A/N: I'm baaaaack. I figured I got a positive enough response from Aftermath to justify writing a sequel. So here it is! Tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own any of the characters nor am I making any money for writing about them. It is simply an exercise in creativity. All credit for the characters goes to Miss J.K. Rowling.
Even though he was asleep, George Weasley recognized that something was off. To be more specific, he realized that something was missing. He groggily reached out for the other side of his bed, his fingers grasping at empty air. This was sufficient enough reason for him to stir out of deep sleep and make his way back into the world of the waking. He blearily blinked his light brown eyes open and confirmed his suspicions.
Half of his bed was empty.
There was a time when, for George, this was nothing new. It was pretty discouraged at Hogwarts to sneak members of the opposite sex into your bed, and it was almost a certainty that if the professors didn't catch you, your roommates would be none too pleased. Luckily for George, he had left Hogwarts a few years back and was now free to share his bed with whoever he chose. And he had chosen Angelina Johnson.
Considering the circumstances, he was lucky she was in his bed at all. In school, she had briefly dated George's twin brother, Fred. The fact had kept them platonically friends during the rest of school, and for a few years afterward. And then the war happened and Fred had died. And through the pain, Angelina was there. And so George, being a typical male (and a Weasley to boot) hemmed and hawed and denied his feelings for his female best friend and counterpart. But eventually, after what could be considered a one-night stand (the greatest of his life) and a few minor (well, sort of) incidents of drama, he had asked her out.
Angelina had been his bedmate, girlfriend, and love-of-his life for nearly a year now. As a result, George had become accompanied to her presence every morning. It had started off innocently enough. Angie worked for him and one late night in the office she was too tired to go home, so she crashed in his room. It started happening more frequently until it went from a few times a month, to a few times a week. Then her roommate Alicia Spinnet and Lee Jordan had shacked up (a side effect to being married) and Angie found herself without a place to live, a condition that George quickly remedied. It was still all very unofficial; she insisted that she wouldn't live with a man before she was married, or at very least engaged. So technically, she only slept there, and at other times did more then sleep, a convenient perk to her staying over.
But she was not there now. George mustered enough will to sit up and look 'round his room. His apartment, once bare except for the basic necessities and cauldrons teaming with half-finished joke products, now had traces of her feminine touch everywhere. His couch had throw pillows, his coffee table had coasters, the little window above the kitchen sink had lacy drapes and a potted flower in the window sill and Angie had put something called a duvet on his bed, a thing she assured him was an absolute necessity. George complained, but he didn't take them down. He figured she was owed something for putting up him. Besides, (and he would only admit this to himself) he kind of liked it. Alright, he bloody loved it. Because he bloody loved her.
"Ange?" he yawned out her name into the quiet of his bedroom. He pushed his disheveled red hair out of his eyes. It was getting long again, something his mother never failed to berate him for. In response, the bathroom door swung open to reveal his girlfriend. She had a fluffy robe wrapped around her body, concealing the smooth, dark chocolate colored skin and lean muscle beneath. She had taken to wearing her hair long and curly, it fell across her forehead in an un-styled coif. She smiled at him, revealing the perfect pearls shelled behind perfect lips.
"Good morning," she murmured cheerfully.
"Un-uh," George protested when he saw the time gleaming at him from the bedside clock. "It's before 7 in the bloody morning. What are you doing out of bed, woman?" he wasn't worried that she'd be offended. They had teased each other since they were 11 years old and had no intention of ever stopping. She walked slowly back to her side and lowered herself to the bed.
"We've gotten up earlier then this," she argued.
"Except it's Saturday. And I was planning on us sleeping in." He had already rolled over and was now mumbling into his pillow.
"And I planned on making you breakfast," she moved to stand up again. "You can just keep your lazy arse in bed." he heard the amusement in her tone. He reached for her and caught her around the waist, yanking her back down toward him.
"You love my lazy arse. Admit it Johnson."
"You're going to have to pry it out of me Weasley," she challenged. George pulled her hard to the bed and began to tickle her mercilessly.
"Admit it!" he teased.
"No!" she squealed as he found the sensitive are beneath her rib cage, but still managed to hit him roundly with her pillow.
He shook it off and pulled her under him. "Admit it," he demanded again, this time trying a different tactic. He kissed her softly behind her ear.
"So what if I do? I want to make you breakfast, but you want to stay in bed…" her lower lip jutted out in a mock-pout. George smiled.
"How about you stay in bed for another few hours, and when we get up, we'll make each other breakfast?" he kissed her chin as she pretended to think it over.
"Will you make me pancakes?" she asked seriously.
"Chocolate chip," he promised.
"Well, alright then. But they better be bloody fantastic pancakes Weasley." George shut her up with a kiss. She kissed him back eagerly. He was just beginning to think of something he would much rather do then sleep when something rocketed through the window of the room and hit the bed in an explosion of grey and brown feathers. They were both up and had their wands trained on the object in an instance. Pigwidgeon, the thing in question, hooted up at them from the middle of the comforter. Angelina exhaled a little giggle of relief but George felt rather annoyed. Leave it to his brother to meddle in other people's love lives without even being there. He picked up the little owl and untied the letter around it's foot. Pig bounced excitedly across the bed to Angelina who set about cooing over it girlishly. George watched her in amusement for a moment. Sensing his gaze, she looked up at him.
"Oh, shut up, George," she snapped when she saw his smirk. She too smiled though. "What does the letter say?"
"I don't know, but it better be damn important." Angie laughed a little at his obvious annoyance. She kissed his cheek.
"Well, what's it say?" she repeated, blowing multicolored bubbles out of her wand that Pig was happy to chase about the ceiling. George unrolled the tiny parchment scroll to read his youngest brother Ron's handwriting. Untidy at the best of times, it now looked as though Ron had lost his quill and instead chosen to write the letter using Pig's feet. George was forced to squint at it a moment before he could discern what it was saying.
George,
Mum said she was going to stop by this morning and surprise you with breakfast. You'd better act fast before you surprise her with Angelina being there. Remember how mad she was at Hermione and I? And you aren't even engaged. Tell Angie to apparate over here. Hermione has an outfit for her and everything.
Ron,
P.S. I would move rather quickly if I were you. Mum can hear a person disapparate from a mile away.
"Ah hell," George muttered after he read the note aloud. Angelina was already up and gathering her clothing. "Now I won't get to sleep in or eat pancakes."
Angelina laughed. "I'm sure your mommy will make you pancakes if you ask politely." she teased. He stuck his tongue out at her.
"I like your pancakes better," he stood up to help her.
"Don't tell her that," Angie admonished, straightening up once all of her belongings were gathered up. "And you still owe me chocolate chip pancakes."
"And you owe me a few hours in bed," he fired back. She gave him a mischievous smile.
"Rain check for tomorrow morning?" she asked.
"On the Lord's day? Miss Johnson, I do believe someone had corrupted your innocence." he quipped.
"Really? When I catch that red-headed bastard I'm going to have to make him pay." she pinched him.
"Promise?" he kissed her once more, long and hard, before she pulled away.
"I have to go." she gave him a brief peck. "I love you."
"I love you too. See you in a few hours." She smiled. "Come on Pig," she summoned the owl to her, grasped it and with a pop, she was gone.
George fell backwards into bed, watching the charmed bubbles pop and float down to his face. He closed his eyes, determined to look like he had been sleeping when his mother arrived. He didn't even get to pretend for a minute when he heard the bell to the front entrance of the store ring. He let it ring twice more for appearances before he pulled himself out of bed and down the stairs of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, his joke shop and he and Fred's life's work. His brother grinned cheekily at him from his portrait above the cash register.
"Sleep well there, George?" he asked suggestively. George mirrored his grin.
"Would have been better if mum hadn't showed up."
"She does tend to spoil things of that sort. Ah well, at least she has food." Fred sympathized. "I saw her putting it together from my other portrait. It looks good. She wants you to call Angie round to join you." Fred and George grinned identical grins.
"I'll have to invite her then." Fred laughed.
"I'll be round Hogwarts. Peeves is pulling a prank today with one of the suits of armor in the 4th floor corridor. Can't miss it."
"Have fun," George waved at his brother's picture, but Fred was already gone. He swung the door open to admit his mother, Molly Weasley, into the shop. She was plump as ever, but her cheeks had more color to them now since the war. She was in full mother-mode, a basket of food on her arm. She admonished him the moment she entered.
"Goodness George. How long were you going to keep me out in the cold?" Before he could answer she seized his face between her hands. "Hair's getting a bit long. It makes you look peaky. I'll have to give it a trim before I leave. I just gave Victorie's hair a cut. Second one this month. I swear, her hair grows like Devil's Snare. It must be the Veela blood. It just doesn't mix well with Weasley hair…" she bustled in, conjuring a table and chairs with her wand and set her food down on it.
"G'morning, Mum. Did you have to come so early?" George kissed her on the top of her head.
"Yes. It was the only time. I've got to be at Ron's place later today. Hermione's gown needs fitting. Goodness knows I wish they wouldn't live together. But what can I do? I'm only his mother, what do I know about what's good for him?" Hermione and Ron's living arrangements were still a sore spot. George disguised his smile. His mother would be none too pleased if she found out about Angie. "Now I've got coffee, eggs and pastries. Why don't you owl Angelina and we can have a nice breakfast. Such a good girl, with such good morals."
George hastily made his escape to write his note, laughing about what his mother's face would look like if she knew what not-so-innocent way they had gotten together in her own house that New Years.