Ginny slowed, and looked back at me expectantly. I smiled at her and waved her on. She nodded and rushed off toward Honeydukes, leaving me alone in Hogsmeade. I turned back to head in the direction from which we had just come. We had been visiting Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Part II just a few moments before, so George wouldn't be surprised to see me. I slipped in the back entrance and through the storeroom. It was a Sunday evening, and this was the first year that Seventh years were allowed to spend Saturday and Sunday in Hogsmeade if they wished. George stood at the register flipping through a catalog from Flourish and Blotts. He looked dreadfully bored. I smiled softly and snuck up behind him, slipping my arms around his trim waist. He jumped slightly and looked down into my face with a warm smile. George turned in my grasp so that he was facing me.
"Annabelle, you're going to miss the feast, if you don't hurry back," he said quietly, sliding one of his arms around my waist.
We had all been shocked to discover that when not around Fred, George was actually almost normal. Of course, he still pulled pranks on his own, but never to extravagant level of their combined pranks, and unlike Fred, George never felt the need to pull out all the stops on his own.
"That's ok," I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, and smiling sweetly. "There are plenty of feasts at Hogwarts. A few too many, actually. I especially dislike this new One Month to Testing feast," I continued.
"Maybe they just aren't interesting enough since Fred and I left," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I laughed outright.
"They certainly lack the…flair of my first four years," I replied.
He simply smiled and ran a hand through my thick, chocolate colored hair. He pulled out a few pieces of confetti and burst out laughing. I blushed deeply, and looked at the floor in embarrassment. It was my birthday, and Ginny had asked my mother to send all sorts of party supplies. It didn't bother me that my mother had sent the supplies, seeing as my parents had a networth of over four hundred fifty million dollars.
"Happy Birthday, Anna," he said with a bright twinkle in his eyes. "Why don't you come on up and I'll make you supper?" he asked, dropping an affectionate kiss on my nose.
"That would be wonderful," I said, as he waved his wand, locking the front of the shop and hanging a closed sign beside the door.
With a mischievous grin, George picked me up, cradling me protectively against his chest. I had gasped when he lifted me, and I clutched at his shirt. Most people would not have dared to try that kind of a surprise on me. After growing up in Manhattan, I was always far more guarded than most of the general student population at Hogwarts. On many occasions I had hexed students sneaking up on me out of an almost automatic response.
George glanced down at my fingers, which were curled tightly into his shirt, he grinned wickedly.
"You know, you could wait until we were in my flat before you start trying to undress me," he teased.
I tore my gaze from the stairs, which were about five feet below me, and looked at his shirt. Indeed, my fingers were holding the material of his shirt so tightly that the buttons were straining, and it did look as though I was trying to rip his shirt off without even unbuttoning it. I blushed furiously and relaxed my grip.
"Thank you, darling," he murmured as he stepped through the doorway into his flat.
Unlike Fred, George actually kept his living quarters tidy on his own. Of course, Fred didn't have to be clean anymore since he had married Angelina. George's flat was very masculine, and I was always struck by the lack of anything feminine anywhere in the entire room. All of the furniture was sized to be comfortable for large males, and it was all done in rich, buttery, tan suede. Thick burgundy and green throw blankets were lying on the arms of the couch and one of the enormous chairs. He had hard wood floors and the walls were painted warm and inviting beige.
"I am always struck by just how much I love the way your flat looks," I murmured as my gaze drifted around his living room. "Hmm, but I think your kitchen is my favorite," I added, simply stating facts. George smirked slightly and set me gently on my feet.
Even in my three-inch heeled shoes, the top of my head barely reached the bottom of his ear. I was a very small, petite person. Fred had taken great pride in teasing me about the fact that I was even smaller than Ginny when I visited their family at the Burrow last summer. I was about five feet and one and a half inches tall, but I didn't know what that was in the metric system. George was at least a foot taller than I was, and somehow I never felt intimidated by his advantage over me.
"Well, Miss Callahan, it is your birthday, so what would you like for your supper?" he asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Somehow I missed the look of blatant desire that was crossing his features. I slowly walked toward him until I stood directly before him, my warm blue eyes gazing up at him, and smiled slowly.
"What are you offering? What do you want?" I asked playfully.
His arms swept around me, and his lips crushed down on mine. I melted against him, my arms sliding up to link behind his neck. George pulled away and looked down at me for a second before opening his mouth.
"I think we both know what I want," he replied, as his eyes slid over my face.
I nodded breathlessly, and his lips once again descended upon my own.
"George," I murmured as his lips toyed with my jawline. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to tell him to stop as I had once or twice before.
"Yes, love?" he asked quietly, his thumb coming up to stroke my cheek.
"I love you," I whispered, as his eyes bore into mine.
At once his arms dragged me to him, and his lips reclaimed mine.