At seven o'clock on the dot, the Laurents along with George arrived at L'Escargot. The suit George had borrowed from Patrick, who was much closer to Eloise's height than his own, fit a bit awkwardly around his shoulders. Thankfully, the lengthening charm Colette did on the trousers and sleeves did do wonders. To the untrained eye, the garment didn't look out of place on him at all.

Eloise, however, was wearing a pale pink tea dress that she hadn't worn since she was probably sixteen years old. At first, she was surprised it still fit and honestly, that fact pleased her slightly. But the feeling quickly faded when she realized just how juvenile she looked on her twenty second birthday, no matter how many times George told her he thought she looked lovely.

Shortly after they were seated, the waiter came by with the wine menu - recommending all of his 'favorites' to them, which of course happened to be the most expensive options.

Out of what Eloise was sure was meant to be politeness, her father glanced across the table to George, "What do you recommend?"

It was a simple question. He could have easily said the Elderflower wine his mother loved to serve each year at Christmas dinner, but he hesitated. Patrick knew nothing of George's problems with alcohol and if he did, he was sure the man wouldn't have put him on the spot like this. But he was unaware of the war raging on within George between his mind and his tongue. Just say something he told himself, but his mouth had gone completely dry.

The waiter seemed to be growing impatient, "I will give you a moment to decide." he muttered in a thick French accent.

"George doesn't drink."

Eloise said it as casually as she possibly could have and George appreciated the effort. One thing he had noticed since trying to get a handle on this particular issue in his life was how taboo being sober was. It was like he needed to give a satisfactory explanation every time he told someone he didn't drink anymore. Saying he simply didn't feel like it wasn't enough. It was almost always followed up with some sort of insistence from whoever he was speaking to. 'Just one!' they would say, not knowing that it wasn't that simple for him.

"Oh, come now. Not even a bit of wine and cheese after dinner?" Patrick jested.

"Papa." Eloise scolded in a whisper.

George felt slightly uneasy as he took a sip of his water. All this time, he was worried about her parents talking about marriage and babies and here they were unknowingly delving into his unhealthy coping habits right away.

"All my wilder days are behind me now." George played off to the best of his abilities.

The crooked smile he had plastered on his lips didn't feel very convincing and he felt Eloise glance at him although she didn't say anything. More than anyone, perhaps other than Charlie and Verity, Eloise knew just how bad his situation had gotten and how recently it had effected him. It had nothing to do with late nights at wild parties and everything to do with grief he didn't know how to handle.

Thankfully though, her father seemed to drop the subject and selected a modestly priced wine when the waiter finally returned.

George could sense that Eloise was keeping a careful watch over him as dinner progressed. Nearly every time one of her parents said something to him, he could feel her glance in his direction. Her surveillance over him was as if she was nervous one of them would inevitably say something to trigger him. If anything, her worry was what was stressing George out most of all.

Beneath the table, in an effort to help calm her nerves, he placed his hand over her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. An unintentional gasp escaped from Eloise at his sudden unexpected touch.

"Everything alright, ma chérie?" Colette asked her daughter.

Eloise cleared her throat and nodded, "Oui. I, uh, I just thought that I saw someone from school. It's been so long, you know, I was um - surprised!"

Colette frowned at her daughter's nervous demeanor, clearly skeptical of her story. All the while, Patrick seemed none the wiser to the sudden change in mood. George, however, was highly amused as he glanced at Eloise with a smirk, to which she narrowed her eyes. Before her mother could inquire any further, the waiter soon returned with their meals.

It was all incredible, every bite somehow tasted better than the last. George had never eaten in such a classy restaurant in his life. While he loved his mother's cooking, he couldn't deny the desire to splurge every on a nice meal every now and then. If only the shop was doing a little better lately, he'd treat himself and Eloise to lavish dinners more often.

Back when the shop first opened, it felt as though he and Fred could never keep the shelves stocked enough. They were so successful that by the time they went into hiding in April 1998, they had made more than enough to be able to pay back Harry's initial loan. Although, they both knew he would refuse it adamantly. At the time, it didn't hurt to promise the boy who lived free joke products for life. It was a promise that George wasn't sure he could afford to keep if Harry asked now.

After losing Fred, George's passion for the shop dropped tremendously. The fact that he was barely making enough to pay for the supplies needed to restock his products, let alone the lease on the building, didn't bother him. He simply didn't care anymore.

But now he was kicking himself for it. His renewed interest in inventing new products made all of his bitter mistakes all the more apparent. If he hadn't grown so used to the life he and Fred had lived for nearly two years, maybe going back to barely making ends meet wouldn't have felt so jarring.

He'd never tell her, but the bag he bought for Eloise had set him back just a bit more than he felt comfortable with. The whole ordeal ended in a huge argument with Verity just before he left for France.

George had taken an advance on his pay for June in order to pay for it, but that wasn't the issue. What caused Verity so much fury was that George tried to push his next paycheck to July, willingly refusing to be paid for the rest of the month.

The shop was struggling, he couldn't deny it, and taking the advance certainly didn't help. The money needed to stay in the business and he wasn't about to dock Verity and Charlie's pay in order to keep it that way. He decided he'd be fine missing a few weeks of wages. Once upon a time, George knew how to live with less.

But Verity disagreed. In her eyes, it wasn't fair that she and Charlie would continue being paid the same as usual while George got nothing. It was his shop, for Merlin's sake. The resulting argument was one that George had eventually won but only at the expense of his friend and employee's happiness for the remainder of the afternoon.

Honestly, if Verity hadn't been the one in charge of balancing the store's accounts, she would have never known and they wouldn't have had to fight. Still, as long as it was only Verity who knew about his current struggles with money, that would be just fine with him. The Laurents didn't need to be privy to that knowledge, especially Eloise who already worried about him far too much.

When dinner came to an end, George wished he had a time-turner so he could experience it all again. It was only when Patrick asked for the dessert menu that George's guilt finally set in.

Her parents had really gone all out for the occasion and he had nothing to repay them with. Although, he got the hunch that they would refuse his money regardless of if he had anything to offer in return.

Just before dessert arrived at the table, Eloise and Colette excused themselves to the ladies' room. Women going in pairs to the restroom was a habit that Fred used to tease Alicia and Angelina for all the way back in school. But now, as a result of it, only Patrick and George remained at the table.

"So, George." Eloise's father began as he looked intently towards him.

George swallowed thickly, fully expecting this to be the moment he had been dreading since arriving that morning.

He attempted to read Patrick's expression to try and determine how the man would respond to his unfavorable opinions on marriage. Maybe it would reassure him to know that his little girl wouldn't be taken away any time soon. Or perhaps it would anger him to learn that the man his daughter was so smitten with had no desire to plan a distant future with her.

"Yes?" he finally responded, sounding a bit more unsure than he intended.

"Thank you." Patrick responded with a smile.

"Pardon?"

This certainly wasn't the direction he thought the conversation was going to go.

"Eloise has always been a bit timid, sometimes unsure of herself. But since she has moved to England and met your family, she has changed - for the better, of course." he explained, "You know, Colette didn't want her to leave when Fleur wrote to her nearly two years ago. Even Eloise seemed to doubt whether it was the right decision or not, but I knew it was a step she had to take. Now my little dove shines brighter than ever. She has followed her dreams and is much more confident - especially around you. So, thank you."

"Oh." was all he said at first.

George felt like a fraud. The way he saw it, he played no part in Eloise's growth. From the moment he really started to get to know her, she seemed like she was more than capable of blazing her own trail. In George's eyes, her introverted nature never held her back, she always got what she wanted in the end.

Eloise had a reserved type of boldness to her. She was intuitive and confident, despite seeming shy and cautious on the surface.

In a secluded shed, on the very first day they met, she taught him the French greeting that threw him for a loop. During a daunting family get together, she could sense that he had no interest in celebrating his brother's anniversary despite barely knowing him at all. As a stranger, she didn't hesitate to extend her empathy to him and perhaps that was the biggest risk she could have ever taken.

The most foolhardy thing was when offered her friendship to a man who had very little interest in forming bonds with anyone new after losing so much. Yet, she never hesitated to show him compassion even when he tried so hard to push her away.

From the very beginning, Eloise always took chances on him and gave chances in return. It came as no surprise to him that everything else fell into place for her because she was was always willing to jump into the unknown, even when it scared her.

As he thought about it more, he realized Patrick had it all backwards. George was the one who was making all of these improvements in his own life thanks to knowing Eloise. If he had never met her, he could picture his life being much different than it is now. It certainly wasn't anywhere near perfect but he could see it being much worse without her.

He could picture himself still sulking in the Burrow, too afraid to return to living in the flat. Without her maybe he'd still be hiding away in the back office of the shop, making everyone believe that he was okay enough to work while Charlie and Verity struggled to keep his dream alive. Had he never met Eloise, he would have never had the inspiration to start inventing again. She challenged him in ways he needed, in ways that his family and friends tried to challenge him only to fail miserably.

Eloise saved George, at least that's how it felt to him. All the while, he merely sat back and observed her build the life she deserved all by herself.

"Eloise is incredible without any of my help, I'm just privileged enough to be able to witness it." he finally replied.

The women soon emerged from the hall in the corner of the restaurant. Patrick glancing in their direction caused George to look over his shoulder. A bright smile formed on Eloise's face as their eyes met and he heard Patrick speak up once more before they returned to the table.

"You make her happy and for that alone, you've earned my respect."

-

Long after dinner, George and Eloise were the last two left awake in the flat. The two found themselves relaxing in the lounge, listening to the sounds of the city as they sat by the open door of the balcony. The warm summer night air filled the room as they enjoyed each other's quite company.

Happily taking out her brand new briefcase, Eloise decided to organize her belongings for the following day of work. However, a gasp of horror quickly escaped from her as she looked over the report she had done earlier in the day. Frantically shuffling through the pages, her face grew more and more pale as panic set in.

George furrowed his brows in worry, "What is it?"

"I- I," she stammered in confusion, looking over the pages with widened eyes.

Her gaze was locked on the words she was certain she hadn't written, especially her own name which somehow said 'Elephant Lavatory'.

It was her handwriting, there was no arguing that, but none of the words made any sense. Lack of sleep or stress couldn't possibly excuse such mistakes as 'Paris' becoming 'Potty' and her boss's name 'Audrey Everman' becoming 'Awful Evilman'.

Realizing he wasn't going to get an answer from her, George pulled one of the pages from her grasp and looked over it. A knowing, almost amused look fell on his face immediately.

"What quill did you take to work today?" he asked.

Eloise dug through her bag with shaky fingers. When she pulled out a purple quill with an orange tip and handed it to George, it confirmed his theory.

He smiled at her, "Where'd you find this?"

"I think I must have taken it from your office one day. I just found it at the bottom of my bag this afternoon when I realized I'd left my usual quill set here." she responded wearily before registering the look on his face, "Why are you smiling?"

"This one's from the shop. It's a Spellchecking Quill. Works wonders for a few weeks, until the charm wears off. After that weird things tend to happen, as you can tell." he explained, doing his best to hold back his laughter.

Eloise sighed, partially relieved that she wasn't actually going mental but equally as exasperated at the mere idea of having to rewrite the entire report before morning, just to fix all of the ridiculously misspelled words.

George could sense this and pulled out his wand, "How many pages is it?"

"Fifteen." she muttered helplessly.

Eloise leaned back in her seat and covered her eyes. She was already exhausted and the idea of scouring each page to size up the damage felt so daunting.

"I'll fix it." George assured her as he gathered every piece of parchment from the table.

She pulled her hands away from her face to see George already busy pointing his wand at every word he could find, fixing them in an instant. While it was certainly much faster than having to rewrite the entire report with a quill that wasn't jinxed, it still took a good bit of time for him to double check his work. Eventually, Eloise let out a long yawn as the clock struck midnight and George had only made it through eight pages.

"Why don't you go to bed? I'll put everything in your briefcase when I'm done."

"Aren't you tired?" she asked.

George glanced up from the page and raised a brow at her, as if she should have known better. Even with his sleeping draughts, insomnia was still a familiar friend that visited him regularly.

Far too exhausted to argue, Eloise merely nodded and trudged down the hallway to her childhood bedroom. She quickly got ready for bed and climbed beneath the pink quilt her grandmother had sewed for her nearly two decades ago. But as tired as she was, her mind refused to allow her to drift off into slumber. Sleeping on her own felt far too lonely now, she had grown accustomed to the unpredictable nights of laying in bed beside George.

Some evening were peaceful, where they both slept through the entire night without incident. Others were more difficult. When insomnia or nightmares haunted George and they both stayed up into the early hours of the morning to keep one another company. No matter what though, they were together, holding each other in the pale silver light of the room.

After what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning, she finally gave up on the idea of sleeping in separate rooms. She tip-toed to her door, careful to avoid the floorboards she remembered squeaking when she was a little girl. When she carefully opened it and emerged into the hallway, she saw a dim light coming from beneath the door across the hall and knew George was still awake.

Without knocking, she quietly turned the handle and slid into the room as silently as possible before closing the door behind her. At the sound of it latching, George whipped his head around to see who the sudden intruder was. He was sitting at the small desk beside the bed and Eloise thought he had likely working on something for the shop.

"Bloody hell, Ellie. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, mon chéri." she whispered as she approached him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she kissed the top of his head.

Before she could see what he was working on, he quickly folded up the parchment and set it off to the side. As curious as she was, Eloise didn't try to pry. She knew George would share his ideas with her whenever he was ready. Besides, she was far too tired to even attempt to understand the mechanics of his newest invention anyway. Not to mention she was still feeling a little resentful towards his products after the Spellchecking Quill nearly sabotaged her entire career.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep." she yawned as she pulled away from him.

George shifted in his seat to face her, "Is that so?"

All Eloise did was nod as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"What would your parents think of you sneaking in here in the middle of the night?"

"What they don't know won't hurt them." she said innocently as she climbed under the covers.

He raised his brows at her before his lips curled into a smirk, "I think I'm rubbing off on you. What happened to the good girl I fell for?"

"Hmm, she stayed in London. Now come to bed." she demanded sleepily with her eyes already closed.

"Yes, ma'am." George chuckled as he flicked the switch on the desk lamp and climbed in beside her.

Eloise curled in close to his side and George soon began tracing unknown drawings on her back with his fingers. At the feeling of his touch, she thought he may still be brainstorming for his shop and smiled at the idea of it.

"Georgie." she said quietly after a moment.

His fingertips on her skin came to a halt as he glanced at her, "Yeah?"

"Thanks for making this a good birthday." she said with her eyes still closed.

The corner of George's lips curled up slightly, "I'll try my best to make every day a good day, not just your birthday."

Already letting herself lull off into sleep, her only response was a satisfied sigh. George soon resumed his drawing on her shoulder, connecting the dots of her freckles as he attempted to troubleshoot an issue he had run into with his new invention inside his mind.

After a while, he allowed his own eyes to close as insomnia seemed to finally be bidding him a farewell for the night. Just before he finally escaped into dreamland, however, he thought he heard Eloise say something. Opening his eyes, he glanced over at her as she rolled over away from him.

George furrowed his brows, he was almost certain he heard her voice. Maybe it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him but that didn't stop his thoughts from racing. Could he have actually heard her say it or was it all inside his head? As he turned and stared at the ceiling once more, he pondered to himself.

Had he really heard her say 'I love you'?