George's first impulse had been to say no. By the time he closed shop on Friday, he regretted that Alicia's pleading brown eyes swayed him into agreeing to meet her at the Gnome and Jarvey.
What's the matter, brother? Worried you'll see Caper there?
The mental image of Caper dancing on the bar or standing on it to toast the 'best Mister ever' threatened to turn George's dull headache into a severe one. His gaze flew to the elf straightening products on display. "What are your plans for tonight, Caper?"
"Plans?"
Caper's tone was evasive. Not a good sign. "Yes, plans," said George. "As in where are you going after you leave here?" A chill skittered down his spine when round green eyes stared at him dolefully.
"Caper is going to the pub."
Pain stabbed at George's temples. He winced.
If you're that afraid to be laughed at, order him not to go.
George stiffened. He didn't order, he made requests, and he wasn't afraid of anything! To prove it, he said, "Great! If I see you there, I'll buy a round of Butterbeer."
Caper's face lit up—and then fell. "I is only going to the Sleazy Kneazle to clean."
The tension gripping George abruptly eased. "The Sleazy Kneazle? I thought you meant the Gnome and Jarvey!"
The elf's shoulders slumped. "No. Caper is working so his friend Oley will not lose his room."
George remembered a white-haired elf leading him into a dreary, cramped space. "Is he sick?"
"Old."
George felt the sting of guilt for only considering himself. He said, "Isn't there an old elf home he could go to?"
"House-elves is expected to have homes with wizards."
"Oh." Speaking quickly to keep from changing his mind, George asked, "Do you have time for a drink before your shift at the Kneazle?"
"A drink—with you—at the Jarvey?"
He looks like Christmas came and it's only November. You're his hero, Georgie.
Uncomfortable with the thought, George said, "Yeah."
"I has time!"
"I'll get my cloak." George used a quick Accio.
Caper snapped his fingers. An instant later, a scarlet and gold scarf was wound around the elf's throat.
Show off.
George nodded his approval. He liked that in an employee.
Disliked were the looks he and Caper received as they walked toward the Gnome and Jarvey. "What do they expect, you to walk three paces behind? Rude gits," George muttered.
"Maybe they is admiring my scarf."
The two were still sniggering when they walked into the Jarvey.
"Weasley! Over here!" Kenneth Towler's booming voice carried from the rear of the pub. A large group was gathered around the back tables. Most wore casual gear instead of work robes.
George should have expected clerks to skive off as early as possible. Alicia, having a proper work ethic, wasn't there yet. He glanced down. "Let's go order our drinks. Put off the inevitable."
"You is wishing Caper to meet your friends?"
Caper sounded astonished. George's guilty conscience sharpened his tone. "Alicia's friends. Yes. So don't try to beg off."
"I isn't."
The bartender grinned while serving ale and Butterbeer. "You must be the Mister we've heard so much about," he said with a grin. Nice to meet you, Mister."
"Hullo, Wally!" George replied. He handed Caper the Butterbeer.
The man pointed to his nametag. "My name is Wadley."
"Mine's George."
Comprehension dawned. The bartender smile was an apology. "Nice meeting you, George."
On the way to the tables, Caper said, "If I is choosing, I am liking the name Wally over Wadley."
"Not if you were human," said George. "A Wally is the kind of bloke who tucks his tie into his trousers."
Caper shrugged. "House-elves has no trousers."
Vicky Frobisher waved them over to a couple of empty seats. "Hullo, George! We're so glad you came and brought a…friend."
"Caper," said George, in response to her enquiring tone. He smiled politely while Vicky introduced "the gang". Several faces were vaguely familiar from school days. One lad, Joey, claimed to have earned two Galleons for testing Puking Pastilles.
"I spent a night in the Hospital Wing!" he said cheerfully.
Tried to hit us up for an extra Galleon, too, cheeky beggar.
It was hard to keep track of all their past dealings, but George recalled Joey being a good sport when Fred reminded him all work was undertaken at the applicant's own risk. He took out a Galleon and flipped it.
Joey caught the coin, smiling widely.
Next to Joey, Kenneth said, "Do I get a Galleon for the pain and suffering you inflicted on me with Bulbadox powder?"
George shook his head. "Sorry about the boils, mate, but that was a prank and I wasn't the culprit." His brother had been the one to sprinkle the powder in Kenneth's pyjamas. Fred was beyond being held accountable.
An awkward silence fell.
Vicky said brightly, "I could never tell you twins apart."
"You and our mum," said George, trying to help lighten the mood.
It worked. People chuckled. Conversations resumed. George pretended interest in customer service stories, all the while watching the door for Alicia.
He surged to his feet the moment he saw her. "Something's wrong," he told Caper. "She's walking too slowly."
The elf had sharper eyes than George. "There is a bruise on Miss Alicia's cheek." Caper held out his hand, palm up. A jar of bruise-remover paste appeared. He set it on the table.
"Thank you," said George.
"You is most welcome and I must be going." Caper gave a small bow to the group and Apparated.
George couldn't wait for Alicia to reach the table. He went to her. The closer he got, the more evident it was that she was in pain. Her smile was forced. "What happened?" he said.
"I'm so stupid. I tripped in the storeroom and literally ran into a brick wall."
"It isn't stupid to have an accident, and you're not walking one more step on that foot." George lifted Alicia into his arms and carried her through the crowd.
Vicky was the one of the few not clapping and whistling over what appeared to be a romantic gesture. "Alicia! Are you all right?"
George set Alicia down in a chair and knelt beside her. While Alicia told her friend what happened, he used a fingertip to spread paste over the bruise on her cheek. In seconds, it had disappeared.
"That worked fast!" exclaimed one of the girls.
"New and improved for the same low price," George said distractedly. He put his hand on Alicia's knee and then slid it beneath her skirt.
"George!"
His eyes flickered over blushing cheeks before returning to the task at hand. "I'm taking off your stocking so I can see your foot."
"How did you know I was wearing thigh-high stockings?" she said. "You were still asleep when I got dressed."
"No, I wasn't. I was watching." He took off her shoe and tugged the silk down to reveal dark purple blotches on the top of her foot. "Caught your foot on a crate, did you? I'll send Caper to reorganise your storeroom first thing tomorrow."
"You don't have to do that. I tripped because I hurrying instead of paying attention to where I was walking—and how could you watch me?"
George used two fingers to spread the bruise-remover paste. "The mirrored door on the wardrobe—and Caper will ensure this doesn't happen again."
"Is he going to transfigure the mirror back to wood?"
"Ha-ha," said George. He kept rubbing her skin until it became pale and creamy. "Flex your foot," he said. "How does that feel?"
"Good."
Her breathy tone brought out the imp in George. He took his time smoothing the stocking back up her leg, running a finger across the top of her thigh.
Alicia gasped. "My shoe!" she said when heads turned. "I need to visit the toilet, so I need my shoe."
George handed it over with a wink.
In the way of women, Vicky and two other girls rose to accompany Alicia. After the girls left the table, the server checked to see if anyone wanted another round. She said to George, "You were down on one knee so long, folks at the bar started taking bets on whether you were getting up the nerve to propose or getting on with her."
Bit of both, said the cheeky voice in the back of his mind.
"She had a hurt foot," said Kenneth.
George just smiled.
-
As the weeks passed, George found smiles harder to come by. It wasn't Alicia. Asking her to move in was the best idea he'd ever had. She was always supportive, even when he worked late. She understood that in his business, new inventions brought in customers who then included old favourites in their purchases. Without the lure of the new and exciting, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would become another Zonko's—relying on past innovations and losing customers to the competition.
Without Fred, it took George longer to transfigure his ideas into viable products. He didn't have his brother to use as a sounding board, tossing ideas for spells back and forth until they hit upon a winning combination. Instead, he worked alone, with only his thoughts and memories to guide him. Sometimes, he struggled.
When he struggled, George was tempted to drink.
If Alicia suspected that he carried her to bed early some nights for reasons beside the obvious, she didn't let on. She wrapped her arms around him and eased his frustrations in a way Firewhisky never could.
Caper offered to help, the way he had on the Queen for a Day Charm. George regretfully declined. The newest products were designed to snag a Ministry contract, and reforms sweeping other departments had yet to reach Procurement Services. Until they were changed, regulations prohibited the purchase of goods with "non-wizards" on the patent.
On the first Sunday in December, while Caper and Alicia decorated the shop, George divided his time between sorting through paperwork and trying to come up with an advertising slogan for the new products he'd created. It wasn't enough to have them on offer—they had to sell.
He was smirking over a letter from the Diagon Alley business association urging shopkeepers to keep their displays "tasteful"; warning customers might be put off by "garish visual assaults", when the office door creaked open.
George looked up to see his mother kick the door closed. Her arms were filled with packages. "All those for me?" he said.
Molly dumped the brightly wrapped gifts onto the seat of a chair. "For the children."
He arched a brow. "Bit early, isn't it?"
She gave him an impatient look. "Not the babies, the children, who will be returning to London before we know it." Her gaze softened. "I did see the most adorable bib. It had two embroidered faces with Father Christmas hats and 'Merry Twinsmas'. It reminded me of the bibs Auntie Muriel sent your first Christmas." Molly said, "You're quite sure Alicia's having only the one?"
"Quite sure." Hearing a single heartbeat during the Midwitch exam had been a relief to George. That wasn't something he cared to discuss, so he rose to his feet. "If you're talking about Ron and Ginny, they're teenagers, Mum. Of age. Not children—even if all Ronnikins wants is Quiddich supplies."
"Ronald wrote that you're giving him a position at the shop."
There was an inflection in his mother's voice that made George wary. "That's right."
Her eyes became slits. "You won't be doing any testing on him, will you?"
"Only if he signs a waiver."
On cue, her feathers ruffled. She threatened vague, dire consequences in a manner Irma Pince would envy. The rising sound was sweeter than Christmas bells to George. It had been a long time since she'd given him such a blistering scold. He came around the desk to hug her.
"Don't try to get round me," Molly said gruffly, almost squeezing the life out of him. She pinched his good ear warningly. "You be good to your brother."
"Yes, Mum."
"You be good to Alicia, too."
"Yes, Mum." He pulled away, feeling wary again. His mother was up to something.
She came right out with it. "Does that mean you plan to ask her to marry you soon? If you don't have time to shop for a ring, I've held onto Granny Prewett's—"
"Not the carbuncle!" said George. He remembered Ginny prancing around the house as "Princess Puffskein" wearing the ornate, ugly ring.
"It's a cabochon-cut ruby set with diamonds," Molly said stiffly. "A family treasure."
"Let someone else treasure it," said George, "Like Percy."
"Never mind the ring," Molly said. "Are you going to propose or not?"
"Why the sudden interest?"
Her eyes slanted to the left—toward the presents.
"Merlin," said George. "You haven't told them about me and Alicia?"
"I thought you'd propose before the holidays! Explaining that you two are married and expecting a baby would be much easier than shacked up and preggers!"
"Why? You seem to have no problem shouting it!"
Molly glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh, stars. Does the office have privacy wards?"
"Yes." George tried not to think of the things he and Alicia had done on the desk. Mum wasn't a Legilimens, but still. He said, "If you don't want to tell them, I'll do it. I can owl or make an announcement at the dinner table—"
"An announcement? During Christmas Dinner?" Molly's voice was faint. Her eyes glazed over as though she were imagining the scene in her mind. "I spell-dyed my hair yesterday, yet I can feel the grey hairs popping through." She exhaled heavily. "I'll tell Ginny; you owl Ron, but—be kind."
George walked over to the desk, picked up a Quick-Quotes Quill, and sucked briefly on its tip. The scarlet feather seemed to quiver with eagerness when he set it on a piece of paper. "Dear Ron," he said. "Before you start working at the shop, I think you should know Alicia and I are living together and expecting a baby this summer. If you keep your gob shut, I'll pay you well. If you question why we aren't married, and why Mum isn't sending daily Howlers, I'll sack you." He picked the note up and handed it to his mother. "How's that?"
Molly said, "Write 'Love, George' and it will do."
-
Alicia wished George was helping decorate the shop Christmas tree; and not just because she was tired of hearing botty burp noises from the Whoopee Ornaments. She wanted to spend more time with him.
After Mrs. Weasley's visit, she got her wish. George left his office. "I need help with a slogan for our two new products," he said, putting down a box and picking up a basket of miniature disco balls. Once hung on the tree, the balls revolved, sending out incandescent sparkles of light.
Alicia exchanged hopeful glances with Caper. For weeks, they had offered to help in any way needed. She smiled at George. "Hagrid always said three heads are better than one."
"He also called his Cerberus dog 'Fluffy'."
"Oh, you." Alicia plucked a Candy Crank Cane off the tree and held it threateningly.
George chuckled. "Okay. I believe him." He bent to open the box, lifting out a black beret. "The Boomerang Beret is the next level in personal protection. Jinxes don't just bounce off the wearer. They backfire against the one who cast the spell!" He handed Caper a hat. "I call this the Boomerang Bowler."
"For the traditional wizard?" said the elf.
Alicia giggled. "Or the unconventional witch."
"Yes! That's it! I had the beret covered, but I couldn't figure out how to sell the bowler!" George ran back to the office, returning with a letter he placed into box along with the hats. "I say we deliver this promotional, erm, gift to our friend the Minister and then celebrate with Chinese food."
"That's the help you needed?" Alicia turned to Caper, Candy Crank Cane in hand. "Should I chuck this at him?"
Caper's eyes gleamed with mischief.
Alicia threw the black and white sweet. It hovered over George's head, "beating" at him with tiny taps. He cried, "Ouch!" and grabbed the "cane", snapping it in two.
Alicia took the half he offered, waiting for George to suck on his before doing the same to hers. "Tastes like peppermint," she said, surprised.
"What did you expect, liquorice?" George mumbled around the mouthful of candy cane he was chewing. "That gag would be too obvious. I prefer subtlety."
Alicia pulled the end of the candy cane out of her mouth. "Define subtle."
George grinned. His teeth were black.
"Oh my gods!" Alicia turned to Caper. "Are my teeth like his?" She jumped when hands gripped her shoulders. George pulled her flush against him, kissing her until her knees were weak and her smile was giddy.
"They is now," said Caper.
George hefted the box. "Don't worry. The stain will fade in a couple of hours." Even with blackened teeth, his smile dazzled. "You look beautiful to me," he said. "Isn't that what matters?"
Yes, it was. She headed for the door.
-
On the afternoon the Hogwarts Express was due to pull into King's Cross, Alicia headed for the toilet. "I thought morning sickness was supposed to happen in the mornings," she said, returning to the lounge. She'd washed her face and chewed a couple of brushing/flossing mints, but her stomach still felt queasy.
George handed her a cup of peppermint tea. "Maybe the baby's nervous about meeting his uncle Ron." He shook his head in mock regret. "I should've never told that story about how he almost dropped Ginny."
"The baby's fine. It's me who's nervous." Alicia sipped the tea. The cup rattled against the saucer. She set it down. "Maybe I shouldn't go."
"You're going. I need the moral support."
Alicia hadn't considered that George might be nervous too. She reached for his hand. "All right. I'll go."
At the station, George's fingers tightened around her hand when they heard a familiar train whistle. Around them, Percy and Penelope, Fleur and Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. and Mrs. Granger all craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the ones they had come to meet.
Alicia kept her eyes on George. She knew the moment he saw his brother and sister disembark. His face lit up. "Ginny's prettier than ever," he said. "And Ron's still growing."
She heard the trace of envy in his voice and said, "He probably gets cricks in his neck from snogging."
George chuckled, drawing her forward to greet their friends and family.
-
-
A/N: The holidays are finally here! Ron fans rejoice! LOL. I used OP quotes in the scene with Joey, who may or may not have a flatmate named Chandler. :D Thanks to ElspethBates for putting the idea into my head with her review, while AliciaSpinnet93's review made me imagine family reactions to an announcement by George, giggle hysterically, and find a way to impart the info that wouldn't have Caper sighing "There goes Christmas." Proving that reading and watching films are worthy pastimes, the Candy Crank Cane idea was sparked from a scene in The Patriot where ink in tea turns a courting couple's teeth black, and Princess Puffskein was inspired by a line from a fave Grimm's Fairy Tale where the cook says of The Princess in DisguiseFaith rough-skin, thou art a witch. I almost had Ginny call herself Princess of Quite A Lot, after Mary Engelbreit's, (anyone who hasn't seen it should Google—the girl could be a Ginny) but Puffskein won out, being cuter and fluffier.
The readers I have to thank for reviewing the last chapter (which they might have thought cuter and fluffier, heh) are...40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, btyrhtout, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, dancegirl01mom, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Final Fantasy VM, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, herb3, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, ladyofthecelticland, Layla, Lieu Of Flowers, maggiequeen, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, potteronpotluvhim, Rana Mya, smartywitch, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, Sunshine Spray, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, Twinsmom, and WEASLEYLOVER.