A/N: So my writing totally sucked on this chapter. And it's longer than I'd anticipated but covering less. Hmm…here's to improvement next time around. As always, thanks a million for you kind & constant reviews! Happy reading.

Slipping on her fuzzy yellow robe, Katie gripped both sides of the sink and stared at her dripping reflection in the mirror.

"You are nod sick," she told herself firmly through the steam. "Nod sick…nod…nodt…NOT sick. There."

And then she wavered slightly.

"Nod sick," she repeated.

Except she was—absolutely was. It had been a week and a half since their cross-country Christmas tree trek had revived Lee's cold, a week since he had finally rid himself of it, and three days since Katie had first started ignoring the signs that she had caught the thing herself. There was also the fact that she was slightly hung over, which was not helping things.

Despite her protestations that she would not meet Daryl Albright and that if she had to, she would not approve, she had actually grown quite fond of her aunt's boyfriend over the past week. She had ventured into her family's home the previous Monday intent on being disagreeable and found that she could not be. Daryl was good humored, easy going, and was also very fond of white wine, which explained Katie's current state. The only problem, really, with Daryl was that he was quite fond of Oliver. They worked together a lot in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and, from what Katie could guess, had been filled in by Elizabeth about Wood's interest in her. Consequently, Daryl had been dropping hints all during dinner last night, which led to her drinking increasing amounts of wine under her brother's and father's amused gaze and her mother's disapproving one. Now, along with the cold, she was paying for it.

She refused to miss work, however. She had become somewhat of an unpredictable employee, working long hours late into the night through the summer and then taking extended breaks for psychological reasons. Having finally started abiding by a normal schedule, Katie was not about to ask Hudson for time off the last week before the Christmas holiday because of a trifling cold. And it was for that reason that she summoned the strength to stumble out the bathroom door and stare into the void of her closet for work clothes.

XxX

Since George had extended his shop hours for the Christmas season, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had seen an influx of customers like never before. This week, then, he had started opening the shop at eight o'clock instead of his usual nine o'clock hour and the result had been much the same—which probably explained why he, Ron, and Lee were having at least four people shouting at each of them at once.

"George!" his younger brother called above the din.

"I'm busy, Ron," George replied needlessly, looking up from where he had been showing a Skiving Snackbox to a rather harassed looking witch. "What's the matter?"

Ron wore a slightly triumphant grin across his freckled face. "You forgot your bowtie," he said simply. "After all that harping on about upholding a sharp image of the store…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he interrupted, waving him off. He directed the witch over to Lee at the cash register and made his way up the stairs, grimacing. The last thing in the world he liked to be was one-upped by his youngest brother. And to have it occur before it even reached nine thirty was especially unpleasant.

George reluctantly pushed open the door to the flat, intent on finding his bowtie and returning downstairs as quickly as possible, but as soon as he had found the missing article and threaded it under his shirt collar, the bathroom door opened and Katie stumbled out in a skirt and a terribly mismatched shirt. He raised an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he questioned cautiously, attempting not to betray amusement in his tone.

"I'b goeeg," she insisted, leaning against the frame. "I'b just goeeg to be a liddle late…"

George actually laughed now. "Katie, get into bed," he snickered. "You've been pretending not to be sick for a week and now you're actually a walking germ factory."

"I ab nodt!" she declared fervently, summoning the energy to remove one of her shoes and throw it at him. He caught it easily and crossed the room, putting the back of his hand to her forehead.

"You're burning up," he informed her. "And your fashion sense has gone out the window."

He moved to her closet and removed a pair of pajamas, which he tossed in her direction. "Put those on," he directed. "I'll make some tea."

"Dough!" she said defiantly.

"What's that?" he asked, smirking and once again letting his eyebrows raise.

"George, I have to go to work," she pleaded. "Id's the last week before Chrisdtbas! Eberywod will hate be!"

George sighed dramatically and shook his head. "You know you really shouldn't say things like that, Kay," he said. "You've got a great body."

She scowled at him intently, but still turned on her heel and retreated to the bathroom to change.

"You're writeeg to Hudson add telling her you're holdeeg me captive!" she shouted.

"I'll tell her you're sick, but that's the best I can do," George called back as he put on the kettle and searched the cupboard for the rest of the Pepper Up Potion he had bought for Lee the previous week. After locating it, he mixed it in with the tea that was steeping and pulled out a spoon. A few minutes later saw Katie forced back into bed holding the mug and sipping quietly. From where he sat at the edge of the bed, George was unsure whether to take this as a sign of resentment toward him or relief.

It appeared to be the latter, however, as she finally set down the cup and settled back into the sheets.

"I feel terrible," she moaned quietly. George smiled.

"I know," he answered.

"How cub you're dot sick?"

He shrugged. "My body is a finely-tuned instrument of perfection, love," he answered. "I never get sick."

Katie rolled her eyes, but couldn't help returning the grin he let spread across his face. She reached for his hand, and he let her take it and she pressed it in hers.

"Come here," she said quietly, pulling him towards her. And then she placed a small, very soft kiss barely on the corner of his mouth and cheek, and lingered there for a moment as though unsure of what she meant to do. She finally released him however, a confident smile on her face.

For the first time since the incident, George was sincerely grateful he only had one ear and that it was conveniently positioned away from her, because he was sure it was on fire.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

"Right," he replied, moving his hand to the back of his neck and standing up suddenly. "Well."

And moving to retrieve the mug from her nightstand, he accidentally moved too close and hit his shin on the bed frame.

"Damn it!" he shouted loudly, and then retracted as she laughed. "Erm…right…well, I ought to be going. Shop to run, you know."

He backed away uncertainly, fumbling for the door handle.

"George?"

"Yeah?"

"Taking that mug with you?"

"Nope."

He bent down and set it on the floor, and then disappeared as quickly as possible.

XxX

Alicia sighed and moved the stack of release forms she had once again been told to stamp to the side of the reception desk and propped her chin up with her palm. She gazed out idly at the sleet that was quickly turning to snow in the gray, drizzly afternoon. It hadn't even reached noon yet, and she was already considering it a long day. She hated working reception.

And yet, she reminded herself, it was her last day—for the year, at least, barring a couple of shifts she had been obliged to pick up between Christmas and the New Year. Having only taken two vacation days since she had come back to work in the summer, Alicia had everything in order for a long, relaxing Christmas holiday. She was going skiing in Switzerland with her parents; though they had never quite understood what their daughter was going through, they knew it had been traumatic and wanted to get her out of the country and have a peaceful end to the year. Overall, Alicia was looking forward to it. Despite the fact that her friends had never understood her penchant for "paying loads of money to slide down a hill on pieces of wood," as Fred had once termed it, she enjoyed skiing and was eagerly anticipating spending the extra time with her parents. At the same time, however, she dreaded the holiday.

She shifted her gaze slightly to the few flakes that were now accumulating on the cold metal of the street signs outside. The winter always reminded her of Fred. He and George had seemed to come alive to an extra degree in the cold weather—perhaps Fred most especially. And he had always made a point of making sure Alicia was doused head to toe with snow before they were allowed to enter the greenhouses for Herbology. She missed him especially now, even though she felt little right to such feelings considering that George and Katie seemed to be more or less coping well. Perhaps things would hit them a bit closer to Christmas, but even then they would be with each other and surrounded with family—Alicia had seen the guest list for Christmas at the Burrow that year. She hadn't been aware that that many people could fit under the tiny roof. But she would be away in another country, completely removed from those who truly understood how she was feeling. She would be indulging another side of her life entirely.

Alicia was interrupted from her musings by a voice behind her.

"Better get a move on, Spinnet, those release forms won't stamp themselves."

She turned to find a grinning Ben behind her. She smiled back. Ben Hammond was tall with dark hair just bordering on the description of shaggy, with clear light blue eyes that reminded Alicia of summer weather. And, as he was currently smiling at her, she had the chance to observe how particularly white his teeth were. He was very good looking, on top of being an intelligent and talented healer. And, given the competition inherent among Healers of her year, he was her closest friend at St. Mungo's.

She frowned, giving the stack of forms a disgruntled look as she pulled them back toward her.

"They could," she said ruefully. "If Pirowitz would ever authorize me to use a simple charm…"

"Yes, but then where would be the fun?" he countered as he leaned against the desk to face her. "I hear you're leaving us today, Spinnet, is that right?"

Alicia nodded. "For a couple of weeks, yeah. I'm going on skiing holiday with my parents."

He laughed. "That's right—I always seem to forget your parents are Muggles."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you know what skiing is, then?" she queried.

"'Course," Ben replied easily. "I grew up in Muggle London. The mysteries of the 'Other' aren't hidden from me."

She smiled appreciatively.

"When do you leave?" he asked.

"In the morning."

He nodded, and then dropped his eyes for a moment before meeting hers again. "I don't suppose you'd fancy going for a Christmas drink with me tonight, then? Before you leave? A few of us were going to meet at that pub down the street…"

Quite taken aback, Alicia was barely able to shake her head. "I'm sorry, Ben, I'm—"

"Seeing someone?" he guessed.

"Well…yes, but what I was going to say is I'm already meeting with some friends tonight. We're exchanging gifts before the holiday, and since I'm leaving tomorrow…"

"Right," he said good naturedly. And then, "But you are seeing someone."

She colored and looked down at the papers. "Yes."

Ben nodded, seeming to muse over this. "Is it serious?" he asked, a hopeful smile still pulling at his lips.

His target of interest hesitated. "No, not really," she finally answered. "Not yet."

He looked at her appraisingly, and then smiled. "Good," he answered in a softer tone. "Think about joining us tonight anyway, alright? We'll be at the pub around eight."

Alicia barely had time to register the fact that she had lied fairly blatantly, and without really understanding the reason, when Ben Hammond disappeared around a corner and Michael Bell came striding through the door. He was grinning from ear to ear, his curly mop of hair windswept and his broom over one shoulder. He had clearly come straight from Quidditch practice.

"Michael, put that down!" she shouted fretfully as he nearly walloped a witch standing in the waiting room with the Nimbus 2002. "You're going to hurt someone!"

Michael barely seemed to hear her. "It's a hospital, isn't it?" he said brusquely. "Anyway, 'Leesh, you'll never believe it…WE'RE GOING TO THE PLAYOFFS! For the British and Irish League Cup! The Tornadoes went down to the Wanderers, who have a terrible record anyway, and we've won for the division! It's going to be us versus Puddlemere day after Boxing Day, can you believe it?"

He nearly lifted her off her feet from over the desk in a crushing hug. Alicia gasped as the sharp edge of the desk impressed itself into her hip, but couldn't help grinning back at her boyfriend who seemed unable to control himself.

"Michael, that's fantastic!" she said enthusiastically. "I'm going to have to see if my parents wouldn't mind my missing one day of vacation…and against Puddlemere too! Oliver's team!"

Michael stopped for a moment and then laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right…Well, Wood's going to have to pray hard if he wants to beat us this year…just think of it, this could put us in the running for the World Cup!"

Alicia grinned back at him, attempting to somehow alleviate the slight she had made about him just moments before.

"Come out with me tonight, 'Leesh, to celebrate?" he pressed eagerly, his brown eyes shining in anticipation.

Her face fell. "Michael, you know I can't," she said. "In the first place, I have to pack. And secondly, I'm going over to George's tonight to say goodbye to everyone and exchange before the holiday—Angelina's meeting us all there."

He nodded, and then thought for a second. "Well you know," he said conspiratorially. "Word on the street is that Kates has gotten herself a nasty cold. I could always meet you there under the pretense of being a decent brother, and then we could go out after…?"

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Pretense?" she asked. "And where did you hear that Katie was sick? Is it bad?"

He shrugged. "Apparently," he answered. "Anyway, I went to try and find her at work to tell her the news, and her boss said she'd had an owl from someone saying she was pretty sick. And for the record, I do care that she's ill—and as soon as I ensure she's not dying, I'll care even more about taking you out for a celebratory dinner and then having a goodbye shag before Christmas."

"Would you keep your voice down?" she snapped, irritated, as an older woman in the waiting room looked up in annoyance. "You don't always have to be crass."

Noting the surprised look on his face, she glossed over her outburst. "Anyway, fine, meet me there around seven. But you know, I'm getting tired of all this sneaking around and 'accidental' meetings…"

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Your decision, love, not mine. I wanted to tell her from the start. Anyway, I ought to get back….the lads and I are going out to buy new broomsticks…Nimbus 2003!"

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were short on gold at the moment," she stated warily. "Is that really a good investment?"

"Yeah, well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We're playing for the Cup! And besides, I've already gotten your gift, and it's a pretty good one if I do say so myself. So what are you worried for?"

The young healer just laughed and shook her head. "Fine, fine," she said. "Now get out of here before you scare off the other half of the hospital."

He grinned again and kissed her cheek before turning to head out. Halfway to the door, however, he paused.

"Say, wait a second," he said, turning around. "Who was that bloke I saw you with when I walked in? Haven't seen him around here before…"

Alicia unconsciously bit her lip. "That's Ben," she said simply.

"Ben," Michael repeated, nodding his head. "And is Ben someone I ought to be concerned about?"

He grinned at her in a way that let her know he did not in fact take the supposed threat seriously at all.

"No," she said in a pointedly playful way. "Now shoo."

"Yes'm," he replied cheekily, saluting her on the way out. "See you tonight, Miss Spinnet! Wear something charming, please!"

She simply shook her head, returning to the stack of release forms. She couldn't help but smirk, though she felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt deep in her stomach.

XxX

By four o'clock that afternoon, George was so worn out from manning the shop that he was barely conscious of the fact that Lee had been trying to get his attention for half a minute.

"George!" Lee shouted at his friend, who was now rearranging a display of Pygmy Puffs that an overly eager eight-year-old had knocked down a few moments before. "George! Did you lose your hearing as well as your ear?"

At this insult, the shop owner had his attention caught. "What?" he nearly snapped back. His courtesy and charm was now reserved only for the most liberally-spending of customers, and Lee's way of addressing him wasn't particularly welcome at the moment.

The dreadlocked wizard had a small child under each arm, and both appeared to be fighting over a lime-green Pygmy Puff. One of them was the eight-year-old in question whom George had been cleaning up after.

"You have got to start thinking about hiring another sales clerk," Lee said seriously. "This is too much for just you, Ron, and I to handle."

He sighed in response. "Well, we've got Ginny coming home tomorrow and she's already agreed to help out," he pointed out wearily.

"Yes, and then she'll be gone again after the holiday break," his friend countered. "I'm talking about someone permanent. I know you don't like to think about having a stranger work here, George, but if you're seriously thinking about opening up a Hogsmeade location next month, it should start getting on your radar."

He gave him a pointed look and George acquiesced, snatching the Pygmy Puff from the quarreling children and completing the display. "Fine," he replied. "I'll put an advert in the Daily Prophet. Let me just go ask Kates who's in charge of classifieds. I probably ought to check on her anyway, it's been a while…"

"Praise the Lord!" Lee shouted as George turned to head up the stairs and the mother of the children he had in tow came to collect her offspring. She looked distinctly angry and began lecturing him as to the propriety of disciplining other people's children. George heard a few seconds of Lee's rebuttal before a softer voice stopped him as he was halfway up the stairs.

"George?" it called questioningly.

He turned. It was, inexplicably, the cute blonde girl from the Quidditch match two months ago.

He raised an eyebrow. "Hi," he said stupidly, unable to think of anything else to say to someone he had never spoken to, but had observed for half a sporting event.

She laughed. "Your friend Lee told me your name," she explained. "Don't worry, I'm not completely mental."

George smirked back at her now. "Didn't think you were," he answered. He was about to refer her to Ron, but then decided against it, descending back down the stairs and approaching her. "So…can I help you with something?"

The girl grinned, and glanced around slightly uncomfortably. "Well, I'm looking for something for my niece…she's four."

He nodded, pretending to muse deeply over the subject. "Alright…" he said in a mock-pretentious manner. "Well, that will rule out the love potions and the fake vomit, I'm assuming?"

She laughed again. "Yes, I think that would be wisest…"

"Alright then. Age-appropriate material, let's see…"

George led her to the display of pygmy puffs he had so recently left, and spent a few minutes showing off the distinct features of the creature without restraining his impulse to flirt with the unknown young witch. She seemed perfectly receptive to his advances and when she had finally selected a small, hot pink puff, she introduced herself properly.

"I'm Magda, by the way," she said, smiling up at him in a pleasing manner. "Magda Perkins."

"Smashing to meet you, Magda Perkins," George replied, taking her by the elbow and directing her to the cash register. "And if you'll allow me, I'd like to now direct you to the cash register and relieve you of some of that gold I'm assume you're carrying."

Magda rolled her eyes in a playful way, but tailed George closely.

"You certainly know how to charm a girl," she remarked sarcastically as they made it to the counter and George had taken his place behind the till.

"So I've been told," he replied, and then told her the sum. Magda pulled out her purse and withdrew the amount, but stopped as she appeared to notice something behind George. He turned around to follow her eye line.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "But is that your family?"

She was pointing at a photograph of the Weasleys taken about a year and a half ago during the summer, taped up on the wall in the corner. It had been the only week all nine of them had been together, for Bill's wedding. George felt his stomach involuntarily tighten as he braced for the question about Fred. To his surprise, however, it didn't come.

"Is that your mum? The ginger woman?"

George laughed in spite of himself. "Actually, we're all gingers if you hadn't noticed…but yes, the ginger woman is my mother. Assuming, of course, you're not referring to my younger sister who is currently seventeen."

Magda laughed. "No, I'm not…listen…"

She looked up at him in a way that let George know what she wanted to ask.

"I'd love to," he answered preemptively.

She looked surprised. "Sorry?"

"I'd love to take you out to dinner sometime," he expounded. "That was what you were going to ask, yes?"

Magda shook her head, smiling. "Very impressive," she said, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a quill. "Alright, give me your hand. I'll write my address and you can owl me when you like."

George obliged, and soon had the matter done. He then handed over the receipt and the Pygmy Puff and was on the verge of formulating some clever manner of saying goodbye, when she stopped him by laughing slightly and looking back at the photograph.

"What?" he inquired, oddly curious now.

"It's nothing, just…" she paused and then shook her head again. "You know, Lee invited me to your Halloween party to meet you, and this girl at the door told me it was because you thought I looked like your mum and wanted to know if we were related. Yet, clearly…" Magda gestured toward the photograph in an amused way.

"Really?" George asked genuinely confused.

"Yeah, seemed so odd at the time, but now it's obvious, isn't it?"

"What?"

"She wanted to keep you to herself," Magda grinned.

George frowned slightly, inwardly searching the index of girls he had spoken to that night and trying to identify which was most likely to ward away competition. Remembering how he had spent the evening, he decided it must have been Parvati.

"Tall girl, long black hair?" he asked knowingly.

"No," Magda mused. "She was actually pretty short. Short brown hair, too. Dressed as some sort of fairy."

George instantly felt a red-hot flame shoot through his body, flipping his stomach over. It couldn't be…and yet, it had to be…There was only one person he knew who answered that description.

"You alright?" Magda questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he answered, still feeling slightly dazed. "Great, actually. Really great."

She grinned. "Good," she replied. "So I'll hear from you soon?"

"Sure," George answered dismissively, without the least intention of following through on that statement. "You have a happy Christmas, alright?"

"You too!" And with that, and one last departing smile, she disappeared through the front door, letting a cold burst of air in behind her.

"Georgie!" A few meters off, Lee saluted him, a broad grin on his face. George responded likewise, for entirely different reasons.