Sorry guys, this is a wicked short chapter, but Twelve has about 2,900 words...so that's fair, right?
Adele and Gianna ran up to me, both hugging me tightly. I laughed and kissed each of their foreheads, noticing that they had grown another inch in the month since I had last seen them. It was becoming apparent that they had inherited the Weasley genes for height. Gianna broke away to hug George, and Adele smiled at him warmly, walking over to hug him very quickly. Paul cleared his throat from my right, and Adele looked over to see her uncle standing there.
"PAUL!" Adele screamed, launching herself into his arms and holding on tightly.
"PAUL!" Fred imitated, jumping on my brother. Paul looked positively disgusted and quite violated. I laughed loudly, and Gianna looked at Fred for a moment.
"Hey Uncle Paul," Gianna said flashing my brother a warm smile, before turning to Fred. "You are obviously Fred," she said, grinning at George's brother. Fred nodded, smiling warmly. "Come here, gimme a hug," she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.
Fred's eyes quite suddenly widened to the size of saucers, and he began struggling to get away. When Gianna stepped back, the words, "Gianna Calavierres is my niece" were emblazoned on the front of his shirt. George started laughing and I sniggered, pulling Gianna away from Fred.
"This is my favorite shirt!" Fred cried, and his wife, Angelina, glanced over.
"Fred Weasley, get over here and greet your daughters!" Angelina commanded loudly.
He turned and ran over to where his wife stood with his two eldest, Whitney who was 14, and Victoria who was 12. I smiled as he pulled the girls up into a tight hug, both of them squealing affectionately. Hermione was bawling over her son, and Ron looked somewhat embarrassed by her behavior.
"Momma, are Nan and Gramps here yet?" Adele asked, as she struggled to force her trunk onto a trolley. George walked over and pulled it up easily with one arm and set it on top of her sister's trunk.
"Not yet, sweetheart, tomorrow morning," I replied, grabbing hold of the trolley and pulling it through the barrier.
"Comment tu aimes l'ecole?" Paul asked Adele casually.
"Oh, j'aime beaucoup! C'est encroyable!" She replied, and they began a rapid conversation in French. George was staring at her in awe, and at the sound of spoken French, Hermione drifted over and eventually became involved in the conversation as well.
"Ou est Brigitte?" Gianna asked bluntly, looking over at Paul.
"Elle est chez Molly," Paul replied offhandedly.
I smiled and was feeling quite content when out of the blue, George wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me off of the ground. He set me on the trunks on the trolley, and I glared at him. He smiled cockily and began to push the trolley himself. I crossed my arms and sniffed.
"Madam, we're fresh out of horse drawn carriages," he said to me in a ridiculous French accent. I looked at him with one brow lifted.
"Ecusez-moi, George, mais tu as un mauvais accent," I told him in flawless French, before returning to my previous statue of disdain.
"George," I whispered, as he began unbuttoning my shirt.
"Hmm?" He seemed utterly engaged in removing my clothing.
"This is your parents house," I whispered, as he pressed his lips to the exposed skin of my chest.
"Yes, I know," he answered, sliding his hands around my waist.
"But--" I began, and he cut me off by kissing me deeply.
"Anna, first, my parents know full well that we live together," he began, as his fingers fiddled with the clasp on my bra. "Secondly, everyone in this house knows that we have two children together. Thirdly, this room has four different silencing charms and a superior locking charm on it. Fourthly, if we decide not to do this now, we're not going to for at least a month, and frankly, I don't think I want to be that long without you," he told me, as he unclasped my bra. I shrugged delicately, not really thinking about the fact that I was now completely topless.
"Are you sure nobody's going to hear or walk in on us?" I asked, as he slid his fingers down to the clasp of my pants.
"Positive," he answered, catching my lips once again with his.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Molly watched as George's hand on the clock moved from "in bed" to "making mischief." She snickered and began to imagine just how adorable George's and Annabelle's babies would be.