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 )

Ya know, quite like that Paddy takes a long lunch to listen to storytime. For a while, the clone and I thought she was way too serious, but this storytime business is the next step to skivin’ off. At WWW, not only do we have sick leave and paid vaca, but we also got five skive days a year. Yeah, I know, sorta defeats the purpose of skivin’ off when ya got permission, but it was better’n “mental health” day. ‘Course we coulda just called ‘em “mental days” and have done with it, but the clone and I liked the sound o’ “Skive Days” better.

So while she’s off at ‘er storytime, I’m doin’ a little officework in the office, Coffee skitterin’ around the desk makin’ rings and whatnot. Little rascal. I finish fillin’ out the parchmentwork for our latest invention to get patented, then slip it into a folder so’s Fredgie can check it over. I know he trusts me to get it all done right, as do I him, but we’re clones. Excuses for interaction, dontcha know.

( In need of skiving )

She always comes in ‘round three, so I notice. Quiet brown hair, quiet plain face, quiet shy voice, and loud as banshees crush. Thursdays and Fridays, regular as clockwork, she wanders in on ‘er lunchbreak, all alone, cheeks goin’ a tad rosy, and payin’ for a tour of one through the Maison. And Trudes is happy to oblige.

I always see the girl comin’ out of the tour with confetti in ‘er hair. Trudes doesn’t often give the shiny confetti. Usually it’s packin’ peanuts or feathers, if a dunk at all. Yessir, I been observin’ our satirical saleswitch, too, and what sorta pranks she pulls out the play on that quiet little witchling.

( Murphy's Law )

St. Vals gone and past, business has slowed down a smidge. The Valentines Hogsmeade Weekend was a blast, o’ course, and we were full up! Now we’re just plannin’ for the next major event. Our birthday.

It being Thursday, I’d usually be at the Maison, working in the lafeteria, but Fred and I switched, seein’ as my usual helper’s got lessons. So instead I’m working the Wheezes, putting up a new display.

I hear the bell over the door, announce in its usual raucous tone that we have a customer coming in and look over to see our very own Kiggs.

( Refills )

I don’t often go out and be social on my own. More often now, ‘course, tryin’ to give the clone his space and sorta try this being a single number ‘stead of a double. S’pose I gotta get used to it if things continue the way I think they will with Astair. We never discuss what’d happen, if she’d move in or he’d move out, but whatever the future…

I take a deep breath and grab up the coffee pot. I need company. Just can’t be a me. So I figure I’ll take Coffee to visit it’s pal. Poor bloke’s probably bein’ a mope, too. Hope a nice little cuppa with Coffee’ll cheer ‘im up.

Coffee sorta glorps to a stop against the side of the pot and I shake it with a sigh. “Come on, eh? Gonna see your mate. Your coffee mate. Heh.”

( Cheer-up coffee )

January and the hols have been a bit busy, so Iva and I’ve not had much time to get together, save when she drops off and picks up Aley from helpin’ out at the Maison. Seems I see more of Aley than I do of her. We both been busy, and I’ve been spendin’ as much of my spare time with the clone as possible.

St. Val’s day, however, seems like the perfect opportunity to spend some time, though. However, it being the first Hogsmeade weekend of ’01, so the twin and I are on full duty at the Maison. The traffic in our little prank house those Hogsmeade weekends is terrific! Don’t know if it’s just kids wanna see their friends get pranked or they wanna get ideas, but the first weekend was a success, and yesterday ago was no exception. Of course, we made all the pranks and decorations valentines themed. Right down to Locksey’s grumpy dwarf cherubs.

Iva and I agreed to meet up for a date on Sunday, a slow day for both us. With Paddy and Parvy both working Monday, and Trudes mindin’ the shop, Fredgie and I can both afford to have a late Sunday night. I figured he’d be spendin’ some time with Astair that night, too. Everybody’s schedules work out.

After sprucin’ up, then mussin’ up, I grab the present, give Reggie a good scratch behind the ears, and head out of Chez Clone for Iva’s place.