This was madness. The thought played over and over in George's head like a mantra. This was completely mental.
The source of his distress was a group of photographers and reporters who had made it their personal mission to harass him and his fiancée at all hours of the day, slap it on the front of page 6 and call it news. George had other, more colorful ways of describing it. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to reporters. As the owner of a joke store, big brother to Harry Potter's best friend and a reluctant war hero, George had been subjected to a fair amount of publicity, both good and bad. He had never been bothered by it until now.
He didn't know how they found out, but apparently someone thought that the fact that both Ginny Weasley and Angelina Johnson were sporting engagement bands was news the world should be aware of. Then someone at the ministry had sold Percy out as well. And now the press was having a field day. Potter off the Market, the first headline had read. They family had gotten a hearty laugh about that one and teased Harry when fan mail insisting that he rethink his decision and marry someone else had flooded in his new Auror office in droves from mother's, daughters and all manner of witches (and curiously enough a Muggle or two). It continued until he was forced to hire someone to screen his mail for a few days. Ginny found this less than amusing and had taken to sending back some rather interesting letters of her own to those who were unintelligent enough to include their return address.
Before that incident even had the time to blow over, a reporter from Witch Weekly began to stake out the Burrow. At first she requested an interview with Molly about how her children's love lives were going. His mother had naturally spilled, providing fuel for the fire. They had then began to show up to the shop in greater numbers and even haunted the Ministry and Gringotts, eager for a shot of any of the Weasleys, including Fleur, Audrey, Hermione and Harry. Bill had put a stop to it at Gringotts almost immediately by sending goblins to greet the cameramen. So far he and Fleur had escaped the firestorm. The rest were not so lucky.
George was no exception. After the World Cup, where he had announced that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was going international, it had been a nonstop firestorm. He supposed he was partly to blame; he had naively granted a reporter an interview, thinking it was about the shop. It was more about how rich he was quickly becoming. After the article ran, he began receiving fan mail of his own. Angelina was seriously considering taking a page out of Ginny's book when the situation escalated. She became the next target. Apparently, it was fascinating that George and her were engaged and reporters were clamoring for their love story. When Angelina and George politely declined comment, as did their friends and family, an interesting article told from the perspective of Pansy Parkinson surfaced, claiming that she had known all along that George and Angelina were having a secret, torrid affair at Hogwarts, including late night trysts that might make a stripper blush. Angelina had snorted out right when asked to comment on the story. Lee had found it hilarious and contributed a bit to the rumor until a reporter showed up at his and Alicia's flat to ask him about it. Alicia was less then pleased. Lee no longer found it funny.
And just like that, the Weasleys and Harry had become the British Wizarding World's most eligible non-bachelors. And their respective women were becoming increasingly more angry. The only one enjoying the attention was Charlie, who was single and therfore able to capatilize off of all the women clamoring after him.
The most notable example of said pissed-ffedness, from George's own girlfriend, occurred when Angelina was in Madame Malkin's looking at gowns and Rita Skeeter and her photographer had shoved in and demanded an interview. Angelina had pushed the quill out of her face had suggested a less than polite place Skeeter could shove it instead. Of course, a mild scandal ensued. When questioned about it, George merely suggested that Skeeter follow Angelina's advice.
In attempt to stem the attention, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes removed their advertising from the Prophet and all similar publications and now advertised exclusively through the wireless and promotion fliers and posters. Defense and shield spells similar to the ones used during the War were kept constantly around his shops, the Burrow, Ron and Hermione's house, Shell Cottage and George and Angelina's house to ward off anyone who even had a camera or quik-notes quill in their robes. Harry moved in with Ron and Hermione for the time being and they were all on constant alert for reporters.
It worked for the most part. That was, until any of them needed to venture outside. This was one of those occasions and the reason George was now getting dangerously close to the end of his fuse. He and Angie had simply wanted to take a walk and pick up some things for the house. Unfortunately, the road to the shops was being blocked. Flash bulbs exploded and smoked all around them and reporters pushed each other and shouted questions.
"Miss Johnson!" one yelled, "what's it like being engaged to one of the richest men in Britain?" Angelina looked frustrated. George grasped her hand and glanced over at her. She was teetering on the brink of tears, and possibly her sanity.
"George!" another shoved a magical recording device under his face, "is it true Angelina dated Fred? Was it serious?"
"What about wedding plans?" a third shouted.
"Yes, flash us your ring!" a witch from the teenage tabloids suggested.
Instead Angelina turned towards her fiancé. Her face said it all.
"On three," George said directly in here ear. They had suspected something like this might happen and had a backup plan. She nodded. "One, two, three!" The pair side-along disappaarated with a loud crack, startling the reporters. As a bonus, George had thrown some Peruvian Darkness Powder that he had altered slightly. It would leave them in pitch black darkness for about an hour and treat them all to the constant smell of dung bombs.
He and Angie landed in an alleyway in the Muggle world. Quickly Angie pulled Muggle clothing out of her bag and the two changed hastily and beat it into London. They could get furniture here easily enough, but they would be forced to cart it all back into this alley way and shrink it.
"I don't know how much more I can handle," Angelina sighed a moment later. George rubbed her shoulders comfortingly.
"I'm sure it'll all die down soon. I'm not that interesting. They'll find some other bloke to stalk." Angelina didn't look convinced.
"I don't know George. What if it's like this for the rest of our lives? What if they crash the wedding? They've already bothered my parents and my sisters at school…" the tears flowed over this time. George hugged her tightly.
"We can find some way around them, I'm sure. Hermione's already trying to make it illegal for them to show up to a home or place of business uninvited…" Angelina shook with a little sob.
"I know. And I'm sorry, it's just…I can't go anywhere! They ruined fixing our house, they ruined it when Audrey, Ginny and I went to look at gowns. They're ruining everything and I just can't deal with it anymore! I swear, the next person I see with a camera I'm going to curse!" she chuckled bitterly into his shirt. "They even tried to follow me to the doctors the other day. I had to go and make an appointment at the one here in London…"
"What did you need the doctor for?" George asked, alarmed. "Are you sick?"
"No! Nothing like that!" Angelina suddenly looked extremely nervous. "I was hoping to tell you sometime today, but they interfered as usual…" she looked angry again and George cleared his throat to bring her back.
"What were you going to tell me?" he asked.
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled. "George, I think I might be pregnant."
George's vision swum and he thanked his luck that they were in a secluded spot in the Muggle world. Pregnant? How? Well, he knew how. In fact, if he thought logically about it, he probably even knew when. But that seemed so soon. And they had been careful hadn't they? A sudden memory of an impromptu early morning rendezvous on the mattress they slept on upstairs flashed through his mind. Oh, whoops.
He looked at Angelina who was watching him expectantly with an unsure expression. "I'm not positive I am yet. Obviously I need to see the doctor…but I am late and I thought perhaps---" she ended her sentence early when George's face split into a wide grin.
"That's great! That's bloody fantastic! Pregnant, wow…"
Angelina looked immensely relieved. "So your not mad? I thought you might be, you know, surprised."
"I am," he admitted. "But it's still brilliant news! Mum will be thrilled!" she gave him a skeptical look, "well, she will be once she's gotten over the fact that we're having 'adult relations'" he finger quoted. "But still…"
"Well, it's not for sure yet," but she too was sporting a huge grin and her sour disposition from earlier seemed to have evaporated.
"When's you appointment?" he questioned.
"Not until Friday of next week." Hell, that was nearly a week.
"There's got be another way to find out," he mused. "Do you witches have any tricks?"
Angelina pondered it for a moment. "I don't know if witches do, but I know a trick Muggle women use." George rose an eyebrow.
"How do we do it?"
15 minutes later he found himself in a drugstore in an aisle full of pink colored, embarrassing products. Angelina was rifting through a shelf until she pulled out a slender, rectangular box.
"Here it is," she announced.
George skimmed the back of the box. "You pee on it and it tells you?" he asked incredulously. "Merlin's beard the things Muggles do…" a Muggle woman in a blazer cast them a curious look. Angelina shushed him.
"My Mum used it before. I think it works." she assured him.
"So let's get you to a loo." he began to gently push her out of the aisle.
"Not yet!" she braced her feet and admonished him. "We'll never forgive ourselves if we don't get at least one thing we came out for in the first place."
"Angie," he protested, "I think this takes precedent." But she shot him her no-arguing look. So he sighed as she paid for the mysterious Muggle piss stick, thanking his stars he had managed to get her to agree to by a large bottle of juice as a compromise. She drank it as she drug him to some sort of hardware store. It was amazing how much Muggles were forced to buy themselves without magic. They grabbed a catalogue of furniture and little strips with color schemes on them to give them ideas for the house, thanked the clerk and hurried out.
"Wait," Angelina protested as he pulled her back toward the alley that was still a few blocks away. "I can't run that fast! All that juice shot through me!" George almost laughed but nerves spurred him on.
"Bloody hell, Ange! You're going to give me a nervous attack! Let's go home so you can take a bloody piss already!" a group of passersby shot them alarmed looks. Angelina looked amused.
"Alright, here," she shoved them off the sidewalk and into a crowded park. Some sort of loud concert was taking place. A group of young people wearing all black but sporting neon-colored, vertical hair styles were head banging near the stage. George watched them as Angie dragged him toward the outskirts.
"What are we doing?" she shushed him again and pulled him into a foul-smelling, plastic blue cubical at the edge of the park.
"It's a porta-potty." she explained. "An outdoor loo."
"Ange, I think we can wait to get home. I don't want to do this in here…" she just rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand and apparated them home.
"Better?" she asked. They were standing in the master bedroom of their new house. George nodded, pulled out the bag and tossed the small box at her.
"Go." he instructed. Angelina nodded giddily and bounced off to the bathroom.
A/N: Told you there was more! Up next, the results of the "piss stick"! Thanks so much for the response to the last chapter! It was overwhelming!