A/N: Hey! This, my dear readers is a COMPLETELY different chapter than the old chapter 14. It has been in the works for a long time (like August last year long time) and thisisforyou FINALLY finished it! Yaaay!

Anywhoosits, Enjoy the chapter, and REVIEW!

-Chocolate Fishy

"People are leaving it too late these days, and that's the worst possible thing to do. In my opinion, women should have babies as soon as they get married, and they shouldn't leave that as late as they do, either. It's a woman's duty, dear, and you're letting your husband down. If you leave it much longer it'll be too late."

I sent a 'help-me' glance Charlie's way, but he was dancing with Ginny and all he sent back was a grin that plainly said 'rather you than me' and a hurried thumbs-up. I was letting him down… something wrong with that. "Thanks, Auntie Muriel," I replied politely. "I'll bear that in mind."

The fact that Charlie and I had married at twenty-five – which put us both at a tender twenty-eight years of age now – had somehow escaped her eagle eyes. Anything to prove a point, that's how Muriel operated. To my relief, she grunted in satisfaction at my apparent compliance and meandered off, pushing dancers aside to the tune of "I'm a hundred and twelve, get out of my way!" and leaving me alone.

Phew. Truth was, though, I did suddenly feel like I was getting old. It was Ginny's fault. Charlie's baby sister getting married did sort of leave the two of us as the old hands at that sort of thing. As we were getting ready earlier that night, my darling husband had looked at the fading lines of muscle on his bare stomach and said, "Oh, dear. I used to be man-shaped."

He'd never been man-shaped, of course. Not my Charlie-boy. He'd always been film-star-hunk-shaped. But it was true that the recent months of weekly Molly-Weasley-style dinners had begun to have an effect on the shape of his tummy. Not much, and of course it didn't make him any less gorgeous, but still.

"You look beautiful, Mrs Weasley. I swear you haven't changed a bit since the Order."

I turned around at the deep voice behind me; Kingsley Shacklebolt was smiling at me, head dipped in a bow, hand out for the dance. "You're a true politician, Minister," I replied, curtseying and placing my sea-green glove in his. "Always know exactly what lies to spill to make someone feel better."

He chuckled, deep and throaty. It often amazed me he wasn't married; Minister for Magic, still quite young, very tall and handsome, and with that voice. "Lies, Lucy? You do look stunning. Charlie must be very proud." I grinned back and we spun into the dance effortlessly. Add that to his list of to-die-for attributes: fabulous dancer. "But what's wrong?"

I clutched him slightly closer to hide my face from him. "I just got the 'soon-it'll-be-too-late' talk from Auntie Muriel," I told him. "My baby sister's getting married." Ginny was technically my sister-in-law, but that had always seemed like a mouthful. "I feel old."

Another chuckle. "You're too young to feel old. You're not allowed to feel old until you're thirty-six." I grinned at the Muggle film reference, whether intentional or not. "Besides, if it's too late for you, I might as well die now."

"Yes, how is it that you're not married, Kingsley?" I asked conversationally, as we seemed to be on first-name terms. I didn't know him too well, apart from that brief time when we were in the Order together.

"Just never found the right girl." He shifted his fingers slightly in mine. He'd be the perfect husband, albeit a slight workaholic. The way he was holding me, even though there was nothing sexual in his touch at all… I laughed.

"Well, I'll introduce you around, most of the Harpies are here. A celebrity marriage ought to earn you a little publicity." He joined me in laughing.

"Ah, but celebrity marriages never last."

I broke away slightly to look at him in surprise. "You are making purposeful Muggle movie references!"

He grinned. "My sister and her family are obsessed," he said guiltily. "I don't even realise I'm doing it anymore."

I laughed again. "You'd fit right in at the Weasley house," I told him. "Hermione showed Ginny and I Pride and Prejudice and we've been hooked ever since. Our husbands and their brothers have to watch them too."

The song wound down and Kingsley and I performed the customary bow/curtsey. His black eyes glimmered warmly. "Thank you for the dance," he said.

"Thanks for making me feel better," I replied. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of hot pink ruffles. "Bridget!" I called out quickly; the Sri Lankan beauty turned around. "This is Kingsley. He's the Minister for Magic. Kingsley, this is Bridget Muthumala, Keeper."

Bridget shrieked. A few people on the other side of the huge hall craned their necks to see what had happened. "You're the Minister! Oh my God!" Kingsley and I shared a grin that said he knew exactly what I was doing. "Can I touch your beard?" The Minister's hand jerked involuntarily to his strong jet-black goatee.

"My… what?"

"Your beard," came a fake Arabic accent from behind me, accompanied by muscled arms around my waist. "Can I feel it."

Charlie kissed the top of my head. I giggled at the reference and looked at Kingsley to see if he knew what it was from. From the grin on his face, the Minister became my favourite politician. He'd even seen Black Books. "Um…" the taller man quoted, "no, I don't think so."

"Oh, come on," Charlie continued enthusiastically. "Just one little… no funny stuff, nothing weird." I was in silent hysterics by this stage, while Bridget watched, amused but with no idea what they were talking about.

"Well… okay then." Kingsley jutted his chin towards Bridget, who rubbed the goatee between two fingers ecstatically. Charlie made a grab for it too, but I held him back. There is such a thing as too far. We slipped away quietly to let the matchmaking magic work. Or not, as the case could quite possibly be; Bridge could be a bit of a handful.

"Have I mentioned you look perfect?" my beloved said softly, sitting back down at the table we'd nabbed. I shrugged nonchalantly. He had, of course. "I didn't realise you were that close to the Minister."

"Neither did I," I quipped. "He was in the Order all those years ago. When you were in Romania."

"Oh." I sat on his lap and he kissed the exposed skin of the back of my neck. "I love you."

"I know." I watched Harry and Ginny for a while; they looked so picturesque. The fact that both of them could dance helped immensely. That's where Charlie and I fell down; I wasn't too bad, save for my lack of balance, but he just couldn't get it. Two left feet.

The music ended as I watched them, leaning against Charlie and trying to ignore the way he was running his lips down my neck and shoulder. My baby sister-in-law stayed in the arms of the Boy Who Lived Twice, and the two of them cuddled with the most beautiful looks on their faces. Charlie pulled my hand up to his face and kissed all the way down my arm.

It can be quite distracting, though, when your husband won't leave you alone at a party. I knew from watching George and Ange that it's not a good look to turn anti-social and retire into a corner to snog, but sometimes it was terribly tempting. I tried half-heartedly to reclaim my hand, then gave up as his lips started travelling back up.

George approached us, for once without his other half, and made a ginornous mockery of a bow to me. "May I have this dance?" he asked in a camped-up aristocratic accent. I laughed.

"Of course, George." I went to stand up, but Charlie's arms clamped around my waist and I ended up sitting back down heavily. "Hang on a minute, though." I tilted my head back until I could see his. "Darling? Can I dance with your brother?"

"No." He held onto me like little Pieter with a teddy bear. George sighed.

"Please?" The fiery-haired entrepreneur began to tap his feet as Charlie shook his head childishly. I laughed and kissed him.

"You haven't danced with me yet," he protested as I made to leave him again. I twisted round to look him in the gorgeous green eyes. "Well, once," he relented. "Twice - a few times. But you're my wife! You're supposed to –"

"Socialise," I finished sternly. "Let me go and I'll save you the next dance."

He grinned, suddenly best-friend Charlie instead of possessive-husband Charlie. "I expect compensation."

I laughed too. "I'm sure we'll be able to negotiate a price."

"Oh, there'll be no negotiation," he said, pressing his lips to mine in a heated kiss. I reluctantly had to agree with that. George finally lost patience with us.

"Look, are you going to dance or not?" he asked. I giggled.

"Okay, okay." I got up, gave my arm one final tug to get it out of Charlie's grip, and went to dance with George.

I never get over how often I forget there's just George. I can't imagine what it would be like for the other Weasleys, who saw them together every day of their lives. I knew them when they first started Hogwarts, two round-faced eleven-year-olds that tripped teachers in the hall and put Filibuster's Fireworks under Hagrid's chair at dinner. After Charlie and I rediscovered each other at Bill and Fleur's wedding, I knew them for a few short months. It was impossible to imagine them apart; they were so close even their names were always spoken together. Fred-and-George.

Now it was just George. And that sounded a bit flat. "Where's Ange?" I asked him as we foxtrot-ed around the hall.

"Socialising," he said, mimicking my previous inflection of the word. I laughed.

"It's just weird to see you on your own," I said.

He grinned. "It's kind of weird for me, too." George wasn't that bad at dancing; he managed to get his feet in the right direction without stepping on mine, which was a nice change from Charlie. "I saw you with Auntie Muriel before. What did she say?"

"I'm leaving it too late to have children and letting Charlie down by not doing my duty in that area," I said factually. George snorted.

"Well, don't take it too hard. Last time she saw me she told me my ears were lopsided."

I laughed and glanced at George's missing ear. "I don't even notice it anymore," I told him. He grinned back.

"Yeah, you do," he said. "You just accept it." I shrugged. He was right, in a way. But it was so much a part of George that I just didn't register it. "So… twenty-eight is too late for kids, then?"

"Apparently." He tittered. "I don't know if Charlie and I were meant to have kids, though," I mused. "We'd be hopeless parents. Our kids would be spoilt senseless because neither of us have the willpower to refuse them. I mean, look at Paige and Peighton, and they're not even ours."

He nodded sagely. "Well, personally I think twenty-eight is almost too young. If you look at Percy and Penny… they're exhausted all the time and they're still so young…"

"Are you just trying to make me feel better?"

He shot me a sheepish grin. "Maybe. But it's true."

I grinned back. "Yeah. And anyway, I love what Charlie and I have together now. I wouldn't change that for anything, not yet."

As the dance ended, I shot my husband a glance; he was still sitting right where I left him, watching me. I rolled my eyes. "Look at him," I said to George. "I wonder if he knows how stupid he looks when he does that."

George followed my gaze. "I think he loves you too much to care." I smiled. "He danced with other people before. Now he's had enough of everyone else."

The band struck the final chord of the song. "Yeah. I think I'm getting like that too." We stepped apart; he bowed, I curtseyed. "Thank you for the dance, Mr Weasley."

"Not at all," he replied in the same posh tone. "Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

I handed George over to Ange, who had come to stand behind us expectantly, and went back to join my husband. "Hey, Charlie-boy," I said softly.

The band announced that this would be their last song for the evening before they handed over to the next entertainment. Charlie held out a hand. "You promised."

I regarded it coolly. "You promise not to step on me?"

He grinned apologetically. "I promise I'll try."

That was good enough for me. As the band struck up a tune I recognised, I put my hand in his and followed him onto the dance floor.

The waltz was slow enough that Charlie could manage to put his feet in the right places. After we'd got into the rhythm, he put his mouth right next to my ear and whispered, "This is the song we learnt to waltz to. The first song we ever danced together to."

"I remember," I said. "How could I forget?"

Bridget's high shriek of laughter caught my attention; I turned to the tables against the wall and saw that she was still with Kingsley, laughing at something he'd just said as he unconsciously leaned closer and closer towards her. Bridge has that power over most men. I laughed. "What?" Charlie asked hurriedly.

"Look at Bridge and Kingsley," I told him, shrugging in their direction. He looked. "Look what your clever wife did!"

He laughed too. "You're very clever, darling," he whispered softly. "But let's see how long it lasts, shall we?"

I sighed. We revolved with the dance until I couldn't see them anymore; I caught sight of Percy sitting at the Weasley table with Paige, Peighton and Victoire all asleep piled one on top of the other on his lap. I squeezed Charlie. "I love you," I told him.

"I know," he replied. I grinned and hugged him; the dance finished and we made as if to leave the floor.

Someone on the stage howled. This was followed by a none-too-quiet strike of an electric guitar and the base riff of Full Moon.

Bridget screamed. So did Chloe and Gethro. Well, okay, Gethro didn't scream as such, but he wanted to. I could tell. Who wouldn't? The Curse Breakers, rock band extroadinaire, in all their glory, had just stepped onto the stage.

When we Apparated back to our house many hours later, my hair had fallen out and my feet hurt, despite the many charms Ginny and I had cast on my stilettos. I think I'd had one too many Firewhiskies, probably courtesy of Kingsley and Bridget, who had jumped on Charlie and I the second we'd sat down, hyperactive from the music.

Dizzy, I clutched at him, but he hadn't regained his balance either and we fell against the wall. "Sorry," I said hurriedly, getting up.

"It's all right," he said gently. "Can't Apparate like I used to." His tone was mocking, but after Muriel, his words were ill-placed.

I sat down on the bed. "We're getting old, Charlie-boy," I said sadly.

"I'm getting old," he corrected, sitting beside me. "You don't age."

"I'm immortal," I agreed wistfully. We'd gone through a Shakespeare phase in our fifth year at school and toyed with the idea of revisiting it in our wedding vows, but dismissed it.

"So long as man shall breathe or eye shall see," he finished. I giggled. We sat up against the headboard together; he took my hand in his and stroked it gently.

"I love you even though we're not fourteen anymore," he said sweetly. "This time of year thou may'st in me behold / when yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang / Upon those boughs which shake against the cold…"

"It's not the Autumn of our lives yet," I told him in a mock-stern voice, even though I was laughing. He stopped his recital abruptly. I sighed happily. I liked this game. "What sonnet reminds you most of me?"

He grinned. "One sixteen."

"Oh." That was the one everyone quoted. I was more original than that.

"What about me?"

"One forty-three." He thought for a second, but I supplied the first stanza anyway. "My love is as a fever, longing still / for that which nurseth the disease; / feeding on that which doth preserve the ill / th' uncertain sickly appetite to please –"

He cut me off. "Oi!" I laughed. "What part of that reminds you of me?"

I gave him an evil smile. "For I have thought thee fair, and sworn thee bright / When thou art black as hell –" He made an outraged noise and started to tickle me. I fought out the rest of the couplet amid gasps and giggles. "- And dark as night!"

When I finished, he was on top of me, arms braced on my either side, grinning. I shut up and watched him for a while. I loved him so much. He bent and kissed my neck, and I felt my stomach flutter. He still had that effect on me, even after three and a half years of marriage. "You still owe me for dancing with George," he whispered. "Now you owe me double."

I laughed. "So I do." He kept kissing me, right down to the point where my dress started.

He sighed. "I've been wanting to take this off you since you put it on," he said softly.

"If you didn't like it, you shouldn't have bought it," I told him sternly. He chuckled.

"I love it. It's beautiful. But it reminds me of what's underneath it…"

I grinned like a teenager. "My heart. The one that belongs to you."

He chuckled again, making my stomach jump. "Well, that too," he said. "But I was thinking a bit more… material than that."

I laughed. "I love you."

He kissed me properly. "I know. I love you too."

"I know."

I just read this for the first time, and AWWWWWWW! How can you not love that? Kudos to thisisforyou.

-Chocolate Fishy