Business was always good on Saturdays, but when Halloween fell on that day, sales skyrocketed. By midafternoon, Caper was showing his pleasure by grinning so widely, the "scars" on his face twisted horrifically. Customers in line at the checkout counter gasped and then clapped. Across the store, George took in the scene with an approving nod.

"Erm...beg pardon?" A shy-looking witch stood clutching a Jelly Organ jar in her hands. The jelly heart suspended in gelatine "preservative" beat rapidly.

George tried to put her at ease by not revealing his Lady Killer vampire teeth when he smiled. "Hullo! I thought all the fake specimens and Jelly Organs sold before noon. You've got a keen eye to have spotted that."

The customer still wouldn't look at him. Could be the trickle of fake blood from the corner of his mouth put her off. Some people were squeamish.

She said, "D—do you have any more of those Halloween Orpheus Orbs left?"

"The ones that play spooky music for parties? Yes, they're in a basket between the Inferi makeup and edible Dark Marks."

"No. I meant the..." The woman broke off, blushing.

George hid a smile. "Snapetacular Moments?"

"Yes."

He bent down to whisper, "I'm all but sold out, but for a valued customer, I'll go have a look."

George ambled toward the storeroom. As he had said, he was all but sold out—except for dozen or so in a box in the back.

You'll do anything to earn client loyalty and repeat business. "Fred's" voice was admiring.

"I'm not the one who did the customer base analysis." George held up the orb that glowed green. "Caper said we needed to strengthen the female demographics, so he deserves partial credit."

You're the one who came up with the idea to use my old recordbrall of Snape's rants for something other than laughs at parties, though. That was sheer brilliance!

George was certain he and Fred would have brainstormed to come up with something much better. Since that hadn't been an option, he had done the best he could. On impulse, he set the orb on a crate and gave it a spin. A dark, silky voice spilled into the room.

You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking...

It was a mystery why women swooned over the malevolent bat's voice. One George was happy to profit from. Ever since Headmaster Snape had been posthumously vindicated, legions of witches felt free to confess their admiration for the deceased "hero." The wave of response to Florence Flamboyant's Kissing Snape article in the Quibbler—derided by his mum and Fleur—inspired the orb idea. It was a Halloween hit. A steady stream of "Snapetacular" customers had trickled through all day.

George stopped the orb on dunderheads. "Coincidence," he muttered.

On the wall, the flames of the enchanted torch flickered.

Coincidence? "Fred's" voice said in a sepulchre tone.

George tossed the orb into the air and caught it. "Are bat wings twitching in disgust behind the veil? Don't worry, you'll always be a snarky git to me," he said with determined breeziness.

He returned to the shop, feeling a slight twinge of conscience when the witch smiled at him as though he was Father Christmas. The twinge was ruthlessly suppressed when she thanked him and promised to recommend the shop to everyone in the Ministry mailroom.

By five o'clock, the seasonal stock was almost gone. George decided to close early.

"Mister is not keeping the shop open until seven?" Caper seemed amazed.

Was he really such a workaholic? "Not tonight."

"Is Mister going to see Miss Alicia?"

"No. She sent a note this morning saying she's sick. I'll have to go the party without her." George tried not to sound self-pitying. He hadn't been to Lee's new place or to any party since the battle, and would have preferred to have Alicia by his side. Her bright conversation made up for his silences.

"Perhaps Miss is better now?"

Caper's hopefulness was contagious. "I'll stop by on my way and find out."

"If Mister brings a basket of treats, Miss will think he is thoughtful."

Instead of a selfish pig who wanted her with him to disguise that he was no longer the life of any party? That sounded brilliant to George. "I'll run by a deli for some chicken soup."

His assistant's face became reproachful. "I is not to make the basket?"

George was being considerate, just not in the eyes of an overzealous house-elf. "Only if you want to."

Caper's smile, contorted by fake scar tissues, managed to be gruesome, yet endearing.

George decided to stay in costume to deliver the basket.

He could almost hear Fred chuckle. Let her see what's she's missing, eh?

The thought of what he'd be missing if Alicia was still sick brought a frown to George's face as he waited for someone to answer the rear door of The Light Fantastic. Weirdly, bits of stories learned in Muggle Studies kept running through his mind. Somehow, though, he didn't think the wolf had threatened to blow the pigs' house down if they didn't hand over Little Red Riding Hood.

"I'll huff and I'll puff," he said beneath his breath.

The door opened to reveal a woman dressed as a Greek goddess. He recognised her as the shop clerk, Zoe. The owl perched on her shoulder craned its neck forward.

Voo-hoo-hoo!

"Orlando said 'hello'." A meaningful look accompanied the pronouncement.

She expected him to speak owl? "Voo-hoo-hoo to you, too," George muttered.

Zoe beamed. "You need to work on projection, but the accent was impeccable." She peered curiously at his basket. "Vampires don't eat food. Is that for Alicia?"

"Yes. Is she feeling better? I'd like to see her."

"Can't. She's still lurgy. Hasn't left her room all day."

"Shouldn't she have seen a Healer?"

Zoe didn't take offence at his sharp tone. She took the basket with one hand and patted him on the arm with the other. "Don't get in a bother. It's only a virus. Nothing to do except drink fluids."

"Fine," he said, "but I won't leave until I know she's all right. Tell her to go to the window and wave or something."

George began walking toward the side alley. He pretended not to hear an owl call Voo-hoo-hoo!

A few minutes later, he caught a glimpse of white in the upstairs window. It was hard not to give into the urge to levitate. Memories of the times Ginny had yelled at him to get out of her room when she was sick kept his feet on the ground. If Alicia looked anywhere near as pale and queasy as his sister had, she wouldn't appreciate him seeing her that way. He returned her wave and left.

At home, George tossed the cloak he used for his costume over a chair. It would have been nice to have Bill and Fleur to talk to. The flat was dead quiet. He decided to rest up for the party, lying on his back to keep from having to redo his makeup later. Mum was to thank for that tip.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

George woke from a dream embarrassed and aroused. He padded over to the dresser and stared at his reflection, unnaturally white in the dimmed room. What was the big thrill about being a vampire? It wasn't the liquid diet or eternal night life. He recalled the dream and realised it was the power. One tap on the glass was all it took to have Alicia invite him into her room, into her bed, where she did anything he wanted.

Maybe if you're real nice, she'll act out your fantasy one day, but until then, don't you have a party to go to?

He did.

Lee Jordan's flat was on the top floor of a converted house. The faint sound of dance music crept its way down the stairs. Lee had never been Outstanding at soundproof spells. When he reached the landing, George had second thoughts about the party. Before he could back away, a brunette in a mermaid costume opened the door. "George!" Katie Bell cried. "I'm so glad you came!" She threw her arms around him, dragging him into the lounge.

"Air!" George gasped. He saw a familiar face beneath a Roman centurion helmet and yelled, "Rescue me from the clutches of this siren!"

Lee grinned. "Somebody get me a stake! My girl's being attacked by a vampire!" He bounded over, tugging George free only to engulf him in a hug.

"Ow, my ribs!" George complained half-jokingly.

"You're too skinny, Weasley," said Lee. He let his friend go with a clap on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, mate."

"Good to see you, and I'm not skinny. You just don't know your own strength."

Katie slid her arm around her boyfriend's waist. "The WWN sends him to interview Quidditch players, and they always invite him to work out. Getting buff, isn't he?"

"Interviewer, commentator, and rising star of magical law enforcement's public relations department?" George whistled. "No wonder you can afford this flat!" The oak floors and streamlined furniture were much more posh than his mismatched stuff.

"Katie's my decorator. She's amazing. One day she'll have her own shop."

"Lee, quit. You liked the neutrals as much I did."

It was amusing to watch his friends try to out-compliment each other. Not so funny was a blonde in a rabbit costume hopping through the crowd to ask brightly, "George, right? Hello. Where's Alicia?"

"Bridget, right? Home. She's sick."

The couple had stopped cooing to listen. "So the rumour is true? You and Alicia are dating?" said Katie. "I don't want to pry, but since you brought it up..."

"Yes. We're dating."

Lee took the hint that he didn't want to discuss his private life. "Can I get you a beer?"

"Yeah." George kept a beer in his hand for the rest of the evening. The alcohol enabled him to pretend he didn't see the speculative looks or hear the whispered comments. The only thing beer couldn't do was make George feel less out-of-place. Everyone was dancing and talking about things that didn't matter. He didn't care about decorating trends, what hot new club had opened or how biased the newspapers were against law enforcement now that the war was over. He wanted to walk away from Bridget—who chattered non-stop—and go see Alicia.

"Leaving before the witching hour, mate? We'll start a countdown in ten minutes."

George blinked. He was at the front door with no memory of crossing the spacious "reception room" as Katie called it. "Yeah," he said. "I need to check on Alicia."

"Well, I'm glad you came. Tell Alicia I'm sorry she couldn't make it. We'll have to get together for dinner sometime."

It took a moment for George to comprehend that Lee wasn't trying to ask Alicia out. He meant the two couples would get together. "Okay," he said, dredging up a smile.

It took several minutes for the world to stop spinning after George Apparated to Diagon Alley.

That's why those public service announcements say not to drink and Apparate.

George felt through his pockets. "Shut up," he said, lifting his hand for a closer look. Why had he put peanuts in his pocket?

Because Bridget wouldn't believe you didn't want to try Katie's new recipe for spiced nuts. You planned to dump them into the rubbish bin.

And then Katie waylaid him in the kitchen, so he couldn't hurt her feelings by chucking them out. George was glad he hadn't. He didn't have any sherbet lemons.

He took out his wand. Halfway through the spell, George changed his mind. There was a better way to wake Alicia.

He let the peanuts fall to the ground.

-

Twenty eight hours earlier...

Alicia cried until the shock wore off and reality set in.

She was going to have George's baby.

She scrambled up off the floor to stare at herself. Do I look pregnant? She took off her shirt. Her reflection in the wide, square mirror didn't seem to have changed. Alicia turned sideways. Her stomach didn't curve in, but it wasn't sticking out, either. She looked at her chest.

Perfect...

Merlin, it was too easy to remember George standing behind her, breathing the word into her ear as his touch drove her crazy. Her hands came up to cover her bra. How big would her breasts get? They were already "generous" as her mum liked to say. What if they became ginormous? Would George think she was cow?

The irrational fear made her laugh. Here she was—preggers—and worried that her boyfriend wouldn't find her attractive anymore. How mental was that? Her main concern should be how to tell George he was going to be a daddy.

Her image in the mirror became blurry. What if he blamed her; accused her of trying to trap him?

Tears streamed down her face. Alicia turned away from the mirror, rushing into the bedroom to throw herself across the bed. She and George had gone through so much. George was finally opening up to her in a way that gave her hope that one day, he would feel about her the way she felt about him.

Oh gods, she thought, if he doesn't want to be with me anymore, I'll die. On the heels of agony, anger flared. If he doesn't want the baby, I'll bloody well kill him!

Her emotions veered wildly between fear and rage, apprehension and awe.

Alicia rolled onto her back. Somewhere inside, a baby was growing. George's baby. She placed a hand on her abdomen. My baby…you're my baby…. "And I love you," she whispered, tasting salt on her lips.

Elated and miserable, she cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, Alicia had no problem convincing her mum that she was ill. She looked awful. Her mother offered a Pepperup Potion and a cup of tea. Both were accepted, although the potion wasn't needed. While she sipped her tea, Alicia wrote George a note telling him she was sick and couldn't attend Lee's party. After she sent the owl to number ninety-three Diagon Alley, she laid in bed trying to think of the right way to announce an unplanned pregnancy.

By late afternoon, she still hadn't come up with a way to break the news. Every scenario she imagined ended with George storming out. Alicia was fighting back tears when Zoe knocked on her door.

"Yes?"

Zoe answered by thrusting a basket filled with treats into her arms. "You've a lovely boyfriend. He's good at owl calls and ever so concerned about you. He brought the basket."

"Is George still here?" Alicia braced a hand on the doorframe. If he saw her the way she looked now, he'd run for certain!

"Course he is. He told me he wouldn't go unless you waved from the window to show that you're all right."

Alicia set the basket on the floor to run to the window. "You're the sexiest vampire alive," she said, waving. If she wasn't a coward, she would have opened the window and invited George inside instead of watching him Apparate.

Zoe said from the doorway, "Are vampires alive? I know they're undead and all, but I didn't think they breathed like normal humans."

"They don't," said Alicia. "It was a figure of speech."

"Oh, okay. Enjoy your basket. I think there's chicken soup."

"Thank you, Zoe."

Alicia waited until she was alone to paw through the goodies in the basket. She hadn't eaten anything except tea and toast since last night. Hungrily, she devoured a golden pear and the crock of soup. It wasn't until she found the note half-hidden beneath a bottle of elfin spring water that her appetite to vanished.

I'm going to deliver the basket in the hope that you're feeling better, but if you're reading this instead of wriggling into a Romanian beer maid costume, get well soon!

George could be so sweet. Maybe he would be that kind and understanding about the baby.

I don't know how I feel!

The words George had said so angrily that day in his office came back to haunt. There was no guarantee he would take her into his arms and say what she needed to hear—none at all.

She tried to keep her mind off George by taking a bubble bath. It didn't work. Neither did giving her nails a manicure nor reading. Eventually, Alicia gave into masochistic impulse and tried on the costume she would have worn to the party. The white peasant blouse and short, full skirt with embroidered apron was cute and sexy. If things had been different, she would have been with friends, dancing with her vampire lover.

Things weren't different, and she was alone, all dressed up with nowhere to go, because she didn't have the guts to face her boyfriend.

The truth was so depressing. Alicia flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes, attempting to escape reality with a fantasy. She wasn't Alicia Spinnet, knocked-up shop girl. She was Anika, a beautiful, tall, effortlessly slender Romanian girl who served beer in her widowed mother's tavern.

She imagined the wooden tables and colourful fabrics. Candles floated around the room. A fire crackled with blue flames in a stone fireplace. The scent of stew, fresh bread, and wood smoke mingled pleasantly. Slowly, Alicia's fantasy became a dream.

In the mountains of Wallachia, superstitions died hard. All but a few villagers stayed behind locked doors on the night Muggles called All Hallows Eve.

"I'm going out for a breath of air," Anika told her mother, who was tending the bar.

Outside, the enchanted torches framing the doorway cast a pool of light that paled in comparison to the full moon. In the sky overhead, bats swooped down to capture insects. Anika huddled into her shawl. The creatures were so graceful, like dancers. Whimsically, she called out, "If you run out of food, come to our door! We've plenty of moths!"

"Is that an invitation?"

A man stepped out of the shadows, into her path. Anika felt her heart pound. Never had she seen such red hair...and his eyes! They seemed to glow.

"May I enter your establishment?" he said with old fashioned formality for a man so young. He didn't look older than twenty.

Abruptly aware that she was staring, Anika nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. You are most welcome."

He moved past her to open the door with a grace of movement she blushed to notice. "What may I get you?" she asked, once they were in the pub.

The stranger pulled the hood of his cloak up to conceal his face. "Elf wine. Red to match your lips." She caught a gleam of white as he smiled. "And your cheeks."

He only drank one glass of wine before leaving, but the man's mischievous smile haunted Anika for the rest of the evening. "Stop thinking about him," she told herself crossly, climbing into bed later. "He never even asked for your name!"

There was a tap at the window. "Anika," whispered a seductive male voice.

All her irritation drained away. In a dream-like trance, she climbed out of bed and walked toward the window. Anika never wondered how a man could stand outside a first floor window. She was too happy to see him.

He placed his palm against the glass. "Let me in."

She opened the window. "How do you know my name?"

Cool, pale fingers cupped her face. "The wind brought it to me, and brought me to you."

He took her into his arms and kissed her with lips that were deliciously firm and tasted of beer.

Beer?

Alicia was jolted awake. She was standing in the circle of George's arms. Cold air swirled around them from the opened window. On the dresser, the clock struck midnight.

George chuckled. "Are we still acting out the vampire fantasy? Do you want me to bite your neck, or can I nibble anywhere I like?"

Her knees almost buckled. "I'm still dreaming," she said hopefully.

His eyes darkened. "Are you okay? You're not delirious, are you?" He dropped his arms to shut the window. "Should I get your mother? Take you to St. Mungo's?"

"NO!" Alicia tried to soften her harsh tone. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" George looked at her with concern that touched her heart and made her feel guilty for putting off telling him the news.

"I—I just need a glass of water." What she really needed was a minute or two to try and come up with the right words.

"Do you still keep a glass on the bathroom counter?" George strode out of the room before she could call him back.

Her blood ran cold when she recalled what else was on the counter. Surely, he wouldn't open the stoppers!

She held her breath, listening.

First, Alicia heard a faint, pitter-patter, then the shaking of a rattle. Next, a tinkling lullaby was heard. Finally, there came the sound of a baby's cry. It grew louder as George walked out of the bathroom carrying a blue flagon. He replaced the cork stopper. In the silence, he said, "Tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means."

The stony look on his face made her stomach twist. "It was the Morning After potion," she said. "I—I didn't know the taste of sour cherries meant that it wasn't effective anymore. I swear!" She wiped away the tears that clouded her vision. "I only found out last night, when the clerk told me that contraceptive potions are sour when they're not working or—or you're pregnant."

"You weren't sick."

"I was sick with worry!" Alicia looked for any hint of understanding.

George's jaw was set. "You didn't seem worried when I came in."

"I was confused. I tried on the costume and took a nap. I thought I was dreaming. Remember? You thought I was delirious!"

After a moment, he nodded.

His silence frightened her. "Are you mad at me? Are you upset about the baby? Talk to me!"

"I can't."

Alicia wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself, and the baby, protectively. "Please!"

"I can't. I have to go."

"Go? Where?"

"To kill my brother," said George, right before Apparating.

"No, no, NO!" Alicia cried, running for the door. She clambered downstairs, fumbling to build a communication fire in the fireplace.

The tile of the hearth was cold and hard against her knees. She bent into the green flames and saw Bill Weasley crouched down in front of the fireplace of Shell Cottage. In the background, she heard George pounding on the door, yelling, "Open up, damn you!"

Bill's face was taut with worry. "Alicia, what's wrong?"

"I used the Morning After potion you gave George and now he wants to kill you!"

Bill's jaw dropped. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes!"

"Don't worry," said Bill. "I'll take care of my brother." His scarred mouth twisted into a gentle smile. "You take care of yourself and my niece or nephew." He ended the communication, leaving her to sit in the dark, crying in shuddery gasps, until a blanket was draped around her shoulders.

"Did I wake you, Mum? I'm sorry."

Alicia's hope that her mother hadn't heard her conversation with Bill died when Anne said, "That young man was right. You have to take care of yourself—and my grandchild."

-


A/N: Does this count as a double cliffie? I hope the long chapter compensates for the emotional pain of having to wait for the chap to post and then to find out what Bill and Anne have to say! Orpheus Orbs are something I made up a few years ago for a Slytherin House party in a D/G fic and have been using ever since, along with recordbralls. :D I refuse to believe teen wizards and witches live without magical means to play their favourite music, so just because Jo hasn't described anything except the wireless network doesn't mean it can't exist. She doesn't describe Arthur and Molly's sex life, either, and yet they had seven children who proved they have one, LOL.

The readers whose reviews gave emotional joy with their reviews last chapter were...40/16, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, Da Phoenix 13, Euraphadriel, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, Master Keto, MBP, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, murries, ncis-lady, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, raindancyr, RahNee, RanaMya, Sabrina Weasley, Silverlake, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Slipknot-3113, StarsInTheSky123, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, tanpopo no hana, tiffyrose, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, Verbally Enhanced, and VioletPastPrime.