"Weasley?"

George snapped back into reality.

"Yes?"

Kay Manning, the auror in charge of the raid they were planning, was glaring at him. George shivered. As much as he would deny it, she scared him. I suppose it's why she's in charge he mused as she approached him, glowering. She needs to keep us all in order.

"Weasley, is you knowledge of the raid sufficient enough to daydream during the briefing?" Manning snapped. "I would not appreciate you jeopardising what we've been planning for months because you simply would not pay attention!"

The rest of the group sniggered, but George didn't blame them. Had her wrath been aimed at someone else, he most definitely would have joined in. His ears still turned slightly red though, the infamous Weasley trait he had inherited.

Seemingly satisfied, Manning turned back to the briefing.

"Group A will be led by Parbrough and will approach first. They will disable the defences and send up the signal when they have succeeded. At the signal, group B will approach the front and group C the back. Attack swiftly and strongly. It should be over in quarter of an hour."

Evan Parbrough, the leader of group A, spoke up. "How many Death Eaters should we expect to encounter?"

"We have evidence to believe around thirty Death Eaters have evaded trial and taken refuge there," replied Manning.

After a few more issues had been addressed, the aurors were told to meet at dawn the next day no exceptions. At last they were finally free to leave for home.

oOoOoOo

George walked home. Sure, he could have apparated, but it was always a good idea to leave some time to settle your brain after a long, tiring day. He had never really liked walking before; he had always wanted to learn how to apparate. Once learned, he had used the skill ruthlessly – one would never see George walking to even the closest places.

He had tamed it a tiny bit before the Battle of Hogwarts, but only very slightly. For example, he would never apparate into the bathroom itself, he would apparate onto the doorstep. This was a lesson learned the hard way, after apparating in on someone doing their private business (to protect their dignity, I will not say who).

But apparating was always something he had done with his twin. Something that they had collaborated on, something that they did together. It seemed a betrayal to use it now – to use it when Fred could not.

He neared the front door. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had long since gone – that was another thing he had done with Fred, and he never would have been able to do on his own. He now had a small house in Hogsmeade, about as far from Zonko's as one could get. This he had requested, and his wife understood.

Angelina. George allowed a smile to cross his face at the thought of her. Angelina always understood. It was mostly her that kept his world from falling apart, that kept him from succumbing to depression. It was her who had suggested working with the aurors; it had worked, and at last let him feel like he was doing something to avenge Fred.

He at last reached the door, and rang the doorbell.

oOoOoOo

Angelina jumped when the bell rang. She had been immersed in a particularly odd article from The Quibbler. It had been detailing the habits of a Wishering Piffa, a creature that up till now she had not known of. She still was contemplating whether that was because there was no such creature, or if it was just not widely known.

Wishering Piffas it read are strange in the way that they are only visible to certain people, rather like Thestrals. These, however, are nothing to do with death. The Wishering Piffas are only visible to a person that despises the colour red, and wears blue socks. This means that many Gryffindors can't see them, but some Slytherins and Ravenclaws can.

Angelina grinned. Luna had definitely risen to the challenge of continuing The Quibbler, and though not completely factual, it was a fun read. Placing down the magazine, she went to answer the door.

Harry had been slightly annoyed at them for not having better safety measures, but both George and Angelina had decided that this reminded them too much of the war. They weren't completely helpless, they still had their wands; the neighbours were also rather paranoid, so they were a safety measure by themselves.

The door swung open easily. Standing on the doorstep was her husband, missing ear and all.

"George!" she hugged him tightly. "You're later than usual."

"I walked," he gave her an easy smile as he pulled away. She followed him as he wandered inside.

"What's for dinner?" he asked her, entering the kitchen.

Angelina gave him a half-hearted glare. "Is that all you think about?"

George gave a faint smile. "I'm hungry."

"Well, help a bit then." Angelina rolled her eyes. "Just don't blow up the kitchen."

oOoOoOo

George was ready to leave. Angelina stood at his side, grasping his hand tightly.

"Be safe," she whispered, looking him in the eye. "Come home."

"I will." George smiled at her anxious face. "I always do."

"Yes, but…"

He silenced her with a kiss. She responded fiercely, deepening it. They drew apart, gasping for air.

"Goodbye."

He kissed her forehead and was gone.

Author's note: Please leave a review and tell me what you think!