"Leaving again?" she asked from the rumpled sheets.

"It's what I have to do," Fred leaned over and kissed her head.

"I would rather you didn't," she pouted. "I'll be awfully lonely."

He smiled and kissed her softly, "I'll be back soon."

He dipped out of the room and grabbed his coat, reaching into his deep pockets, he pulled out a pair of mittens and shirked them on. It was wrong what he was doing. So, so, so wrong.

He opened the door and was greeted with the cruel, harsh sting of a winter's blizzard. "Fantastic," he mumbled to himself. He stepped outside, ducking his head to keep his eyes from being blinded by the sharp snow.

The walk seemed twice or three times as long tonight. He lost count of how many times he asked himself, 'are you there yet?' and was beginning to accept that he would never reach the shop. When he did finally reach the shop, he was surprised to see a girl with short blonde hair still working away.

"Verity, shop closed," he pulled at his sleeve to check the time. "T-"

"Two hours ago," she said, hanging up her apron. "I know."

Fred took off his mitts and scratched his head, "Then why are you here? You won't be getting overtime, you know."

"No, I know," she sat on the stool behind the counter. "Mr. Weasley?" she asked, sitting up straight.

"Verity, for the last time," Fred walked over to the counter and leaned up against it. "Just call me Fred."

"Fred?" she asked, looking at his snow-covered hair.

"Yes?" he asked back, leaning over the counter. "Yes, Verity?"

She spun around in her seat and pointed to the top of her head, "Could you please unpin my hat? I always feel like I'm pulling out half of my hair when I do it."

"Of course, love," he hopped up on the counter and crossed his legs. He tilted her to lean back to make it easier for him to reach. Fred pulled out two pins and asked, "You were waiting for two hours for me to unpin your hair?"

"No, I just wanted to know who it was tonight," Verity closed her eyes lightly. "Was she pretty?"

"Verity, please-"

"I just want to know if she's pretty, is all."

"Veri-"

"She was pretty," she smiled. "I'm glad."

Fred gently pulled the hat off her head and placed it on his own, "This isn't going to make things better, is it? The dorky hat?"

Verity sat up and sighed, "No, not tonight, Fred."

Fred tried his best to contain a grin, "What if it was the only thing I was w-"

"No," she brushed herself off and stood up quickly. "I told you I was done with this."

"Doesn't sound like it to me, Verity," Fred said, tilting the hat on his head. "Sounds like you're very, very, very much still involved."

"It breaks all employer/employee rules-"

"I'm a fan of that," Fred slid off the counter and wrapped a arm around her waist. "Breaking the rules, pushing the boundaries," he pulled her closer to him. "You should know that by now, Verity. You have been working here for quite some time."

"A month and a half," she sighed.

"Seems like much longer to me," Fred smiled. "Because I savor every day I spend with you." He leaned his forehead against hers, "See how charming and endearing I can be?"

"A regular Gilderoy Lockhart," she rolled her eyes, pushing Fred away. "Please, Fred, I'll be leaving now. I know all I need to know." She grabbed her coat and pulled it on, on her way to the door. She just touched the handle when she heard him laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked, her hands balled into fists. "I think I deserve to know if you're laughing at me behind my back."

"Gilderoy Lockhart, hmm?" he raised an eyebrow and paired it with that smirk that too many women knew so well. "You'll be getting a raise, Verity. Just for being honest with me."

"A raise?"

"Would you rather be fired?" Fred placed the uniform hat on the rack. "Because I have the power to do that too."

"Goodnight, Mr. Weasley," she turned on her heel and stormed out of the shop.

Fred watched her through the window as she huffed along her way down Diagon Alley, they snow hitting her face roughly. He basked in the soft glow of the empty shop, listening to the soft humming sound which he wasn't quite sure of the source of.

He checked his watch, "Three," he paused. "Two." He looked towards the door. "One."

And there she was again, still huffing and throwing the door open to the shop.

Some people never learn.