George gazed out the front shop windows at the setting sun, actually looking forward to closing. In the early weeks after Fred's death, George was consumed with working in the shop; he kept busy, selling the products that he and Fred had had so much fun creating and perfecting. They created the products together; they set up the shop together; they worked the floor together. Then, they went upstairs and relaxed together, cooking and eating and hanging out with friends. They occasionally helped the Order, providing a meeting space and developing defensive products for them and others resisting the Ministry takeover by Voldemort's sympathizers. With Fred gone, George only wanted to be in the shop, if only to feel closer to him. There were actually a couple of nights when George fell asleep, sitting on the floor behind the counter, his face still wet with tears. He hated the emptiness of the flat. The shop never felt empty. Down here, Fred was everywhere.

George stretched his back, scratching the nape of his neck, his fingers catching in the chain there. He slid one finger along the links until he was touching the Welsh dragon, and he smiled. Y ddraig werdd, he remembered. He hadn't realised how much he needed Rhiannon when she came back into his life. Her problems gave him a focus away from Fred's death and his own sorrow. He wasn't able to concentrate so much on his own loneliness when he needed to support her.

They had gone on their first date almost two weeks ago, and despite their extraordinary beginnings at Hogwarts they had managed to refrain from any serious sexual encounters, preferring to get to know each other better. It was not easy, continuing to share a bed in the one room flat. George replaced his two chairs with one sofa, so they could sit together. He would often put on the wireless and watch the glow from the fireplace while Rhia lay across the sofa with her head on his lap, reading. She had taken to charming the book cover, so George couldn't tell which novel she had borrowed. He was very frustrated at not being able to ruin another book, but still held high hopes. They had been sitting like this one day last week while George's fingers played in Rhia's hair. She had been complaining that she needed to get it trimmed, but he wanted her to keep it longer; he liked to play with it. He remembered that day clearly – they heard the door open and close and footsteps ascending the stairs. They looked at each other and George called out to whoever it was.

They saw Katie as she came around the sofa that afternoon, carrying a broomstick, decked out in her Quidditch gear.

"What are you dressed up for?" he laughed.

"Quidditch," she stated simply.

"No. Really? Not a fancy dress ball?"

"No. Really. Quidditch. Pick-up game in MacMillan Park." His eyes widened when she added, "Fancy getting your lazy arse off the sofa and playing a bit?"

He knew that Rhia was watching him as he tried to contain his impending excitement, and when he was about to turn Katie down, Rhia spoke up.

"Go on, then." He looked at her face, and she reached up to rub his stubbly chin, saying again, "Go on."

"I'd rather –"

"Play," she had finished for him. She sat up, so he could jump off the sofa and get changed.

He frowned remembering the look on Katie's face when he had invited Rhia to come along. Rhia tied her trainers and grabbed her rucksack and jacket, pushing her book into the side pocket. She turned towards the other two as Katie was adjusting George's elbow pad, and it seemed to George that Katie was waiting until Rhia was watching them before she leaned closer to George, and kissed him on the lips.

He lurched back in surprise. "Katie," he said in a serious tone. "What was that?"

"It's been a long time, if you don't remember."

Standing at the display counter, he remembered painfully that in that moment, he realised that he hadn't seen Katie since before he and Rhia began dating a few days ago. He spoke to her quietly, hand on her arm; she was visibly disappointed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rhia move into the kitchen. He was glad that she stepped away, seeing how much he was hurting his friend. Katie touched his face, and he remembered nodding. She leaned in again, this time kissing his cheek. She went down the stairs, quietly closing the door.

"George," Rhia said softly. "I'll stay here. I don't want to cause more trouble." She came around the worktop, dropping her things on the sofa.

He encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her closer, looking into her eyes.

"I'm hurt," he said, pouting, but his eyes were twinkling. "I cannot believe that my girlfriend doesn't want to watch me play Quidditch. Do you have any idea how sexy I am when I play Quidditch?" He began to kiss her neck slowly. "I'm irresistible after a game, all hot and sweaty."

"And smelly, I bet."

"Only one way to find out. Watch me play."

"Katie's upset."

"Mmm hmm," he said, kissing her neck with a bit more force.

"She's your friend, George. I don't want to come between you and your friends."

"Hmm. Are you giving me permission to sleep with her?"

"No," Rhia said quickly.

George laughed. "She was my friend first. She'll come around. Come on."

So Rhia went, and George was right. Katie had begun to come around; not easily, but she was actually nice to Rhia. Well, polite anyway, George conceded in his head. Katie wasn't the only one to surprise him. In the two weeks that they had been steadily seeing each other, he and Rhia spent their free time walking around the Alley – having ice cream at the shop next door, grabbing a cup at the cafe up the road and popping in for a couple of meal at The Burrow with his family. He wasn't terribly surprised when his mum made some kind of commentary, but when Ginny said some nice things and actually called Rhia his girlfriend, he wondered when he got so lucky. The last time at The Burrow, Percy had actually joined him against Ron and Harry in a two on two Quidditch game and when Ginny wanted to play, Rhia joined in, making it interesting by playing against him. He smiled at the memory, wondering why he was surprised she should be a good player.

*

He let the dragon fall below the neckline of his shirt, and began to tidy up. Ten more minutes 'till lock up, he thought. He had sent Rhia upstairs early. She seemed a bit peaky and lately she was tired. He tried again to persuade her to see a Healer; he'd offered to pay for anything she needed, but she refused to let him.

She had received an owl this morning that made her run into the office, sobbing. George had essentially left the shop unsupervised to check on her. She sobbed harder as he held her in his arms, but it did have a calming effect on her. She shoved the parchment into her jeans pocket and wouldn't show it to George, nor would she talk to him about it. The chime rang and as the door opened, George returned to the present, surprised to see his oldest brother Bill. "What brings you in – love potions or daydream charms?"

"You've seen Fleur. Do you think I need either?"

George simply smiled. "What brings you in then?"

"Do you want to meet at the Leaky?"

"Tonight? No. I have plans with Rhia tonight."

"Love potion?"

"I don't need a love potion."

"No, but she might."

George raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. "Have fun. See you at Mum's Sunday?"

"George, aren't you coming Friday? It's Harry's birthday. Won't you be there?"

"Of course. I just forgot. Have fun tonight. Time to lock up." He waved Bill off as he locked the door and extinguished the shop's lights.

When George reached the top step he smiled, seeing Rhia's legs dangling over the side of the sofa, her head propped up on pillows and beyond her the glow of the fireplace.

"Which one is it today?" he asked with a laugh, striding over and kissing the top of her head. George only had a select collection of books to choose from, and he obviously had been wrong when he thought she had read them all. She tilted the book closer to her nose, still reading, so he could read the cover. Which Witch. He chuckled, shaking his head. Angelina told Fred that he should read more trashy romance novels to help his own pathetic love life when she gave it to him last year. Rhia looked to be about halfway through it. "You know, when Ollie comes back from the war, and finds Morgana dead, he sleeps with her sister, Megan and then he and Megan get married and Morgana's not actually dead. There's a sequel, I think. I can ask Ange for you." She glared at him over the top of the book. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as she scowled.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked. When he shook his head with a grin, she thumbed to the end and read the last three pages. "You stupid git, George! I hate when you do that! That's the third one! Bloody hell!" She slammed the book against her knees. George had already begun dinner during her tirade. Rhia got a whiff of the familiar pepper sauce that he put on the pasty meat. This was the second time in two days that he was making pasties at her request. She was pleased that he remembered. When her tone evened, she spoke again, "So, what's for supper?"

He smiled, looking up. "Pasties."

"Again?"

"I thought you loved my pasties."

"I do."

"I sometimes think that you're only staying here for my pasties."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He noticed the change in her tone and he looked up at her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you want me to leave, George?"

"No," he said quietly, seeing that his usually witty banter was not going as he had intended.

The door to the street opened and closed at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, George," a voice called up.

"Come on up, Katie."

"Katie?" Rhia questioned George, who didn't answer.

"Oh. You're cooking. I thought we'd go for a pint," Katie said as she stepped off the stairs and into the flat

"Why don't you stay? There's always plenty."

"That's true," Rhia interjected before Katie could answer. "Especially since I won't be here." She put on her jacket and grabbed her bag.

"Where are you going? You love my pasties," George laughed.

"Flat hunting. I've obviously overstayed. Enjoy your supper."

She turned to leave, but when she reached the stairs, his hand on her arm stopped her.

"Rhia –"

"I'll see you later, George. You've made your feelings quite clear."

He was stunned. He honestly didn't know what he'd done, where he'd gone wrong. "Rhia –"

"Let me go," she said firmly, looking from his face to his hand on her arm and back up again.

He frowned and lifted his hand from her slowly and she descended the stairs. He stood there for a minute and heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs, waiting, hoping she'd forgotten something.

"Trouble in paradise?" Katie laughed, enjoying the moment a little too much.

"Leave it," George responded nastily as Rhia closed the door with a slam.

*

When Rhia returned hours later, the moon was shining in through the small window. George was sitting crookedly on the sofa with the book Rhia had left lying against his chest, his head angled off to one side, asleep. There was a small plate, still warm on the worktop with three pasties. George must have used a warming spell on the plate thinking she'd be right back. She had planned on staying out until the morning, but the Leaky was full. She was lucky to run into Bill Weasley (at least, according to Bill she was) and when the Leaky closed, he walked her back to the flat, thinking she was too drunk. She could tell he was feeling protective of his younger brother's girlfriend when he said she shouldn't be out alone so late. She had had only butterbeer all night, but appeased him and allowed him to be the big brother. She had certainly missed her own.

She glanced over her shoulder at George's sleeping form, and snatched one of the pasties, taking a large bite. Delicious, as always. Even better than usual, she thought as she popped the last bit into her mouth. On her way to the bed, she covered George with the tattered afghan, pausing, and then kissed his forehead lightly. She walked to the bed and was stripped down to her knickers before she noticed that she couldn't find her nightshirt. She lifted the bedcovers and looked under the pillow. She looked under the bed and turned towards Fred's bed to see if it was on the floor. It wasn't. Did she leave it in the bathroom this morning? Perhaps, George chucked it into the laundry. She reached for the shirt she had just removed, intending to put it back on when she felt a man's arms coming around her waist, his mouth, warm and feathery on the back of her neck, moving her hair aside with his nose.

She was startled with the familiarity in which his hands stroked her stomach, dipping one finger into her belly button, his thumb catching for a moment on her knickers, tugging, but really just teasing. She knew, of course, that it was George, even though he said nothing and she did not turn to face him. His mouth barely touched her neck and his breathing was hot against her cool skin. His fingers grazed the underside of her breast causing her to sigh audibly. She took half a step forward, trying to break their contact, but he stepped forward and pulled her back against him at the same time, licking her ear and then inserting his tongue there as well, tracing it, and pushing forward into her with his hips. When she thrust back to meet him, he could almost not contain his excitement.

"George," she breathed out, not knowing what else to say, tilting her head back until it lay on his chest. She bit her tongue as his hand grazed her hips to cup her arse, and then he slowly caressed her thigh. She could feel him prodding her through his jeans and pressing himself into her back.

"I'm sorry I ruined the book for you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss behind her ear. "I love that you love my pasties." He pressed another kiss to her neck. He turned her around slowly, kissing her shoulder and then her collarbone and then tilted his head away so he could gaze longingly at her body for a prolonged moment. He tugged her against him again, kissing her ear once more, and whispered into it, "I want you to stay here, in my flat and in my bed…with me. Please don't go."

As he said the last word, his lips were on hers; gently kissing her, and then as their intensity grew, he used his tongue to explore her lips and inside her mouth, at the same time gently pushing her down on the bed. He smoothly, tenderly even, explored her body, lazily touching every inch of bare skin. Her body seemed different than he remembered from just a few short months ago, but pleasurable and incredibly arousing under his fingers. Her breasts seemed fuller, her hips rounder.

"I want you," he whispered. "Can I have you?" He kissed her again. "Please." He reluctantly stopped touching her and looked into her eyes, trying very hard not to let his gaze wander lower.

She reached out her hand and stroked his cheek and then sat up. He released a disappointed breath that she was rejecting him…until she began lifting his shirt up, bringing it over his head. Then she was grazing her fingernails up his sides, massaging his chest, touching his shoulders on the way. When he helped with the shirt, she unbuckled his belt and carefully dragged his zipper down. This was not an easy task and he practically fell out of his jeans.

"Sorry," he murmured into her shoulder.

"Don't be," she said as her fingers reached below his waistband, tangling in his hair, finally grabbing him tightly with strong fingers. She laughed as he moaned and shifted, sliding easily out of his jeans and boxers. He kissed her deeply as two fingers slipped into her knickers, yanking them down. She shimmied out of them and when he slid inside her this time, it was much easier. She didn't cry out or pull at his hair or tense up, but she was so warm and wet, hot and tight, and as he continued to kiss her, she shuddered and moaned into his mouth causing him to moan back with equal fervour.

"Oh George!" She felt his warmth spread through her. He lay on her for a moment catching his breath, then rearranged his body to her side, nuzzling his face against one breast while she lay her head in his hair. Every so often, he would flick his tongue out to play with the nearest nipple while his thumb moved in circles stroking the other one. She fingered his ear and tugged on his hair, completely content, murmuring into his forehead.

"I could lie like this forever," he said into her breast, kissing her there yet again. He rubbed a hand across her stomach, eliciting a giggle and when he licked her again, she moaned out his name, arching her body, entwining them closer. They fell asleep kissing and wrapped around each other, a tangle of hair and limbs with drops of sweat clinging to their skin.

When he awoke next, George kept still, watching Rhia, lying next to him, asleep in his bed. It felt so natural, waking up, feeling her body moulded into his, fitting neatly against him with his arms around her. He was comfortably warm with her body pressed so close against him. He could hear and feel her soft breathing. He smiled and kissed her ear, the only thing he could reach without disturbing her slumber.

It was still dark, and he groaned silently, wanting only to remain in his bed with Rhia beside him until she woke up. Unfortunately, he had told Verity that he would go down early and change the shop's displays. He also promised himself that with the new month coming at the end of the week, he would get back into his workshop. There were several experiments that needed tending and several more that needed starting.

He looked at Rhia's face again; so peaceful, so beautiful. He smiled to himself. He could not remember ever having been so content, so much more like himself in recent days. He was glad that she was in his life. This woman who was a chance meeting was going to change his entire life, and while he still felt sad when he glanced at Fred's empty bed, he looked at the woman next to him in his own, and was happy. He rose from the bed slowly, taking great care not to disturb her sleep. He was quick in the shower and grabbed a cold muffin for breakfast as usual. He scrawled out a note and slipped it painstakingly into Rhia's hand. He brushed his lips against her forehead and then touched them to her lips before resting his hand lightly on her hip and running it down her thigh, stopping at her knee before scurrying down his flat's staircase, smiling, feeling nothing but wonder at his recent blessing that was Rhiannon Jones.

He was glad that Verity wasn't in the shop as he skipped in, almost lightheaded. He began jotting notes on a bit of parchment – the displays he wanted to change, new joke sweets to invent. He was still smiling as he slipped out for Gringott's, when Verity finally arrived.

Upstairs, Rhia was just awakening. She was surprised to find herself alone in George's bed. She stretched and yawned like a cat, and as the warm blanket slipped off, landing in a heap on the floor, a cool draft came in from the window above and she realized she was naked. Reaching out, she grabbed the closest thing from the floor and slid her arms into the too big sleeves as the too long shirt came down past her bum. She found the bit of parchment on the bed, and leaned against the wall, relishing in the scent of George still permeating his shirt as it warmed her body while she fastened the buttons. Wearing his overlarge shirt, she felt comfortable and content as if his arms were still around her as they had been throughout the night. She had woken up a couple of times in the night and when she felt George's arms around her, keeping her safe and cosy and his warm breath on the back of her neck, she felt content and protected and even blissful. She began to read the parchment in her hand, "Rhia, my love. I have to open the shop and then get off to Gringott's. I know you have plans today – it's Wednesday. You don't need to wait around. I'll catch up with you later. Meet me at closing. George." She smiled and instantly decided how she would surprise him when she returned from her Wednesday outing.

Arriving at the shop, Rhia peeked inside. It was crowded, and she could see George behind the counter, struggling to keep up with the clamouring customers. Verity was nowhere to be seen. She pushed the door open, and George was about to groan, something he never did with the arrival of a new paying customer, but then he saw Rhia and his face lit up. "Rhia, am I glad to see you. I know you're off today, but can you help me out? Verity's gone home with some bug – probably the same one you've had these last few weeks. Can you work the rest of the afternoon?"

She smiled and nodded, rushing to grab her work robes from the stock room. Somehow, she didn't think that Verity had the same stomach ailment that she did. She laughed and was behind the counter in a flash, ringing up the queue at the till while George assisted customers with their questions and got the stock out and into their eager waiting hands. It took almost two hours, but finally, they had waited on the last person – a young boy getting ready for his first year at Hogwarts with his mum. It was hard to believe that the new term was starting in four weeks. As they exited the shop to the tinkling of the bell, Rhia and George breathed a sigh of relief, and simply stood still for a moment or two, relishing in the quiet.

"Cheers, Rhia. You've saved me. Can you stay on until close?"

"Sure. I'd be happy to."

George pulled her into an embrace, kissing her. "Cheers. I'll be in the workshop for a bit. When Lee comes, you can lock up and bring him down." George slipped from behind the counter, and turned to go, but paused at the curtain when Rhia began stammering.

"What? Who? I can't close up."

"Sure you can. Lee's a mate, he should be here soon. Tall, black, dreadlocks. I'm sure you'll know him. When he comes in, just lock the front door and turn the sign to closed. You'll do fine."

"I've never closed before, George."

"You're just locking the door. You'll be fine," he reassured.

He smiled and then disappeared through the curtains. Rhia inspected the shop. She didn't think she'd ever been in here alone before. She smiled, thinking about how excited George looked when he mentioned his workshop. She rubbed her palm across her stomach. She thought that tonight would be a good time to tell George about the baby. She wandered over to the Muggle section. After spending almost every day off in the Muggle world lately, either simply wandering about or at her doctor's appointments she was beginning to feel like a Muggle herself. This section had marked playing cards and rubber chickens and fake poop. Who would want fake poop? She just couldn't understand the joke.

The bell tinkled and her voice caught in her throat as she turned to greet her first customer completely on her own.

"May I help you?" She smiled in relief. The customer was tall and black with dreadlocks. He was quite handsome as well, and he returned her smile with a stunning one of his own.

"You must be Rhia." He extended his hand as she approached him. "George's told me a lot about you. It's lovely to finally meet you." He grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the top of it. "Forgot to mention how pretty you were though." She blushed, but before she could say anything in response, the building shook and the shelves rattled and a loud KABOOM echoed up from the workshop in the basement. She grabbed Lee's arm to steady them both.

"Oh no! George!" Rhia cried out. "Lock the front door!" she called to Lee, as she ran to the stock room and the workshop stairs. She took the stairs two at a time, tripping over the last one. The workshop was filled with smoke and one of the workbenches was on fire.

"Inferno nox," she shouted, directing her wand at that bench, and the fire immediately extinguished. She waved the wand around her head, beginning to dissipate the smoke. Lee joined her below the bottom step. He met her eyes for a moment before they both surveyed the room. Where was George?

"Maybe he disapparated," Lee suggested, answering the silent query between them.

Finally, as Rhia's eyes adjusted to the darkness and the smoke began to clear away even more, she saw his boot sticking out from under an overturned workbench. She felt sick and for a moment couldn't breathe or speak. She rushed over with Lee at her heels. She waved her wand, moving the bench off George's crumpled form. His head was bleeding near his ear and his leg was twisted. Rhia bit back tears, and Lee was frozen in place, remembering his other best mate with George's face in much the same position only a few months ago. Rhia put two fingers against George's neck and let out a relieved sigh when she found his pulse. His breathing was a bit erratic, but at least he was breathing. There was a dark burn on his forehead, and a cut on his cheek. She looked at Lee. "Can you make a portkey?"

"A portkey?"

"To St. Mungo's. If it was just one or two things, I would fix him, but it's his head and face and his leg is definitely broken. Maybe his wrist as well, and he's unconscious. Can you do it?"

"I'm not authorized," he said automatically, not taking his eyes from George.

"Sorry? Don't worry about that. You can say I did it."
"Sorry? Oh…I…" he stammered, nodding, not sure why he cared about the protocol. George would be amused when they told him. Lee grabbed an empty beaker that amazingly wasn't broken. "Portus," he said, and the two of them supported George, holding his hand to the beaker.

Rhia thought she would be sick when she felt the tug behind her navel where the baby was growing inside her, but she managed to keep her stomach controlled. Maybe the baby knew how important it was for her to stay in control right now. She left George cradled in Lee's arms and struggled to crawl out from under them both, standing unsteadily. She approached the welcome witch.

"Healer MacIntyre?" she asked gruffly. The welcome witch glared for a split second, but then nodded, and Rhia ordered, "Page him, it's an emergency."

When the Healer arrived, he embraced Rhia tightly. "Rhiannon! My God, how are you? Gruffydd won't tell me anything."

"Ian! Ian, stop. Listen. I'm fine. This is George Weasley. He needs help. Now." She rattled off his injuries and offered the Healer a jar of something. Healer MacIntyre levitated George onto a stretcher, and Lee helped push him into the nearest triage room. The Healer smiled at Rhia as he found her diagnosis dead on.

"You should really be a Healer, Rhia," he smiled as he began to work on George.

"I have a job. Cheers. How is he, Ian?" Her voice cracked at the end there, and Lee and Ian both looked at her compassionately, if also a bit confused. To Lee, she and George had only begun dating; only Rhia knew how much more serious their relationship was. Ian had no clue. She bit her lip, losing the battle to contain her tears that were forcing their way out of her eyes. Lee put a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him while Ian worked on George, waving his wand and muttering various incantations. Rhia leaned her head against Lee's chest, finally bursting into tears and sobbing on his shoulder as he struggled to contain his own emotions.

Lee whispered to Rhia, "Should I owl his parents?"

"Yes," Ian answered for her, adding, "But ask the Welcome Witch to use the floo. It will be faster than an owl." He exchanged a look with Rhia that conveyed how serious the situation was, and Lee choked on a sob. He squeezed Rhia's shoulder and left to find the welcome witch. Rhia moved closer, across the bed from Ian, and held George's hand with one of hers, brushing the hair out of his face with the other. Ian was still waving his wand, but he paused to hand Rhia the jar back, motioning for her to take care of it. She took it and unscrewing the cap, put two fingers into the cold creamy whiteness. She covered his forehead gently with the cream. George winced when the cold wetness touched his warm skin, startling her.

"George, can you hear me?" She took up his hand again, and noticing another burn, she covered it in the cream as well. "George. It's Rhia. Wake up, George." He cried out as Ian straightened his leg, tightening his grip on Rhia's hand, clenching his jaw, spattering some of the white balm on Rhia's robes. She continued murmuring soothingly in his ear, begging him to open his eyes as she rubbed the cream into his hand and forehead. She let it sit on his burned skin for ten minutes while Ian fixed his leg and wrist. "Ian, his head is still bleeding in the back."

"I know."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing's working, Rhia. I'm trying."

"Try harder," she said harshly. Ian looked at her, but she was already cleaning the cream off his head and hand. She smiled faintly as she saw that his burns were now gone. She pocketed the jar in her robe, and took up his hand again, holding it tightly as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You have to save him, Ian." She spoke so quietly Ian almost didn't hear her, and when he looked at her, she had placed George's hand over her stomach as she stared at his unconscious face.

Ian's eyes rose from her stomach to her face, beginning to ask, "Rhia, are you –"

She dropped George's hand as Lee rushed in with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "What happened?" Arthur's frightened voice shook and Molly was sobbing.

Rhia and Lee looked at each other, neither of them wanting to be the focal point of his parents' rage and fear. Rhia was the one to speak finally. "I'm not sure. He was in his workshop. Lee and I were upstairs, talking in the shop, and something exploded. We got him here as quickly…I mean…we." Rhia faltered taking up George's hand and brushing his hair with her fingertips.

"There we go," Ian sighed, sounding somewhat pleased. He looked at everyone. "The bleeding's stopped. Let me just –"

He stopped speaking to say the spell, and Rhia felt George's hand squeeze hers.

"George." She entwined their fingers together as she moved closer to the bed, rubbing her cheek on George's shoulder, bursting into tears all of a sudden. Bloody hormones. His fingers tightened in hers. "Please wake up," she cried.

He groaned in distress. "Would you stop getting bogies all over my shoulder, Rhia?" George said hoarsely. Rhia lifted her head. "That would be sexy if it wasn't so bloody disgusting, love."

Lee burst into laughter and Rhia touched George's cheek where his cut had just been healed. "How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

He rolled his eyes. "Agony. I'm in a lot of pain. Maybe you could massage me," he winked, rattling off his injuries, "leg, wrist, head, face, right ear."

"You don't have a right ear," she said, kissing his cheek and taking a step away from the bed.

He sat up on his elbows and looked at Rhia. "Did you lock up?"

"Are you serious? You almost died, George."

"Yeah, and I would hate to think of anyone filching my stuff." He turned to the Healer. "Can I go home now?"

"George," his mother started. "You should really –"

"Go home now?" he asked again.

"George," Ian said sternly. "You can go home, but you're on strict bed rest for at least two days."

"Two days?!"

"Or you can stay here for two days."

"Got it. Bed rest. Two days." He reached an arm around Rhia's waist, pulling her back to him. "Will you be my home Healer and ensure that all of my needs are met? I can pay you."

Rhia felt the blush creep up her neck to her cheeks and she frowned as he emphasized the word 'needs', but she leaned over and delicately touched her lips to his. Her lip was quivering, and she thought she would begin to cry again.

"It's all right," he whispered, looking into her eyes and squeezing her close. "I'm well. I'll heal. I'll be fine."

*

"George," Rhia called up the stairs. "Do you need anything?"

"Just you, my love."

She smirked, climbing the stairs. As usual for the past one and a half days, she found George "lounging" in his bed, poring over the shop's books. She handed him a folded parchment. "This was owled for you."

"Cheers." He opened the parchment and laughed. "Lee's going to come by this afternoon with a few people, to celebrate my getting out of bed, and then it's off to my house for Harry's birthday supper." He tried to look at her unobtrusively to gauge her reaction. "I know that Healer MacIntyre's coming to look me over soon," he answered her unspoken admonishment. "I'll stay in bed until he arrives. After that, you and Verity can close up shop and come up for the pre-party party. How'd you get him to make a flat call?"

"Ian? He's a friend of mine."

"Ian, is it? Boyfriend?"

"He is a boy." She smiled at his frown. It was kind of nice to see him discomfited by her non-existent past. "I have to get back down. Do you want anything?"

He eyed her briefly, then said, "Skive off. Stay with me for a bit." He patted the bed with his parchment-free hand.

"My boss is a real prat. I need to get back."

"Can I have a glass of water then?"

"Of course." When she brought back the glass, he directed her to place it on his bedside table. "Anything else?" she asked, looking down at his face.

He began to shake his head, but then looked beyond her. She turned her head to see what he was looking at so intently when he stunned her by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down onto the bed. She was out of breath and lying across his lap, looking up into his laughing face.

"George!"

He smiled at her feigned crossness, and he could see the amusement in her eyes. "I happen to know that your boss is not a prat, and that he's not even in today. He's quite ill, and needs some tending." He brought his head down, very close to hers, and without warning, he was kissing her. A shudder went down her spine as their lips met, and when his tongue prodded her lips to let him in, she sighed as her mouth fell open of its own accord, and their tongues met. She could taste the cinnamon from his morning porridge and the coffee that she missed drinking, but there was another taste she remembered that was…just George.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" he asked as their kiss ended.

"I can't," she said, sitting up hastily, unnerved by how much she liked him, how much his kisses affected her.

When she made to rise, he touched her arm, stopping her. "Rhiannon," he whispered. "I nearly died the other day."

"I know. I was there."

"I always want you there. I'll tell Lee 'no party', and you and I can…have some…private time before the Burrow."

"Not this afternoon. Let Lee have his party. He was here as well. He was terrified when you were hurt."

"Okay, but that wasn't a 'no' to private time."

"No. It wasn't a 'no'. You'll get your private time." She turned her body to face him, and she smiled and very lightly pressed her lips to his. "I have to go. Prat of a boss, you know."

She relayed the message to Verity about the party. Unfortunately, she already had plans with Quinn Fortescue. When Ian arrived at half-one, Verity left for the ice cream shop and Rhia locked up and extinguished the lights, leading Ian through the curtain and up the stairs where the party was in full swing. Lee had brought decorations as well. Fairy lights were hanging over everything casting a soft glow throughout the flat. Whiz Bangs were flashing and popping. There were two more chairs and the butterbeer and firewhisky were free flowing. George was in his bed, wearing a tall pointy wizard's hat coloured red with orange stripes that clashed horribly with his hair and on either side of him were Angelina and Katie. Rhia frowned when she saw Katie in the bed with George, but walked Ian over.

"George, Ian's here for your exam."

"Oh good," Katie said loudly, "It's time to get naked, Georgie." She reached over and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Katie!" the other woman exclaimed.

"Come on, ladies," Lee was swiftly there, eyeing George and Rhia and helping the girls off the bed, and away, but Katie remained hovering nearby.

"Rhia," Ian said. "I'll need your help."

"I'm sure Katie can assist you." Rhia turned to leave, but a hand grasped hers, pulling her down on the bed. It was George, and he was looking intently into her eyes.

"I'd rather have my girlfriend help me," he said quietly. "Are you still my girlfriend?" She gave him a small smile. "And, anyway, didn't they say that I would be naked?" Katie failed to suppress a scowl, but ruffled George's hair and found another firewhisky, taking it out of Oliver Wood's hand.

"How's he been?" Ian asked her as he felt George's leg.

"Stubborn."

"Hey," George interjected. "I've been a tremendous patient. I've remained in bed except for that one incident and the occasional jaunt to the loo. I should get a medal for letting you hen me."

"Hen you? That's rich. You're always whinging about your leg, and 'oh my ear.' You don't even have an ear for bloody sakes."

"I have one ear, and it's a little tired of your shrillness."

He looked at Rhia with a grin that she returned, running her fingers through his hair, tracing his ear. "Is he all better now?"

"Good as new."

"Excellent! So, I can get out of this bloody bed now!"

"I don't know if your girlfriends will appreciate that," Rhia said as George jumped out of bed. He grabbed her hands and twirled her, pulling her into his arms, kissing her cheek.

"I only have one girlfriend, and that's you." She looked at George with a smile and he surprised her with another kiss, this one much more intimate.

"Dance with me," he said into her ear, swaying.

"There's no music, cariad."

Lee tapped the wireless with his wand, but before the music even began, George was rubbing her back and kissing the side of her head. He stroked her hair, and looked into her eyes. He gave her a small smile and as they swayed to the music, George forgot about everyone else in the flat. He surprised her by bending her back and when he pulled her up to stand, she laughed as her hair fell into her face. He brushed the hair from her forehead with gentle fingers and then he tilted his head closer and softly kissed her lips. She put her arms around his neck, twirling his hair around her finger.

Her cheeks warmed when she looked at his face and saw him staring at her and then their eyes met. She sucked in a breath when she noticed his cheeks turn dark, and she knew he wanted her, and she sighed, dropping her head against his shoulder, knowing she would have to tell him the truth; tell him her secret before they slept together again. She clutched him tightly around the waist, pressing her ear close to his chest. She liked listening to his beating heart. She was nervous to tell him about the baby, babies, actually. She hoped he wouldn't be upset; that he would be happy about impending fatherhood.

"Are you all right?"

She looked up at his face. "Spent. I'm really tired." Her answer left her feeling awkward, but she wasn't lying. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "When do we need to be at the Burrow?"

"About an hour and a half."

He tugged on her hand, leading her to the bed, pushing her gently down. "George," Lee called over, "there's people here, mate."

"Yes," George said. "And they're about to leave." He leaned down and kissed Rhia. "Rest."

He sat beside her on the bed. Her eyes were half closed; she was teetering and as he carefully laid her down, he kissed her forehead. "Rest for an hour. I'll wrap Harry's gift."
She nodded, and was asleep within seconds. She never noticed Lee and the others leaving.

*

After supper and ice cream and birthday cake, everyone found a place to be. A lot of the family was at the Quidditch pitch watching a pick-up game. There was laughing and talking and the reality of the Memorial service tomorrow was far, far away.

"Look," Ginny laughed, pointing, directing Hermione's attention to the other side of small Quidditch pitch in the back of the Burrow. The evening air blew a cooling breeze across them, whipping unruly strands of hair in their faces. Hermione looked up from her book to see what Ginny found so amusing. Rhiannon was sitting on the grass, back perched against the strong trunk of a tree. She was trying to pull her hair up in an elastic to keep it from flying in her eyes with each gust of the wind. Her hair was much shorter than George's sister's and she was having trouble keeping it up. Not to mention the fact that each time she lifted her arms up to restrain her hair, Crookshanks lifted his front foot, and had begun pawing at her stomach. Ginny and Hermione could see that Rhia was getting annoyed, gently swatting at the kneazle, telling him sternly to leave her alone. Ginny laughed again as Crookshanks pawed at Rhia's stomach, lifting her loose shirt. Rhia grabbed the hem, yanking it down, and Ginny heard her hiss at the animal, "Stop it, won't you" and then Crookshanks hissed back, pawing her again.

"Come on," Hermione said. "We should rescue her." She rose to intervene, but Ginny's hand on her arm stopped her. She turned to Ginny, who was no longer laughing at Crookshanks' antics, but staring at Rhia's exposed stomach. "What's wrong, Gin?"

Ginny shook her head, but glared at Rhia. She hopped off the table she was sitting on and marched over, plopping herself in front of Rhia, who smiled at Ginny. Ginny returned her smile with a glare. "What are you playing at?"

"Ginny," Hermione warned, but Ginny put up a hand.

"What do you mean?" Rhia asked with genuine surprise.

"Crookshanks."
"Crookshanks?" Rhia and Hermione asked in unison.

Ginny shot Hermione a look, but elaborated. "Crookshanks likes everyone, right, Hermione? Except Scabbers." She looked at Rhia again. "Ron's pet – the rat," she explained. "The Death Eater."

"You think I'm a Death Eater? That's idiotic. I'm not a Death Eater."

"No, I don't think you are, but there's something." Crookshanks, as if on cue, pawed at Rhia again, lifting up her shirt, exposing her midriff. "Something. You're hiding something."

Hermione grabbed Crookshanks and sent him away, using her wand to keep him out of their space by the tree, setting up wards around them preventing his return. "Ginny, let's go watch the game."

"I don't think so, Hermione." She turned her attention back to Rhia, who was wincing. "I won't let you hurt my brother. He's been through enough."

"I would never hurt him. I –"

She had winced again, and when she instinctively put her hand over the buttons of her shirt, Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh Merlin's pants, you're pregnant." Hermione instantly turned away from Crookshanks' lurking.

"Is it George's? Does he know?" Ginny continued. Rhia began to breathe erratically, her eyes tearing up as she stared into Ginny's angry face, noticing that she shared her brother's eyes.

"Please don't tell him." Her voice was quivering as she fought the urge to cry.

"If you're trying to pass off some other –"

"I'm not. Please. Ginny," she begged. She reached a hand out, but Ginny jerked back out of reach.

"Why haven't you told him?"

"I was going to tell him…but he…he blew up the workshop. Please don't say anything. I want to be the one," she pleaded.

"You have until tomorrow. The tea after the memorial. Agreed?"

Rhia nodded slowly, but remained silent.

"Is everything all right, Rhia?" The three women looked up in surprise at George's concerned face. "Are you all right?" He kneeled down beside her, touching her knee, putting his face very close to hers.

Ginny spoke up quickly. "We were talking about that last year for her at Hogwarts, and I'm afraid I've upset her. I'm sorry Rhia." Ginny reached out and touched her knee. "We'll have to talk tomorrow after the memorial. I'm going to watch Harry play. Coming, Hermione?"

Rhia watched them walk away, hearing the thinly veiled threat in Ginny's innocent words and tone.

Rhia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Between her father's memorial and George's younger sister, tomorrow was shaping up to be a barrel of fun.

Chapter End Notes:

Welsh glossary: cariad – love, sweetheart, darling Y ddraig werdd – the green dragon Mam – mum, mother