I can't believe its been a year.

Angelina mused, as she did dishes from the last couple of days in her and George's flat. She could have just magiced the dishes, but she was frustrated and upset and the physical labor was good for her. The memorial for those who fell in the Second Battle of Hogwarts was yesterday, and George had been quite (understandably) somber all morning. She knew he should be upset, it was probably healthy for him to be in a reflective mood, but Angelina didn't care. When George was unhappy, she was unhappy, especially these days, no matter how ridiculous and irrational it was.

A year ago Fred was alive. A year ago the world was still whole…

"That's not fair." She mused aloud to herself. Her world, all things considered, was very (very) whole at the moment. That tended to happen when one was in love (and the sex didn't hurt either). Everything had this strange sheen or glow to it these days. As if her entire world was now seen through her love for George.

George, at this moment, was lying in his bed. Well, his and Angelina's bed, as she had moved into his room nine months ago and they'd turned her room into a study of sorts. They'd been in love since forever, sleeping together for nine months and an 'official couple' (which essentially entailed telling the Weasleys ) for the last six months. George woke up daily absolutely dumbstruck that Angelina continued to stay with him. He was better, leaps and bounds better, and finally coping with Fred's death.

But coping didn't mean he was over it. One does not lose ½ of one's soul and merely recover. The scar would always be there, but George sincerely hoped Angelina would always be there too. It was a form of balance really, and this was what George was being so reflective about while lying in bed.

They hadn't had sex last night, after the memorial, which was unusual for them. But they'd both been exhausted, emotionally and physically. Everyone had made the strongest effort to hold it together all day, and it was mainly for Molly and Arthur's sake. George always assumed that Fred's death had hit him the hardest, but that was until he saw his mother breakdown. Molly would never fully recover from losing her son, and everyone wanted to make sure the memorial went as smoothly as possible.

The memorial wasn't just for Fred of course. It was for everyone lost in the final battle. Everyone George and Angelina knew was there except Andromeda Tonks. It was too much for her as well, a mother's grief was simply endless, as a well that would never run completely dry. But Harry and Ginny had brought Teddy to the Weasleys afterwards, and it was almost wonderful how much he resembled both his parents equally.

And although the day was sad, George felt more pensive than anything. He was sad about Fred, of course, but mainly he was thinking about Angelina. Not surprising, since all he ever thought about was Angelina these days. He was almost as love struck as Hermione and Ron, but not quite. Those two verged on nauseating, with their sideways glances, giggles and endearments.

No, George's thoughts were firmly focused on Angelina. It was almost as if a trade had taken place, as if he'd had Fred taken away and then miraculously received Angelina. And that's what she was to him—a miracle. He'd never been in love before, and all in all, the experience was quite pleasant.

And what a love it was. Ever since they'd come together nine months ago the pieces of George's shattered life started to mend. Her love healed him, and he knew this very well. If it weren't for Angelina, George honestly didn't think he'd still be alive.

As George pondered the metaphysical states of life and death, Angelina had other thoughts on her mind of a far more physical nature. The reason why she was doing the dishes the muggle way and every little thing was annoying her was entirely physical.

Angelina was pregnant.

She honestly didn't know how it had happened. They were always careful, always. She had found out yesterday, in fact, right before they left in the morning for the memorial.

Because George left for the shop (where he was working full time causing all sorts of unbridled mischief) so early in the morning, he'd missed the telltale sign of nausea. And truthfully, Angelina had only been sick in the morning two or three times.

It just hadn't added up. She knew she was late, but that was nothing new and she really didn't know how late she was. She had been chatting to Katie Bell about all of it yesterday morning over the Floo and Katie sternly insisted that she take a (magical) pregnancy test. Apparently the muggle methods of such detection were simply ridiculous, something about peeing on a stick…

So Angelina had snuck out to the shop while George was in the shower and then taken the test while George was making them breakfast. Much to Molly's delight and the teasing of his brothers, George had become something of a cooking marvel. So as he whipped up some breakfast, Angelina's entire life changed.

Definitely pregnant. It's a boy! The test spouted at her, screaming louder (metaphorically, not actually) than any Howler. For about five minutes she couldn't breathe properly. She simply sat on the floor of their bathroom and stared at the test. It wasn't until George politely knocked on the door and reminded her that they had to leave that she got up.

He thought she was just upset about the Memorial. But Angelina spent the entire day aloof and adrift in her own thoughts. She couldn't focus on death when there was life growing inside of her.

(Obviously) George and Angelina had never talked about having a child. She'd wanted to, but she'd wanted to eventually. Twenty one (or I suppose twenty two once the baby was born) was a little young in Angelina's opinion. Yet, George made plenty of money at the shop, she had a job at the Ministry, and if The Boy Who Lived parents' could do it, well then so could she.

She was just petrified of George's reaction, which is why she brushed off his advances last night and was scrubbing dishes with ferocity. She was scared she'd upset George in some way. He'd travelled miles in the right direction to get where he was, and she did not want this to veer him off track. She also knew that if he asked her what was upsetting her she'd spill completely, which was why she was temporarily avoiding him until she figured out the best way to tell him.

As she began to dry the dishes, Angelina suddenly dropped one, smashing it into a million little pieces. Well, now she remembered the night she must have gotten pregnant.

As she picked up the pieces of glass (yet another thing she was choosing to do the muggle way), she mused on her sudden recollection…

She had just gotten home from the ministry, and it had been a rough day. So she decided to take a very uncharacteristic (for her anyway) afternoon shower.

As she felt the water run over her body, she suddenly felt someone (and she had an idea who that someone might be) enter the shower and push her up against the wall.

His entire body was leaning into her, and she felt overwhelmed and excited. He kissed her neck. She giggled.

"What?" he asked. "Not a good surprise?" he wriggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, I love these kinds of surprises," she said, curling her leg around him and rubbing herself against him, eliciting a well deserved moan, "I was just wondering how you went from the door to naked so quickly without me hearing you."

He kissed her, teasing her with his hands, making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly, water pouring down on the both of them.

"Well, I am rather good at magic you know." She was moaning, writhing under his touch. He had caught her off guard, and she was beset with sensation. She couldn't wait any longer, withholding himself from her at this juncture was borderline cruel.

"George, I need you now." The phrase was all it took. He (carefully as always) slid into her, and she gasped. The angle was awkward, but what George lacked in finesse he always more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Within minutes Angelina was moaning so loudly they'd have definitely gotten complaints if they didn't have the noise cover of the shower. George swiveled his hips, pushing deeply (deep)inside of her.

"Oh god George!" she whined. Angelina bit his collar bone. They both climaxed, shuddering.

They would definitely be having sex in the shower from now on.

As Angelina reminisced, putting the last of the glass shards in the trash, she berated herself for her carelessness. She'd been off the potion for a while, but they had always used the charm. They had been diligent about it, but apparently not so diligent.

So much for CONSTANT VIGILENCE!

Doing the math in her head, she figured she was already over two months pregnant, maybe more.

Totally worth it. Her mind quipped to her. She smiled to herself. It had been pretty spectacular. In fact, it had been so wonderful that they'd been showing together consistently ever since. Angelina sighed, lustily, wanting nothing more than to go to George and touch him and rub herself against him.

While their sex life was brilliant, Angelina was not used to these waves of—well---waves of lust. She'd been practically all over George these last couple of weeks, and as of yesterday it all made sense. Mind you, she wasn't complaining, and certainly neither was George.

But sometimes it was just so inconvenient, loving him this much. She would be working at the ministry and just itching for her lunch hour to come so that she could go visit him at the shop. Or when she got home, she would just restlessly pace for minutes, wanting George to walk through the door so badly.

And now, well, now there was a big change coming. And she really didn't know how George would feel about it. As she was scanning the floor to make sure there was no more glass, two strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her into a hug.

"Mmmm," George murmured into Angelina's hair, "you smell like shampoo, soap and delicious".

She laughed at him.

"I smell like delicious?" she asked, turning to plant a kiss on his cheek, rocking into him.

"Fraid so. You smell so good you turn adjectives into nouns." She laughed again, and then he laughed, and then there were both just overcome.

As they stood there, holding one another and laughing, flourishes of glee washed over Angelina. This was her greatest achievement, bringing George out of himself, and back to the person he was before Fred died. The absence of his laughter had left a hole, and now that it had been repaired everything seemed in proper balance.

Angelina turned herself around, and kissed George full on the mouth, a little more passionately than she intended. She needed to tell him she was pregnant, but right now all her mind was telling her to do was remove George's trousers.

Not wanting to upset her own fragile nature (laugh), she made to undo George's belt. She would tell him, but right now her body was in sensual overdrive. He just looked so damn—delicious. It really wasn't fair at all.

"I like this new Angelina." George rasped as he made quick work of Angelina's shirt and bra, then stepping out of his pants.

"Oh? Didn't like the old Angelina?" she kidded, removing her skirt (George really never got the hang of removing nice clothing without damaging it).

"Hmm, I stand corrected. I love all Angelina's. Better?" He wrapped himself around her, surrounding her in a delightfully close way.

"Much better." Angelina whispered, her eyes filling with tears. While the pregnancy hormones had their upside, they also had their downside. She cried at everything. Especially when her boyfriend was being so damn manly and adorable.

Angelina held George's face in her hands, and convincingly blinked back her tears. She just hoped George was chalking up her crazy behavior to her being upset about the Memorial.

"You alright?" he asked kindly, smiling toothily at her.

Angelina's mind was ablaze:

Tell him. Tell him. He looks so cute right now, his hair is all bed head. TELL HIM. I always forget how good he looks naked—its like this wonderful surprise (tell him?) every single time…

"Take me to bed George." She replied, kissing him (hard) on the mouth.

There would be no discussion of babies, at least not for the next while.

They lay dozing in their bad, not awake but not asleep either, totally intertwined. All the melancholy had been banished from George's mind, and he went back to being contented and hopelessly smitten. Angelina, on the other hand, was stricken. She needed to tell him she was pregnant. She should have told him yesterday, and the more she put it off the more she became afraid to tell George.

Angelina got up, unable to lie alone with her thoughts any longer. She needed action, or at least the pretense of action.

As she left the warm bed and headed into the bathroom, George said something that sounded to Angelina like "whryoogng?".

"What Georgie?" she asked, turning back towards him.

He came to a little, sitting up slightly and propping himself against the headboard.

"Where are you going? It's a Sunday. I figured we'd keep with the regular Sunday tradition and lounge in bed until Mum Floo's us to come over for supper."

She smiled kindly at him, her heart swelling for absolutely no reason in particular.

"I'll be back in five minutes, I just need to shower." She went to the bed and kissed the top of George's head. As she went to head back to the bathroom he grabbed her arm pulled her in for a (bloody outstanding) kiss.

George was rubbing little circles on Angelina's wrists, and if she didn't pull herself away in the next ten seconds she was just going to climb aboard once again—be damned the consequences. But she owed it to him to get herself under control. She would shower, compose herself, and tell him she was pregnant.

As she pulled away George gave an uncharacteristic pout.

Men, thought Angelina, honestly I don't know why we bother sometimes.

She smiled at him.

"I'll be out in five minutes, I promise, and then we can do whatever you want." She said. That is after I tell you I'm carrying your child and you … flip out? Cry? Have no reaction whatsoever?

"Want company?" George asked, making a exaggerated ogling gesture at her. She laughed, kindly shook her head and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

As Angelina washed herself and relaxed under the hot water, George found himself perplexed. Angelina was very hot and cold lately, and he didn't know why. One minute she'd be distant and aloof, and then the next she'd be attacking him and looking for the fastest way to remove his trousers. He wasn't complaining (about the sex part), but he was genuinely worried something was up with her.

As he pondered her strange behavior, Angelina showered. However, it has been ten minutes and she'd transitioned from showering to crying in a ball beside the shower.

He's going to hate me. He's going to think I did this on purpose. He's going to leave me. He wont want it. We're too young. I'm not even sure I want it—

She stopped herself there. Whatever George's response, she felt so connected to the baby already she could never even consider 'taking care of it'. Not that she judged those who did. She'd just seen too much death lately. Regardless, she was sobbing, simply unable to get up the courage to open the door and tell George she was pregnant.

George was growing increasingly worried. Angelina, while always looking spectacular, was not one of those girls to spend upwards of twenty minutes in the shower. And that's what she was doing. At first he figured she was just tired and stressed out, and he could just relax and let her have some time to herself.

But when it had been half an hour with no noise but the water was still running, George grew concerned.

"Angelina?" he asked, getting out of bed and knocking on the door lightly. No answer. He went to turn the door knob, now full of concern, when he realized it was locked.

This set off a million worries in his mind. Although they gave one another their privacy, they never locked the door on one another. George was worried there was something important she wasn't telling him to spare his feelings. It made him feel worried and angry all at once. He wasn't delicate anymore, she could tell him anything and he'd handle it.

"Angelina?" he asked again, loudly this time. Still nothing. George went to the bedside table, grabbed his want, and unlocked the door. He found a crying Angelina curled up in a ball beside the shower on the other side.

George quickly turned off the shower, summoned the blanket from their bed, sat down behind Angelina and pulled her into his arms while covering them with the blanket.

"Angie, what's wrong? You can tell me, its okay." He cooed, stroking her back in gentle circles.

She shook her head. Simply paralyzed by fear. George held her tighter, kissing her neck and rocking her gently in an attempt to calm her down.

"Its alright," he murmured, "its alright. You don't have to tell me until you're ready. Just calm down."

"But George—I—I—"she stammered.

"Shh, its okay. Just calm down first and then we'll talk. Don't make yourself any more upset." He held her tightly, afraid that something was really wrong. He knew if he tried to force the information out of her she'd just start crying again and not be able to spit it out. Besides, her being upset unnerved him to no end—she was supposed to be the one who calmed him down, not the other way around.

Angelina began to feel better, and her breathing slowed back down to normal. She grasped onto Georges hands with hers, and settled herself back against him.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much." She answered.

"You going to tell me why you're so upset? Was it the Memorial? Was that it?" Even as George asked he knew that wasn't it. She'd been acting weird for weeks, not just the last couple of days. It was as if he knew what was wrong but couldn't quite grasp it—it was just out of his reach.

"No," Angelina shook her head, "it wasn't that. I mean—I was upset about it, but that's not why I'm crying."

George turned her face towards his and looked at her—really looked at her.

"Angelina, its alright. Whatever you have to tell me, I can handle it. I'm a big boy, you don't have to hide things from me because you're afraid they'll upset me. Whatever it is we'll deal with it because I love you and you love me. That's all we need to fix whatever is wrong, okay?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now tell me. What's upsetting you?" he stroked her hair, and warmed up her cold body with his own.

Angelina looked down and mumbled something that sounded to George like "imprungent". He furrowed his brow, thinking.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that. Say again?" he said softly. The wheels in George's head were spinning. He thought he might know what she meant but he wasn't really sure because he hadn't really heard her.

"I'm pregnant." She signed, and buried her face in his chest.

If George thought his head was spinning before, this had knocked it straight off of its axis and it was now rolling somewhere in the bathroom.

The thoughts in his head were zooming around so fast that he couldn't pin one down long enough to actually think about it at all.

Oh my sweet Merlin! How did this happen—we were always so careful. I wonder what Fred would think—but Fred doesn't think anymore because Fred's dead.—What mum going to say? She'll probably be thrilled. –Am I thrilled?—I'm surprised, that's for sure.—So this is why she's been so insane lately. –Is Angelina happy about this or is she sad? –Is that why she was crying, because she doesn't want the baby? Because she doesn't want me? –Is she stuck with me now? No. No Angelina loves me. I know she does. I know it more than I've ever known anything.—Then why was she crying? Because she was afraid I didn't want it? How could I not? It's a gift after so many things have been taken.—Wow she really does look amazing naked. –Could I have seen this coming? –She doesn't look any different to me. –I wonder how far along she is. –Maybe it was that day in the shower. –I wonder if it's a girl or a boy. –Fat chance it's a girl. –I don't think I've ever been so happy…

While George's internal dialogue was in full force, Angelina had begun softly crying into George's chest. She took his silence as anger, and she was afraid to look at him. However, had she been looking at him she would have noticed the big, foolish grin plastered right across his face.

It took him all of five minutes to realize Angelina was crying, and by this point crying fairly audibly. George was never first to grasp the emotional undertones of a situation, which is why if he felt Angelina was upset he just asked her what was wrong rather than spend ages trying to figure out the quadratic equation of her mind.

"Angelina, why are you crying?" he kissed her hair.

"Because you're angry with me." She looked up at him and started to sob again. "Oh Georgie I'm so sorry! We were always so careful—and it must have been that one time in the shower when you surprised me. Please don't be angry—please! I—I don't know what to do—please don't think I did this on purpose to—to trap you or something. You can be as involved as you want, you don't have any responsibility—" George cut her off and put his hand over her mouth.

"Angelina, what on earth are you talking about?" he smiled so large Angelina's heart simply melted and she realized she'd read the situation entirely wrong.

"You're—you're not mad at me?" she was trembling, so he kissed her.

"I'm one hundred percent surprised, but I'm guessing you are too because we were extremely careful ninety nine point nine percent of the time. As for the time I surprised you in the shower—totally worth it." She smiled up at him so he took the opportunity and kissed her again, a little stronger this time.

"As for you trapping me or whatever that rubbish was that just came out of your mouth", his voice was dead serious and Angelina became worried for a split second, "I'm afraid you've had me trapped long before this ever happened. I don't think I could live without you if I tried, baby or no baby."

"Oh," Angelina said softly, "its just that—you know—some girls get pregnant on purpose…"

George laughed.

"Well, I take it by your reaction to all of this that this was definitely not done on purpose. It wasn't expected, but its no less welcome. And how could you ever think I wouldn't want responsibility of my own child? I mean—it is mine isn't it?" he was teasing her, of course. Angelina punched him playfully on the shoulder and kissed him (oh so) passionately.

"Oh shut it you!" she exclaimed. "So, you are really okay with this?"

"No, I'm not okay with this. I'm euphoric about this!" With that he picked her up into his arms and spun her around in circles, both of the naked, in the bathroom. Soon the room was filled with sounds of Angelina's giggles as George carried her out of the room to their bed caveman style, with her flung over his shoulder. He put her down on the bed and encased her body in his, covering her everywhere. However, just as he began to touch and feel and lick, he realized she was (oh my goodness) pregnant and that he was (OH MY GOODNESS) on top of her—so he abruptly climbed off and sat back on his heels.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!" George asked, looking at her as if he expected obvious signs of damage.

"What?" Angelina was confused. Sex with George was, active, to say the least. And as far as she knew sex was good for the baby as long as they kept the shenanigans at an acceptable level.

"I forgot, sorry. Its all just so exciting! I should be gentler with you now. Wait—can we still—isn't it bad for the baby—" he was rambling, torn between his want for Angelina (which was now quite apparent) and his fear that their lovemaking would somehow hurt their (surprise!) child.

"George, as far as I know I did not turn into fiberglass in the last ten minutes. And if you recall, we've made love many (about a million?) times since the day I think I got pregnant. Including about two hours ago. So, clearly," she reached for his penis, eliciting a gasp. She was lightly stroking him and enticing him back down to her, "everything is a-okay."

"I suppose—," George rasped, "I suppose you're right. We'll just *gasp* take things slow until the baby comes though, just to *gasp* easy my mind *gasp*. Okay?"

She pulled him down on top of her, loving the feel of his body all over hers.

"It's a deal."

George began to push against her, their bodies entwined and the room becoming very (very) hot. Angelina, all worry banished from her mind, was ready to fully enjoy this and let her hormones take total control.

But George was still worried. Not about the baby, he was beyond excited about the baby. The universe had taken Fred, but it had given him Angelina and now this wonderful new life. Things weren't even, it wasn't like George was keeping score. But his life now had a sense of purpose and balance for the first time.

What was worrying him, as he continued to push against Angelina, was that he was crushing her and somehow harming the baby. Irrational as he knew this was, it was still preventing him from fully enjoying this.

Angelina noticed his hesitation.

"George?" she asked. He stilled his movements and pushed himself up onto his arms so that he could look at her properly.

"Is everything alright? You aren't going to hurt me or the baby, I promise." Angelina was panting, her body took stopping at this juncture as the greatest offense, ever. She strained up to kiss him, wrapping her legs around his middle and trying to pull him back down to her.

But it wasn't working. His brow was furrowed, and Angelina could see that he was trying very hard to stay still and take his weight off of her.

"George," she panted, "its fine. I promise, I triple promise." She used all her strength to pull herself up to his body, planting kisses wherever she could reach. However, this did not have the desired effect, as George rolled off of her, looking frustrated and concerned all at once.

"I—I can't Angelina. What if I hurt the baby? What if we've already hurt the baby?" He looked at her, flushed with desire, wanting her so badly yet afraid to take her. It was as if he was being pulled in two directions at once by two very powerful forces.

Angelina sighed in frustration, she was about ten seconds away from making George inert magically and just climbing aboard. She understood he was worried, and in any other circumstance it would be adorable. But right now Angelina's body needed George, and he was being exceptionally difficult about it.

"George," Angelina ran her hands all over his body, snuggling herself right up against him, "it will be fine. Having sex is good for the baby."

George looked at her skeptically, trying not to enjoy (too much) the feel of her hands running over his skin.

" Truly!" she continued. "I'm not you know—just saying that." She blushed furiously, looking away for a moment.

George kissed her, moving his hands all over her just as she was doing to him. Merlin he wanted her. It was almost irrational, his want for her. It was always just there—while wonderful, it made life inconvenient sometimes. Especially when they were in public.

As they caressed one another, moaning and gasping, Angelina decided it was time for decisive action. Before George could protest, she straddled him, settling herself firmly astride and began rubbing herself up and down his arousal.

"This better?" she asked, moaning and tugging on his hair.

"You're—a—bloody—genius." George eked out, putting his hands firmly on her hips. Honestly, he had no idea why he didn't just think of this sooner. This position was a personal favorite of his, even though he knew Angelina liked it better when he was on top. And to be fair, his brain, heart (and other things as well) had been going a mile a minute since she told him she was pregnant.

"Well *gasp* I have my moments." Angelina smiled up at him, her body screaming for release. Deciding making either of them wait any longer was a form of both cruel and unusual punishment, she grasped George's penis (he made a noise somewhere between a gasp, a sigh, and a moan) and suck down onto him.

"Bloody brilliant." George gasped. He tightened his grip on her hips, holding her tightly but not too tightly. He could definitely get used to this for the next (nine months?) while.

"Oh George." Angelina sighed, moving up and down, being guided by the rhythm George was setting with his hips and his hands on her hips.

This is fantastic! Thought Angelina, moaning (loudly) as George rubbed his hands all over her neck, her stomach, her breasts. It was amazing, as if his hands were magically (ha!) everywhere all at the same time.

"I love you." George rasped, pushing into her harder, faster. He was losing control, it was all too much. She just smelled so good. Felt so good. Looked so good. Her hair was wild, her eyes semi closed, her beautiful black skin completely entwined with his own.

"I love you too" Angelina bent down to kiss George, pushing her tongue into his mouth forcefully. She was blissfully happy, carrying the child of the man she loved so dearly.

Their rhythm became uneven, both pushing and pulling with one another, both gasping and moaning (and gasping)…

George began to use his hands to touch her, and she lost it.

"Oh George!" She fairly screamed, rocking into him with everything she had, leaning back and feeling him entirely buried inside of her. As she climaxed, George shuddered and ejaculated inside of her. She made to get off of him but instead George propped himself up against the headboard, taking her with him and holding her extremely close.

Angelina slumped against George's, holding his head in her chest and placing her head on top of his. She hadn't noticed, but tears were leaking from her eyes. George felt one drop onto his head. He looked up at her, held her face in his hands, and kissed her full on the lips.

"Are you okay?" George asked, "I didn't hurt you or anything did I?" he was slightly concerned, but Angelina was smiling.

"I love you. More than I've ever loved anything or anyone. I'm so happy we're going to have a baby." George smiled at her, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I'm happy too. Truly Angelina. I—" he choked up, "I don't think I've ever felt—that is—after Fred died—after Fred died I never really thought I'd feel again. But then the universe gave me you, and now the universe is giving us this baby. It's as if—as if everything is going to be okay now. As if it's alright now." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, gently, showing he loved her with his motions since he had a tendency to bungle his words.

Angelina sniffled, tears still leaking down her face. Joy radiated through her. It all worked out, and she felt like a fool for ever doubting George would be anything but wonderful. He began to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts. She was ready to love him again, right now and for the rest of her life.

"George?" she kissed the top of his head.

"Yeah?" He kissed her eyes, and licked her tears, making her giggle.

"It's a boy." She whispered.

George smiled, a single tear escaping his left eye. He could feel himself stirring, his penis still buried inside her. He started to rub his hands all over her back and rock his hips into hers.

"Angelina?" he looked up at her, pushing hair back from her face behind her ear.

"Mhmm?" she grinned at him, placing a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Let's name him Fred." George didn't know what she'd say, but it felt right to him.

Angelina's heart stopped for a second. Undulating waves of feeling began to course through her body.

"I'd like that."

They spent the rest of the day in bed, just like a typical Sunday and yet a day entirely different from every day that had come before.

When they did go to the Weasley's later that day, it took Molly all of fifteen minutes to discern something was up. After convincing her that they hadn't run off and gotten married in secret, Angelina and George pulled her aside and quietly told Molly they were pregnant.

Molly shriek, the rest of the family found out.

There were tears, laughter, and a good deal of teasing.

All in all it was a good Sunday.