In the morning, when deep sleep gave way to less restful slumber, George began to dream.

-

He was at The Burrow. The rest of the family had gone inside after a game of Quidditch, but George was enjoying the sun and the breeze too much. He stretched out on the tall grass and let his eyes close, prepared to nap until someone yelled out the back door that it was time for dinner.

He awoke when a clump of dirt hit him in the face. George tried to sit up. He couldn't. He was tied down with numerous lines of copper wire from his father's workshop. He cut his eyes to the side and gaped in disbelief. An army of garden gnomes stared back at him. Two gnomes stood at the front. One had a four-leaf clover stuck into his grimy hat. George guessed that he was the leader. The other gnome was distinguishable from his brethren only by the gold sheen of his skin.

When the leader nodded solemnly, the shiny gnome ran toward George. Tiny fists tugged red hair in order to use it like a rope. Once the gnome climbed up to stand on George's brow, he jumped in place. As one, the other gnomes clapped their hands.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

George's head began to pound. He said, "Is this about last Christmas? You should have been honoured! How many gnomes get to be a Christmas Angel? Besides, the gold paint's an improvement!"

The gnome kept jumping up and down. George yelled, "Get off me you vengeful little squit! It was a joke!" He drew in a deep breath to call at the top of his lungs, "MUM!"

-

"George! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open. Alicia was bending over him, shaking his shoulder. George placed his hand over hers. "Don't."

Alicia's tone softened. "Oh, I'm sorry. Does your head hurt? I'll go get you a potion."

He kept his grip on her hand. "Remember what I told you? There are two kinds of Morning After potions. One's for you."

Even with a pounding headache, he appreciated the effect a fervent nod had on her torso. He enjoyed the view as she hurried out of the room, as well. When she returned with two flagons, George stretched out a hand for the black container. He pulled out the cork and drank the contents with a sigh of relief.

Alicia held up the red flagon. "How long has this been sitting in your bathroom cupboard? Are you sure–"

"–it's still good. Bill said he looked for a brand with a long shelf life, since it would probably be ages before either Fred or I got..." He looked away.

"Lucky?"

Alicia's smiling voice triggered another inside George's head.

Tell her there used to be two red flagons, but you were too chivalrous to turn the attack at Bill's wedding into a romantic opportunity! He could "see" Fred wink. Girls love chivalry!

George shook his head.

Alicia misread his action. "I'm glad you didn't use it. Intimacy means more than getting lucky to me too."

He watched her drink the potion, thinking a good girl with a great body spelled trouble. She would want to date, to introduce him to her mum, and meet his family. He couldn't handle commitment or deal with any kind of relationship.

"Tasted like sour cherries," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Why aren't there contraceptive potions for men to take?"

George shrugged. "Society expects men to have self control. Unfortunately, willpower as a contraceptive is ninety-nine point nine percent ineffective."

Her smile brought out the dimples in her cheeks. He almost groaned. Why did Alicia have to be so damned pretty? Despite having a Morning After potion on hand, he would have sent her home the minute she'd confessed that she wasn't on birth control if he wasn't so attracted to her. As for saying goodbye now, it would be a lot easier to do if he didn't want to drag her back into bed. His eyes flickered over shapely curves. Maybe he didn't have to let her go just yet. "I have to shower and get ready for work." He slid off the bed, feeling smug that her gaze was fixed on his body. "Join me?"

When he brushed his lips across hers, she returned his kiss eagerly. George smiled. He liked the taste of sour cherries.

Two hours later, he was finishing the inventory and muttering curses beneath his breath. The sales of U-No-Poo had steadily gone down the toilet after its first, brief success. While George appreciated the irony of a constipation product that didn't move, the shop couldn't afford to keep non-selling items prominently displayed. He would have to move Fred's brainchild to a low shelf in the back.

No sentiment in business, we always said. If 'U-No-Poo' stinks, flush it!

George rolled his eyes. If his brother's voice was going to make itself heard, the least it could do was spare him the corny jokes.

Ha! You thought that was corny? What do you call a bear that loses an ear? A bee! Get it? A "B"?

George threw down his quill and rubbed his eyes. He was paying the price for lack of sleep–not that he regretted it. He was only sorry that Alicia wasn't a no-strings type of girl. If she was, oh the things he would do to her.

"Mast–sir, there has been an incident with a Canary Cream that requires your attention."

Free house-elves occasionally slipped back into old habits of addressing those in a position of authority. George pretended not to notice. "Young boy, hysteric mother? Thanks, Caper. I'll deal with it." He strode past his assistant and into the shop.

A canary the size of a human boy stood in the centre of the room, head lifted in song. The screeching of a frizzy-haired witch was a shrill counterpoint. "Help! Help! Call St. Mungo's, call Magical Law Enforcement, help!" She saw George approach and cried, "You! Are you the owner? Do something to help my Andrew at once or there will be charges!"

Andrew was a brainless wonder for stuffing a joke shop cream into his greedy maw. George was tempted to say that if there were charges filed, it would be against the little git for theft. That wouldn't earn him a sale, however, so he said calmly, "He'll change back in another minute or two." George held up a hand to his undamaged ear as if listening intently. "You must be very proud."

"Wh–what?"

"Your son has a sweet voice, not shrill like others I've heard." Yours, for instance.

"Oh. Well, I suppose..."

"And to be a Yellow Yorkshire Canary! Smart lines, bold expression and song. Not every customer ends up a favourite of fanciers around the world."

"They don't?"

George leaned closer, as if imparting a secret. "One bloke wanted to surprise his wife on her birthday. He turned into a Frosted Pink Chopper."

The woman's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"The wife was quite surprised." The fact that the name was misleading, pink colouration was slight, and had nothing to do with masculinity or sexual orientation he kept to himself.

"Mum, Mum, buy a box of Canary Creams! That was the coolest thing ever! I want to be a canary again. I want it more than anything!" The boy had resumed his true form.

George thought the kid sounded better as a canary.

"Your grandmother is fond of birds," said the witch, "and her one hundredth birthday is coming up soon..."

George recognised parental caving when he heard it. He signalled his assistant. Caper materialised beside the woman with an ornately wrapped, exorbitantly expensive "Limited Collector's Edition" box of Canary Creams in hand.

The boy took one look at the shiny paper and pulled at his mother's arm. "Buy it, Mum! Buy it!"

After the doting mother and her spoiled "Andykins" left the shop, George walked to the entrance. The mornings were always slow. Most of his customers flocked into the shop on lunch hours or after work. He could take a break; take a walk down the alley to stretch his legs.

Stop by Alicia's shop to say hello, maybe lure her into the back for a kiss and cuddle? Go, man, go!

"Fred's" voice brought George crashing back to reality. He had decided that seeing her again was a bad idea. No matter how much he wanted her body, Alicia was a complication he didn't need. He had to forget last night. Scowling, he returned to his office to try and do the work of two men.

-

It had been three days since Alicia kissed George goodbye, feeling so happy she had practically floated on air.

She had snuck into her room through the window, but her mother hadn't been fooled. The look on her face when Alicia went downstairs to the shop said that she knew her daughter had been out all night.

Alicia had given herself away by humming. She had hummed love songs while getting dressed, hummed while descending the stairs, and continued to hum all that first morning. It was only when she closed The Light Fantastic and straightened illumination orbs on the shelves that she realised that George hadn't owled or dropped by to say hello.

Thinking that he was busy and she would be patient, Alicia dropped by the Apothecary to pick up a long-lasting contraceptive potion. The one she chose tasted like sweet cherries and promised to be effective for an entire month.

She should have saved her Galleons. He hadn't owled that night or the next day, either. During lunch on the second day, she and a friend who worked at Flourish and Blott's had taken a "power walk." As she passed George's shop, Alicia paused when she saw him rearranging a display in the front window. He had stared back at her until Vicky pulled her away, exclaiming that she didn't have time to gawk at old crushes when there were calories to burn!

Whatever calories she had burned walking were nullified by the chocolate truffles Alicia ate later to comfort herself. She couldn't get his face out of her head, the way his long fringe fell into eyes that attracted yet pushed her away at the same time. She had cried herself to sleep thinking about it.

On the third morning after the night she had spent with George, Alicia sadly forced herself to acknowledge that he didn't want to see her again. Unlike her, he hadn't been looking for a relationship, and she had to accept that.

By lunchtime, she had resolved that the next time Vicky Frobisher offered to set her up with her cousin David, she would finally agree. Just because his job colour-coding owls at the post office sounded dull didn't mean he was. Maybe he had an interesting hobby, or liked to dance. It would be nice to go dancing, even if she had to dance with a different partner than she had hoped for.

At the end of the day, after wrapping a lava orb for a wizard whose wife thought they were "groovy," Alicia almost dropped the gift bag when she glanced at the window and caught sight of a man standing on the pavement outside, looking in.

It was George. He looked so dark and brooding–almost angry. She handed the customer his orb and walked toward the door.

"I must say, your service to customers is unparallel," said the customer, apparently believing she'd opened the door for him. "I shall recommend this shop to my colleagues at the Ministry."

"Thank you," she said distractedly, her eyes searching for George.

He was gone.

Tears pricked her eyelids.

"Darling? Why aren't you closing the shop? Are you feeling all right?" Alicia's mother asked from the back where she was restocking shelves.

"I'm fine, Mum," said Alicia, as much to herself as to her mother.

"You sound congested. I'll stay home tonight and conjure up some soup."

"No! I'll pick up some chicken sweet corn soup from a takeaway. You go play mah-jongg. Mrs. Tonks would be disappointed if you didn't. She always says you're her only real competition."

"I do have an excellent memory, and my powers of observation have always been keen." Alicia's mum strolled over to kiss her daughter on the cheek. "Remember that, dear–and that I'm here whenever you need to talk."

"Thanks, Mum."

After a solitary dinner, Alicia ran a bath to relax, but it was no use. She kept thinking about George.

Tap, tap, tap!

She scrambled out of the bathtub and into a robe. Someone was tapping on her window! She ran into the bedroom and snatched her wand off the bedside table, pointing it at the would-be intruder.

It was George.

He was levitating outside her first floor window. She kept her distance. "What do you want?"

A charm made his voice sound as if it was whispering in her ear. "Tell me you missed me."

His voice was more compelling than any vampire she'd learned about in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Her fingers trembled. "I missed you."

"Tell me you want me."

Alicia stubbornly shook her head.

He floated nearer. "I tried to stay away, but I couldn't. Let me in."

She had planned to tell him "no" and let down the shade, but when she was close enough to look into deep brown eyes, Alicia found herself opening the window. George climbed into the bedroom and stood on the rug, watching her in a way that made her heart pound. She set aside her wand. "What do you want?"

"To be with you."

The raw need in his voice melted her defences. When he took a step forward, she met him with open arms.

-


A/N: I post an R/T fic on Fridays, so I'll do my best to post this one every Friday too. Special Thanks go to MollyCoddles for beta-reading and to every reader who found my story and kindly reviewed! 40/16, Albus Severus, alix33, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Born Mischievous, Bright Green Eyes, Carnivalgirl, ElspethBates, Evo422, FNP, GraysonGirl , High Snow Lord of the Blowland, Indigoenigma, Io.sono.Emilia, Lieu of Flowers, Melli, MollyCoddles, Nesha227, potteronpotluvhim, RahNee, Sandy, Shannon, sirenblood, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Sofia666, Sophia Loren, and sunny9847