Rhia padded softly down the stairs, wanting the little ones to sleep a bit longer. When she climbed out of her and George's large bed, she'd found that three of their six children had crowded in during the night. That was probably why George had risen so early. She found her husband in his usual spot, sitting at his desk, poring over paperwork, invoices and idea sheets from the shop. He had a quill in one hand and his other hand was holding the parchment steady and his drumming fingers tapped out a somewhat familiar tune. Rhia knew it, but couldn't quite place it. Hmm, hmm, hmm, she hummed, louder than she planned and he glanced at her, smiling at the surprise of her standing nearby.

She was wearing his shirt from yesterday. She was so petite that he was surprised how well it covered her. It fell to her knees and she filled it in nicely, certainly much better than he did in his opinion. His eyes shone as he followed her bare legs down to bare feet and then back up her curves to her dark red hair as she stepped into the office. He reached for her with the non-quill hand while the quill hand continued scraping figures and words on the parchment in front of him. As he reached around her waist, his hand settled on the small of her back and pulled her closer so that their bodies could converge, but just barely. He tilted his neck back trying to hint at what he wanted, and she knowingly obliged by running one hand through his hair, caressing his face with the other, and kissing him at last. He let her end the embrace sooner than he wanted.

He dropped the quill on the desk and turned to face her; he rested a hand on her hip, but only for a moment as he ran his hand up her side until he cupped her breast through his crisp cotton shirt, giving her a squeeze as he pulled her closer still, his mouth catching her gasp as he kissed her again, licking her lips and then her tongue. They were both breathless as she bit his tongue and as he moaned into her, his hand caressing the bump of her stomach that remained after the birth of their last child. Well, their most recent child; who knew if she would be their last. Rhia leaned into him, sitting on his lap and straddling him, hands gliding up his back to tug on his ear and weave in his hair as her mouth covered his. He pushed her tongue out, not letting her enter, and she whimpered, disappointed at his rejection.

"Come on," she whinged, trying once more. He laughed, and when his mouth opened, she thrust her tongue in. He was not ready for her, and he was still laughing, but recovered soon after, seizing her tongue with his lips and then massaging it with his own.

He smiled as he pushed his hips up into her and she groaned. He rolled his chair closer to the door, shoving it closed with a quiet thump. Reaching down, he grabbed the hem of her shirt, his really, and tugged it off, revealing one naked wife on his lap. Her head curved back as he moved his mouth playfully down her jaw, her neck, stopping at her breasts. When she moaned again, and dropped her hips lower onto his groin, he took hold of her thighs, and lifting her up, carefully rearranged themselves on the floor. She was groping for his trousers, undoing the belt and yanking them down, baring his hardness to her. As he sunk into her deeply, she moaned another time, and pulled his hair, but he was moving up and down, in and out, too occupied to notice. He was panting hot bursts of breath on her skin, and she was grazing his shoulders with her fingernails. They reached the moment together, feeling warm and sated as his energy completely disintegrated and he fell on top of her. They were both breathing heavily, and it took Rhia a moment to realize how uncomfortable she was.

"George," she said, quietly, attempting to push him off of her. "George, please get off," she panted.

He slid off quickly, recognizing the seriousness of her tone. He noticed her hand rubbing her stomach. "Rhia," he said, slowly. "Rhia, are you –"

She cut him off. "Don't ask the question if you don't want the answer, cariad."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you remember when we had Dora, you asked for one more, for a Quidditch team?" He was silent as she paused, looking into his eyes. "Well, meet your newest recruit." She hesitated now, gauging George's response. It was true that they were doing well with the shop, but their houseful of children still took a lot of gold to keep them in trainers and broomsticks. The two oldest were beginning Hogwarts in the upcoming term, and the cost was weighing on George's mind. "Are you all right with this?"

Finally, he smiled. "I'm fantastic with this. I love you; I love our kids. Anyway, we need another boy. Fred and I are seriously outnumbered." She laughed, playing with his hair as he rested his head on her soon-to-be-more ample breasts and one hand on her stomach, a small smile lying on his mouth. They both looked towards the door at the same moment as they heard the patter of footsteps jumping off of the bed, and running down the stairs. George looked into his wife's face, a huge grin still on his. "Breakfast?"

They smiled at each other for a moment more, and then George pulled Rhia to him until their lips met yet again. He said nothing, but stared into her dark eyes. He rubbed his hand across her belly, but glanced at the door as the patter on the steps grew into louder thuds. His eyes twinkled and he rose, hastily pulling on his trousers, leaving his boxers and today's shirt behind the door as he closed it, shielding Rhia's nakedness. She laughed, listening at the door as she slipped George's discarded shirt back on along with her knickers.

She didn't enter the kitchen, but stood watching her family, arms folded across her chest, leaning on the door frame. George had remained shirtless and laughed at something one of the twins was doing. While five-year-old Mared was entertaining Daddy, her other half Gemma was begging for crispy bacon. Rhia shook her head. It was never burnt enough for her. Aubrey was slicing the tomatoes and Fred was tossing George the eggs one at a time. Hannah was showing two-year-old Dora how to butter the toast, and everyone was chattering while George split open each egg, letting each one drop into the hot pan. Rhia smiled again as the smell of the eggs, tomatoes and bacon frying reached her nostrils. It almost felt like Sunday morning except that it was Wednesday. Normally, George was at the shop now, but Ron was filling in so he could take everyone to Diagon Alley for Aubrey and Fred's school supplies. Their letters had come last week. Aubrey had offered to share one cauldron with Fred, and Fred said that he didn't need his own spell books, but George would not have any of that.

Rhia approached George from behind, sliding her hand along his broad back from shoulder to shoulder, making him smile at her soft caress, and then finally rested it around his waist. He put his own arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, kissing her deeply, much to his daughters' displeasure.

"Eww, Mam," Hannah exclaimed.

"Dad! That's disgusting." Aubrey called. "You're supposed to be fixing breakfast."

He was ignoring his children and whispering in Rhia's ear, and she blushed when he kissed her again.

"Dad! I'm hungry!" Fred's whinge added to the fray, but it was Dora's jumping up and down and pointing that got everyone's attention now. Her jumping got the dog barking and running towards the window.

"No! Down, Braith!" Rhia grabbed Braith by his speckled mane and they all turned to the window as the midnight-coloured bird landed gracefully on the sill.

"It's Bran, Mam," Mared said.

Gemma added, "He's got a letter. Can I get it, Mam?"

"No, me."

"No, it's my turn."

"Actually," George said loudly. "It's my turn."

"Dad!"

"Daddy!"

He handed Rhia the spatula and took a step towards the window. "Come here, Bran. Let's have the leg." Bran obliged, and George took the letter. "Rhee, it's for you." He took back the spatula as she took the letter from him with a kiss.

"It's from Uncle Gruffydd. They're getting Rhys' school things today as well. We can meet them at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch." She turned to George. "Will that be all right with Harry and Bill?"

"I don't see why not. The Leaky might mind all those kids in there, though." He turned back to the group. "Weasleys. Table." The sound of chairs scraping and forks clanking filled the kitchen as all eight of them sat at the large wooden table enjoying their breakfast.

* *

After dropping all the parcels and school supplies with Ron at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, they set out to meet Gruffydd at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry, Ginny, and their three were waiting at the shop with Andromeda and Teddy. As they were just leaving again, Bill, Fleur and their three arrived, and they all travelled to the Leaky together. Teddy was regaling the almost-first years with his first year that he had recently finished, and the younger ones were listening raptly with the attention usually given only to Granddad Weasley.

Gruffydd was already there, waiting. Rhys was a second year, in Hufflepuff with Teddy, and Rhydderch would begin next year. All the cousins sat together and Victoire and Aubrey did a terrific job keeping the younger ones in line. Dora was the most difficult to wrangle – she was definitely George Weasley's daughter. Often times, even he felt that she was actually channeling his twin. Fred was still missed, but he was everywhere in his nieces and nephews, and especially in little Dora. She shared the same twinkle as her Uncle Fred and the same sense of adventure. She could never be left on her own. When she was told it was too cold to play outside, she climbed out of the upstairs window. If she was hungry, she never waited for her parents. She was independent-minded, and George was already concerned about her Hogwarts' years. She had already shown magical ability, changing her hair colour from light to dark and shortening it when Rhia had refused to cut it. They thought briefly that she was a Metamorphmagus like her namesake, but that was ruled out at St. Mungo's. She was just a bit more advanced, and needed a keen eye kept on her.

They sat together, watching Rhia's brother laughing with George's sister. George leaned back against the wall of the booth, his legs stretched out under the table, Rhia leaning her head against his chest. He had his arm around her shoulder and his other one rested for a moment on his wife's stomach. He had a grin plastered on his face. He whispered quietly into her ear, and his lips kissed a path from there, down her cheek, stopping at her lips, kissing her lightly, but deepening it as his hand pressed on her stomach.

"God, Rhiannon." He spoke softly, his breath caressing her cheek with each word. "I love you." He smiled again, and then they both realized that the table had become quiet until Fred spoke up.

"They're always like that," he said with an eye roll.

"Always?"

"Always," came the chorus of their children.

"How long have you been married now?" Andromeda asked with a gentle smile.

"Almost twelve years," Rhia answered.

"How many of these are yours?" she asked, pointing a hand towards the children.

George used an index finger and pretended to do a head count. "Two, four, six, eight, ten, no, it's six. For the moment," he added.

"Sorry?" Gruffydd interjected. "Did you say 'for the moment'?"

George nodded and Rhia smiled, pushing George's hand away from her stomach.

"Are you –"

They both nodded, but there was no need. Gruffydd, Harry and Aubrey were already rolling their eyes, and Fred was looking thankful that he would be away at school. George reached over Rhia's plate, taking her full glass of bitter, and draining it halfway down, smiling at his wife.