for Elle

The first thing Katie saw when she regained consciousness was George's face. Some people couldn't tell them apart, but Katie always thought it was in the eyes. There was something gentler - equally wild and carefree but not quite so irresponsibly reckless - in George's eyes.

"Hey, Kitty Kat," he whispered softly, as if he thought she had a migraine rather than a nosebleed.

"Where's—" she began, but that was as far as she got. Her voice came out nasal and hoarse.

"Fred?" George suggested, and she nodded. "He's running an errand. Madam Pomfrey wants to keep you in overnight, and we couldn't leave our best girl here without a few comforts. He'll be back in about an hour." He shrugged his shoulders. "Ish."

He carefully smoothed away the strands of hair that had matted into the dried blood on her face. "Can you sit up?" he enquired solicitously. "I bet you want to rinse out your mouth, and clean your face."

Katie nodded again, and he helped her move her pillows and shift to a more upright position. Then he held her glass for her while she rinsed her mouth and produced a shining bedpan from somewhere to let her spit out the bloody mess. She rinsed and spat another couple of times before he let her take a few sips of the water to actually drink.

"George, it was just a nose bleed, not the end of the world. You don't need to hang around looking like your pet kneazle just got stood on by a troll."

"Yeah, I do," George argued. "It was our fault. Fred went in the wrong pocket when he gave you that cure. We actually made it worse, and it wouldn't matter if he hadn't. It's our job to take care of you. Now, shh and let me clean some of this blood off. I didn't want to do it before in case I woke you up. Madam P said you'd need your rest after losing all that blood."

His hands were surprisingly deft, and he took great care not to dribble more water than necessary into her hair as he cleaned away the blood, bit by bit.

Katie waited until he was rinsing the cloth out, ready for a fresh attack. "What do you mean, it's your job to take care of me?"

George's lips curved into a smile, the sort of smile that said he was about to let you in on a secret, and he started to wipe away the splatters that had blown back onto her forehead when she was flying. "Ah, Kitty Kat, I thought you would have seen beneath the surface. People in general tend to think that the best Beaters - that's me and Fred - are drawn to the position because they're semi-psychotic musclebound thugs with a penchant for violence—"

"You're not a thug," Katie protested, but weakly.

"How right you are! You see, people in general are wrong. The best Beaters aren't motivated by the desire to smash Bludgers into the other team... unless the other team happen to be Slytherins, in which case who could blame us. The best Beaters do it because they don't want to see their side getting hurt. Chasers and Seekers should be light and quick, that's why little titches like you are so good at it, and that's why you need people like us to get between you and the Bludgers... and the other team's players if it comes to that. And if you get hurt, it normally means we haven't been doing our job."

He gave her a wry grin as he dumped the cloth back in the bowl.

Katie shook her head. "I missed a catch. It happens."

"Yeah, well, I guess we should have warned you about Ron and his performance anxiety... and we still made it worse. Anyway, we're stubborn sorts. Once we decide you're our responsibility, you're stuck with us."

"Weasley, you were supposed to tell me when Miss Bell regained consciousness!" Madam Pomfrey complained. "Off you go, now. I need to check how she's doing, and after that she should get some more sleep to let those Blood Replenishing Potions do their work."

George rose from his chair, moving toward the door so slowly that Madam Pomfrey resorted to shooing him ahead of her. "We'll leave the sweets and stuff with Madam Pomfrey later," he called back over his shoulder as the nurse pushed the door closed behind him.

---

The first thing Katie saw when she regained consciousness was George's face. Some people couldn't tell them apart, but Katie always thought it was in the eyes. There was something gentler - equally wild and carefree but not quite so irresponsibly reckless - in George's eyes.

"Hey, Kitty Kat," he whispered softly. "How're you today?"

Katie focused with difficulty on her surroundings. "This isn't the hospital wing."

George smiled patiently. "No, it's St. Mungo's. You've been here for three weeks now? You were cursed. Remember? The necklace?"

Katie's brows drew together in concentration, but she shook her head. "If this is St. Mungo's, how come you're here?"

"Someone has to visit you through the day while your parents are at work," he answered as if he'd explained this all a dozen times before. "And since I don't have a boss, I can take a couple of hours off in the middle of the day if I want."

"George, I don't remember..." Katie was growing more agitated, the more pieces of her memories she realised she was missing.

"Shhh," George soothed her, taking her tiny hand in his much broader one, and sweeping his thumb slowly to and fro over its back. "Just relax, Kat. Let me take care of you. It's my job."