A/N: Thanks again! I'm on a bit of a creative role, so here we go again...


It was clear to George that he would not be able to leave his shop today. He had hurried down the stairs to apparate away, since it was impossible inside, (during the War, many defensive spells had been cast around the shop to prevent attack) and had been met with nearly 30 or 40 young witches and wizards, all clambering to get inside and shop. With a look at the clock, he realized that he was an hour late in opening. So with a resigned sigh he flung the doors open, looking eagerly for a chance to slip away. It never came. The store was crowded to capacity for several hours. Leaving would have been quite impossible.

Normally it was easy to get absorbed in the hustle and bustle of his life's work, but George had found it difficult lately. Today it was impossible. His thoughts lingered on the memory of New Year's Eve, and how things that had already been complicated progressed to disastrous in less than an hour. Even a month later George was unable to figure out how exactly something that was so innocent at first changed so rapidly.

The family and friends of the Weasleys had all been gathered at the Burrow for New Year's Eve. It was a larger group than usual, even by their standards. Nearly all of their friends from school had turned up, and the remaining members of the Order, along with all of the Weasleys (Percy included) and their respective significant others. As it had been a long while since they had been able to celebrate anything, it had been quite the bash. Food, drink and frivolity were in full supply, and by ten until midnight, the couples had all paired off for the kiss. Bill and Fleur were absorbed in each other somewhere in the corner; Harry and Ginny had positioned themselves on the opposite side of the room from Ron and Hermione; Luna and Neville were standing together and shared a brief, albeit awkward peck, and the rest simply found a friend or crush to smooch into the new year.

George had been off in a corner alone. It didn't much matter to him whether or not there was a person for him to kiss at midnight. He was missing someone else, someone who he would never have kissed, but enjoyed great times with. The countdown to the New Year came and went, and with it George counted down the moments until he could make his escape. He was counted on to be the life of the party, as was normal, and he had risen to the occasion, though it was forced. What he desired now more than anything was to be alone with his thoughts. He had found nothing to celebrate this holiday season. In fact, it had only increased his depression.

At ten past midnight, after many handshakes, back-pats and hugs, he slipped up the stairs to his and Fred's old bedroom. It was relatively quiet up here, though the sounds from the party downstairs leaked up through the floorboards. It didn't matter though. George flopped down on his old bed and allowed the comforting smells of gunpowder, fresh laundry and something that was uniquely the Burrow fill his senses. He wasn't crying, but staring numbly off at the ceiling, consumed with memories that only served to sadden him further. He had been startled out of his nostalgia by a soft but distinct knock on the door. He contemplated lying silently until the person went away, but the door cracked open and Angelina Johnson poked her head in.

"I saw you dip up here and was wondering if you'd like some company," she said, almost timidly, a rather unusual tone for her. George found himself nodding. Despite that only ten minutes ago he would have given his other ear to be alone, he suddenly craved her company. Angelina crossed the room and sat next to him on the bed.

"You know," she began. "I've never been up here before, but somehow this is exactly the kind of room I would have guessed you'd have." she had glanced around at the boxes against the walls and the colorful posters and newspaper clippings of Quidditch teams and amusing things in the wizarding world. "I even like the smell. You two always smelled a bit like this, even at Hogwarts. Almost like gunpowder."

"Yeah. Fred and I liked to experiment," he had no trouble at all talking about Fred with her. The three of them had been partners in crime more times than he could count while at school. In some ways, Angelina was like a female Fred. He suspected that was why they got on so well.

"I miss him. Especially now. You're not the same without him are you?" it wasn't meant as a taunt, but rather a statement of fact. George chose not to answer, but Angelina seemed unperturbed. She stretched out next to him, laying her head down on the pillow. They lay quietly for a while, listening to the sounds of the party below.

"You know, I used to love things like this," George knew Angelina knew what he was talking about. "Fred did too. But without him, I don't feel much like celebrating. It doesn't feel right."

She rolled over and turned to him. Wide brown eyes locked on his. "You'll be all right again, George. I know you will." No one had ever bothered to say this to him. In fact, people tip-toed around the subject of Fred, perhaps assuming that he didn't want to talk about his late twin. "It's just going to take some time." She draped an arm over him in a comforting manner, and he found his arm sliding behind her shoulders. They laid together in silence.

"So, who did you kiss into the new 'ear?" he asked several minutes later. He had purposefully left off the Y, knowing that she had been looking curiously at the place where his right ear used to reside. Amused at his joke, she gave him a smile and a slap.

"No one. There was no one near that I fancied kissing. You?"

"Same." he admitted. There was a rather tense moment immediately following this. George couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the woman lying next to him, and he wondered vaguely, when she had grown up. He remembered her outfit perfectly: a black and white polka-dotted cocktail dress, her hair left down and curled at the ends. She smiled nervously at him.

The intimacy of their closeness struck him all at one and George considered pulling back. Her arm around him felt heavy, like she was melting into him. He adjusted his arm around her shoulder, his fingers brushing the bare, warm skin there. It sent a shockwave of arousal through him.

He remembered times like this at school, where he had come dangerously close to expressing his attraction for Angelina. She had been the subject of boyhood fantasies since he was 11. He had thought, perhaps, that after the war, they had finally worn off. But it appeared they had only laid dormant, waiting to rear their head.

Angelina licked her lips, perhaps nervously, and George's attention was drawn to them immediately. He vaguely knew that at some point, Fred had kissed her. It was the only thing he had ever begrudged his brother for. He felt himself wet his own and begin to lean in.

Before George could even register what he was doing, he had leaned down and kissed her perfect full lips, and she had kissed him back, and for a moment the outside world ceased to exist. They were all that was in the world; shut in his old bedroom, locked in a passionate embrace he wouldn't have thought possible a year ago.

It had briefly crossed his mind that he was kissing his dead twin's ex-girlfriend, but he had quickly excused it. After all, they had split amicably, and at the end of their 6th year. Fred never let on that he was hurt or still had feeling for her, and they had all been friends. Besides, right now this felt so right, she felt so right in his arms that he doubted he could have stopped even if he had wanted to.

It was as though sparks were going off onside of him, imitating the fireworks he and Fred had created. They sizzled through every nerve ending, burning through his limbs, egging him on. He tightened his grip around her, drawing her closer. She did not complain.

A plaintive little sigh escaped her when he broke the kiss to draw breath. Her fingers brushed the front of his shirt, finding the inch of exposed skin above his collar. The contact burned like fire, melting away the last bit of his self-control.

He drew his arm out from under him and seized her around the waist, yanking Angelina into his chest. She gasped, but gamely went along, wrapping her long thin arms around his neck. He deepened the kiss, and pulled Angelina under him.

It could have been hours later, but it was most likely minutes, when articles of clothing seemed to vanish into thin air. He may have blacked out for a moment, or perhaps a magic deeper than his understanding took over, because twenty minutes later he found the two of them quite naked, and panting in his childhood bed.

They had shared one final kiss before reality inconveniently chose to make itself known with a large crash downstairs. The sound seemed to jolt George back to the real world, and the gravity of the thing they had just done hit him with the force of a ton of bricks. Angelina was under him, clutching the covers and looking more nervous than he had ever seen her.

"George?" it was a quiet, uncertain whisper and he knew she was placing the ball in his court. His answer would determine how this situation was to be handled.

He stammered. "We should- we should go downstairs. They'll probably be wondering where we are." She nodded, but looked away. He hurriedly stood up and retrieved his clothing, which had somehow ended up clear on the other side of the room, and her clothing (her undergarments swung haphazardly from the bedside lamp). She dressed quickly and avoided his gaze the entire time. He forced himself to stare at the wall as she dressed, terrified that another glance at her would be more than he could handle and they might never make it back downstairs.

"You had better go," She had muttered once she had dressed. He swore he heard a slight sniffle and his heart plummeted a little bit. "I need to redo my hair and it will take a while."

And so he nodded and left, though every instinct in his body was screaming to stay. She had returned to the party just after one in the morning, appearance immaculate except for a slight puffiness to her eyes. No one had noticed and they hadn't had any contact since that night until yesterday.

A headless child ran by, squealing in delight as he frightened his little sister. This successfully returned George to the present for the time being. He snatched the Headless Hat off of the boy, revealing the chubby face of a 12-year old blonde. The next few hours passed quickly in a blur of color and excitement. By the lunch time the shop had made a good amount of money and he left the Verity and the rest of the staff in charge while he headed upstairs to pen a quick letter.

Angelina,

Sorry about last night; I was being an idiot. I'll come by later if you want to talk.

George

Her reply arrived around three that afternoon.

George,

I have something to do, but maybe I'll just drop by when your shop closes. If you'll be there, that is.

Angelina

He sent back his reply. The rest of the day was spent in dreaded anticipation for her visit, to the point where he nearly wished he had a tonic to soothe his nerves. By closing time, he severely needed one. He distracted himself for a while with depositing today's earnings in Gringotts, but as he rounded the corner back to his shop, his nervousness promptly returned.

She was standing in the doorway, dressed in leotards and tights, her hair in a tight bun, looking expectantly down the street for him.

George thought that even if he had a whole cauldron of Felix Felicis, he would be very lucky indeed to get out of this unscathed.