Not Quite Paradise

Not Quite Paradise

"We were strangers, starting out on a journey,

Never dreaming what we had to go through.

Now here we are and I'm suddenly standing,

At the beginning with you."

--At the Beginning

Chapter Seven

Shadows of the Past

Shelly had once told me bisexual men were great in bed, but I didn't think anything could ever feel like that.

George had fallen asleep with his arms around me and his head resting very softly against my shoulder. His hair tickled my throat. My arms were wound around him, too, and I got a pleasant comfort I had never been afforded before: I got to hold him.

Other lovers I'd had always held me in their sleep, always wanting to be the strong, romance novel paradigm of masculinity. Sure, it was nice to be warm and held, but holding someone else was just about as nice.

Sighing softly, I felt sleep tugging at the corners of my eyes and I leaned in towards George, turning him over so that I could rest my head against his chest and sleep soundly in the shelter of his embrace. Regardless of our confidences that things would be taken slowly and that things would work, we had a whole lot to talk about in the morning. Might as well get a few hours of uncomplicated bliss while I had the chance. With a muffled "mmph," he drew his arms around me and let his head fall lopsidedly onto to the pillow. I tilted my head to give him a gentle kiss goodnight, but something caught my eye.

A crescent-shaped scar - like a half moon - fell into the shaft of moonlight coming through my window. Curiosity winning over sleepiness, I raised myself up on an elbow and peered closer. The scar was old, probably from his childhood, and was about three centimeters long. It rested just below the clavicle. I hadn't noticed it earlier because other issues had been far more pressing at the time George's bare shoulder had been revealed.

I reached out an inquisitive hand and brushed my fingers gently across the scar. As my fingertips touched the soft tissue, I felt a yank behind my navel and the world around me dissolved.

"I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you, George," a soft voice says. Music to my ears! It's all I can do not to scoop her up in my arms and spin her around. The Gryffindor common room dissolves into the setting around me and I can see I'm standing with her at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the girls' dormitories. She's smiling at me with her pink lips and bright blue eyes. Her blonde hair looks so soft around her face. I can't help but return the smile.

"Cool," is all I can make myself say. Just then, another female voice (Angelina?) calls for Katie. She smiles politely and steps around me.

"See you later," she says quietly. My heart is racing. If this is what being in love feels like, I want more of it. It takes me a moment or two to shake myself out of the mild euphoria, but I finally turn and race for my twin, who's lounging in a pouf near the fireplace.

"She said yes!" I collapse haphazardly on the floor before him, a broad grin on my face. "Wow... a date with Katie Bell. Katie Bell. Even her name sounds like... like..."

"A bell?" Fred supplies with a cheesy grin. I can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, something like that. Are you going with Angelina next weekend? If you are, all four of us could go together. Oh, but wait - what if she expects it to be just the two of us alone? What if she changes her mind?" Fred only laughs at me.

"I don't know how Anya puts up with you when you're like this." Anya! She'd know what to do - she always did.

"She's got more patience than a packet of ketchup, that's why," I retort. Brotherly affection, you had to love it. I look around the common room, but she isn't there and she hadn't passed me when I was talking to Katie. "Do you know where she is?"

"I thought I saw her go out the portrait hole, actually."

"Thanks, Fred," I say, and bound for the portrait hole. I am still a bit giddy; I'm going on a date with Katie Bell! I climb through the hole and land in the corridor, still smiling. With a nifty sidestep I bump the portrait closed.

"Indeed, Mr. Weasley," the Fat Lady says, clinging to the frame in surprise. She looks ruffled as she fixes her hairpiece.

"Sorry about that," I laugh. I'd love to race down the hallway, whooping and hollering.

"What is it you're so excited about, young man? Honestly, I'll never understand the way children's minds work. One minute one of them is worried and looking for things that aren't there and another minute, one pops out with the energy of a hyperactive five year old." She shakes her head briefly. "It never ceases to amaze me." I blink a few times. Anya came out just before me...looking for things that aren't there?

"The girl who came out before me - which way did she go?"

"Down that way," the Fat Lady says, pointing to the left, towards the stairs that lead up to the Charms corridor. "It was as though she was looking for something that she couldn't see... I had to go visit Mona over in the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway - you wouldn't believe what Sir Cadogan and his pony were doing - but I did see her just wander up the stairs." I nod slowly. Did I offend her by wanting to talk to Katie? No, Anya knows me better than that. I can't wait to tell her Katie is going to Hogsmeade with me. I take the stairs two at a time and finally reach the landing.

I just about turn a corner when I hear a voice that makes my blood freeze in my veins. It is the sheer ominous tone of the voice rather than any semblance of familiarity.

"You never were bright. Pity, pity," the voice hisses. I'm trembling, my stomach in knots as I take a step forward and peer around the corner. I remain frozen as I see Anya standing before a hooded figure, wand outstretched. Do something! my mind screams. "Respori--"

I unfreeze and leap forward, screaming, "NO!" drowning out the rest of the spell. A blue light shoots out of the tip of the hooded figure's wand, but I'd distracted him or her just enough for the arm to turn and the light misses Anya. The glowing ball ricochets off a suit of armor and skims in a curve on my shoulder.

Pain.

Pain like I have never known before. I clutch at my shoulder and double over, my head up just long enough to see the blue light strike Anya directly in the back. She turns slightly, brown eyes wide, and I see them roll back in her head as she slumps to the ground, seizing.

"Anya, no," I gasp, the pain in my shoulder almost driving me to my knees. The hooded figure is gone, leaving only rapid footsteps in its wake. Finally, Anya lies still, eyes closed. The only thing keeping me from passing out right there from the pain is that I know I need to get to her. She needs me.

Finally, it's too much. I collapse to my knees at her side and put a hand on each of her shoulders. It takes a moment for me to catch my breath and clear my vision, but I manage to do it. I shake her, muttering her name.

"Anya, wake up...Oh, Merlin...just wake up...this is all my fault...should have done something sooner..." I can't help her here and I certainly am not going to drag her back to the common room to get my wand and try some rather pathetic first aid magic. I take a few deep breaths, preparing to ignore my shoulder. That isn't important now. Anya is. I see a pool of blood beginning to form around her head and my heart rate doubles.

I slide my arms beneath her slender frame and lift her. White-hot agony tears through my shoulder and I slump against the wall. Can't drop her. Have to hold her. Have to get her help. Anya, I'm so sorry. Should have stopped it. Stay with me. Can't lose you. I grit my teeth and strengthen my resolve.

Agonizingly slowly, I stagger down the hallway. I must look quite a sight, robes torn open at the shoulder, holding a bleeding girl in my arms. She's so small, but she seems to weigh more and more with each step. My vision is darkening and...

... I pulled out of the dream. I was breathing heavily as I slowly moved my hand from George's shoulder. I had just been inside his head, in his mind, in his memory. George was tossing and turning, muttering little bits of sentences.

"Going to get you help... Anya, I promise... so sorry... Should've..." There were tears on his face as he held me to him and I pulled away from him gently.

"George... George, wake up," I said softly, shaking him. His hands reached up and grabbed my upper arms as his eyes snapped open. His eyes looked side to side for a few moments, as though he was completely confused as to where he was. "I'm here; it's okay," I whispered. He finally seemed to understand then, where he was and why he was there. He wrapped his arms around me again and held me against his chest, shivering.

"I... I'm sorry... didn't mean to wake you up..." he murmured into my hair. "I just had a bad dream, that's all." He kissed my bare shoulder very softly and I could feel a tear fall against my skin. I pulled away just enough to be able to look at him in the eye.

"I know you did," I said softly, sweeping a lock of hair from his face. He still looked upset and I nestled my head in the hollow of his shoulder, closing my eyes. His arms circled me again; it was exactly what he needed.

"I love you, you know," he said in a broken voice. I wiped the tears gently from his face, as he'd always done for me. "You have to know."

"I do know," I whispered. "I love you, too." I let out a slow breath and felt George kiss the top of my head very softly just before drifting off to sleep.

***

"No... stupid cat... get away! Come on! Let her sleep, you dumb feline! Leave her alone," George's voice greeted me as I awakened, still in his embrace. "Stevie, get out of here. You always get to be with her. My turn." I felt one of his arms move, then the sound of something soft being hit. There was a hiss and the swipe of a paw, followed by a sharp yelp by George.

"Mm?" I slurred out, opening my eyes lazily. George was half-sitting up, holding one bleeding hand and glaring at my cat's retreating figure. "What happened?" I muttered. I looked at his hand and gasped; Stevie certainly had given George a good swipe but ther were only a few drops of blood.

"Oh, George," I whispered. I leaned over him and pulled my spare wand out of the drawer in the nightstand next to my bed (I'd lost my first wand a few years back and bought a new one only to find my original wand the moment I got home from Ollivander's). I lifted his hand gently in mine and healed the wound with a whispered spell, then cleaned up the blood. "Are you all right?" I murmured, drawing my eyes to his.

He nodded slowly with somber eyes. "I'm more than all right." He reached up and touched the side of my face with his fingertips. It was a nice, soft feeling. I felt a little giddy, actually. It was amazing how natural he was behaving, despite the fact that our relationship had changed so dramatically.

"You really have that much faith in this, don't you?" I said slowly. He nodded again and I covered his hand with mine. I instinctively rested my head on his shoulder as his arm traveled around my waist. I couldn't get over how real, how natural this was, how right it felt.

"Why do you think we waited so long?" I whispered. "I know this thought has crossed my mind before and I'd like to think it's crossed yours..."

"It has," he said quickly, but not with any trace of untruth. "I think it's probably because we thought we would always have tomorrow to find out."

I dropped my eyes. Tomorrow. Something Shelly didn't have. Something I almost didn't have.

"And now we know..."

"...We won't," George finished. We looked at each other and kissed very softly. "I'm so sorry I left you. Twice."

"I was being unreasonable both times."

"It was still inexcusable. You've never left me no matter how awful I was to you."

"All I know is you've never treated me badly, never given me a reason to want to leave you." He gave me a sideways smile. I turned over upon him and slid my arms around his neck. I liked getting used to our new intimacy. "Except for the time you stole my Skeedoodle and tried to feed it to Errol. You deserved to be left for that one."

His eyes opened wide with innocence.

"It wasn't me! It was Fred; I swear it." I arched an eyebrow. I'd caught him red-handed in the Owlery during third year when he'd tried to do it.

"You great big lying prat, I saw you do it!" Of course, George wouldn't stand for such slanderous words, so he began to tickle me until we were both thoroughly tangled up in my sheets, gasping for air. "Just... cause... you... can... tickle... better... doesn't... mean... you... didn't--" I squealed as he began to tickle me again. Finally I collapsed against his bare chest and cried out for a truce.

The two of us lay there for some time, listening to each other breathe, each other's heartbeats. George ran his fingers very slowly through my hair and hummed some tune that I was familiar with but couldn't place. He dropped his chin and nuzzled the inside of my neck very softly.

"I'm hungry," I said after a moment. I looked up at him. "You?"

"Orange juice. I have a strange craving for orange juice." I giggled; just like George to have an odd fetish besides Chocolate Covered Mangoes. I wiggled out of his arms and grabbed my robes that were lying on the floor.

"Back in a minute then." I slid out from under the covers and put the robes on all in one fluid motion. I cast a look back at George, who looked rather silly with red hair against light orange pillows and beneath blue sheets that had yellow stripes. He smiled sleepily.

"You're beautiful, you know," he said softly. But, being George, he added, "Even with clothes." I rolled my eyes at him and slipped out the door, smiling to myself. I still had a goofy grin on my face as I opened my refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice. Stretching up on my tiptoes, I got two glasses out of the cupboard and set everything on the counter before me.

I heard a door open and close from somewhere outside the kitchen and smirked. George never had been patient. I listened to the heavy footfalls as he entered the kitchen. I continued to pretend not to notice as hands covered my eyes.

"Guess who," a voice whispered, sounding terribly mischievous. Without answering, I spun around and pressed my lips to those of the man behind me. For a moment, the kiss went one way, most likely out of sheer surprise, but then ended. I opened my eyes and George stood before me, looking terribly bewildered. "Anya, I... I can't... what're you...?"

Something was off. I frowned slightly, and then gasped and raised a hand to my mouth as George Number Two appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing ruffled robes and holding a hand in his messy hair.

"You... but... you... Fred?!" George Number One - Fred, actually - looked between the two of us with some sort of stunned amazement. Oh, Merlin's ghost, I'd just snogged Fred. "Fred, what the hell are you doing?"

"What's going on in here?" George Number Two - the real George - asked. He looked just as confused.

"I thought... um... you were... uh... him," I said in a little voice. I'd just slept with the man and now I couldn't tell him from his own brother. Great wizards, how insulting. Fred's confusion was fading and his mouth began to curve a little at the edges.

"Let me guess," Fred said, trying his damnedest to hide a grin, "'this isn't what it looks like.'" I blushed harder, if possible, as the smile finally broke through and I couldn't help but notice how please Fred looked with himself. George, undaunted, crossed the room and slid an arm around my waist.

"Actually," George said casually, "this is exactly what it looks like." He turned and gave me a kiss that took my breath away. I blinked a few times in dizziness as he righted me and arched an eyebrow at his brother. My face must have been dragon heartstring red.

"I came here because you were late to work," Fred said to me, looking positively beside himself. "George hadn't shown up either, but the he's always late." George snorted at this. "I knocked, but apparently you didn't hear me. You must have been... ah... wrapped up in other things." His grin had - if possible - broadened. The smarmy git was getting a perverse pleasure out of putting me on the spot. "So..." he began idly, "How long's this been going on?"

"Years," George said before I got a chance to respond. "Since the Hogwarts Express on the way to first year. Couldn't keep my eyes off her." I laughed a little and the tension in the room began to disperse. "Eh, last night... fifteen years ago... really, what is the difference?"

"Fourteen years and three hundred and sixty four days, actually," Fred answered, not missing a beat. Their banter was cute at times, twinged with anger and cutting sarcasm at others, but this was a bit unnerving.

"I... um, I'm sorry I'm late," I apologized to Fred, chewing on my lower lip. He still looked as though the Christmas holidays had come early.

"No, that's fine. I was just... heh... wondering where you were. How about you start tomorrow then?" I nodded a little sheepishly and he rounded on his brother. "You, I need in the store today. So finish...whatever it was you were doing...and get back to 3W." Fred winked and Disapparated without another word.

"I've never been so embarrassed before in my life," I groaned, burying my face against George's chest. He laughed and put his arms around me. "I can't believe it. What is it with the two of you sneaking into my house? Do you get some sort of kick out of it?"

"It's great fun," he assured me. I stepped back but remained in his arms. He pressed his forehead against mine, eyes closed. "This is going to get complicated, isn't it?" he sighed. I nodded. It was bound to come up sooner or later anyway. "Tell you what: one step at a time."

"I'd say last night was one giant leap," I giggled softly and he opened his eyes.

"Enjoyed yourself that much, huh?"

"I'm still tingling." His smiling eyes studied me for a moment.

"I've never felt like anything like it myself." He paused and smiled. "My, Miss Parker, you are a very attractive shade of red." I giggled again and pressed myself against him. The man could make me smile and blush with a look or a word.

"If you don't leave for work now, I'm afraid you're not leaving at all today." He grinned devilishly.

"Promise?" I ruffled his hair and laughed when he batted my hand away.

"Fred would be awful angry with me if I kept you from the shop."

Exasperation crept into his voice when he replied, "He's not my keeper, you know." I touched his face softly to calm him. It seemed to work.

"I know; I was just teasing." He relaxed visibly and smiled again. Without warning, he darted forward and kissed me. "I'll stop by for lunch. We can have the obligatory deep, meaningful, complicate-everything discussion then."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to fix you lunch?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

"You are lunch," he grinned. He kissed me again, this time longer.

"I'll owl out for pizza." His smile didn't fade. "See you later then." One more kiss, a barely audible pop, and I was alone again.

***

After having a ridiculously late breakfast, I went into my tiny backyard with my wand and knelt before my garden. I'd always had a garden no matter where I lived and some of my first memories were of watching my mother garden and wanting to help. I'd revived the old hobby in recent weeks when I'd had a few minutes free.

Most of the time, it was a wonderful distraction. One could easily get lost in the bursts of color and sprouts of new life. I'd been pretty decent in Herbology because I had been a patient student. Above anything else, Herbology required patience. Being magical meant instant gratification and easily developed impatience. Plants, no matter how magical, still worked on far slower clocks. One had to care for the seed and nurture it. It must be fed and watered and kept where lots of sun could get to it.

It was an easy thing to get lost in, but the thoughts swirling through my mind were just too much. I set my wand down and stretched out on the sun-warmed grass. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the fragrant garden.

Between my release from Paracelsus and George's arrival the previous night, a lot of me had changed. I'd taken up gardening and expanded farther into my interest in Magical Creatures. I'd never realized what a gigantic world it was. For so long, my life had consisted of waking up, going to work, having the occasional date, and returning home to an empty house.

It took what I thought the worst thing that could ever happen - losing George - to open my eyes. As much as I missed him, and it hurt like a constant stomachache, it was something I had to go through. When Shelly had been an aspiring writer in her Hogwarts days, she always wrote fantastic love stories with the standard neglected princess and dashing knight. But she always made sure the princess wasn't a damsel in distress. She told me that the princess "could always make it on her own without her hero, but by Merlin, she would never want to."

We'd dissolved into giggles at this, but now her words haunted me. They'd been proven true in the last few weeks. I could live without George in my life, but by Merlin, I would never want to. Playing damsel in distress only irked those around me and got tiring after a while.

I turned over onto my side and played with the soft grass. George would be back soon, wanting to over complicate everything. Well, it wasn't that he wanted to make things difficult; it was that he overanalyzed situations and found tribulations where there were none. I wanted to go by our word: one step at a time. We would have our fair share of troubles and awkward moments, and we'd probably get into a few good rows, but things like that had never destroyed our friendship. Why should they destroy a romantic relationship?

Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe he came over because he just needs an emotional outlet. You made the first move, my mind taunted. It wasn't fair the way my mind was so insecure. I thought I'd left that Anya behind.

I must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I remembered was something small skittering past my head, and then a very sharp pain in my nose. I snapped my eyes open to see a pair of very small, but very sad brown eyes staring directly into mine. I gasped and sat up quickly, only to see the tail end of an Augurey disappear into my rosebushes.

The tiny bird peered at me from between the thorn branches, brown eyes wide. The poor thing looked so droopy, but I then remembered that all Auguries had a bit of a weepy look to them. Without breaking its gaze from mine, it fluffed its brown and green feathers. I smiled.

"It's okay, little bird. I didn't mean to startle you." I rubbed my nose tenderly and was relieved to find no blood. It let out a long, mournful cry and I shivered involuntarily. For a long time, it had been believed that an Augurey cry was fatal, but later research proved that it merely foretold a rainstorm. The bird squawked and then scampered through the bushes until I couldn't see it anymore.

I smiled and stood, turning to go back in the house and then paused and looked back over at my old hammock, half covered with the blanket Shelly had given me a few years ago. It had been ages since I had just lain there, listening to songbirds. With a small smile, I circled the garden and slid onto the hammock with a soft sigh. The sun was warm, but the ground had been chilly, so I pulled the blanket over myself and closed my eyes. I had a few moments of uninterrupted bliss until a deep male voice jarred me from my pleasant state.

"You're not asleep, are you?" I opened my eyes and looked up at George. He was smiling down at me uneasily.

"Not anymore," I yawned, sitting up carefully. I'd flipped out of the hammock far too many times to move quickly while in it. He relaxed and sat by my side. With a little smile, he brushed a lock of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear.

"Ready for the deep, meaningful over-complicate-everything discussion?" he asked with a smirk. I shook my head and he frowned.

"George," I began, taking one of his hands, "we don't need to look for the profound answer to why it took us so long to realize we ought to be together. There's no pressing demand for us to be mushy and melodramatic. What it all boils down to is that I love you and want to keep you in my life." I ended my little speech and realized that it was far mushier and melodramatic than we could have come up with during a philosophical exchange.

"And I love you, too, but we can't jump into this blindfolded--"

"Well, why not?" I cried in exasperation. "Other couples do. You've been on a blind date before as have I. But we've got an advantage. We know each other inside and out - no need to get involved with messy pasts. I know all your dirty secrets anyway," I grinned.

George returned the grin and leaned very close to my ear. "Not all of them," he said in a low voice. A shiver ran up my spine, one of the good kinds. "Not all the fun ones, at any rate." I giggled as he pressed his lips very softly to my ear.

"Do tell," I whispered. "Come, join me." I pulled aside the blankets and he wedged himself into the hammock beside me. Our legs tangled together beneath the blanket and I pillowed my head on his chest. After a few moments of peace, I decided to make trouble.

I moved off George and raised myself on an elbow beside him.

"So tell me about these secrets," I chided, touching the side of his face softly. He grinned and nipped at the tip of my finger, which I yanked away with a yelp.

"Serves you right," he said smugly. He paused a moment and then looked over at me with curiosity. "Have you ever made love in a hammock?"

***

I caught heat for the next three days from Fred for making George late back to work. Other than that, life returned to normal.

Angelina was within days of her due date, so Fred spent a lot of time away from the store to be with her. George told him that he was being ridiculous; she would send an owl at the first signs the baby was coming.

Fred wouldn't have it. The poor man was completely and totally irrational when it came to his wife's health. I suppose his nervousness stemmed from her illness back in January. She'd just barely come out of that ordeal with her life. Now Fred was spending every waking moment with her, only stopping by the shop to check on things.

He seemed wary of leaving us alone together, but I reassured him, telling him we would be very professional while working. After all, he could trust me.

George, on the other hand, had very different ideas. He would wait until I was fixing the plants in the windows ("You can make those grow just looking at them, love," George would always say) and then whisper "Boo!" very loudly into my ear. I'd gasp and spin around to face him, gullible every time.

"You're horrible," I murmured as he rested his hands very gently at my waist. He kissed the side of my neck very softly. "This is highly unprofessional."

"I can think of loads of unprofessional things to do," he chuckled in my ear. "Each more fun than the last..."

It would never really get any farther than that and certainly not even that advanced if there was a customer in the shop. Just the same, it was a bit odd to see him all day and then date him at night. Perhaps I was overdosing on my time with him and while it was wonderful at first, I foresaw problems.

"Maybe I should get a job somewhere else," I suggested to him as he handed me a package of Canary Creams to put on the shelf. We'd closed an hour earlier and were almost finished restocking the backroom. He paused and held the next box in midair.

"You're not happy here?" he frowned. I plucked the box out of his hand, shaking my head.

"I'm happy working here. It's the best job I've ever had and you know that, George. It's just..." I stepped down from the ladder and stood at his side, looking up into his confused blue eyes. I tried a different approach. "I'd rather not mix business with pleasure. I'm afraid we'll see each other so much that we'll get sick of each other and become irritable and snap at each other like Ron and Hermione." George allowed himself a chuckle at this.

"No one snaps like Ron and Hermione. It's like they each already have their comebacks ready before the other speaks... it's sort of amazing in a curiously twisted sort of way."

"Meaning you find the idea fascinating," I giggled. He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. Finally, he heaved a sigh.

"I suppose you're right...but I will miss having you around here. And you've got to promise to stay long enough to teach me that absurd filing system of yours." I poked Mr. Organized in the chest. "Ow, hey!" I squealed as he got a mischievous glint in his eye. Before he could do anything, I shelved the box I'd been holding and raced out of the backroom.

I burst through the door and into the dark shop, ducking into aisle two and trying very hard to stop giggling. I heard George's patient footsteps exit the room and close the door slowly. I finally got my giggling under control and peered out from around the corner. George was barely illuminated in the shaft of moonlight from a window and he was glancing around in search of me.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he teased. He dipped his head behind a display to look and I scampered into aisle one, careful not to make a sound. When I turned around to check on him again, he was gone. I looked around, paranoid, but didn't see him anywhere. I stood very slowly, just in front of the display of Parrot Pillows.

"GOTCHA!" a voice shouted. I screamed as a very warm body collided with mine and we went tumbling into the Parrot Pillows, which were far too asleep to squawk in protest. I found myself looking up at a very breathless but very pleased looking George.

"Damn," I whispered between heavy breaths. He'd certainly knocked the wind out of me.

"Remember the last time Fred found us like this... well, not exactly like this... but just the same?" he asked, with a low voice.

"Your point?" I murmured.

"Think the same excuse would work if we were caught this time?" I laughed against the cloth of his robes and pushed him off me.

"Probably not," I told him. I reached a hand down to help him up, but he just pulled me back down to him. "Mmph, George..." I began, but his lips silenced me.

"Have you ever made love in a pile of Parrot Pillows?" he asked lewdly, arching one eyebrow.

"No, and I don't intend to," I giggled, standing again. "Now get up, Romeo." Reluctantly and looking very put off, George stood and brushed himself off. I looked up at him with wide, brown eyes and took his hands in mine. "Walk me home?"

***

On the last day of March, I meandered down Diagon Alley after work, needing both a satchel of Floo powder and a birthday present for George. I'd always liked Hogsmeade better than Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade had more of a small town feeling to it while Diagon Alley reminded me more of one of those seedy Muggle strip malls. But, alas, Hogsmeade was a small town, George had an inquisitive mind and I'd rather his present was a surprise.

I stopped in Dob and Wink's for my Floo powder, waving hello to the house-elf at the front door. Dob and Wink's was a relatively new establishment - the Diagon Alley location, at any rate - and was pretty much one-stop shopping for everything. There had been a lot of public upheaval with its existence in an already stable shopping location and I wouldn't be surprised if there was some sort of fiery confrontation.

After buying the Floo powder (and, I had to guiltily admit to myself, a few other things), I wondered what to get George. I'd always gotten him Zonko's products until Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes opened, in which case it became sacrilegious for me to set foot in the store. After that, it had been odds and ends I'd stumbled across that had a quirky allure to them. George always liked the things I got him - out of politeness or actual delight - but it was tough to come up with new ideas.

I'd basically exhausted all Quidditch-related gear... but more than that I wanted to get him something special. Something different, something one of a kind...

I came to the point where Diagon and Knockturn Alleys converged. Chewing my lower lip, I looked down bright Diagon Alley, with its children racing around and bustling crowds, smiling people. I turned my eyes on Knockturn Alley, with its dark, forbidden stores and shady characters.

Oh, what the Hades. I wasn't a child anymore. Holding my bag tightly, I started down Knockturn Alley, trying to quell the uneasiness in my stomach. It was ridiculous to be scared...right?

On my left was an apothecary, with cracked windows and a rotted door hanging loosely off its hinges. An old, hunchbacked witch staggered around outside, calling out prices for various items.

"Hippogriff toenails, two for a Sickle! High quality for all potion uses! Moke skins, four Galleons each! Great for moneybags!" I blanched and looked away. Whatever had possessed me to come in this place?

I shivered and walked on, clutching my bag closer. On my left, I saw Borgin and Burke's. An employee was arranging something in the window. When he stepped aside, I could see that it was a gnarled hand clutching a half-burned candle. I quickly drew my eyes away and continued down the street. I didn't want to get something creepy for George. Just something interesting and different.

A few insalubrious characters passed me, beady eyes darting around suspiciously. I felt like a sugar quill amongst blood lollipops. On my right, I spotted a small, brighter-looking store that stuck out just as much as I did.

GRAY'S GREY GATHERINGS

ODDS AND ENDS FOR THE ASTUTE OF MIND

Perfect. I crossed the cobblestone street quickly and ducked inside, a bell signifying my entrance. The walls were covered in shelves of knickknacks, curios and other bric-a-brac. The store was dimly lit and the only thing other than the shelves and two aisles was a dilapidated cashier's desk. I pulled my cloak tightly around me and searched for the right thing.

A tea set that never spills? Nah. A tiny Puffskien brush? Not a chance; George hated the little animals. Perhaps a suitcase that could fit six-dozen children inside? Tempting for all of George's nieces and nephews, but I doubt his brothers and sisters-in-law would appreciate the gesture.

Finally, I turned away from the wall shelves and started down the first aisle. It was mostly stocked with clocks, one of which tried to bite me. I came to the end and was just about to turn the corner when I saw a lonely oval-shaped object under a layer of dust. Carefully, I lifted it into my palm and blew the dust from the lid. After coughing for a few moments, I pressed the tiny button on the top and it popped open. It startled me and I nearly dropped it.

"Wow," I whispered, looking into its face. The inside didn't look old at all; rather it looked as though it was crafted just minutes earlier. There were intricate designs on the inside lid. From what I could make out in the dim light, a knight was mounted upon a centaur and was positioned at the base of the tower. At the top of the tower, leaning out of the window, was a beautiful princess, long dark hair cascading downwards. I leaned forward and saw the knight looked extraordinarily like George. So much like him, in fact, that I felt a shiver go up my spine. My eyes drifted upwards and I saw that the princess was... me.

I gasped and snapped the pocketwatch closed. I held it for a few moments, trembling, before I dared open it again. It was just my imagination. The knight and princess looked nothing like George and me. It was merely my thoughts running wild. I opened it again slowly and looked at the bottom. The bottom portion had no numbers, but twelve hands. I remembered once when Professor Dumbledore had shown me a watch that looked astoundingly like this one. I flipped it over. The date marked was 1373.

The perfect gift. I'd fit the watch hands to read all sorts of silly things. George would love it. I started for the front desk when a hand landed very heavily on my shoulder. I gasped and turned around.

"Snape," I breathed. Silvanus Snape stood behind me, yellowed teeth stretched into a disgusting grin. "I- I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting..."

"Neither was I," he said silkily. He moved a hand towards my face, but I turned away. "I didn't expect such an innocent flower like yourself to be in Knockturn Alley all by alone. And without your George to protect you..." My heart pounded against my ribs and I clutched the pocketwatch to my chest. My other hand was holding tightly to the wand inside my robes. Snape only seemed to be amused by my facial expression. "I am terribly sorry to hear of the passing of your good friend, Michelle," he said in a low voice.

"Her name was R-Rochelle," I stammered. It wasn't terribly important and I'd rather he didn't know, but it was all I could think of. Snape flinched a little at this, but recovered quickly.

"Nonetheless, the pain must be crushing." If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he sounded genuinely sorry. "You should have someone to..." he stepped closer, "console you." I narrowed my eyes at him, furious.

"Maybe you ought to leave," a voice said from behind me. I spun again and looked up into smoky grey eyes. The man that stood there looked to be about twenty-five and had blonde hair that fell just in front of his eyes. I turned around to look back at Snape, squaring my shoulders. Snape looked between the two of us, not losing a single grain of composure.

"And what place do you have to tell me to leave?" Snape asked coolly.

"This is my store and I'm strongly suggesting you go." I could tell that there was no 'suggestion' in his tone. Snape gave us each another long glance, eyes sizing us up.

He leaned very close and whispered in my ear, "Until next time." I shrunk away and didn't open my eyes until I heard the bell in the front of the store ring. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I gasped, spinning around quickly.

"Are you all right, miss?" the stranger asked. I let out a relived sigh; he seemed nice enough.

"Yes, I'm all right." I had kind of wanted to deal with Snape on my own, but the man meant well.

"Has you ever seen that man before?" he asked, looking at me with worried eyes. I nodded. "Old boyfriend or something?" I suppose the look on my face must have been pretty humorous, for he laughed and said, "Sorry, sorry, guess not. No offense." He smiled again and went behind the counter.

I followed him, stopping in front of the counter. I still had the old pocketwatch in my hands. It probably cost a zillion Galleons, but I'd ask anyhow.

"Um... I'd..." I began. He turned to look at me, and then spotted the item. A small smile crept across his face.

"Ah, hardly anyone gives my grandfather's old watch a second look," he said with a small smile.

"Oh, this belonged to your grandfather?" Histories of objects were always intriguing. "Don't you want to keep it?" He shook his head.

"Nah, Grandfather never liked that one for some reason. His best friend had given it to him, but he was in love with her and...well, the feelings weren't returned. He got rid of it to try to forget about her. Lost its sentimental value, I suppose." He shrugged, but I thought it was a very sad story. "He said something about the life of the giver was in the eyes of the character. Grandfather spoke in riddles all the time. I really have no idea what it means." I frowned down at the watch, and noted its date again.

"I guess it's rather expensive," I said slowly.

"Well, Grandfather told me to sell it for thirty Galleons..." I winced, "But I think that's too much, too. How about fifteen?" Still a bit pricey, but more affordable than thirty Galleons. I mused for a moment. George would definitely like it.

"Sounds good."

***

George and I had planned to out to dinner with Fred and Angelina the night before his birthday (The family was holding the party for the twins the next day at the Burrow.), but there was an emergency at 3W. During lunch break (the store closed for half an hour), a pewter cauldron was thrown through the front window and destroyed an entire aisle of merchandise. Someone had broken in and trashed the rest of the place. But the worst part of it was that that someone wrote derogatory slurs all over the wall, George's name being mentioned several times.

It was sick. The wizarding world was just as intolerant of sexual diversity as the Muggle world was and it infuriated me. When Fred and I had reentered the store (Angelina and George were behind, ogling something in the window at Zonko's), my heart stopped. The front window had been reenchanted to look as though it was in one piece and everything inside was just how it was left.

"Oh, Merlin..." Fred murmured. His usual temper wasn't to be seen, for the shock was too fresh. As our eyes roamed over the walls, over all the cruel words that had been scratched into the surface, I heard George's gasp behind me.

"George..." I started, turning to him. His face had gone white as he read the horrible things on the wall.

Fred had summoned Ministry officials to photograph the damage and see if any aura threads were left behind. Not even a Muggle fingerprinting kit got us closer to the person who'd done the horrible thing. The only witnesses saw someone in a black cloak slip into the store. The Ministry officials speculated the person had gone inside and enchanted the inside into stasis so no one could see what was happening. Fred saw Angelina home despite her protests and offers to help and then the three of us were left to sort out the pieces.

When I got home late that evening (Fred and George promised to clean up the rest), I opened the Daily Prophet and continued job hunting. The position that seemed most appealing was a position as psychiawitch at Paracelsus. However, the requirements included a three-year course at the hospital university. I sighed and rubbed my eyes before turning the page. There had to be something for me.

I heard a knock at the door and turned my head towards the sound. It was almost midnight. Far too late for visitors, I thought. Then I remembered that George had told me he'd try to stop by.

"Come in!" I called anyway. The door opened slowly and George poked his head in. "Hey," I smiled. He smiled back, if not a wit wanly. "Everything sorted out at the shop?" He nodded and rubbed his eyes.

"As much as we're going to get done tonight. They got the backroom, too. It's my birthday tomorrow and I'm not going to get myself worked up over it. It's over. For now anyway." George crossed the room to my side and gave another sigh. I looked up at him with concerned eyes.

"Are you sure, love?" He nodded.

"What're you doing?" he asked, nodding down at my newspaper.

"Looking for another job, remember?" I replied slowly, peering at him over the top of the parchment. He scowled.

"Damn, I'd hoped you'd given up on that." I frowned. It was really bothering him.

"George..." In reply, he picked me up in his arms, moved me off the couch, stretched out himself and then curled me against him, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Comfortable?" I smirked. I looked in silence for a little longer and another ad caught my eye.

HERBOLOGIST WANTED - NO PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE NECESSARY

MUST HAVE PATIENCE AND HERBOLOGY EXPERIENCE

QUESTIONS? OWL HANNAH MCMILLIAN

OR INQUIRE AT DIAGON ALLEY'S PLANTS-A-PLENTY

"This one looks interesting," I mused, poking at the paper. George leaned forward a little and read it. He studied me for a moment and then shrugged. "What's all that about?" He shrugged again, still frowning. Finally, he reached into his robes and pulled out a scrap of parchment.

"Here," he said morosely. "The perfect job." I picked up the paper with interest and read.

PARKER JACKALOPE PRACTICAL JOKE ENTERPRISES

EXPERIENCED MANAGER WANTED

SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY

APPLY AT DIAGON ALLEY LOCATION

Below the listing was an address. I looked up at George, who was still frowning.

"Perfect, isn't it?" he asked glumly. I giggled, took his face in my hands, and kissed him very hard.

"Why are you being such a Moaning Myrtle about this?" George wiggled a little bit and wrapped his arms around me.

"Because I'm greedy and awful and want you all to myself," he sighed. I giggling and gave him another firm snog.

"Well, I've got something for you," I said. "Actually, two things." I crawled over him and he raised himself up on his elbows to look up at me.

"What?" he asked with interest. Without answering, I stood and went into the bedroom. I took his birthday present out from under my bed and reentered the living room. Now George was sitting up.

"Your birthday present, silly," I answered. I handed him the small wrapped package and chewed my lower lip. I really hoped he'd like it.

"But my birthday isn't until tomorrow," he said with a confused smile, but took the small present from my hand nevertheless.

"I know, but we have the party tomorrow at the Burrow and I wanted to give it to you today," I replied. I watched as he slowly unwrapped it and the shining pocketwatch came into view. His blue eyes sparkled as he studied it and turned it over in his palm. His hands brushed over the button and it popped open. I snickered into my hand when I saw that he jumped and almost dropped it. He brought the pocketwatch very close to his face and peered inside.

"Anya, this is so cool," he said slowly. I grinned and scooted closer, peering over his shoulder. "How did you get the little people to look like us?" He saw it, too! But before I could answer, he'd turned it over, saw the date, and his eyes widened. "This is over six hundred years old! Anya, where did you get this? It must have cost a fortune!"

"That, my love, is my little secret," I said with a smile. I removed the pocketwatch from his hands and set it on the side table. He looked sideways at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes watched me carefully as I slid my arms slowly around his neck. He raised an eyebrow.

"So where's this second gift you're going to give me?" he asked, putting his arms around my waist. I grinned and murmured the answer.

"You've got to unwrap it first."