"George, when's the last time you did your books?" Angelina stood near George's desk, holding a large leather-bound book. Her face was creased with confusion as she looked over the numbers. She had a quill tucked behind her ear and a bit of ink smudged on her brow. George suspected he looked equally disheveled. It was the end of the month and time to do the books. They had missed last month because it had been George's birthday the next day and they went out instead. George had promised Ange he would do the books the next day. He forgot. He was paying for it now.
"This can't be right," George scowled at the numbers.
Angie sighed, "I think it is. Look," she set the book down in front of him. "both stores keep selling out of merchandise too quickly. And the owl-orders are getting impossible to keep up with. And that's just in Britain. We're starting to get international orders now too. How did that happen?"
"Kingsley took some of my fireworks to the last international conference. Apparently the Swedish leader fell in love with them. He orders some every month. Perhaps it's catching on. Which reminds me, they want to use them for the Cup this year."
Angelina looked up. "The Quidditch Cup?" George nodded. "George! That's fantastic news! You'll be international after something like that. You can sell your products at the match!" Angie beamed.
"Yeah, but if we can't keep up with the owl-orders now, what are we going to do after the Cup?" Her smile drooped slightly.
"We're going to have to expand," the answer came from Fred, who had just wandered into the frame behind George's desk.
"I think you're right mate," George glanced at the numbers. Angelina nodded, then pulled the quill out from behind her ear and began scratching furiously on a piece of parchment. George and Fred watched her for a moment. Angie had always been good with numbers. If anyone could figure out how much they needed to expand, it was her.
"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed after a moment.
"What?" Fred asked.
"Can we afford to expand?" George questioned. Angie seemed at a loss for words. Instead she pushed the parchment in front of him. Fred craned his neck from the frame to look.
"Bugger, is that right?" Fred breathed from behind George.
"I doubled then triple checked my math," Angelina assured them.
"So not only can we afford to expand--" George began.
"You could buy Firebolts for both Quidditch teams at the Cup. And then buy the teams themselves." Fred finished.
"And you haven't even expanded yet," she finished. George sat stunned.
"Blimey George. You wait till I die then you start to get filthy rich!" Fred exclaimed good naturedly. Angelina looked wide-eyed at him.
"Congratulations George," she smiled. George still sat unblinking.
"I think he may have passed out. Smack him or something, Ange," Fred regarded George carefully. This snapped him out of his stupor.
"Well, we can afford that house now, at any rate," he said finally. Angelina sighed.
"I'm still putting in for my half George." she insisted.
"Ange, I already told you. You don't--"
"I do. This is a down payment on our future," she insisted. "I'm going to help." Fred laughed.
"Stubborn she is. Most women would be excited they're dating someone who's about to be filthy rich."
Angelina scowled at him. "That's not why I'm dating George."
"Well, obviously. Don't be thick Fred. Anyone could tell you she's dating me for my good looks and stunning wit," George winked at his girlfriend. She still looked upset.
"Aw, come on, Ange. You know we're just taking the mickey." Fred scratched his nose in an unconcerned manner. But George noticed his girlfriend still looked a little sad.
"Ange, what's really wrong?" she looked like she might deny it for a moment, but then she changed her mind.
"It's just, remember that bloke from the Prophet who came on your last birthday?"
"The one who interviewed me about Fred's portrait?" George raised an eyebrow.
"The same. Well he also asked me a few questions, you know about the merchandise and what I do here. And somehow he knew we were dating. And he implied that I only had a job here because of that, and well…" she paused awkwardly. "that I'm just with you because your business is doing well. And he made me think, that maybe people think that of me. That I'm a gold digger or something." she trailed off when both twins made a sound of disgust.
"I'm going to strangle him!" George got up.
"No!" he looked at his girlfriend in surprise. "I mean, I already told him off pretty soundly." Fred smiled.
"Of course you did."
"Why did you tell me, Ange?" George asked. She looked ashamed.
"I just figured you were busy. And besides, I honestly forgot about it. Until now. No worries though," she smiled a bit weakly.
"Sorry Angie. I was just having a laugh." her smile widened at Fred's portrait.
"I know. No harm done. Besides, we've got a lot of work to do before the World Cup. We'd better get started." she went back to the books.
From his frame Fred shot George a look. George returned it. He was still going to have a word with that reporter.
"Bollucks, I forgot to pick up my sister!" Angelina exclaimed suddenly. "I'll be right back." she disapparated with a pop.
"So when are you going to ask her? You've been trying for what, like three months?" Fred asked the moment she left.
It was true. He had gotten the ring nearly three months ago. Hermione and Ron had been married for almost two months now.
"I think I've got an idea as to how to do it." George swung his chair around to look at his twin.
"I've heard that before. Like when you said you were going to ask her out at Hogwarts or a year ago or…"
"Alright!" George cut him off. "This time I've got a fool-proof plan."
"Do tell," Fred leaned forward with a smirk.
A/N: Seriously, I cannot thank you guys enough for the reviews. Some of you always review and it always makes me smile. I'm going to try and thank you all individually the minute school slows down a bit. Thanks again!
