Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and blah, blah, blah. That is all the property of J.K. Rowling, publishers, Warner Brothers, and I'm sure a bunch of other people. I only own Ronald B. Weasley in my heart.

a/n: I never planned on writing a second chapter to this as I can never seem to finish anything and have a writer's block 10 months out of the year. However I got some inspiration and here you go! It's hard for me to keep up with exact ages and dates and since I don't feel like thumbing through DH some ages will probably be a little off. You've been forewarned for all upcoming chapters ;-)!

They went to George's favorite Chinese restaurant in downtown Muggle London. George embraced Muggle culture a lot more than he ever thought he would. While not wanting to collect everything related to them as if ancient artifacts like his father, he did enjoy being in their oblivious presence.

It started a few days after the end of the war.

The war felt like it had been going on forever and ended as abruptly as if it never were. Voldemort was dead, the war was over; life is supposedly normal again. But that was not true for there lacked Fred, Tonks, Remus, Mad Eye, and a host of others. There was a little boy orphaned and George no longer had a brother to come out of this with. Oh, how George would've spent an eternity deaf and with one eyeball if he could have his brother back.

At all the Wizard bars George could feel the room get colder as he walked in, hushed whispers, eyes following him in a way they thought were incognito. He'd make a few jokes with the bartenders and see witches shake their heads about how he was "shielding the pain."

In Muggle bars he was nothing more than a bloke who was tall and thin with red hair. He made people laugh in them, bought girls beer, sometimes got the eye and someone to spend the night with. No one knew anything about his family, his past, or his present…no one cared and it was the greatest gift of all.

They sat eating and talking and George laughed so much until his throat was dry. George Weasley, laughing real laughter finally after a year of fake laughs and no real happiness.

George didn't know what to say to her about them and what this meant. In the back of his mind and in his heart he couldn't shake the thought of if this was what Fred would have wanted. There are certain things you can say that about like, "Yes Fred would be thrilled that I am keeping the joke shop up and running, that his legacy—our legacy lives on!" But George could not bring himself to say "and yes, he would also be happy that I will probably be dating the love of his life if everything goes well!"

"Egg rolls are delicious" said Angelina breaking his train of thought.

She ate like a person; most girls on dates ate as if they didn't want you to know they were human and actually needed food. Angelina was the opposite eating her food and acting as if she really enjoyed it, George loved it. "You eat."

Angelina laughed, her warm brown eyes sparkling. "Of course I eat, although I hate to admit that after I stopped playing Quidditch I ate a lot more and worked out a lot less."

"Your body is perfect" said George feeling his cheeks warm up. Angelina laughed but didn't say anything.

▪●▪

6 Months Later

That was the beginning of a torrid love affair. They didn't tell anyone for months neither of them. The first person George told was of all people—Ron. George knew that Ron would tell Hermione as he told her everything seeming not able to keep a secret. But it was that night Ron confided in George that he was going to propose to Hermione.

"Really?!" Asked George excitedly, "you're going to propose tonight…and on my 6 month anniversary!"

It had come out in a rush but had been on George's mind for weeks. Tonight was he and Angelina's six month anniversary and he didn't know if he should do anything for her as they still hadn't really even told anyone. They made love, two months after their first kiss. She'd made spaghetti and garlic bread and it was so good. George felt like crying because he felt if he were to marry her he wouldn't worry about who'd cook as good as his mother. That night with the taste of garlic and sweet sauce and pumpkin juice still in his mouth, he'd kissed her; kissed her on her lips, while they were cuddled on the couch in his flat watching a Quidditch match. She'd taken to spending many nights at his flat now always sleeping beside him her body so warm and soft, but they'd never did anything further than kissing.

But that night as he thought about how well she cooked and all the millions of other wonderful things about her they'd made love. And it was not drunken sex or a one night stand. But there were hurried, frustrated kisses everywhere, delicate touches and tears.

"Your what?" asked Ron, confused, "I didn't even know you had a girlfriend."

George bit back the urge to laugh. Ron had the remarkable talent of being funny when not trying or when he was dead serious. "I do, little brother and I love her very much."

Ron frowned, "if you love her why didn't you tell me until now? Does the whole family know but me? I can't imagine Fleur being able to keep a secret or why you wouldn't tell me—"

"No, no it's nothing like that! I just…it's complicated. I don't even know how to say the words aloud to anyone and I imagine she feels the same."

"Would we not approve?" Asked Ron growing more and more curious, "it's okay if she's not a looker George, I won't laugh too much."

"She's beautiful." Said George defensively, "and you approved the first time."

"An ex, just bloody tell me! I'm tired of playing this game of clue."

"Angelina Johnson" Blurted out George with his eyes closed.

There was a five minute silence in which George opened his eyes. Ron had a small grin on his face. "Good job!"

"What? But she—Fred—"

Ron shook his head and the look on his face was completely serious. George didn't even have the urge to laugh.

"You were so…so sad that first year without him. I mean a shell of yourself and I know you're tired of hearing it by now but you really were a shell of yourself. I mean yeah you still told jokes and managed the shop and came to family dinner religiously but there was like something was missing. You loved him more than all of us, I know that and in the past months I have noticed a subtle difference. It makes so much sense now—her working at the shop, and with the way you light up when talking about her I couldn't care less if it's a bit controversial. She makes you happy and that's all I care about…all he would care about."

George thought that Ron was a lot different from the kid he was almost two years ago. With the way he talked about the Quidditch season starting and how he'd spent three months picking out the perfect ring for Hermione. How he'd asked her father's hand in marriage—a Muggle tradition he didn't want to overlook. "You'll make her happy" Said George after awhile.

Ron beamed, "so will you."

That night George had went to Angelina's flat doing a light summer night's rain nonetheless. The light drops of water on his skin felt surprisingly nice in the humid night and he finally enjoyed the rain after living in England all of his life.

When she'd opened the door in his boxers and a t-shirt she'd looked surprised and he'd kissed her and told her he loved her. That he didn't have a present because of his confusion but from that moment on she was officially his—no secrets and they would tell the whole world, starting with everyone at the Burrow.