Bundle of Joy

Bundle of Joy

September 1998

George directed the roller to dip itself in the pale green paint once more, then drove it along the wall with a flick of his fingers. The color perfectly complemented the light-colored wood floor and the forest view out the window. Annie really has an eye for this, he mused, pleased with how their house was shaping up. She had picked out nearly everything for their house, from the fixtures to the furniture, and he continued to be impressed with her taste as each item he had secretly ordered had arrived and was put in place.

It was exactly right: a balance of quality, well-constructed materials that would last them for ages, with a who-cares sense of style where comfort and practicality were prized above any other consideration. As much as he had told himself over the years that it really didn't matter to him, he had to admit that all these new things about him made him feel... good. It would be nice to be the first person to sit in a chair, or sleep in a bed, for once.

He smiled to himself in anticipation of his latest secret plan: revealing a completed house to his unsuspecting wife by their first anniversary at the latest. She was so big with the twins now; she could barely walk up the stairs to their room in the Burrow, and hadn't been by the construction site to see the progress for several weeks. He had been feeding her false information all the while, leading her to believe the house wouldn't be finished until spring.

It was ambitious, as far as pranks went, but he had every confidence he'd manage to pull it off to entertaining effect. And it was so nice to have something... distracting... to think about. He was sick to death of all his otherwise gloomy thoughts, and was desperate to have something fun to look forward to. Other than the babies, that is, he thought with an even bigger, satisfied smile. Thoughts of his and Annie's children to come never failed to cheer him, either.

"What the hell is this thing?" Lee asked him.

George looked up to see him holding up a small L-shaped piece of metal, a perplexed look on his face. "It's called an allen wrench," he replied and knelt beside his friend. Two cribs lay in forty pieces spread about on the floor.

Lee's expression was dubious. "And how the hell am I supposed to use this useless-looking thing to put these bits together?"

George chuckled as he took the allen wrench from his friend's hand and tossed it theatrically over his shoulder. "You don't, git." He pulled out his wand and used it to summon the assembly instruction booklet. "Only someone like my dad would attempt something so ridiculous."

"That's a relief," Lee sighed.

"Keep the paint roller going, will you?" he requested. Then George directed him to hold pieces together while he fed the fasteners into their proper holes. "Turbonis," he said with a roll of his wrist, and the bolts spun themselves in.

Lee lazily waved his hand toward the wall. "I'm takin' off early today, mate," he said softly, tentatively. As if testing George's reaction.

"Oh, yeah?" George replied absently, squinting at the directions which suddenly made no sense.

"Got a date, see," Lee said, trying desperately to sound casual about it.

George looked up from the instructions. "Do tell," he said, a smile beginning to spread across his face in anticipation of taking the mickey out of his friend. What a kind soul Lee was to lay such a gift at his feet, he thought.

Lee was grinning broadly, unable to help himself. "Angelina finally agreed to let me take her out for dinner," he said.

George felt guilty that his jaw dropped in shock. "That's great news!" he cried enthusiastically in an attempt to make up for it.

Lee wasn't fooled. "Thanks," he said with a snort. "I knew I could count on you for support."

"I'm serious!" George cried. "Just goes to show how persistence pays off. It's rather inspirational, really. You're living proof that a fellow can blatantly pine for a girl for a decade before finding enough spine to tell her so, and still meet with success. Or was she the one who asked you?"

"I asked her, thank you very much," Lee protested. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"Don't give me that rubbish," George chided him. "I could tell you've been dying to tell me something all morning. You've been scratching about like an old biddy sitting on a juicy piece of gossip the whole time."

Lee chuckled, then fell silent again. He redirected the paint roller while George wrestled with the drop-side of the crib, muttering futile threats under his breath, warning it to cooperate or suffer the consequences.

"You're not mad?" Lee asked softly.

"Why the hell would I be mad?" George demanded, then barked a swear when his thumb got smashed as the precariously rigged thing fell apart.

"I dunno," Lee mumbled, squirming a bit. "She and... Fred... well..."

George sighed. "Lee, that was over ages ago." He was careful not to let on that the brief fling with Angelina after the Yule Ball had meant next to nothing to Fred, remembering how pissed off Lee had been at the time. "Help me figure this bloody thing out, will you?"

Lee knelt beside him and together they managed to fit the guide pegs into the proper grooves, and the drop-side clicked into place. The two of them turned the entire thing right side up, then pushed it against the window wall out of the way.

"I cannot bloody believe you're gonna be a father. How in the hell did that happen?" Lee asked, a mockingly incredulous smile on his face.

George sat on the floor, leaned against the crib, and chuckled, deciding to take a break before trying to put the second crib together. "Are you asking me to explain the fairies and the flowers to you, Lee? Poor Angelina..."

"Sod off," Lee snapped, punching him in the arm as he took a seat beside George.

"You see, when a boy really likes a girl, and she really likes him as well..."

"You're a jackass, you know that? I pity your offspring, I really do."

"Save your pity for your own, should you ever figure out the mechanics required," George retorted.

"How does she put up with you? Have you got Annie under a Confundus or something?"

"You might say that," George agreed, grinning wickedly. "Let's just say she loves me for more than my sparkling wit," he said with a wink and a leer.

"I'm telling Annie you said that," Lee threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," said George with a stricken look.

"Ooh, look who's scared of the little wife! I reckon it's clear who wears the pants in your family, mate..." Lee said with delight.

"Shut it," George growled as he shoved his friend forcefully to the floor.

Lee laughed. "You're in an utter panic! How delicious. I haven't seen you scared this shitless of anyone except your mother," Lee taunted, arms braced to fend off the pending attack.

"Shut up or go home, I'm warning you," George said, looming over his friend menacingly, pointing his wand at Lee's nose.

Lee grinned from ear to ear. "Oh, this is rich, indeed. Christmas has come early to Lee Jordan! Thank you, George. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you," he cried, rubbing his hands together with relish.

"You will shut up now or I will shut you up," George threatened, then blew it by laughing.

Lee laughed as well. "Relax, mate. I'm only joking. Still, it is lovely to have something to lord over you."

"You fail to recall the song, I see."

"Song?" Lee's smile was wiped from his face.

"Oh, Angelina, my angel on a broom... without you life is full of gloom..."

Lee gasped in mortified shock. "You bloody bastard!"

"Your face is lovelier than a rose's bloom... what's the next line? I've forgotten... Something about the moon, maybe?"

"All right. You win, you son of a bitch," Lee snapped, scrambling upright.

"It's not my fault you're a bloody wretched poet, mate," George laughed.

"You're a horrid excuse for a mate," Lee grumbled. "I don't know why I bother..."

"The saddest part of it is I'm the best you've got," George needled him.

"That is an effing tragedy," he muttered. Lee snorted and turned back to painting the walls while George began working on the second crib. Progress was made more quickly this time, now that he understood how the pieces fit together. The two young men worked quietly for several minutes.

"I'd like to bring her 'round, if you don't mind," Lee said. Again, his voice was tentative, as if testing the waters.

"Of course. Anytime," George replied, although he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about having so much company. Lee was almost as much as he could force himself to take. Not that Lee was any trouble: the opposite in fact was true. He was a great help around the new house, and good companionship to boot. It was just hard to be around much of anyone for any great length of time. Annie being the exception, of course.

"I think it would be good for her," Lee said. His voice dripped with tender concern for Angelina.

"How is she?" George asked with genuine worry. He had always considered Angelina to be a good friend, and hated to hear she was having a difficult time of it.

"She's taking it hard. Ken, Patty, Siobhan... Fred. Nearly half of us gone. She dwells on the ones who didn't make it. I think it would help her to spend more time with those of us still here, you know?"

George took a deep breath, feeling the familiar crushing ache begin pressing against his chest, and bent over the pieces of the crib. Their dorm mate Ken Towler had been killed just before Christmas for refusing to be recruited into the Snatcher Corps. Patricia Stimpson had been tortured in an attempt to gain information because of her position in the Ministry - a junior member of the Invisibility Task Force - just before the coup. Siobhan Follyfoote had just disappeared into thin air two weeks after her name appeared on that horrid list in the Prophet last fall. And Fred...

"Ah, Christ..." he muttered, gripping the rail of the crib. The pieces began to swim before his eyes. George screwed his eyes shut and sniffed in an attempt to bring all the escaping rogue moisture back within him.

"Shit, George. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean..."

"S'all right, Lee. Not your fault," he stammered. Growing angry with himself, he took a deep breath and roared, startling his friend. He had recently discovered that for some strange reason, making a really loud noise helped dispel the darkness when it began to close around his mind.

George sighed more calmly now, confident the depression was beaten back into its corner for the moment. "It happens all the time, mate," he explained, not wanting Lee to feel badly.

"George..."

"Just... give me a minute." George tried to surreptitiously wipe his damp face on his sleeve. He concentrated intently on the task at hand. Cribs... twins... house... Annie....

"It'll be nice to see Ange again," he said after several minutes, his voice forcefully composed and managing to sound only slightly strained. "Bring her by tomorrow, if you like. I'll put you both to work on the kitchen plumbing."

Lee chuckled, determined like George to return to lighthearted banter. "Is that all your mates are to you? A source of cheap labor?"

"Cheap? I thought you were free!" George teased back.

"Au contraire, git. I'm only here for your mother's treacle tart."

"Wait 'til you try Annie's redcurrant cheesecake," George said.

"She puts up with your nonsense, and she's a good cook?" Lee asked, feigning incredulity.

"Why do you think I married her? I'm not a complete idiot, you know," George retorted. "A fellow has to eat..."