Rhia entered the shop from behind the office curtain. She paused to brush off her new magenta robes, plucking a piece of fluff from her name. George smiled at her as she briefly met his look before looking down at her shoes. He was leaning his back against the front of the counter while the blonde woman stood behind him, laughing seemingly at something he had just said.

"Feeling better?" he asked. Rhia nodded, feeling the colour sneak back into her pale cheeks, looking up again. She ran a hand over her queasy stomach as she approached them at the counter.

"Rhiannon Jones, I don't believe you've met Verity Cooper. She's been with us…um…me…since we opened two and a half years ago. I don't know what we'd do…what I'd do…without her."

"Oh George," Verity sighed modestly.

"Verity, this is Rhia. She'll be working here, helping us out a bit. Not sure what she's good at yet, so we'll have to try her out in a few different positions."
Rhia blushed at his wink as she extended her hand to Verity, who grasped it, politely smiling.

"Since your stomach's a bit off, maybe the afternoon shift will do you better than the morning, so Verity and I will continue to open and I'll be closing – with your help." He took her hand, adding, "Let me show you around."

A surge of energy shot through her when he touched her hand with his fingertips, and she involuntarily shuddered and pulled her hand away. She looked down at the floor biting her lip, hoping he didn't notice her nervousness. She followed him for a few more paces, but in looking down at the tiled floor, she walked into his back, bouncing back a step.

George stopped walking and turning to face her, he tilted her face up with one finger. He could still make out the bruise on her cheek from her brother's hand the day before. He traced it with his thumb, frowning, but that soon changed to a sympathetic smile.

"These are the trick wands." She looked at the shelf he had indicated. They were now standing directly on the opposite side of the shop from where the counter was located.

"We have rubber ducks, squeaking mice, wands that squirt water, sprout flowers, grow ribbons. All the boxes should be labelled. They're guaranteed for twenty-five changes. We don't do refunds. That was Fred's rule. Greedy bastard. If someone claims to have been hurt, you get me directly. No discounts. Except Harry Potter. Harry Potter doesn't pay. Not even my family gets a discount, and especially not Ron unless he works first."

Rhia was nodding as George rambled on.

"No one goes behind the curtain. No petting the pygmy puffs. We're only open half days on Sundays, but closed the second day of each month until further notice."

"What's the second?"

George stopped straightening the exploding snitches, and spoke softly, "Hogwarts anniversary. My family visits Fred, and then we have tea at my parents' house. Even Charlie plans to come in from abroad and once he returns to Egypt, Bill's promised to come as well. We'll have to talk to McGonagall about Ginny, but…well, no matter. You'll meet everyone next week."

"I will?" she asked, her head darting up from the floor to look at him.
"Of course. If you're staying in my flat, there won't be any tea when I go home to mum's."

"I can cook, you know," she said with a grin.
"That's what the girls all say, but they're just interested in my pants."

"Are you suggesting that I'll be doing your laundry?"

He smiled at her sideways. "Do you do…laundry?"

"I might know a few spells I could teach you."

"Spells I have; I need someone to take care of my pants." He smiled and gestured, waving his hand at the shelves. "You just wander around today. Get to know the merchandise. Most of the products are original Weasleys, so you'll need to know their effects and antidotes. Some antidotes are sold separately." Rhia nodded and George joined Verity behind the counter as the door chimed, and a group of customers entered, quiet at first, but as they looked at the goods and George set out a tray of sample sweets, the laughter began.

Rhia smiled, and did as George instructed, walking around; up and down the aisles, trying to see everything that the shop offered to its customers and potential pranksters. There was the fireworks line and the pet line which really only consisted of the pygmy puffs and some trained spiders. The largest one was named Ronniekins, and the others remained unnamed. She was fingering the extendable ears when the door chimed again. A woman and her young son were coming through the entrance, and Rhia stared at his dark hair, her mouth opened wide when she recognised him. As they turned in her direction, studying the shop for what was obviously their first time, Rhia ducked down just in time to avoid eye contact with them.

She was kneeling next to a sputtering joke cauldron, and Rhia tried to remember the quickest way to the stock room. She heard the boy's voice, high and shrill as he dragged his mum through the shop. Their voices grew louder as they approached Rhia's position. She scurried the opposite way and soon found herself able to slip into the stock room, unnoticed, but tripping, falling over a pile of decoy detonators that weren't there when she came down from the flat earlier.

These new clients were just outside the curtain. Sitting on the floor, brushing the dirt off of her new robes, Rhia could hear the boy pleading with his mother for a box of fireworks.

"For after the game, mam?"

"No, they're too much."

"Uncle Cel said –"

"Then your ewythr can bring you back to buy them. Time to go. Rwan." He knew better than to argue with his mother when she used that tone, and he took her hand and followed her to the door.

When Rhia heard the door chime again, she waited a moment and then re-emerged from the back room. Verity was watching her and speaking quietly to George. George glanced at the closing door, and then looked at Rhia, asking, "Everything all right?"

Rhia nodded. "There's so much to learn about here. You and Fred have quite the imagination." He smiled at her compliment; the first time smiling at the mention of his brother's name in nearly two months. He watched her disentangling herself from the kitchen apron hanging low from the ceiling, and laughed at the look on her face as she read the caption across the fabric, 'Ask me about my Whiz Bang.' She couldn't suppress her smile. As she moved closer, she found a basket on the glass counter filled to the brim, containing pins with a variety of sayings on them.

Bang or Whiz Bang. WWW. Love Potion #93. Have a daydream about me. A knut for your thoughts. Can you hear me now? No, Buy extendable ears. Weasley is our King. Gryffindors do it anywhere.

"Foff," she asked holding up a black one with white letters.

"That's a Muggle one," George answered.

"It's 'F' off."

"Oh," she nodded, but she still didn't quite get it.

"Here's one for you," he said, rummaging through the basket, pulling out a magenta coloured one with silver letters. He handed it to her without saying a word.

Shopkeepers do it on the sales floor.

She tried to slip it into her pocket, but George spoke again. "I'll give you an extra galleon this week if you wear that today." She looked from him to Verity.

"He's not much on pay rises. You may want to think on it."

One galleon was a lot of money considering she barely had any gold even if she were currently living rent free in her boss' flat. She grimaced, but pinned it on her robes directly under her name. She smiled at George, and continued her journeying around the shop. Sooner than expected, the afternoon was upon them, and Verity was going for the day, leaving Rhia to help George close. Rhia straightened the Wonder Witch products and swept the floor.

When the bell tinkled next, Rhia had been ducking behind the counter, emptying several small boxes of prophecy orbs when she heard a boy's voice; the same voice from earlier. "Excuse me, miss, we're looking for fireworks. Can you help us?"

She swallowed, hoping George would rush over, but he was involved with some parchment. "Of course," she said, rising to greet the new patrons, trying to keep her smile not appear too frozen on her face as the boy's grin widened.

"Aunt Rhee! What are you doing here?"

George looked up from his paperwork, trying not to be obvious in his eavesdropping. Rhia smiled and answered her nephew.

"Hello Dai. I work here. What brings you in?" She looked at the man with him, and smiled warily.

"We came for fireworks," the man answered with a startled smile. "Do you have any?" He saw her name on her robes and was reading the pin beneath it, suppressing a snort followed by a grin.

"Do you want the Basic Blaze box or the de…flag…de…" She knitted her brow trying to remember all of the unusual Weasley names for their products.

George came over now to assist. "Deflagration Deluxe – that's twenty galleons and the Basic Blaze is five galleons. Are you friends of Rhia's? She's a great worker; a lifesaver really."

Rhia motioned from George to the man, and introduced them. "George Weasley, owner extraordinaire, this is our nephew Dai, and my brother, Celyn."
George and Celyn exchanged a handshake and pleasantries, and George went back to his paperwork, keeping one eye on the trio. Celyn said a few things to Rhia in that unusual language and reached out to touch her bruised face. She jerked back, and she shook her head, answering him again in their language. George was getting used to the sound of it, but he still had no idea what language it was or what they were saying. She frowned at her brother, and asked him again which box of fireworks he wanted.

"What – no family discount?" her brother asked with a laugh.

Rhia laughed. "Actually, Cel, George here is a skinflint. His family doesn't get a family discount, and neither do I. I'll get the Basic Blaze box for you."

"Diolch," he said, handing her ten coins. "Keep the change."

"Dim diolch." She handed him five coins back.

"Rhia –"

"I'm fine, Celyn. How's mam?"

"Sad. How do you feel? Any better?"

"I told you," she said, sternly, chancing half a glance in George's direction. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Will you come for tea on Sunday?" She shook her head, but Celyn continued, "Uncle Rhodri will be there, and Rhydderch; they can straighten the whole thing out. Mam will listen to them."

"There's nothing to straighten. I'm quite well." She handed them the bag containing the fireworks, and as they reached the door, she called after them. "Cel," she paused as he turned to look at his sister, "Don't mention that you saw me here. No one needs to know where I'm working, all right?"

He nodded, his eyes becoming moist. "Come on, Dai," he said, turning to his nephew. "Ice cream, then home. You mam is waiting for us."

The door clattered closed. Rhia was grateful that George continued to look at his paperwork and not at her. She knew that the floodgates of her eyes were about to burst open. She came round the counter, pausing only to stammer out in a shaking voice, "I think it's time for my break," and fleeing into the stock room.

George nodded mutely, but discreetly did not follow her through the swaying curtain.

After some time passed, Rhia returned to the main shop front, and went back to stocking the prophecy balls. When George stepped behind her, he rested one hand on her shoulder and pressed down in a way that truly comforted her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. When he passed by a second time, he paused, and sitting beside her on the floor, began to stock the extendable ears in the case adjacent to the balls. She looked at him, grinning weakly.

"I know that this is my first day and all, but I didn't think that those went there," she said, after he was finished putting them all in the case.

"They don't, but I thought I'd try something new. They're getting fingered out in the open. You don't think it's a good idea?"

She shrugged. "We'll try it out, I suppose. It can't hurt to shake things up a bit, right?"

He nodded, grinning. "Can I ask you something?"

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet. You'll be the first I come to." Her voice was shaking.

"I was actually going to ask you what language that was that you're always speaking – the one that I can't understand a word of."

"Oh," she smirked. "It's Welsh."

"It's lovely. Can you teach me?"

"Why? So you can eavesdrop on me in two languages?"

"You never know when it'll come in handy. I may need to go to Wales to procure some dragon's blood or talons."

"We don't have dragons anymore. They're in Romania now. We have sheep."

"I may need to baa-gin with the locals," he poked her in the side as he said this, and then added, "Go on, teach me then."

She laughed at his weak pun. "Where to begin? We should start with your name, I imagine. In Welsh, George would be Sior. It's pronounced She-or."

"She-or."

"Well done. Now when someone gives you something – like earlier, my brother was trying to give me money –"

"Yes, you should have taken it. I don't pay very well."

"Too true, but I said 'dim diolch,' which means 'no thanks'. Yes is oes, and no is nac oes, and thanks is diolch and no thanks is dim diolch."

"So, I would ask you to sleep with me –"

"And I would say dim diolch, Sior. Efallai fory."

"What does that mean – that last bit?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

George raised his eyebrows, grinning and they were both laughing when the door chime tinkled again. George stood to greet the customer, and was surprised to find Rhia's larger bearded brother in his shop. He tapped Rhia's head with his wand as her brother turned to face the glass counter. Rhia felt as though an egg had been cracked over her head, and when she looked at her hands, they had blended into the colour of the floor. Rhia looked up at George, and was about to speak when she heard the man's voice and recognized her oldest brother. She sat very still and listened. "My brother was in here earlier, and bought some fireworks. He wanted me to pick up a second box. Do you recall which box he bought?"

"Yes, we've only sold one today. It was the Basic Blaze box – five galleons. Shall I get it for you?"

"Cheers. I remember you from the other day, at the café," he said, looking around the shop. "Are you there often?"

"Nearly every day. Here you go. Would you like a bag?"

"Cheers. No. Have you seen my sister since then?"

"Your sister?" George took the coins from the man's hand.

"The red haired woman that I was arguing with?"

"You mean the one you slapped around?" He paused for effect, but quickly answered his question, "No. I hadn't seen her before or since." George handed him a separate sheet of instructions for the fireworks. "Have fun with them."

"Cheers." Rhia's brother exited the shop, and George waited, and it wasn't until he saw him disappear down the alleyway and around the corner that he reversed the disillusionment spell on Rhia.

"Cheers," she replied, finishing up the stocking of the shelves.

"Rhia, I don't –"

"George, I've already told you. You'll be the first to know."

"Actually," he lied, "I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the pub with me. I'm meeting some friends tonight."

She shook her head. "Mae'n ddrwg gen i. Dim diolch."

"Sorry?"

"That's what I said."

He laughed. "I thought our lessons were over for today."

She smiled. "There's always something new to learn, isn't there?"

"Well, let's have our tea first, and then I'll be off, and you can learn how to do the dishes. Are pasties all right?"

"I love pasties. I could eat them every day."

* * *

Rhia rolled over with a groan. The stumbling bodies coming up the stairs were not even trying to be quiet, despite George's loud shushing at them. They crashed into the walls and she could hear someone slip down a few steps, cursing and giggling. They were all laughing hysterically.

"Shh. I'm sure she's sleeping. Don't wake her. I'm all right. You guys can go on home."

"Go?" a thick Scottish brogue sounded. "I wanta see 'er."

"Me, too," another man said.

"Oi, she's not a caged pixie to gawk at."

"The way you talked about her all night, I thought she might be a Veela."

"Is she?" the Scot asked thickly. "Is she a Veela? Lemme see, George."

Rhia could hear scrambling, and someone being shoved, hitting the wall with a thud.

"You got me home. I'm home now. You two can go. Out!"

Rhia sat up in the dark, letting the covers fall to her waist. "George, is that you?" she asked drowsily.

The three men were silent, waiting for her to be angry at them for coming back so late, so drunk and then waking her, and they were all staring wide-eyed at her silhouette in the faint moonlight.

"George?"

"Yes, love, it's me," George said, trying to sound pacifying.

"Well, come to bed already. I've been up waiting for you, cariad" she teased.

His eyes widened, and turning to the other two men, growled, "Out! Now!"
He gave them each a push towards the stairs, and at the same time dragging his trousers down, tripping as they pooled around his boots. He kicked those off, and pushed the men again as he fell onto his arse, trying to tug the trousers from his ankles.

"Lock the door," he hissed down the stairs, and turning back towards the bed, he yanked his shirt over his head and practically dove into the bed, encircling his arms around Rhia's waist.

She jerked up in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Coming to bed; you invited me."

"I was helping rid you of your drunken friends. It wasn't an invitation."

"It wasn't?"

"No."

He gently prodded her to lie down again on the bed, nuzzling his nose into her neck. He kissed her there, sending a wave through her body, and then he began to nibble on her ear, causing bumps to rise on her tingling skin. "That's all well and good, and I appreciate it, but since I'm already here, and I'm nearly naked, why don't we –"

"Why don't we what?"

"Come on, Rhia. You're in my bed after all."

"That's a fair point," she admitted, turning her body to face his, and as his smile broadened, her face came very close to his. Their noses were nearly touching. She breathed out a sigh that he could feel on his lips. She inched closer still. He could feel parts of her body barely touch his and his drunkenness was quickly turning to arousal as he became aware of her one thigh and her breasts and when her lips were just about on his, he breathed out his own sigh. She was so close he could almost taste her. Almost.

He looked into her eyes and when she smiled at him, he smiled back at her in anticipation of what was about to go on in his bed. He was really looking forward to this; he'd been so lonely for so long. The few times he'd shagged since Hogwarts had left him feeling used up and spent and full of regret. He really liked Rhia, and as he thought about his almost bedmate, she then utterly astonished him by grabbing the blanket and leaping over him, landing nimbly in the nearby chair, curling up, and covering herself with his blanket. "I'll sleep here tonight then.

Good night George."

He lay there speechless, motionless, realizing how frustrated he was about to become. "You know, Rhia, most ladies would jump at the chance to sleep with me," he said with just a touch of overconfidence from his position on the bed, an arrogant smile on his lips, propping himself up on one elbow.

Rhia was still trying to settle herself comfortably on the chair; not an easy feat. "I'm not most ladies."

In the dark, he fixed his eyes on her shadow for what seemed like a long time before responding. "That is becoming quite apparent to me."

"I would imagine that most of your ladies find you irresistible," she quipped.

"They do, in fact, and it is passing strange, actually, that you don't."

"Actually," she said quietly, "I do. I just have more self-restraint than your other lady friends."

"Pity." He watched her for a few more moments as she finally became settled into the chair, legs hanging over the side. She did not look comfortable at all, which he thought was a good thing since he also was becoming extremely uncomfortable. He adjusted his pants as he bit his lip, and stared out at her. He grinned in the end. "Good night, Rhia. Sleep well, love."

She was already beginning to snore.