Written for the Gift Giving Extraganza 2018 — word count 826 — CelestiaRosegold

My honey muffin Cel! :D I did Christina/George... /andishipitnow

Thank you, Jenny (Clauda Amelia Song) for beta'ing!

George Weasley was faintly reminded of his mother in a time like this, for two valid reasons. Her protective loving nature automatically made her a shield against any danger that had tried to befall on him when he was a child, and two — she would scold him for staring at someone. It was just plain rude.

Granted, in his defence, it was different when you were standing in front of a muggle shop getting burgalized.

But when he made eye-contact with burgular, a jolt of pain went through him, and later he would blame it on not being entirely sober. That look... tinted with mischief and exhilaration. It was a look he had seen on himself quite often — in the mirror and by his side millions of years ago. The non-sober side of him decided to croak out a weak sounding; "Fred?"

The burgular knocked their hoodie down and George watched in disbelief as long dark hair fell over their shoulders and she stared down at him with vague amusement. "Do I look like a Fred, Ginger?"

She looked nothing like his dead brother.

"Sorr — no wait. You're a thief!" George gaped at her. She was standing relaxed and casual with broken glass littering the sidewalk. True, there was no one out this late at night, but the series of apartments behind them were bound to have heard something when she had broken the window.

"You must've gotten good grades with that kind of sharp observation." She turned back to the window and surveyed the goods on display. "Hush up for a bit, Ginger. I got some shopping to do."

"Ginger?!"

"Yep. Love the hair, by the way. Always wanted to try being ginger."

He observed her briefly. She looked to be near his age and was neatly pulling her long hair back in a long ponytail — whilst surveying the products on the... broken display.

"What about the police?" George asked, looking down the vacant street with a frown.

"A chase is always fun. Not particularly in London, but... I need a new phone, you know?" The burgular picked out shiny iPhone six with a hum of approval.

"You're crazy," he told her flatly.

"And you're watching a thief steal a phone in London without making a single move to stop me. If anything I should be scared of you, you crazy."

The only excuse that came to mind was a short — "I'm drunk."

"Good. Police never believe a drunk witness. Say you never saw my face, darling."

"Why should I do that?" George scowled at her.

"My name is Christina," she answered while fumbling around with one of the boxes.

"Fine. Why should I do that, Christina?" George kept the scowl on his face, hopefully to imtimidate her a little. The affect was probably lessened from his lack of ability to stay steady on his feet.

With a quick smile, she darted forward, pressing her lips against his and he froze.

It wasn't his first kiss, but it was the first time a girl had kissed him in the middle of an empty street surrounded by evidence that could land them both into a jail cell.

A bright flash blinded him for a few seconds and it took a few moments until George realize what had just happened, and he made a grab for the phone in her hands. But she ducked out of his way lightly.

"Because you are now my accomplice!" Christina pocketed the phone in her jeans. "My wallpaper too. You have a cute face."

George would've felt flattered if he hadn't been completely lost on what to do from this point onwards. He was an accomplice to a — he couldn't go on. Furthermore — he pressed a hand against his face, trying to hide the faint redness that was must have already spread across his cheeks. What was wrong with her?

This was all Percy's fault. The one time his older brother shoves him out the door and tells him to relax and have fun drowning himself in something other than paperwork... is the one time this happens.

His mind helpfully supplied; But you're the one that decided to come to Muggle London instead of Diagon Alley.

Shut up, he replied surly. It's Percy's fault.

"Well — I've got to catch a bus," she tossed a box to him. "Have an iPhone 5 on me for your troubles."

George groaned as the box hit him in the chest. "There aren't any bus routes in this area." This was a small of childish satisfaction on his part. She would have to walk whever the heck back to where she came from.

"I drive my own."

He cursed.

"Take care, George Weasley!"

"Whatev — how do you know my name?"

"You don't think that kiss was free, do you?"

"You stole my wallet!"

"Keep plotting world domination with that brain, Ginger. You're almost there."

"Come back here!"