A/N: Thanks to everyone who came back for more. I promise this chapter will be a lot more eventful. Time to reveal the father of Alicia's son…and yeah, his name is different…just read my other note at the end before reviewing please.


Alicia had unsuccessfully been trying to unpack the same box for the last hour. All she could think about was George and her beautiful future with him. Needless to say, she'd barely slept the night before. No matter what happened from here she was going to have a real chance with him. If they could make it work. The rather large knot in her stomach told her that was a big if. The knot had been her constant companion since she left Hogsmeade last night. It was there now, heavy and dull, reminding her that the hard part was still to come.

George mightn't have been happy that she had kept Jake a secret, but he didn't seem to be bothered by his actual existence. Alicia hadn't always been able to say that about other men in the past. Accepting Jake was one thing but how was George going to react when he found out who his father was?

Speaking of which. Alicia glanced at the clock on the wall then swore under her breath. Jake and his dad would be here any minute. The flat looked like it had been ransacked by some Aurors. She didn't want to analyse why she cared so much, but she began to scurry around and pick things up. Where the hell had she left her sodding wand this time? She threw an armful of clothes and toys and general crap into her bedroom without bothering to see where it landed.

The actual cleanliness of her flat shouldn't make a difference anyway. All he said was he wanted to see where his son was living, which was fair enough. It wasn't an inspection.

Then why did Alicia feel like she was about to be brought before the Wizengamot?

Oh God. She hadn't even brushed her hair yet. Or put on makeup. And buggering hell, she was still in her pyjamas.

"Right, right," Alicia muttered, hopping up and down frantically on the spot. No time for a shower. She could get dressed and sort out her hair at least.

She was already shrugging out of her pyjamas as she stumbled towards her bedroom. Only half her clothes were unpacked but she found a pair of jeans and a shirt that seemed casual enough. If only she knew where she'd left her wand then she'd be able to do her hair with a flick of her wrist.

"Accio wand!"

Nothing happened. It was probably in the bathroom then, behind the closed door where she couldn't summon it because she was a useless witch. A sharp knock on the front door made her jump. She snatched up her brush and ran it through her hair haphazardly. Once again she cursed herself for not having shorter hair. She also cursed herself again for caring about his opinion of her appearance. It should mean nothing to her at this point.

Alicia squared her shoulders defiantly and threw her brush aside. She was a confident and intelligent woman. She wasn't beholden to any man. Certainly not a cocky, arrogant ex-boyfriend who never knew when to shut up.

Another insistent knock. Alicia scowled at the blatant display of impatience and closed her bedroom door firmly behind herself. She took a split second to collect herself then opened the front door.

"Mum!" Jake shouted, throwing himself at her waist.

"Hi, sweetheart." Alicia knelt down to wrap him in a big hug. "How are you? Did you have fun at the match yesterday?"

"Yeah! The Kestrels won. I think they're gonna win the League, too!"

Alicia held her son at arm's length and shook her head affectionately. "So, let me guess: you go for the Kestrels now, huh?"

"Yep. Dad already bought me a hat and a flag and some posters."

"Wow. I hope you said thank you."

"I did!"

Alicia stood up and Jake ducked beneath her arm and ran into the flat. She was then left standing out in the hallway with Christopher Warrington, former Quidditch enemy, card-carrying Slytherin and current thorn in her side.

"Why are you out of breath?" he asked, raising an indolent eyebrow at her.

"Would you believe morning yoga?"

"Not for a second."

Alicia looked him up and down. He was wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit and a lavender dress shirt. His black leather shoes were so shiny she wouldn't be surprised to see her reflection in them. She'd grown accustomed to seeing him in Muggle clothing over the years but a suit on a Sunday was a bit much. At the moment, though, he was also holding Jake's Thomas the Tank Engine backpack which rather ruined the overall effect.

"I have a work meeting soon," he said simply, following her gaze down to his attire.

"But it's Sunday."

"I'm aware of that." He thrust the backpack out to her. "Are we going to stand out here all day?"

Alicia snatched the bag from him and stepped aside. "Fine. You have two minutes."

He brushed past her and she stifled a sigh and followed him inside. She closed the door behind herself and leaned back against it. Christopher stood in the entryway with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets as he looked around.

"Do I get the grand tour?" he asked.

Alicia looked around and shrugged. The flat was only small, but it was still bigger and nicer than her place in Paris, so she couldn't really complain. The two bedrooms and bathroom were to their left and to their right was the kitchen. It was an open plan design, meaning the kitchen, small dining area and the living room all blended together. It had been recently renovated and featured a rather bland white and grey colour scheme but she supposed she couldn't expect much else in a rental.

"There is no grand tour," she said crisply. "You can literally see the entire place right from where you're standing."

"Ah, I can see that now. It's actually nicer than I thought it was going to be."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "I can't afford a mansion so my only alternative is to live in squalor?"

"No," Christopher answered calmly. He turned on the spot, taking in the whole flat with one sweep. "But, let's see here – two bedrooms, hmm, looks fairly new and in a secure building in this part of London. This place is clearly out of your budget," he surmised.

"You don't know my budget."

"I do actually. Have you found a new job then?"

"Not yet. I'm still keeping my options open," she replied airily.

"Don't be too picky. Another two months and you'll have burned through all your savings."

Alicia scowled. How did he manage to work that out so accurately? "Okay, dad. Anything else you want to lecture me on?"

Christopher shook his head and went over to peer inside one of the many cardboard boxes scattered around. "Don't be childish, Alicia. If you need money you only have to ask me nicely."

"We both know I'd starve before I took money from you."

"That's a distinct possibility if you don't get your act together soon."

Alicia's free hand reflexively clenched into a fist. The other clutched Jake's backpack tighter. How dare he? If it wasn't for her he wouldn't be living in his huge house with his housekeeper and his personal driver and his colossal ego. There was no way he'd have been able to pass as a Muggle all those years ago without her help. He wouldn't have been able to get his own act together if it wasn't for her.

Alicia opened her mouth to say precisely that but Jake chose that moment to come running out of his room. "Mum! I just took down all my Magpies posters. Can I put up my new Kestrels ones? Pleeease?"

"As long as you're careful and you don't make a mess," she answered, handing the backpack over to him.

Jake grinned brightly then disappeared back into his room. Alicia went and closed the door behind him then rounded on Christopher. She was still fuming inwardly but she knew it was pointless. This was what he wanted. He deliberately riled her. He got off on it somehow. They'd only seen each other once or twice in the last six months, but old habits die hard and he clearly still knew how to push her buttons. She'd been around the Quidditch pitch too many times though to fall for this again. Instead of wasting her breath she silently watched him poke around her flat.

She was suddenly struck by how physically different he was to George. They both had brown eyes and that was where the similarities ended. Christopher had dark brown hair cut short and neat and he had a sharp, angular face. On the other hand, George's face was friendly and open and kind. Christopher was taller as well, and lean where George was stocky and broad shouldered. George's smile could melt any woman's heart, but she knew from experience that Christopher's brooding stare was responsible for ensnaring many women. Herself, sadly, included.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Alicia cleared her throat awkwardly. "I wasn't staring," she said lamely.

Christopher smirked and ran his hand over his jaw. "Do you like the new designer stubble?"

"I have no opinion of your facial hair, Chris," she lied. It suited him perfectly and he damn well knew it. "If you're done snooping through my things, it's time to leave now."

"You know, my offer still stands," he said, obviously ignoring her not-so-subtle invitation to get out. "A quick shag with no strings attached whenever you want."

"Ssshh. Jake will hear you! And no."

"Relax, he's busy singing the Kenmare team song."

Alicia turned her ear towards the door and could hear that Jake was in fact singing a jaunty little tune to himself. He had no interest in what his parents were discussing a few feet away. "Fine, but what makes you think you can come into my home and proposition me like that?"

Christopher shrugged. "You're the one staring at me and biting your lip. I'm taking my cues from you."

Alicia closed her eyes briefly to gather her composure. There it was again. She was getting agitated and he was becoming more amused and smug by the second. "Are we done here?" she asked calmly.

"So where did you go last night? Clearly you weren't here unpacking," he couldn't resist adding.

"That's none of your business."

"Why are you being so defensive? I'm just trying to make small talk. It'd be polite of you to respond in kind. I'll try again. Where did you go last night?"

Alicia's brain did a quick risk analysis. She didn't have a story prepared and he'd probably be able to tell if she made up something off the top of her head since she was notoriously bad at improvising. Telling the simple truth would be best. He barely had any contact with the wizarding world these days so it was highly unlikely he knew anyone in Hogsmeade.

"I went to Hogsmeade if you must know."

"Really? That's a boring way to spend your first free night since you moved home. Don't all your Gryffindor friends want to know you anymore? I thought there'd have been a huge party thrown in your honour by now."

That hit a little too close to home. Alicia still didn't even know if her friends were going to want to see her after all this time. She immediately jumped on the offensive. "And what about your amazing friends, Christopher? You moved back, like, five months ago. How many of them have come to visit you so far? Has your own mother even bothered to come see you yet?"

Christopher didn't respond, he just kept wandering around. Alicia knew he hated his mother and pretty much everyone from school so the fact that no one visited him wouldn't make one iota of difference to him. For some reason he liked being a sullen loner.

"You make it way too easy sometimes, Spinnet," he said eventually. "You need to work on that."

"I know. I'm just out of practice. I haven't had the pleasure of your company for such a long time now that I'd forgotten how much of an arsehole you can be."

"Well that's a little harsh. This is me trying to make an effort to be civil with you. Now that you and Jake are nearby I want to get along with you for his sake. I want him to see his parents can be pleasant and mature around each other. Is that such a bad thing?"

Alicia sighed and felt her ire slipping away. "You need to work on your people skills if that was really you making an effort with me. I promise I'll be nice if you truly work on your attitude from here on."

"We used to get along, remember?" Christopher came over to stand in front of her now. Alicia stepped back automatically. She ran into the wall. Stupid tiny flat. "We used to get along really well. Once upon a time we couldn't get enough of each other. Remember?"

"No," Alicia snapped. "Don't do that. That's all ancient history now. If you and I are going to get along you can't bring up the past. We both need to move on. You in particular."

Christopher shrugged and stepped back. "I can move on whenever I want. I thought I'd give you one last chance to change your mind. We can be a family again. Think of how much Jake would love that."

Alicia shook her head quickly. "He's better off not seeing his parents fighting every day."

"It wouldn't be like that this time."

"Maybe for the first few weeks, but we both know it won't last. No, I'm done, Chris. We're better off apart and don't pretend you don't agree with me."

Alicia didn't know why they were even having this conversation now. Their break up had happened over two years ago and it had been a mutual decision. Aside from the occasional unsolicited offer of sex, Christopher had never once suggested they get back together. Why was he wasting his breath now?

"All right, you've obviously made your choice," he said finally. "Just remember this moment later on. Remember that I gave you the chance."

"What are you on about?" Alicia asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Jake came hurtling back out of his room. "Mère! Can I watch some TV now? Please?"

"Hey, I've got to get going, Jake," Christopher said, kneeling down in front him.

"Aaw! Can't you stay and watch TV with me?"

"Maybe another day. I've got a meeting to get to, mate."

Jake looked crestfallen for a second then brightened up. "Are we still going to the Quidditch Museum next weekend?"

"Of course. I'll pick you up on Saturday morning and we'll spend the whole day there." Christopher ruffled Jake's mop of curly hair then straightened up. "Be good for your mother, okay."

"You can go watch TV while I take a shower. Then we'll go to the park for a bit," Alicia said.

"Okay. Au revoir, Papa!"

Jake ran off and Christopher made his way to the door straight away and said, "Thanks for letting me have him two weekends in a row. I'll pick him up at ten, yeah?"

"Yep. And he's missed you so I don't mind you having the extra weekend together." Alicia opened the front door and stepped out into the hallway with him. "But the museum now? You spoil him, you know."

"I just want to make sure he has the happy childhood I never had."

"He's happy just to spend time with you. He doesn't need to go on fun outings every time he's with you."

"How else am I supposed to get him to love me more than you?" he asked. Alicia rolled her eyes and he smirked. "I'll take him to the library the week after if it'll make you happy."

"That's not necessary. You are taking him to his first dentist appointment though. See how much he loves you then."

Alicia found herself smiling back and for a moment it seemed like they could have some sort of functional relationship after all. That was one thing she'd always liked about Christopher: he never failed to surprise her.

"Enjoy your day, Alicia. I'll see you on Saturday."

"Enjoy your meeting."

Alicia stepped back into her flat and shut the door. The knot in her stomach was still there, but it felt smaller somehow. If Chris really could stop being such a Slytherin wanker for a change, this whole situation might not be an unmitigated disaster after all.


"Oi! What time do you call this?" Fred shouted across the shop. "The meeting was supposed to start at four!"

George sighed and closed the door behind himself. The Diagon Alley shop was bustling with customers as usual. Fred was emptying a box of Canary Creams onto a shelf and Verity was at the counter putting through sales.

"You told me about this 'meeting' only two hours ago," George replied lightly. "I'm not at your beck and call. This is supposed to be my day off."

He wanted to add that he had been having a very pleasant day thinking about the night he'd just had with Alicia. What he didn't need was an unexpected Floo call from his brother.

"And what were you doing today that was so important?" Fred demanded. "Knitting yourself a scarf? Sitting in the Hog's Head reading the latest copy of Witch Weekly? Everyone knows you have no life, George. Get over yourself."

George wasn't even going to bother refuting that taunt. He stopped in the middle of the shop and folded his arms. "What's so important you had to drag me down here on a Sunday?"

"Not here. I'll meet you upstairs in a minute."

George took a deep breath then shook his head. What stupid scheme was Fred getting them involved in now? He gave a Verity a small wave then made his way to the back of the shop where a rickety old staircase led to the flat upstairs. It was still the same up there. Pokey and dusty. Just more of Angelina's Quidditch stuff strewn about the place now that George had moved out. He could see why she was frustrated and wanted a bigger place. Her Quidditch gear alone took up half the living room.

It had been hellishly small with the three of them living there. George had needed to move out for his own sanity more than anything else. He was always happy for his brother, but it became tough to see him and Angelina so happy and touchy-feely all the time.

Now George had a chance at that sort of relationship as well. Perhaps he was putting too much pressure on Alicia though. He'd thought about her a lot over the years and he was pretty sure she couldn't live up to the high expectations he'd created around her. No other woman had been able to meet them so far either.

Fred came stomping up the stairs and unceremoniously dropped the empty Canary Cream box on the floor. "Sod it. I really need to clean up this place before Ange gets home tomorrow."

"Good luck with that. I heard over the Wireless that the Arrows lost."

"At least she doesn't get as angry when she loses anymore. Remember the rages she used to go into when she came home after a loss?"

"I remember the broken plates fondly," George answered dryly. "Now, what am I doing here? I'm not helping you clean up if that's what you're after."

"Shut up and come look at this," Fred snapped. He kicked his way through the clutter and gestured towards the kitchen table.

George went over and picked up one of the leaflets. A witch wearing a bikini waved up at him from a beach somewhere. Another leaflet had a picture of the Coliseum in Rome and a witch and wizard were posing cheesily in front of it. "What the hell's this? Holiday brochures?"

"Obviously. I can't decide where to take Angelina and I need your help." Fred shoved a picture of the Leaning Tower of Pisa under his nose. "I thought Italy would be perfect. Angelina can spend the whole trip shopping and I can just eat pizza and gelato all day."

George blinked disbelievingly at his brother. "What?"

Fred held out a picture of a sandy white beach in his other hand. "But then there's Greece. No gelato but a perfect opportunity to get Angelina in a bikini for a while. You see my dilemma."

"Are you serious? You ordered me to come here so you could make me pick a holiday destination for you and Angelina?"

"Like you had anything better to do," Fred scoffed. He waved both pictures in George's face. "So what's your first instinct?"

"This is the first I'm even hearing about this holiday," George said, slapping Fred's hands out of the way. "When are you going?"

"In about a month, after the Quidditch season finishes. That's not the important bit though because I still need to know where to pick and I'm running out of time. Angelina's back tomorrow night so I need to go make the bookings in the morning."

"Wait a minute! I'm going to have to pull double duty at both stores while you're gone. I'm going to have to work seven days a week! You can't just assume I'm happy to do that."

"George!" Fred seized him by the shoulders and shook him. "We've been through this a thousand times. What do you do other than work?"

"You don't know what I might have going on in my life, you stupid prat. Maybe I can't spend every minute working anymore."

Fred gasped and tightened his grip. "Finally! You met someone! You've met a woman for sure! I can tell so don't even deny it. Who is she? One of Ginny's blind dates? The one who jumped in your lap, right! I told you it was stupid to get rid of her so quickly."

George struggled to keep his face completely passive. "I'm not seeing anyone right now, but that's not the point. How am I ever going to meet someone in the first place if I'm always in the shop, huh?"

"You realise I'm going to find out who she is," Fred said, obviously not buying the story at all.

Things were getting out of hand fast. Alicia had been right about Fred working it out straight away. George's poker face still needed some work apparently. Right now the best thing he could do was make a quick escape before he gave the entire thing away.

"Do I know her? Is she from Hogsmeade? How fit is she? Like, super fit or just really fit?"

George made his way back to the staircase, Fred right on his heels. "She doesn't exist. If you're done wasting my time, I'm going back home to enjoy the rest of my day off."

"I'm hurt, Georgie. You've finally got yourself a girlfriend and you don't want to tell your beloved brother. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you won't share the juicy details with me?"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"George?" called a familiar voice from the bottom of the staircase.

Great. Just what he needed. Ginny appeared on the bottom stair, pointing a rolled up newspaper at him. "Yes! Just the person I was looking for. I figured you'd be here if you weren't at home."

"I'm on my way home right now, Gin. Get out of the way."

She ignored him and ascended the stairs. "Why didn't you just tell me, George? I would have understood. I'm so happy for you!"

They stood there awkwardly on the staircase; George looking down at a beaming Ginny while Fred stood a few stairs behind him poking him insistently in the shoulder. "Look, I don't have time for whatever it is. I need to get home."

"To see your girlfriend?" Ginny asked sweetly.

"I knew it!" Fred crowed triumphantly.

Not Ginny as well. What the hell was going on?

"Back upstairs," she ordered. "Unless you plan on pushing me aside?"

She had him there. George wouldn't push his little sister around. Especially not in her current condition. Only a handful of people in the world knew that she was currently pregnant with Harry's baby.

"Fine!"

The trio went back up into the flat and Fred immediately began to question Ginny. "How do you know about George's new girlfriend? Did you set them up?"

Ginny ignored him and instead turned to address George. "Why didn't you just tell me that's why you didn't want me to set you up on any more dates?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a girlfriend." At least that much was true, George reasoned to himself. "I think weird pregnancy hormones are messing with your head."

"I can still read," she answered sharply. "You saw the Prophet this morning as well?" she asked Fred.

"No." Fred surveyed the mess in the flat. "Uh, I don't currently know where it is. Why?"

"Because our sneaky brother was caught kissing a woman outside the other shop last night. Here, see for yourself." Ginny thrust the paper into Fred's hand. "Rita Skeeter's gossip section on page twelve. About halfway down."

George was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. This had escalated from bad to catastrophic very quickly. He never read the Prophet anymore. Mostly because of the rubbish that was printed about his family.

"Spotted by an eagle-eyed Hogsmeade resident late last night," Fred read eagerly, "was one George Weasley kissing a pretty little brunette out the front of his shop. No confirmation on her identity yet, but speculation abounds."

George closed his eyes and winced. "Stupid Mrs Battersby."

"The old witch who runs Gladrags? Gross. Why were you kissing her?"

George fought the urge to slap his twin on the back of the head. "I wasn't kissing her! She was watching me from her flat above her shop. I thought I saw her curtains twitch but figured I was just being paranoid."

"I'm so happy for you, George," Ginny said, clutching his forearm and getting teary.

"You besmirched the sanctity of our shop?" Fred asked, looking comically affronted. "I thought we had a pact! No sex in either of the shops. I just hope you covered the Pygmy Puff cage with a blanket first. They're sensitive little buggers."

"No one had sex in our shop!" George shouted. His head was spinning, grasping, trying to come up with a way out of this.

"Who is she? You can tell us."

"Yeah, we won't even tell mum," Ginny added.

Oh no. His mother. She didn't read the Prophet anymore either, but someone was bound to ask her about it sooner rather than later. No one in the world was capable of minding their own damn business anymore.

George knew what he had to say. The only thing that would make these two back off: the truth. "Look, I don't want to talk about it yet because it's very new. We both decided to take things slowly and not tell anyone we were spending time together. She could be the one and I don't want any complications. Can you understand that?"

Ginny wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Whatever you need to do. Take your time and tell us when you're ready."

Fred wasn't so easy to put off. "So, do I know her then? Is it one of your ex-girlfriends? Are you back with Gwen? Did she change her mind about everything?"

Before George could answer, the sound of footsteps made him hold his breath. He turned to the doorway of the flat, hoping against hope that he wouldn't see his mother standing there. Thankfully, it was only Verity looking puzzled and a little flushed.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt. There's a man downstairs asking for you."

"Me or George?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. He just asked for 'Weasley'. He wouldn't tell me anything else. I told him you were in a meeting but he just told me to 'go get him'."

Fred gave George a wary sideways glance. "So, this new girlfriend of yours isn't married is she?"

"Don't be ridiculous," George said. "It's probably just someone making a customer complaint about you. Don't worry, Verity, we'll come down and take care of it."

"Okay, thank you, and sorry again for interrupting."

She hurried off back downstairs and George turned to his sister. "Just wait up here a minute. We'll be right back."

A plan was formulating in George's brain as he followed Fred back down. If he could get Ginny on his side she could run interference for him and keep the rest of the family at bay. He and Alicia would just have to be even more cautious from now on. It could still work. It had to work. He was so sick of being alone.

"Where is this man then?" Fred asked once they were behind the counter.

"That's him there," Verity said, pointing nervously across the shop floor. She promptly scurried off and the stranger turned around.

Except he wasn't really a stranger.

"Wait, don't we know him?" George asked his brother as the familiar face approached the counter.

"Yeah, I think so. Looks a little different now though. Slytherin Quidditch team, right?"

"Warrington," George said, the name finally popping into his head. But why was he in their shop and why the hell was he dressed in a Muggle suit and a purple shirt?

"Which one of you works in Hogsmeade?" he asked once he reached them.

"That'd be me. What's the problem here?"

Warrington planted both of his hands on the counter, his body radiating hostility. "Everything's the problem, Weasley. Literally everything."

"Look, it's not that we don't love catching up with old school chums, but we're actually running a business here," Fred said, his tone quite upbeat considering the glare Warrington was giving George.

"What do you want, Warrington?" George demanded. His back straightened and his hand slipped into his pocket and seized around his wand. Just in case. You never knew which slimy Slytherin might still hold a grudge.

"No need for wands," Warrington said, but he didn't relax his stance so neither did George. "I just want to have a conversation with you. I have reason to believe you're dating the mother of my child."

Fred gasped and eloquently shouted, "What the fucking shite!"

Oh, God no, George thought.

"Are you or are you not dating Alicia Spinnet?"

"What. The. Fucking. Shite," Fred repeated, softly and slowly this time.

A/N: Right. Before anyone says it, I know it's apparently Cassius Warrington thanks to some DVD Easter egg or whatever (so technically not canon, anyway). But when I was here writing Alicia/Warrington many years ago he was still only C. Warrington as far as I can remember. Everyone gave him different names. I chose Christopher. At first I wrote this chapter as Cassius. But, honestly, I winced every time I had to type it. He'll always be Christopher to me so I switched back and everything is once again right with the world. I briefly contemplated added an explanation that Cassius was his first name but he went by his middle name Christopher, but, blargh, couldn't be arsed in the end.