May 15

"So...what did you get Miss Fabry for her birthday?" Alf grinned up at George, watching his father rather nervously try to get in to a suit, never his favorite form of muggle clothing.

"Bloody hell!" Was George's response, as he wrestled with his necktie.

"Here." Alf came over to help, standing on the cedar chest to do so. "Mum taught me how to do this...said a gentlemen ought to know how to knot a tie." Alf focused and was slow about it, but he did know what needed to be woven where, and he was steady and sure.

"Thanks." George said. "The ties we had a Hogwarts actually adhered by magic."

"Much more sensible, I'm sure." Alf nodded, smoothing the blue silk down. "But I think she'll find you very handsome."

"Well of course she will...I AM very handsome." George quipped, scooping Alf down to the floor. Then he looked in the mirror and sighed. "Or at least well dressed." He scowled at himself. "For a red haired, overly freckled, one-eared scarecrow."

"Hey...I resemble that remark." Alf teased. Then he put his hand over his ear. "Or at least, I could."

George wrapped his arm around the boy. "You are much better looking than Fred and I ever were, not that he'd admit it."

"Right...this explaining how we were able to recognize each other within about three point zero seconds of meeting." Alf sat on the desk chair, and watched his father nervously fiddling with his cuffs. "Are you going to ask her to marry you tonight?"

"No ring." He said, honestly. "I got her a Red Sox shirt, but gave that to her earlier…it didn't seem the sort of thing one handed out at a four star restaurant." George nodded over towards a box on the dresser, and Alf went to look at it. Inside was a beautifully worked bit of silver, a bracelet with a single stone in the setting, an emerald. "Well?" George asked, nervously.

Alf raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding? She'll love it." He smiled rather affectionately at George. "I can't believe how nervous you are."

George managed a wry smile. "I never had the sort of luck with women that Fred did, let alone Charlie or Bill." He muttered. "I just might have had a better track record than Ron, except Hermione refused to let him be stupid enough to blow it."

Alf laughed. "You leave Uncle Percy conspicuously absent!" He pointed out.

"Percy and Penny fell in love in about two seconds and that was it. It's hard to have a competition with somebody who refuses to play the game." George mussed with his hair, trying desperately to hide the patch of scarred skin where his ear once was, but it was no use; although his hair was long enough to make it not obvious, nevertheless the scar was THERE. He once again wished he'd been more sympathetic to Harry before he realized the sort burden it was.

Alf came to him again, and once more stood on the box. With determination he moved George's hair back to its natural state, so that it wasn't obvious that he was trying to hide the scar. "She's seen you before, you know." He said, rather kindly. "And she loves you, as is."

George gave Alf's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You are far to smart for your age, Alfred. It quite scares me sometimes."

There was a chime from downstairs, one that George recognized as the floo. Startled, he reached for his wand, and instinctively moved Alf behind him. Together they headed down to the living-room, though George motioned repeatedly for Alf to stop following him, and Alf merely crossed his arms and stubbornly stuck out his chin.

"George, Alf?" A familiar voice called from the fireplace. George relaxed; Hermione! They both sighed in relief as they turned the corner.

She was dusting her robes off, before turning with a half smile to face them. She paused on seeing George. "Oh, dear, am I interrupting? I do hope you don't dress like that everyday, George; quite not what a muggle author would do."

"He has a dinner date." Alf said, smugly, as he came over to give Hermione a hug.

"Ah, yes…I've heard something or other about a young lady." She came over and kissed George on the cheek.

"Hermione…" George hugged her back. "I suppose I should be happy you don't come with Ron!"

"Indeed." She looked around briefly, and then went over to the sofa. "You'd best join me, gentlemen…obviously, you will be having company shortly…although whether what I am about to tell you changes your plans, I cannot say."

"Huh?" George and Alf said together.

Hermione whipped her hair around to the back. "Well, it's the classic good news-bad news set up, I suppose. Which do you want first?"

"Good." George said, immediately.

"Bad." Alf said, simultaneously.

They looked at each other with worried eyes, and then shrugged, and turned back to Hermione.

"Right, well…we've got the potion done." She said. "Perfectly."

George took a deep breath. "Wait…no more dead mice? What were you doing wrong? Are you sure, Hermione? VERY sure? I won't be risking Alf for anything!"

"George…" She looked almost McGonagle-stern. "When I say 'perfect', when have you ever known me to mean 'almost'?" She scolded. "Turns out there was a problem with our test animals with that first batch. The species was allergic to one of the key, rare ingredients. We've been in test for a month now with a more neutral species, and they're thriving."

George and Alf looked at each other, and then both broke in to broad grins. "Fantastic, Hermione…when do we…I mean, I know there are things we need to prepare here…but…"

"When do I get my magic back?" Alf asked, immediately.

Hermione arched her brows at them at once. "I've come, actually, to take a sample back from Alf, George. Although there has never, ever, been any sort of human allergic reaction to the ingredients, I'll, as I keep telling no, not risk for Alf to be one of a kind."

"When you say sample…" Alf spoke warily. "Do you mean like a blood test, or something else?"

"Blood test?" George looked confused.

Hermione understood. "It's a simple wave of my wand, Alf…you won't feel more than a pinch, and it will look like you have a small burn on your arm for a day or two. Promise."

"Alright, then." Alf began to roll up his sleeve. "If that was the bad news, I'll take it."

Hermione held her hand up for a moment. "Unfortunately..."

"And here it comes." George said, feeling a pit in his stomach.

"You know, of course, that we've rounded up most of the people in Katie's family who were out to harm Alf. Well, there's one we suspect, but can't prove…her mother, actually…Dorcas Bell." Hermione set her shoulders firm. "George…she's here, in Boston, at least."

Alf stiffened, and George immediately put an arm around him. "Where do we have to go, then, Hermione…just tell me, and we'll do it; we can be out of here in five minutes." He said, at once.

"Dad." Alf whispered. "We can't leave just like that!"

George looked down at him, rather sternly. "We can, and we will, if we have to." His voice was firm, and then he let his eyes slide over to Hermione. "DO we have to?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, George. The American ministry is all over it. You are as safe here as you could be anywhere…maybe more so. Their security in this country really puts England to shame…but of course they didn't have a ministry run by idiots for years and years. She's being tailed 24-7. As long as you stay within the city limits, you're both fine."

The two of them exhaled. Hermione took advangate to go over to Alf with her wand out, while they looked at each other with concern. "Where is your dinner reservation tonight, Dad…OW!" He turned abruptly and looked at the bright red mark now on his bicep. "PINCHES A LITTLE?" He asked.

"I'm cancelling dinner…I can't leave you alone, Alf, not even for a few hours, not after hearing that." George said, immediately.

Alf's eyes were wide. "Dad, it's her birthday…you have to go."

George shook his head and went to the phone, wondering what he would tell Michelle, since the truth was so entirely implausible, not to mention impossible at the current time.

"I'll stay." Hermione said. "George, don't let your life be dictated by a nut job."

He hesitated, with his hand on the receiver. "Mi, I can't ask you to do that…you've got to get home yourself."

She shook her head. "Ron and the kids are at your Mum's…it's a family dinner night. I'd be happy to stay here…I am certain, from all I hear, you must have some palatable leftovers."

"Lasagne!" Alf said at once. "It rocks!"

"Right, see? And I know you're not questioning my skill as a witch, George. Go; I know how often I see you in a suit, this was clearly a big night. I will contact you at once if anything arises, but believe me when I tell you that you have never been safer." Hermione rose and came over to him. "Go, George." She squeezed his shoulder.

George looked carefully at Alf, who was smiling his best at him. "Don't forget that bracelet."

"Right." He took a deep breath. "And you'll call me at once if ANYTHING goes wrong?"

"Right after I vivisect the threatening invaders, yes." She smiled primly at him.

George felt some of the fear fall away. This was Hermione; everything would be fine.

He trotted upstairs to grab his gift, and hoped that Alf, as he had the habit of being, was once again right about everything.

WWWWWWW

Some philosopher, George thought, had once said that when things go wrong, no matter how much you wish it, you are never fortunate enough to die. He felt, by the end of the dinner, as if he were the living example of that saying. Because mortification began early and reoccurred often.

First, the restaurant, one of Salem's best, botched the reservation, and they ended up at a cramped table towards the back near the kitchen. Then, they were seated next to a family that seemed to believe it advisable to bring a five year old to a four star restaurant, and let him run wild, right to the point of the high pitched wail he set up when he poured tea on himself.

Then the waiter, trying to sooth the child before its angry and entirely unjustified parents could follow through in the attempt to sue, managed to dump both wine glasses on to Michelle's dress. She was of course wearing white; the wine was, of course, red. George, on the other hand, got his tie in the chocolate mouse when he leaned over to help Michelle clean off.

To top it all, as they walked out the skies opened up and an unexpected rain storm dumped down over them, sending them running to the car, only to discover that he'd locked the keys inside.

This isn't happening…it isn't. I have absolutely no luck with women…it's like I'm cursed!

Then, Michelle burst out laughing, and taking a look at his face, she reached up and kissed him full. He might be cursed, but he was no fool…he kissed her back, embracing her close, as they stood together in the pouring rain.

"You are insane, woman." He murmured, laughing himself, when they came up for air.

"Quite probably." She admitted, running her hands through his wet hair. "Oh, George… I cannot believe how wonderful you are. Not a thing went right tonight, and you just kept taking it all in stride, never lost your sense of humor, not even once!"

"Fortunately you couldn't hear what I was thinking." He quipped. The rain did, in fact, seem to be lightening up. "Well, shall we walk back home? It's little more than a mile, and we surely can't get much wetter."

With a wide grin, she took his offered arm, and they began to stroll, just as the rain quit. Within a few hundred yards, the clouds parted and a beautiful moon seemed to hang down and be within their reach.

Something in it set George talking. "Shell…I love you. I know we've said it before, but I need you to hear it tonight. I know that I still can't tell you everything…I actually had a scare tonight that reminded me of that. But soon…very soon. And once we have all that nonsense cleared up, I want to ask you to marry me." He gave a slight chuckle. "Actually I think I just did...so I guess I'm asking to say yes, once we get the mess out of the way."

Michelle leaned in next to him, holding his hand tightly, their fingers interlaced. "George…" She said. "I love you, and I love your son. I'm not quite sure how I got so lucky to get such a great package deal. And I know you can't tell me everything…but if I guess, will you let me know if I'm right?" She sounded faintly nervous.

George almost snorted. "Shell, if you guess, you will have to revive me from the cold dead faint I will be in!"

She ignored his teasing, and seemed to set herself. "George, is there some kind of custody battle going on? You seem to be, somewhat, on the lam with Alf. You keep your past so guarded, and your family, what I've met of them, seems to help you in that." She took a deep breath. "I need to say this, because it's the only thing I can think of that would be an issue for me, but if Alf's mother is still alive and you're keeping him from her…George, I don't think I could bear that!"

He stopped and looked down at her face, and her worried look, and with a little smile he kissed her forehead tenderly. "I love how concerned you get for him. As much as I love you, if you couldn't care about Alf, we couldn't be together. But no, Shell, I guarantee you, Alf's mother is quite dead. He's a bright kid, but not that good of an actor." George chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "You know, though…it is, in a way, a custody issue. That is, his mother's family is, to tell you what I can, quite against me. Legally I have full rights, but they are nefarious, to put it mildly. Until they have been brought to justice, I just need to keep Alfred away from them. I will not let him be harmed, Shell, and I guarantee you I would have had his mother's blessing in all I have done."

She relaxed, hugging him, resting her head against his chest. "Thank you…for telling me what you could. And I believe you…You know, Jimmy's son is going on about you maybe being in the witness protection program, and it almost sounds like you are. But that's enough. I just couldn't think of stealing another woman's child, though it seemed so unlikely you would ever do anything to hurt Alf."

"Not intentionally." George murmured. "I don't claim to be a perfect father, but what mistakes I have made, I have made out of love."

They stood for a moment more, until they resumed their stroll. "I am surprised…" She asked, hesitantly, that given what you just told me, you let him stay alone tonight."

"I didn't." He said. "There's a trusted family friend in town, and she is watching him."

"She?" Michelle asked, with just a hind of a question. George laughed.

"She is also married to one of my brothers. Don't worry, Shell…she has scared the hell out of me since we were all kids." They continued onward, and she nuzzled against him once more. But he took a deep breath, thinking about Hermione's good news. "Shell, I know nothing is settled, but I need you to just maybe think about it…if I can go back to England, would you be willing to come with me?"

She squeezed his arm. "Of course." She took a deep breath. "I have no real ties here, no family. A few friends, of course, but the world is much smaller now than it used to be; no hard time in keeping up with folks. And I suppose I can teach there. Besides, I like your family, what I've met of them, anyway." She looked up at him. "And did I tell you, George, just how superbly handsome you look tonight?"

"Before or after I dipped my only tie in chocolate sauce?" He asked, blushing.

"Before, after, during." She murmured. "How did I get so lucky?"

"It must be a result of the temporary blindness that set in just when you met me." He poked fun at himself. "Either that or you find scars sexy."

"I find you sexy, scars and all." She squeezed his hand. "Why do you always put yourself down so much, George? You are quite the least conceited man I have ever met."

He gave a half laugh, but didn't answer. Maybe a part of it was a left over feeling from his childhood, and the long misunderstanding that had existed between him and his mother. Maybe it was just growing up with Bill in all his woman-swooning glory. But he truly couldn't understand why she would find him attractive, physically, at least. Then again, the why didn't much matter, did it? The point was, she did.

They were at the door now. "What will you do with your car?" She asked, hugging him.

"Pick it up tomorrow…I have spares in the house." He sighed in resignation, "School night, right?"

"Mmm hmmm." She matched his sigh, separating from him. "But the weekend is fast upon us, and June following." She met his eye firmly. "And whatever you tell me, the answer is yes, George…assuming that what I tell you doesn't set you screaming."

"Not a chance." George said.

A screen door closed behind them, and George waved to a woman dragging out garbage. "Mrs. O'Malley." He said, quietly to Michelle, not sure if she'd met the new neighbors.

"It's not O'Malley." She corrected him. "Although for the life of me I can't remember what it is…some funny name begins with a D. Nice folks, though…cute kid."

"He's quite taken with Alf." George admitted. "And she seems like a great mother… haven't met the husband yet. Travels a lot."

"I've met him. Big guy, like O'Malley, but not his personality." She added.

George nodded. "So I've heard. Anyway, glad you mentioned that they're not O'Malley's. I'd have hated to look stupid when I did meet them next."

"George dear, I keep telling you, you couldn't look stupid if you tried." She gave him another kiss. "And I have to go. Say goodnight to Alf for me…and your mystery babysitter."

"Will do." George watched her go, his hand in his pockets, and he whistled slightly. Alf was close to a cure and the woman he loved seemed to love him back. He could take the occasional bad news in stride, with so much going for him.

Hermione looked up when he game in. She studied his face for a moment, and then gave him her most gentle smile, coming up to embrace him. "I am quite happy for you George, although sorry not to get to meet her." She kissed him on the cheek. "Alf is upstairs, although I strongly doubt he is sleeping. Go check on him."

"Thanks, Mi." He watched her head towards the floo. "I am a lucky guy."

She winked at him. "You've made your own luck, George. Good night."

He watched her spin away, and then went up to regale his son with the events of his evening; or at least the pg-rated ones.