I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance quickly figured out that the Burrow was a place were just about anything could happen.

During the second day of their stay, everyone had been rounded up in the back yard to take care of an infestation of garden gnomes. The girl had never seen one herself, but she'd heard about the lesson Lockhart had given on them in Mihnea's DADA class. They were uglier than she expected, and once they started popping up out of the ground to nip at their ankles, she had absolutely no problem with beating them across the yard with the wooden bats they'd been given. Even Hermione's cat joined in. He would chase them around the garden and pounce on them before dragging them off somewhere. Crookshanks always returned to them gnome-less, so they could only assume he'd eaten them.

Then there was the poltergeist that lived in the attic. The twins had written about it in their letters, but she hadn't realized how pesky the damn thing was. It wasn't as bad as Peeves, but it still threw things around and raised hell when someone was up there. Fred and George had taken her up to the attic to show her the new developments they'd been working on with their 'wheezes' one night and the poltergeist didn't seem to like her presence one bit. The only way the twins could get any work done was to shove the thing into a closet and lock it in there.

Then came the patriarch of the family, Mr. Weasley. He too had the bright ginger hair the rest of the family had and was much more permissive with his children than his wife was. It was apparent that Mrs. Weasley was the disciplinarian of the bunch. The man had a thing for everything to do with muggles as well. The moment he found out about Hermione being muggle-born and Connie living with muggles, he asked them all sorts of odd questions. (What exactly is the function of a rubber duck? What is the purpose of having a picture that doesn't move? Why are they called 'mood rings' and how do they work? Etc.) He also had a massive collection of old muggle items in the storehouse outside. Most of his assortment of objects consisted of dried up batteries and old TV antennas. Constance would have found that strange if it weren't for the knowledge that a wizard would consider those things to be unusual novelties worthy of being collected. At her house, things like that would have been thrown away when they were no longer useful.

It was about half-way though the visit that Constance found herself in the most uncomfortable position she'd ever thought she'd wind up in. They were all gathered around the kitchen table for supper when Mr. Weasley came home from work to join them.

"Good afternoon, Weasleys!" he called out in his customary greeting. He gave his wife a kiss, then sat down at the head of the table. "Anything exciting happen today?"

He always asked that when he came home from work. With the Weasley house the way it was, something interesting always happened.

"We found out why we haven't been able to get anything to Harry." Ron reported. "He went and blew up his aunt."

Connie's eyes went wide. She hadn't been told about that yet. "Blew up his aunt!" she exclaimed.

The boy nodded. "Got upset about something she said about his mom and blew her up like a balloon. Said she floated right out the window. He packed up all his things and took the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron. Errol's been taking letters to the wrong place. We wouldn't have known a thing about it if Harry hadn't sent Hedwig here with something."

Oh. So they meant 'blew up' in the inflating sense rather than the fiery explosion she'd been thinking of. That was a relief. At least no one had died like she'd initially thought. It was weird to her that Errol didn't know where to deliver the letters they'd written to Harry. Every messenger owl she'd ever encountered had some sort of magical ability to figure out exactly where to go even without being given an address. But then, the Weasley's owl was getting old, so maybe he wasn't as on top of things as he used to be.

Mrs. Weasley made a thoughtful hum. "I suppose we'll meet him when we go to Diagon Alley and bring him back home with us then." she said. "There's no reason for him to stay at the pub for the rest of the summer."

All the Weasleys nodded in agreement, then Ginny looked down the table at her father. "Did anything interesting happen at the Ministry today, dad?" she questioned.

Mr. Weasley took a bite from his plate, set down his fork, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Actually, I had to attend a very interesting meeting with the Minister this morning."

Connie's ears pricked up. She hadn't heard the man talk about the things he did at work other than in very general terms. Ron sat up a bit straighter himself.

"What was it?" he asked.

"Apparently, the Hellsing Organization has been having problems with the aurors getting involved in their business. Integral Hellsing came personally to demand that Fudge take care of it." Mr. Weasley reported. He glanced over at his wife. "Did you have any idea that memory charms cast on muggles could cause permanent damage to them? I had no idea until they brought it up!"

Molly noticeably paused. "No, I didn't realize that..."

Constance went very still. She'd forgotten that her mother's meeting at the Ministry was scheduled for this morning... At the table, all the children were all leaning forward intently, wanting to hear more.

"The Hellsing Organization?" Fred questioned. "Aren't those the muggles who hunt monsters?"

Mr. Weasley nodded his assent. "Indeed they are, and I've heard they're right good at it too! I've never seen a muggle with such a powerful presence before. She walked right into the room and immediately took control of it. Very impressive. Of course, Sir Hellsing brought a Newsom with her as a bodyguard..."

Mrs. Weasley was in the middle of slicing through a piece of chicken and nearly dropped her dinner knife. "A Newsom? You're sure?"

"They've been close friends with the Hellsing family for centuries, dear." Mr. Weasley said, as if to remind her of it.

Hermione frowned at the woman's reaction. "Newsom?" she questioned curiously. "I've never heard that name before..."

"Not heard about the Newsoms?" Fred and George questioned in unison, looking shocked at her admitting she didn't know what something was. "There's been loads of books written about them!"

The girl sniffed and made a face at them. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't know everything." she said. "It isn't possible for me to have read every book that's ever been written, now is it?"

Ron cleared his throat. "They're an old family that uses magic so dark they've been exiled from our world. No one messes with the Newsoms. Those people do things that would scare the pants off of You-Know-Who." He looked back down the table. "Fudge actually let Sir Hellsing bring one of them with her?"

"I'm not quite sure of the details, but Kingsley made it sound like Sir Hellsing didn't want to come to the Ministry without magical protection." The man told him. "I wouldn't blame her for it either. She said Miss Newsom was the only member of her organization who could use magic."

Well, that wasn't exactly true, Connie thought to herself. But it wasn't like her father could have gone. She remained very quiet as the conversation turned to more serious matters. This wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to be listening to. Just being in the room while they were talking made her incredibly nervous.

Mr. Weasley was looking at his wife again. "You won't believe this Molly. The Newsom girl was a nahual. There hasn't been one of those born in more than a century!"

The older woman blinked at him in surprise. "Nahual?" she asked. "There's never been a female nahual! It's always been males who are born that way!"

"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't see it with my own eyes." Mr. Weasley admitted. "She's the first there's ever been. Quite extraordinary."

Now, all the Weasley children looked confused. Only Hermione and Constance seemed to know what he was talking about, and Connie certainly wasn't about to go explaining it. She didn't want to get involved in the conversation for fear of saying too much.

Hermione squared her shoulders to address them, spitting out the definition like she were a human encyclopedia. "A nahual is a human being born with an extremely rare mutation that makes their blood poisonous to dark creatures. They are like natural hunters. They smell more enticing to dark creatures than an ordinary human, they can heal much faster and replace their blood supply quicker, are immune to mental manipulation, and they have a very distinctive appearance, with blood colored hair and vivid green eyes."

"They also have a natural talent for black magic." Mrs. Weasley added, looking like she found the whole thing disturbing. "Families that use dark magic are the only ones Nahual have ever been born into and there's a reason for it. I don't like the idea of one of them coming into the Ministry."

Mr. Weasley gave her a look. "She didn't do anything, Molly. The Minister forced her to wear a restrictive collar to remove all of her magic. At the end of the meeting, she snapped it right off with no trouble at all. She could have cast a whole number of curses the entire time, but didn't. As a matter of fact, Lucius drew his wand on her and all she did was force him to sit back down. Most wizards would have attacked after being threatened like that."

"Broke off a restrictive collar?" The twins exclaimed in unison. "That's not possible, is it?"

"The Newsom family uses a different sort of magic than most of the wizarding world." the man explained. "Sorcery. It's a thousand times more powerful than any form of witchcraft. There aren't any wands or spells, just living magic. It's very difficult to master and control."

"It's also extremely dangerous." Mrs. Weasley said. "You do a spell wrong with our magic, it just blows up in your face and you move on. You can't perform magic wrong with sorcery. If you make the smallest mistake, you die. Even the white forms of sorcery are so dangerous most wizards would never attempt to learn them. Black sorcery is even worse." she gave her husband another of her looks. "I don't like it, Arthur. The Newsoms and the Hellsings aren't the sort of families to go messing with."

It was true that sorcery could be dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing, but the notion of dying at the smallest mistake was a horrid exaggeration. There were some rituals that could do that, but it was mostly higher level ones. And surely the woman couldn't really mean what she'd said about not messing with her family, Connie thought. She knew the magical world didn't like them, but the Weasleys were such wonderful people. She would have thought they'd be above such prejudice.

Mr. Weasley picked up his fork again. "Dumbledore trusts them." he said. "And he is an excellent judge of character. He wouldn't believe they were trustworthy if there wasn't a good reason for it."

"I don't care what the reason for it is!" Molly said more forcefully. "Those are dangerous people! The Newsoms are bad enough on their own. The Hellsing family may be muggles, but they're just as bad. There are stories that Integral Hellsing killed her own uncle when she was eleven years old to take control of the organization herself. It's not natural for a child that age to be so ruthless. Some people even say they have enslaved vampires doing all their dirty work for them. The whole lot of them sound bloodthirsty and cruel. You don't get a reputation like that for no reason. There's something about them that isn't right, and just the thought makes me nervous." she gave her husband a look of reproach. "I don't want to hear another word about those people in my house and that's the end of it."

Constance could not sit here and listen to this. Part of her knew that Mrs. Weasley was responding to something she didn't understand with fear, but it was still too much for her to deal with. She'd kept her mouth shut long enough and she was afraid that if anything else was said about her family, she'd spit something out she wouldn't be able to take back. She pushed her chair back from the table.

"May I be excused?" she questioned, being careful not to look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes.

The woman turned and her whole demeanor changed to one of concern. "Of course. Are you alright dear?"

Connie shook her head to clear it. "I... I think I might have a touch of a stomach bug." she said. "I think I need to go lay down."

The woman still looked a bit worried about her, but nodded in understanding. Constance put her chair back into it's proper place, then stepped out of the kitchen to head upstairs. In the background, she could hear Ron asking how she managed to get a bug in her stomach, then Hermione's sigh as she explained it was a muggle expression that meant she felt sick. Once she was on the third floor, she briskly walked into her room and locked the door behind her. What was she supposed to do about this? George's parents actually liked her. They'd told her as much several times, and seemed to fully approve of her relationship with George and her friendship with their other children. But if they felt that way about her family... God, what would happen if they ever found out about her? Mr. Weasley seemed to be more open minded and accepting since he had seen her mother and her aunt for himself, but Mrs. Weasley... she didn't know what to think about her little rant. She didn't understand the circumstances behind what she was saying. She didn't know that all of them were raised a certain way because it was necessary. There were many things about Hellsing's operations that could be seen as cruel or bloodthirsty from the outside, but until you lived through the things they dealt with on a regular basis, you'd never be able to understand why they had no choice but to use so called 'extreme' methods.

She dropped down on the saggy mattress of her bed, curled up into a fetal position and buried her face between her knees. She could hear the frogs chirping in the pond outside through the window, but the sound wasn't very comforting. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all. Letting herself get pulled into a situation that she wasn't able to handle on her own. Her mother would know exactly what to do and say. Integra Hellsing could handle anything thrown at her without being bothered by it. When Connie felt the sting of frustrated tears start to well up, she was almost ashamed of them. How pathetic was that? Stuck in her boyfriend's house, crying her eyes out in a guest bedroom she'd holed herself up in to hide. She felt like her insides were eating away at her. This had gone on for too long and had gotten far too big. Bigger than she ever thought it would get. She'd always wondered why Mihnea didn't let himself get close to anyone, but now she understood. It was easier that way. To be alone and not say anything at all rather than having to keep secrets and hide all the time...

She had no idea how long she stayed up there, curled up on the bed crying. She was too wrapped up in her rushing thoughts to notice what time it was. All Connie knew was that the sun was low in the sky and the room was beginning to grow dark when she heard a faint tapping sound at the door.

"Hey, you alive in there?"

It was either George or Fred, but the voice was so quiet she couldn't really make out which one it was. Checking up on her, most likely. She didn't really feel like talking, so she figured that if she stayed quiet they might think she was asleep and go away. She should have known better.

"We know you can't be asleep yet. We've got lock picks and we're not afraid to use them!"

Bloody hell, both of them were out there and they just wouldn't be deterred, would they?

"I'm fine." she said.

Though she did her best to hide it, there was still a noticeable crack in her voice. She'd been crying too damn long for it not to show itself in the way she spoke. From the sound of their whispers to each other, the twins heard it as well.

"Your girl doesn't sound fine to me, Georgie. She sound fine to you?"

"Nope. That definitely didn't sound fine." George replied. "Give me those things and go keep the others busy."

"Will do."

The soft sound of footfalls walking away reached her ears almost as soon as the light metallic scrape of metal picks working at the door's lock. Connie pushed herself upright and quickly rubbed the wetness off of her face with the back of her hand. God, this was awful enough as it was without George having to see her crying. The door slid open and she watched him slip inside and close it behind him. He immediately turned on his heel and pointed at her.

"Alright, spill."

Constance carefully cleared her throat. "I told you, I'm fine." she began. "I just don't feel well and..."

"Don't start with that." George interrupted. "I know you're not sick. You've been up here crying for hours and you never cry. What's wrong with you?"

She studied him for a moment, then pulled her knees up to rest her chin on top of them. Her eyes turned down to the floor. "I can't talk about it."

"You could talk about it if you wanted to." he countered. "You just wont. There's a difference." there was a moment of silence, then he went on. "Fred's running interference to keep the others from coming up here if it's something you don't want them to hear."

She sniffed and turned her head slightly to glance at him. "I'm not stupid, George." she said a bit more harshly than she meant to. "We both know good and damn well Fred's idea of 'running interference' is to drag everyone up here to listen right outside the door."

George looked thoughtful, then reached behind him to turn the lock on the doorknob. Once the latch clicked, he drew his wand and cast a charm to prevent it being unlocked with magic or lock picks, then put a muffling ward on the whole room that would keep any sound from getting out.

"There." he said, putting his wand back into his pocket. "They can listen all they like and not hear a word."

Constance blinked at him and lowered her legs a bit. George was usually one to help people listen in on things they shouldn't, not lock doors and cast spells to prevent them snooping around. And to be casting spells when underage wizards weren't allowed... He was actually serious about this.

"What about the trace...?" she began.

"It only detects spells cast around someone underage." he told her. "Not who they came from. Mom and dad cast spells here all the time, so there's no way for anyone to know I was the one who did it."

Oh. She thought. Well, that was kind of unfair, wasn't it? If someone came from a magical family, they could cast all sorts of spells when they weren't supposed to and never get in trouble for it. Only someone muggle-born would get caught.

There was a small desk with a matching chair situated against the wall under the window. She watched silently as he pulled out the chair and dragged it over next to the bed to sit down. He crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap.

"So what's wrong?" he asked gently.

Connie felt like she was cornered. Her standard response of 'I'm fine' obviously wasn't going to work, and she couldn't think up a more suitable excuse. Being in this position was... scary. It felt like the world had suddenly gone out from under her feet, and she couldn't figure out how to keep her balance.

"It's complicated." she replied quietly.

One of George's brows slowly went up. "That's all you're going to say?" he asked. "That's not very helpful."

She sighed and used her arms to pull herself backwards on the bed to prop up against the wall. "George..." Connie ran all the possible ways she could avoid the looming conversation, but none of them seemed to be viable options. She was getting tired of carefully constructed responses and well worded half truths. "I can't do this anymore." she whispered, more than herself than to him. "I've been doing it for too long..."

In front of her, George's expression shifted to a look that appeared cautious and teensy bit worried. "Connie?"

Constance took in the look on his face and drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. She couldn't believe she was about to do this.

"George, I... need to tell you something." she began. "But I need you to promise me that you wont tell anyone else. Not even Fred."

His brows knitted together in confusion. "Why? Is it something bad?"

The girl had to think about that for a minute. "I guess that depends on your definition of 'bad'." she replied. "It's... big. And it's very important. There are... things about me that I haven't told you or anyone else about." she paused and gave him a pleading look. "Please, I need you to promise."

That confused look remained, but there was also a spark of interest in his eyes. She'd captured his attention and it looked like he was dead set on hearing whatever it was she had to say.

"Okay, fine." he said, giving in. "I won't tell anyone. What is it?"

Constance had to take another deep breath. "I'm... different, George. I'm not like other people."

"I know that." he said, as if she'd said the most obvious thing in the world. "That's why I like you."

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm... There are things about me... big things... that a lot of people wouldn't like." she closed her eyes. "And... I'm afraid that if I tell you about them, you wont see me the same way."

She heard George snort. "You mean scare me off?" he asked, waving a hand. "Oh, please. There's nothing you could say that would scare me."

Constance opened her eyes and peered at him. "Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely." he replied with no hesitation.

She wasn't sure how truthful that statement was, but she was about to find out. Her gaze wandered over to the window. The sun had almost set below the horizon line, and the room was so dark it was getting harder to see. They were going to need a light if this was going to continue.

"It's getting dark." she commented.

George gave her a weird look, then drew out his wand like he was going to use it to light the lantern sitting on the desk. Before he could cast any spells, Connie stopped him.

"Wait." she said, then reached out her other hand to remove the glass topper. She snapped her fingers above the wick and it burst into flames.

"What the..." George said, his eyes going wide. He looked back and forth between her and the lantern in astonishment. "How did you do that? You don't have your wand out and you didn't use a spe..."

His words trailed off as realization hit him. Connie imagined he was remembering things his father had said over the dinner table.

"No way..." he said incredulously. "You're...?"

She dropped back into her previous sitting position and puled her lower lip between her teeth. "Those women your dad saw at the meeting... they're my family." she told him, deciding to just let it come out. "Integra Hellsing is my mom, and Syn Newsom is my aunt. And... George, your mother is wonderful and she's been so nice to me, but I couldn't just sit there and listen to those awful things she was saying..."

Constance couldn't bring herself to say anything else because it would probably come across as attacking. She let her body curl up on itself protectively, feeling tears well up again. Why did she have to cry so damn much? It was stupid and humiliating. George, surprisingly enough, didn't look afraid or disturbed by anything she'd told him. He had listened to every word with wide eyes and a look of wonder on his face. But the second he saw her crying, he dropped everything and tried to fix it.

"Connie, don't do that." he said softly, getting up from his chair to crawl up on the bed with her. He put his arms around her and pulled her over to cradle against his shoulder. "Mom doesn't know what she's talking about. She's opinionated and when she gets going, you just have to ignore what comes out of her mouth. She says me and Fred aren't going to amount to anything all the time."

He was probably trying to distract her from what was bothering her so much, but Constance was so shocked by the statement that she pulled back to stare at him in horror. "She does not!"

George gave her a somber nod. "Yep. All the time. We were working on starting out the Wheezes as a mail order business." he told her. "When mom found out about it, she went psycho and destroyed everything. Set fire to the orders and our whole stock." he leaned down to whisper into her ear. "That's part of the reason why we moved everything up to the attic. The poltergeist stands guard and wont let her up there."

"Holy hell... that's awful!" she exclaimed. How could their mother be so cruel? They had put too much work into their inventions for someone to destroy everything in one go. "How do you put up with that?"

George just shrugged. "Like I said, you ignore it. Dad helps sometimes, but he usually wont argue with her face to face. Mom's not bad really, but she thinks her way of doing things is the only way until you prove her wrong. We've just got to keep going and prove her wrong is all." he gave her a light squeeze. "From the way dad was talking, it sounded like he liked your mom and aunt. If dad likes them, then they cant be all that bad. And anyone who shows up a Malfoy is right as rain in my opinion. I don't care who your family is or what they do. You're not a black witch."

Constance let out a small laugh. It seemed that Draco's father was just as bad as his son. His statement about her not being a black witch wasn't entirely true though. But considering that the magical world saw 'black' and 'white' in terms of 'right' and 'wrong', she understood what he meant. She sobered a bit and studied him.

"So... you're not upset?" she asked carefully.

George blinked at her. "Upset? Why would I be upset? I've got a sorceress vampire hunter for a girlfriend! Do you have any idea how awesome that is!" he said with exuberance.

Of all the possible reactions she had run through her mind, Connie had never imagined he would think it was awesome. Now that he was aware of who she was, George had all sorts of questions. What was her family like? Did they all live together in the same house? What sort of place was it? He seemed thoroughly fascinated by every small aspect. Of course, he wound up gently asking if any of the things mentioned over supper were true or not. He got all excited about hearing that there really were vampires at Hellsing. She had to explain that they worked for them and weren't considered slaves in the least. It was nice, being able to speak freely. Not having to worry about keeping everything hidden. Even if she'd only come out to one person, she could talk about things she knew and didn't have to worry about him freaking out about it. With the revelation of Syn Newsom being her aunt, there was no way around admitting that she was Mihnea's mother. The only thing she continued to keep to herself was him being half vampire. It wasn't hard to do because she knew that it wasn't her business to talk about. Mihnea could decide when and who to tell. He would probably be pissed about being outed as a Newsom, but given the circumstances, he would get over it. She and George wound up curling up together just talking for hours. Connie couldn't recall ever being so close to him or feeling so comfortable before.

"Why don't you want to tell anyone else?" George asked her. "You know none of them would care."

She was actually starting to feel better about that, but she was still concerned about the repercussions of it. "It's not about them caring or not." she said, readjusting her head more comfortably against his shoulder. "It's just that a secret is more likely to stay a secret with fewer people knowing about it. All it would take is for one person to say the wrong thing where someone else could hear it, and it would spread through the school like wildfire. Mihnea and I would probably be kicked out, and everyone we knew would catch hell for being close to us. I mean, if people at the Ministry found out, your dad could get fired just because we're together." she paused. "I don't want to have that hanging over everyone's heads. It's... a lot to deal with."

He playfully nudged her in the side. "You don't seem to mind it hanging over my head." he teased.

Connie pulled away and gave a small punch to his arm. "That is entirely your fault." she told him. "You didn't have to come in here demanding to know what I was upset about."

George rubbed his arm and made a face. "Yes I did." he countered. "See, when you get upset, then I get upset. When I get upset, Fred gets upset. And when Fred gets upset, the entire house gets upset because he makes sure God and everybody knows it. I was trying to prevent chaos from breaking out."

One of her brows slowly inched upward. "Uh huh."

"I was!" he said. "Besides, do you even realize this is the first time you've let me touch you for this long? If you didn't tell me all this, then you'd go on acting all tense and nervous every time I got close to you and it was really starting to get annoying."

Do what? She wondered. He had been getting annoyed with her? "Are you serious?"

George glanced at her sideways. "We've been going out what, eight months now? You get skittish when I put my arm around you, we rarely hold hands, and we've only kissed once. Fred says he'd have gotten bored and left by now."

Her brows furrowed. When he put it that way, it did sound like she'd been pretty restrictive. Connie didn't particularly give a damn what Fred thought, but if she had realized how George felt about it... She coughed. "So why have you stuck around then?"

"I figured you acted that way for a reason." he replied. "And I told you I would wait for you to open up and trust me, so I did. It all makes sense now, but I was starting to wonder..."

When his words trailed off, she sat up straighter. "Wonder what?" she prodded.

He gave her this weird, nervous look that he didn't usually get, then shrugged. Like he was trying to push it off. "If it was only fun and games to you and didn't really mean anything."

Whoa! He actually thought that? Her eyes widened. "No!" she exclaimed. "It's always meant something! I've just..." she paused a moment and cleared her throat. "I've just been nervous because... I've always been raised to be careful. About who to trust and what I do. And... I was afraid of getting too close, because I didn't know what would happen if you ever found out..."

George stared at her incredulously. "What, you thought I would leave?"

Connie hung her head. That had been exactly what she was afraid of. And she had come to genuinely care for him enough that the thought was unbearable.

"Considering what most wizards think of us... I thought... it might be a possibility." she admitted.

She looked up and watched as he blew out a long stream of air. "Connie, you're really smart and on top of things, but sometimes you can be really stupid."

She gaped at him and would have come back with something, but he stopped her by leaning down to kiss her. It was nothing like the short peck she'd given him before. It was... long and deep and sweet. The sort of kiss that makes the heart flutter and the toes curl. She noticed he tasted like cinnamon. That was... strangely appropriate for him. Spicy and sweet at the same time. When they finally parted, he didn't move far away. He stayed close enough that their noses touched.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time." he whispered.

It was no wonder. Connie felt like she might start floating any second now. Breathing seemed a trivial thing, and she had to remind herself of how to do it. George's hair was starting to get longer, and it felt so silky between her fingers. When had her hands gotten up there? And he smelled like... she paused and leaned forward and down toward his neck.

"You smell like gunpowder."

George pulled back a bit and blinked. "Must be the fireworks."

Oh Jesus, so they were getting into actual explosives now? "I like it It reminds me of home." she said quietly, twirling her fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. "We're definitely doing this more often."

George's eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle. "Oh goodie." he said with a laugh and leaned in to kiss her again.

A.N: Daw... I've been wanting to write this scene for a long time. It makes me very happy to finally get it out of my brain. Anywho, leave a review to show love! Or serious dislike. But no hate please. I'm allergic.