turning to stone )