George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 17: Reunion

May 1996

George woke up early. Well, early for a Saturday, at least. Their first week as shop owners had been a smashing success, and owl orders were really starting to pour in from fellow rebellious students left behind at Hogwarts. He was in the mood to celebrate, and he'd been looking forward to a free morning in Devon for a very long time.

Fred started to stir while George was dressing. "Have the bloody decency to keep quiet, would you?" he snarled, launching a shoe missile in his direction.

"It's ten in the morning, you idiot," George laughed as he took evasive action.

Fred raised his head from the pillow, a sleepily inquisitive look on his face. "You sound criminally chipper. What are you plotting?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep." George ducked out of the room.

"Oh, no. You're not brushing me off that easy. Must be good if you won't share," Fred called after him. He hopped out of bed and started to dress.

George barreled down the stairs, not pausing until he reached the kitchen. He grabbed some food he could eat along the way and took a moment to butter up his mum with a few compliments on her cooking. She was still pretty furious with them about the quitting school thing. Unfortunately, this delay gave Fred a chance to catch up.

As they both headed out the door, his mother called out, "What are you lot up to today?"

"It's been such a busy week at work, Mum, I think I just need some fresh air," George answered. Now that they had premises on Diagon Alley for the Wheezes, his mother was finally beginning to take them seriously. Whenever she began to sound testy, he found that if he brought up the fact they were now responsible, wage-earning members of society, she would back down for a bit.

"What he said," Fred added when she looked inquisitorially at him.

"Oh, all right, then," she replied, unconvinced but too busy directing knives chopping vegetables to argue.

George ducked quickly out the door before she could think of a reason to keep them home. Fred tromped after.

A few minutes into the woods, Fred spoke up. "So what are we really doing then?"

"You honestly can't figure it out yourself? You are as bloody stupid as you look."

Half a minute passed as Fred pondered. "Oh! Brilliant!" he exclaimed as the answer finally occurred to him.

They walked the rest of the now short distance left mostly in silence. George had tried but failed to think of a way to rid himself of his brother's company along the way. He did pull ahead however, and reached the edge of the woods well before him. Fred wasn't in nearly the hurry he was, and was delayed further when he had decided to, "Pause for the cause," as he announced to the trees a few minutes ago.

George couldn't believe his luck. Annie was outside her house, gardening on the side of the fence facing the forest. He enjoyed almost two whole minutes to himself, just watching her, for the first time in two years. All the hormonal insanity that he had felt last time he saw her came rushing back in an instant. But the reality of her was so much better than the pictures, than his dreams had been.

"Oh, hel-lo" said Fred when he caught up to him. "Now that's a sight for sore eyes. Our little Annie's all grown up...."

George closed the distance between himself and his brother in an instant. He grabbed the front of Fred's shirt in his fists and pulled his face to within inches of his own. "I want you to leave now," he said through his clenched teeth.

"Huh? You inv..."

"You invited yourself," he corrected him, shaking his head once.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into...?"

"Now."

Understanding slowly dawned on Fred's face. "Oh!"

George realized that, to his credit, Fred held his tongue further, if only for the time being. But he apparently wasn't able suppress the smug grin spreading across his face. He understood Fred would save the verbal abuse for later. Oh, would he give it to George later, make no mistake. The anticipation of it would likely warm the cockles of his heart all afternoon.

"You could have told me closer to home and saved me the walk," Fred complained.

George released his grip on Fred's shirt, who snorted, turned and slowly walked several yards back the way they had come. Then he paused. Fred turned around to face George again, who was still standing in the same spot, looking over his shoulder at Annie.

"Well?" prompted Fred.

"What?" George replied, still staring at her.

"Go on."

"In a minute."

"Bloody coward," Fred muttered. He put his fingers to his lips and blew the signal they had used for the last eleven years to let Annie know they were waiting for her in the woods.

Annie had just finished digging a hole on the outside of the garden fence. It was an excellent spot for the new rose bush, perfect to support the rambling canes. She kneeled to finish the job of planting the root ball, enjoying the feel of the soil in her hands. It was a warm day, and the sun felt wonderful on her bare shoulders. After a few pats to firm the soil, she stood up to stretch.

A loud whistle echoed from the forest across the grass.

Her body spun instinctually toward the unexpected yet thoroughly familiar sound. Her eyes searched along the trees but saw nothing. Even so, she felt her heart race and a wild, stupid grin spread across her face. She hesitated for a split second and considered changing out of her grubby garden clothes, maybe even showering, but the urge to run toward the trees was too great. She snatched the lightweight shirt she had been wearing earlier off the fence, and clumsily yanked it on over her tank top as she took off across the field.

Fred and George both watched Annie tear across the field, closing the distance surprisingly fast. George still seemed frozen in place.

"Go!" Fred shoved him.

George finally took off running in the direction of the tree fort.

Annie reached the willow that had been their childhood haven and found it empty. Had she imagined the signal? She began to feel her heart sink in disappointment as she caught her breath. What an idiot I am, she thought, turning slowly in a circle, looking for any sign to give her hope. It's only May, for God's sake....

George had arrived at the tree about five seconds before Annie and had watched her approach. He crept up behind her as she tried to catch her breath. She was scanning the forest, any second now and she would be turned to the point she would see him. He did the first thing that popped into his head: he apparated directly behind her and covered her eyes with his hands.

"Guess who?"

Annie's first reaction should have been to scream. She probably would have, if she hadn't spent the last two years dreaming of that voice.

"George!" she cried and spun to face him. She was so ecstatic that she threw her arms around him without thinking. Her heart was leaping in her chest and not because of the flight across the field. He was a miracle... an angel... a vision! He was real, and here, and so much better than her dreams.

"Are you sure about that?" he said jokingly.

"Oh, come on," she said while rolling her eyes. She pulled her head back from his chest to turn her face up to him and saw his smile. "You have to know by now you can't fool me!" She couldn't bear to release her hold on him just yet.

"Right again," he said, struggling to disguise how thrilled he was she had wrapped her arms around him. Awkwardly, he put his arms around her in response. "How do you do that, actually? Our own mother can't tell us apart."

"Dunno. Just seems obvious to me. Never really thought about it," she replied.

Self consciously, they released each other.

"It's absolutely brilliant to see you!" she exclaimed. "But why are you here? The term's not over... you've got exams next month, right?"

"Wrong. Fred and I are done. For good. It's rather a thrilling story, actually...."

"Is that what you were planning? In your letter? To quit school?" She was shaking her head in disbelief. "Your mother must have done her nut. How long have you been back?"

"Not long. And you're right about Mum," he replied as he chuckled.

After another awkward pause, and several evasive glances between them, Annie continued.

"I can't believe you've grown taller. That's hardly fair," she teased.

George just chuckled. He wasn't sure yet what to say.

"You look good, by the way," she added, with a bashful smile.

He raised a questioning eyebrow. Afraid to take her compliment too seriously, he smirked.

"Handsome, even. Rakishly handsome," she laughed teasingly, entertained by his now mugging face.

He was drinking her in, and getting drunk in the process. That was the only explanation for the confidence that was growing within him with her teasing compliments. Her smile was brilliant, and the eyes that had never left him in peace for the past two years now sparkled before him with delight. He reached out and touched her cheek, to prove to himself she was real.

"You look great, as well," he answered with a smile.

He carefully watched her face react. Her expression seemed to mix surprise with... pleasure? They stared at each other for a few more seconds, then laughed as they both dropped their eyes to the ground.

"Where's Fred?" Annie asked.

"He said he wanted to have a lie-in this morning," George lied without hesitation.

"That lump! At least you have the common courtesy to say hello to an old friend!" Annie huffed in indignation.

He laughed with her. Something about her answering smile was feeding his newfound confidence further. He casually reached out and took her hand in his, and asked, "Are you busy today?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Gran has to see the doctor today at two." She looked up into his face and smiled a rueful, crooked smile.

"Oh." George was suddenly unsure what to do next. A portion of the strange new confidence ebbed away. He slightly loosened his hold on her hand, to let her go. He felt hers tighten in response. The confidence surged back to him like a wave.

"How about tomorrow, then?" he asked.

"I'd love to! I'll pack us a picnic, and we'll spend the whole afternoon here, catching up," she offered, her face beaming. "Can you prepare your exaggerated version of events carefully enough by then? You know, to make it sound remotely believable?"

"Just like old times," he agreed. "I promise you'll be amazed. Is ten too early?"

She shook her head.

A few moments passed. Now what? wondered George.

"I'd better get back," Annie said hesitantly. "I've got to fix lunch for Gran before we leave."

"Okay." He let her hand slide out of his. "Tomorrow, then," he added.

Annie nodded and smiled again. She turned slowly and began to walk away. George stood rooted to the spot, unable yet to move, watching her.

Annie spun round and started walking backwards. "Fred is coming tomorrow, right?" she asked. "Just so I know how much food to bring, I mean."

"Er, sure, if you want."

"I suppose we should include him," she offered.

"I guess so," he answered, reluctantly.

"See you both tomorrow, then."

George watched her turn and jog away. Then he turned toward home and the unavoidable verbal flogging waiting for him there.

*

"What are you doing back here so soon? Chicken out, did you?"

"Did she deck you, then? I don't see any bruises yet."

"Are you so wretched at snogging she sent you packing already?"

"She asked about me, did she? Well, who could blame her? I do have that effect on women."

"I suppose I could make myself scarce tomorrow... for the bargain price of ten galleons."

Of course Fred spent every hour of the rest of the day taking the mickey out of him. George had expected nothing less. He had known it was coming, and had prepared himself for it. He also knew that while Fred would likely make it difficult for him to be alone with Annie tomorrow, he wouldn't make it impossible either. They were brothers, after all.

What did surprise him, as they lay in their beds that night, was Fred's final comment of the evening. "Seriously George, I am pleased for you. Annie is a great girl. But just remember this: she's our Annie, and if you fuck this up and hurt her, I will beat the bloody shit out of you."

Unsurprisingly, neither George nor Annie slept much that night. Both of them replayed the scene of the prior morning in the forest hundreds of times in their minds, analyzing every word, searching for encouraging signs. By the time they coincidentally stepped into their respective showers at exactly the same moment the next morning, they both had thoroughly distorted the events beyond recognition. Each was completely convinced they had imagined or misunderstood every compliment, every look.

So it was with no small amount of trepidation George and Annie readied themselves for their long-awaited reunion.

Annie worked with slow, deliberate precision in the kitchen that morning. Her Gran kept her company as she fixed their breakfast, cleared the dishes, then began preparing the lunch.

"What's all this?" her Gran asked curiously.

"I ran into some old friends yesterday. We made plans for a picnic," Annie replied.

"How lovely, dear! You spend too much time trapped in here with me anyway."

"Would you like some of this for lunch? I can leave a plate in the fridge," she offered.

"That would be nice. Thank you, dear."

"Are you sure it's okay for me to go?" Annie asked, beginning to feel nervous about leaving Gran home alone for such a large chunk of time, among other things. "I can cancel if you'd rather have company."

"Don't be silly. I feel like having a nap right now in fact," she yawned unconvincingly, then winked.

Annie giggled. "You can call Mrs. Finnerty if you need anything when I'm gone." Her cell phone didn't always have reliable reception in the neighboring woods, and she was never sure if it was due to technological or supernatural reasons. The phone seemed like an extravagance to some people she knew, but the peace of mind it brought her to know her Gran could get in touch with her almost instantly was worth the expense.

"Your friends expect you to bring all the food?" her Gran asked as the stack of sandwiches was joined by apples, a container of cookies, and several bottles of water.

"I don't mind. Their expertise lies more in consumption rather than cooking," she chuckled as she explained.

"Hmpf. That sounds like boys to me."

Now it was Annie's turn to smile and wink.

Meredith slowly rose from her chair and shuffled over to where Annie was working at the counter. She held her chin in her hand, and kissed her granddaughter's forehead. "Be careful. And good luck. Hope he's worth you."

"He is," Annie assured her.

Annie got to the tree first. She spread out the blanket in a little patch of sun next to the willow near the stream bank and sat down. While she waited, she gazed up at the old tree fort. The floorboards were still there, strong and secure amongst the broad branches, and a surprising percentage of the woven-branch walls. It looked so very small, though. Dimensions that had once been cozy and comfortable years ago now looked cramped and claustrophobic. She leaned back on her hands and watched in the direction she expected her friends to come.

She didn't have to wait long. Fred came into view first, followed closely by George.

"Oi, Annie! Give us a hug!" Fred cried.

Laughing, she hopped up and jogged over to him with arms open. He grabbed her and lifted her up in an exaggerated bear hug, spinning her around.

"Enough!" she begged, getting dizzy from both the spinning and lack of air.

He released her from the hug but held on to her hand, guiding her back to the blanket. He plopped down, then patted the ground beside him, inviting her to sit next to him. When she hesitated, he gently but insistently pulled her hand down toward him. Once she was seated, he draped his arm about her shoulders in a friendly way.

She thought she saw George roll his eyes, but couldn't be sure.

"Glad to see you could drag your sorry ass out of bed today to come see me," she needled him.

"Annie, didn't George tell you? We're proper businessmen now, with customers, and a shop. It's bloody exhausting!"

"A shop!? Tell me everything!" she cried, delighted with the surprise news.

Fred spent the next hour monopolizing the conversation. George didn't mind, though. It eased some of the pressure that he'd been feeling building to an uncomfortable level all morning. His brother blathered on about everything that had happened in the days since they had left school. He went into every detail about the business, and surprised George once again by tossing some compliments his way.

"Oh, yeah. George has a real knack for inventing this stuff. Truly inspired," he offered. Annie turned to give George a pleased smile, and Fred winked at him while she wasn't looking.

"I'm famished. What's to eat?" asked Fred finally.

Annie started to empty the pack of food onto the blanket. While her focus was occupied, George caught his brother's eye and jerked his head toward the Burrow, reminding him to get lost. Fred smiled, blinked, and nodded slightly.

"Well, Annie, I'm out of time. I must be off."

"Fred, I can't believe you!" Annie protested. When Fred just shrugged, she continued, "How could you rush off already? What's more important than spending time with your oldest, dearest friend?"

"Oh, I don't have an appointment or anything. George here fancies you, and wants some time alone. I'll just take a couple of these sandwiches, and leave you to it, then. Lovely to see you again, Annie." He smiled, wiggled his fingers goodbye, and disappeared into thin air.

They sat in stunned silence for a whole minute. If George hadn't been paralyzed by shock and mortification, he would have surely hunted Fred down and committed fratricide in that time.

"Did you catch any of that?" Annie asked, finally breaking the silence. "Because I'm not sure I did."

She was throwing him a lifeline, and he was grateful. "Not a word," he answered. George bit into a sandwich, happy to have an excuse not to talk for a moment.

"So, was that apparating?" she asked.

"Yeah," he mumbled with his mouth full.

Annie spent the rest of the meal asking questions about apparition, giving him something neutral yet interesting to talk about. He knew what she was doing - trying to ease his discomfort - and loved her all the more for it.

They had finished the food when Annie added, "You promised to show me, so...." She clapped her fingers to her palm twice like a sultan's command.

"What am I, a trained monkey?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Almost as good as. Go on, you promised!" she whined good-naturedly.

"Where should I go?" he sighed as he stood up.

"Over there, by that fir tree." She pointed, indicating a spot about fifteen yards away.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine." He disappeared, then popped back into view where she had pointed. "Ta da!" he cried, waving his hands a little.

Annie's mouth had dropped open. Her eyes were wide, staring at him. "What was that sound?" she asked quietly.

"What sound?"

"That little popping sound, when you left, and then again when you reappeared?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. I didn't hear it."

"Okay. Come back," she directed him with a wave her hand, expecting him to walk. But he popped away again.

An instant later, he was back on the blanket, much closer to her this time. Annie had to take a moment to recover her composure while he seated himself.

"You know, I've known for such a long time that you were a...wizard," she whispered quietly, hesitating slightly to utter the last word aloud. "But I've never actually seen you do magic before. Do you mind... I mean... would you show me some more?" She was sitting back on her heels, leaning in toward him slightly. Her eager face smiled.

George felt a thrill run through him to have her eyes staring at him like that. He smiled back, but tried to keep his voice casual. "Er, sure. What do you want to see?"

"I don't know.... Surprise me."

He glanced around, looking for raw material and inspiration, sensing this might be his moment. He took his wand out of his pocket then looked back at Annie with his eyebrows raised to confirm this was what she had in mind.

She nodded in encouragement.

George summoned two delicate, white flowers from the riverbank. As they floated through the air toward Annie, he made them dance around each other in the air, then brought them to rest in her hair, sliding their stems into her curls above each ear.

"That was beautiful, George," Annie cried softly, her face full of awe. "Amazing! You are amazing! Thank you!" she gasped.

He felt heat rising in his face and looked away.

"With talent like that, I'll bet the girls at Hogwarts are pining for you right now," she said in a teasing voice, but he noticed with a glance that her own face was blushing as well.

George snorted. "Not likely." He could name a few at least that were happy to see the back of him.

"So you say," she teased. "How many broken hearts did you leave behind at school, honestly?"

"Aside from Filch? He was really hoping to draw and quarter me by the end."

Annie laughed and gazed at him dubiously. She shifted from her knees to stretch her legs out in front of her and leaned back instead, propping herself up with her arms behind her.

"What about you?" he asked with morbid curiosity, unable to look her in the eye.

"I'm not really that into girls," she joked.

"Don't be thick," he said, nudging her shoulder with his own.

Annie laughed again. "Well, there is one boy I've had my heart set on for a while now," she said shyly, staring at her hands in her lap.

"Oh." George hoped he still sounded casual. He felt his heart literally sink into his stomach. He was too late.

Annie decided to go for broke. "Yeah. I'm hoping he'll lean over here and kiss me any minute now."

A slow smile spread across George's face. He edged himself even closer to Annie, until their bodies were just barely touching. He put a hand beside her face, stroked her cheekbone once with his thumb, then slipped his fingers into her soft curls; just like he had done hundreds of times in his dreams. The movement disturbed the flower, making it fall out of her hair onto the blanket between them. He pulled her face closer, and finally kissed her for real.

They spent the rest of the afternoon there on the blanket, sometimes kissing, more often talking quietly, but always their bodies were touching. Their every movement seemed designed to sustain and maximize contact. They talked about everything and nothing, profound and pointless, simply content to be in each other's company after such a long, forced absence.

At sunset, they gathered up the blanket. "I have to go back, get Gran her supper," Annie explained.

"Shall I walk you home?" he asked. He wasn't ready to part from her yet.

"Yes, please," she smiled and nodded in agreement, feeling the same way.

They walked through the woods and across the field as darkness fell. Annie looped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against him. George's free arm draped over her shoulders. He carried the picnic items in the other hand. When they reached the steps up to the back door of her house, he tossed them lightly on the stoop and gathered her closer. They kissed for several long moments more.

"I have to go," she sighed.

"Can't I come in with you?" he asked. The house seemed dark and quiet, almost empty, to him.

Annie considered this for a moment. It was a tempting thought, not to let him out of her sight. But she thought better of it.

"Not tonight. I'm not ready to share you with anyone else yet."

He smiled and kissed her again. Her hesitation was understandable: he wouldn't dream of dragging her into the Burrow right now, either. When she pulled back after several moments, he chuckled.

"I don't think I'm quite finished, though," he protested.

"Wait for me here?" she offered.

He accepted her offer immediately and nodded.

Annie was gone for not quite an hour. George stood leaning against the back of the house, waiting patiently out of sight, revisiting some of his favorite parts of the afternoon, permanently committing them to memory. He listened to her voice drifting out the open windows of the house as she chatted with her grandmother throughout the meal, trying to dodge giving out too many details, telling her just enough about the day to avoid suspicion. He was amused by the concession he was forced to make: Annie might well be just as good at deception as he was.

"It's such a lovely evening, Gran. I think I'll sit outside a bit longer."

"All right then, dear. I'm off to bed. Glad to hear you had such a nice time today."

Annie reappeared at the back door a few moments later. "I brought you some food. You must be famished."

He hadn't noticed until she mentioned it, but she was right. He gobbled up the plate of food, not wanting to waste any more of his time with Annie than absolutely necessary.

"Delicious, as usual," he praised her. He tipped back the glass of ale and finished it in one gulp. He mostly smothered a quiet belch, then grinned.

"Excuse you," she teased, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, right. I had temporarily forgotten about the inner hag that emerges with compliments." He set the dishes down on the step. "Like I haven't heard you do worse!"

"There's the trollish bit I know and love. I wonder how you've kept it hidden all day," she smirked back.

He smiled, took her hands and pulled her closer, while he grunted twice.

"What was that?" she laughed quietly.

"That's troll for 'Get over here, woman.'"

"I didn't realize you were so fluent," she purred softly.

"I have many hidden talents," he assured her.

"How do you say, 'Shut up and kiss me?'"

It was nearly midnight when Annie finally made him leave. "Not that I have any hope of actually sleeping tonight, but we do have work in the morning, and it's probably best to keep up the appearance of propriety," she teased him.

"When can I see you?" he asked.

"I'm yours all next weekend."

George walked home slowly through the woods rather than apparating. He wasn't sure he could concentrate well enough to avoid splinching himself. His arms felt oddly empty, his skin unusually cool, his body strangely exposed to the elements without Annie draped around him. He fervently hoped that he would in fact fall asleep tonight, because he was rather looking forward to his dreams.

He snuck quietly into the house without detection, for the most part. Fred did roll over, partly awake, and opened one eye when George closed the door to their room.

"That's more like it, old boy!" he mumbled, then fell promptly back asleep.

*

They had planned to meet, just the two of them, back at the tree fort the following Saturday afternoon. Annie had been distracted from her chores all morning in anticipation. Consequently, a red sock somehow found its way into a wash load of whites. Annie pulled out the newly pink skivvies and sheets and berated herself in embarrassed anger.

"No worries, dear. Pink's an improvement, don't you think?" Her Gran laughed in an attempt to abate Annie's overly harsh tirade of self-criticism.

The overcast morning had turned to drizzle by lunchtime. Annie had bustled about, fixing lunch and pulling together most of dinner as well for her Gran. After she cleared the dishes, she went to her room excitedly to dress for her afternoon date with George. Her excitement quickly dissipated when she realized her raincoat would cover her entirely, so what was the use of wearing anything special?

Gran raised an eyebrow when Annie popped into the doorway of her bedroom to say goodbye. "I'm off for a bit. Supper's in the fridge. Don't wait up - I could be a bit late, not sure."

"Fancy a soggy afternoon stroll, do we?" Gran smiled a smile that told her granddaughter that she was not fooled in the least.

Annie shrugged, barely stifling a smile herself.

"Bye, then."

George had arrived at the tree fort early. He wanted to stash a surprise there for Annie, but wasn't sure if the weather would cooperate. He leaned against the tree trunk, waiting for her. He watched her approach, suddenly unsure of what to do next.

Annie smiled brightly when she saw him. Her hood was down, her curly hair dripping already, collecting the drizzle. And those eyes: he found himself staring at them, and looked away in embarrassment.

"Fancy a soggy stroll?" he asked.

Annie laughed out loud. "Gran just asked me the same thing as I was leaving!"

Her friendly laughter put him at ease. It was like old times, but even better, as he took her hand and they started walking in no particular direction. After a few minutes more of teasing banter, he felt her thumb rubbing the back of his hand in the same place, over and over. She lifted it up to get a better look.

"What's this? Some sort of sick joke?" she asked. There was deep concern on her features as she examined the scar Umbridge's torture pen had given him.

"That's exactly what it is," he said as he laughed sarcastically. He considered for a moment whether it was a good idea to tell her all that had happened during his last year of school. He had only hinted at the troubling events in his letters, trying to spare her the worry. He wasn't entirely sure he understood all the ramifications himself.

Then he looked into her face. Her beautiful violet eyes were troubled - the eyes he had seen every night in his dreams for so long now. He wouldn't be able help it, he could see that now. He would spill his guts to them whether he wanted to or not.

George shrugged. "She's a right nasty bitch, that Delores Umbridge."

"I never understood what she was doing at Hogwarts. You and Fred always said it was so safe there," Annie said, puzzled.

"Used to be safe as kittens, for the most part, until a year ago. The end of the Tournament changed everything - you remember what I told you then?"

She nodded. "That a student was murdered. A bad wizard came out of hiding." She shuddered to remember the letter that had nearly ruined her sanity last summer.

"Everyone calls him You-Know-Who; let's just say it's not a good idea to speak the name out loud. Anyway, our mate Harry saw the whole thing: some foul bit of Dark magic gave You-Know-Who a body back, and then all his old toadies came sniveling back to lick his boots. He killed Cedric. Tried to kill Harry, but he escaped."

"If a kid like Harry could get away, then he can't be as powerful as you think..." she said, struggling to understand.

"Nah, that's not it, see? He's killed loads of people - but not Harry. Tried before, a bunch of times. You-Know-Who has it out for Harry for sure - his whole life since he was a baby - but he always manages to get away. Something special about him... dunno what."

"So Umbridge belongs to him? This You-Know-Who person?"

George snorted. "Not quite, but she'd make a lovely addition to the club, no mistake. She's with the Ministry." Annie's shocked, confused look prompted him to explain further. "Ever since last summer, the Ministry have been trying to discredit Harry, to deny You-Know-Who is back. Reckon that's why Umbridge was there; to make sure we all swallowed the lies. Dunno why they're doing it exactly, but it's a fat load of ballocks. Makes those of us who know the truth pretty nervous, to boot."

"I still don't understand why this Umbridge was torturing you." She caressed his scar again with her fingertip. It made him shiver slightly.

"Oh, well, that's because my mates and I decided not to partake of the bullshit pudding she was serving up. We took matters into our own hands, so to speak," he explained, grinning.

George then regaled her with the stories of how Harry had taught them to defend themselves from Dark magic attacks. How they were able to avoid detection. How even the school itself seemed to help them, providing them a secret room to hide in. He watched as the worried look on her face was replaced by impressed surprise as he described their accomplishments. He paused for a moment to bask in her delighted expression.

"And then, I presume, you got caught," she said ruefully as her face fell slightly.

George grimaced. "Yes, well, thanks to a snitch, the fun was over, for a bit. But we got our revenge, Fred and me."

"I want to hear every detail of how you punished the evil cow that did this to you," she said, a ferocious tone underlying her voice. She ran her finger once more along his scar.

Annie's thoughts were roiling. That Umbridge woman was lucky she hadn't been there at Hogwarts, she fumed. Annie could feel a familiar angry heat spreading through her body, inciting her to violence. She swallowed hard and tried to calm herself in the way she had practiced so many times before that it was nearly rote. But her thoughts could not be easily turned this time. How dare that... that bloody witch... harm her dearest friends?

"Your concern is very touching," George said teasingly as he smiled. He watched as the well-known expression came over her face, that prelude to an outburst of violent temper, with something close to wry amusement. Her chin jutted out, lips slightly parted. He recognized her attempt to rein herself in as deep, calming breaths filled her chest, slightly flaring her nostrils. And her eyes - they glittered dangerously. He found himself momentarily mesmerized by them like a deer in headlights, not unlike how he had been a few times as a boy, a direct target of Annie's flaring wrath.

But this time was different: the rage wasn't directed at him, but rather at someone else, on his behalf. He could not resist the urge to gingerly reach out a hand to touch her face, to kiss her for her fury that was so endearing this time.

Annie heard George say something, but the meaning of his words didn't register. She was distracted, still struggling to dissipate her anger. Out of the blue, she felt a whisper of pressure - of fingers on her lips. Her faraway mind instantly dialed into the sensation. Her eyes, which had been staring out at nothing in the distance, brought George's face into tight focus. She registered that it was closing in on her, but her mind immediately disregarded the movement as a threat. She felt the fingers of his hands slide lightly over the flesh of her scalp, into her hair, as he bent to kiss her.

In the space of the following heartbeat, her body redirected the anger-adrenaline into this new physical outlet. The hands which had been itching to throttle something now curved themselves behind George's neck, pulling him closer, returning the kiss.

George was momentarily startled by Annie's reaction to his intention of delivering a barely-a-kiss brush of his lips on her forehead: she had grabbed his neck and pulled him down to her lips instead. He could feel her fingers in his own hair, curled around the back of his skull. Her body rose to meet his, closing what was already a tiny distance in a heartbeat. Her kiss was much stronger than his, almost fierce. He made no hesitation, however, to join her.

Uncounted minutes passed as they kissed with a passion that had taken them both by surprise. Last weekend, their first kisses had certainly been exciting; yet they had also remained tentative, gentle, bordering on polite. In contrast, this was almost frightening in its intensity. It was hard and messy and grasping. Two years of forced separation, desire and fantasy were finally tapped, releasing a pressure that had been building night after longing night they had spent apart.

After a while, once the worst of that pressure had been spent, they felt themselves returning to a semi-normal, more human state. Annie released him first, gently pushing herself away slightly from his embrace.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be a tease," she said breathlessly.

Oh. Right. She would be able to feel that, of course. He chuckled and smiled bashfully, which helped to further ease the tension, as he took a step back, separating their bodies completely.

"Don't apologize, please. I don't mind... if you don't." Despite his body's evidence to the contrary, he was not ready to take that leap forward so soon, either. He was relieved and glad Annie felt the same. "It would be horrible if I couldn't kiss you at all, though," he added, planting a comparatively chaste kiss on her cheek.

Annie giggled as she nodded in agreement. "Would it help you to know that I feel the same? That you're driving me just as crazy?"

"Yes, actually, it does. A lot, in fact," he laughed.

"Maybe we should keep walking?" she suggested. "You were about to tell me how you revenged yourself on the vile Umbridge."

"Right. Well, with Dumbledore sacked...." He paused as he saw Annie raise her eyebrows in shock again. He nodded, his expression mirroring hers, acknowledging what had been his own surprise at the turn of events. "Fred and I decided there was no point in hanging around Hogwarts, twiddling our thumbs, waiting to get buggered ourselves. Time to move on, we reckoned. We had already made a tidy mess of galleons from the Snackboxes and the rest. Combined with the stake Harry gave us, we were set to go."

"Hang on.... Harry gave you money?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah, last summer! It was a shock, believe me. Harry won the Triwizard Tournament, technically, even though it all went to shit after. The prize was a thousand effing galleons, no less! And the nutter gave it to us, all of it, right there on the train home. Felt guilty, he said, about what happened to Cedric, and didn't want the money. Cracking bloke, Harry. Completely mental, but a good mate, all the same."

"You two are luckiest gits on the planet!" she mused in wonder. "How do you do it? Most people with your track record are on the run from the devil or the law."

"Whatever are you implying? My brother and I are pillars of the community! Respectable entrepreneurs, I'll have you know," he argued with mock indignation.

"Yes, yes. You and Fred are nothing if not angelic," she said sarcastically.

"It's not all down to good looks. Our success is attributable to loads of hard work," he teasingly protested.

"Usually other people's hard work," she argued with a laugh.

"Well, you're nitpicking now," he grumbled good-naturedly.

George spent the next twenty minutes relating in minute detail the conflagration he and Fred had detonated at Hogwarts. Annie loved watching his animated face describing each of the different kinds of fireworks: what they looked like, how they worked. It was brilliant. She begged him to show her in person someday.

He promised he would. "We'll have to find someplace remote. They're a bit loud, and try to escape, you see."

Then, apparently, he and Fred had felt it necessary to conjure some sort of boggy mess in a hallway of the school. His younger brother had written him to say the professor in charge of clearing it up had left a bit of it, for posterity's sake, it was so impressive.

"Which hasn't spoiled your humble nature at all, I can see," she groaned with a roll of her eyes.

George shrugged and laughed. "So what have you been doing for the past two years?" he asked her.

"The life of a lowly muggle isn't nearly as exciting as that of a wizard's," she answered.

George rolled his own eyes impatiently and butted her with his hip.

Annie stumbled a few steps, laughing. "Mostly just the same old stuff. It's been dreary and boring without you two. Jane is off at Cardiff, studying to become an architect. My old mates," and she reckoned she used the term 'mates' in the loosest way possible, "and I never really spend much time together anymore. They formed a band a while back. Not a hair of genuine musical talent in the lot of them. Their primary aspirations are to make loud noise and attract groupies."

"You're not one of them, I hope," he said scoldingly.

Annie snorted and smirked in answer to his ludicrous suggestion. "Lacking in suitable troublemaking companions, I got a respectable job. I spend my days now working for Dr. Dan, the dentist. Don't laugh, that's honestly his name. I run a few days a week. Otherwise, I try to be at home with Gran as much as possible."

"How is she, your Gran?" George asked.

"She's well for seventy-eight years old. Still gets out a little with her garden ladies, putters a bit outdoors. Her mind's still keen. She knows something's going on, by the way, with me skiving out of the house so much lately."

George smiled. "Surely that won't be a problem for the infamous Annie: Sneak Extraordinaire? I overheard you dodging her last week, remember?"

Annie shook her head. "I can manage Gran. She's not concerned, just curious. She'll be asking to meet you soon," she said, wanting to test the waters.

George nudged her with an elbow. "I can behave in polite society, you know."

"And how would I know that? Not from personal experience, surely!" she cried.

"Well, I never really considered you to be polite society, did I?" he explained.

Annie's hand darted under his arm, and George grunted in pain from the vicious pinch. "I knew you couldn't go another day without inflicting bodily harm, you malevolent little rat. Ow!" He rubbed the painful point where she had pinched him. "You'll pay for that one," he muttered, but she had already dashed away.

He caught up to her easily, which he knew meant she wasn't trying very hard to get away. He wouldn't actually inflict pain in retaliation, unlike when they were children, but he would have to do something in order to salvage his self-respect. He immediately targeted her hair - she had always been vain about her hair.

He put her in a firm hold, pinning both her arms with one of his. She was laughing as she weakly squirmed to escape. He mussed her hair with his free hand, tugging just a bit on a few curls.

"Get off!" she whined after a minute, and he let her go. "Not fair! You know hair is out of bounds!"

She hauled off to smack his arm, but he caught her wrist and held it, smiling. "Weak," he chided. "You're not even trying."

Annie clawed playfully at his large hand clamped around her comparatively delicate wrist. He grabbed that one too, holding them both a foot apart.

"Claws in, puss," he teased.

She pretended to bite at his fingers: her bared teeth gently closed on his thumb as her smiling eyes gleamed teasingly.

He pulled her arms above her head in response. "Wish I had a rope. Hang on... I guess I could just conjure one right up, now, couldn't I? Tie you up and leave you here for the crows to pick at."

"You wouldn't dare!" she laughed. Her cheeks were flushed and smiling from the rough play. A bit of setting sun began to peek from behind the clouds and lit her up with warm light. Her dark hair shone with red streaks, and her eyes glittered once more.

George shifted his hold on her wrists to free one of his hands. This one he now slipped around her waist and gently pulled her closer. Her playful grin softened into something more expectant. When he finally released Annie's imprisoned hands, they fell gently to his shoulders.

They kissed for a while. It wasn't as frantic as earlier in the day, but still less tentative than a week ago. Not quite as shy; more confident this time. Their hands grew braver as well, resting in places that would have been deemed impertinent before.

"I've got a surprise for you," he whispered when the sun had completely gone below the horizon. The sky still glowed brightly with reddish-purple light. He laughed as he saw her wary expression. "Come on, don't be chicken," he teased.

"I've learned the hard way to be gun-shy of your surprises," she laughed and dragged her feet a bit as he led her back toward the fort.

"Close your eyes," he said when they reached the willow tree.

"No."

"Trust me," he cajoled.

"Not bloody likely."

"Fine, then. Do something profitable with your time and watch my ass while I climb up here to get it." George launched himself up into the tree and reached into the fort with one arm.

Annie could not see what it was he removed from the little ramshackle fort, and he kept it well-hidden as he hopped back down to the ground.

"Fancy a bit of flying?" he asked, eyebrows cocked, like he was daring her.

Annie felt a thrill of excitement. "How?" she asked eagerly. She stood on her tiptoes attempting to peek around his body at the mystery object.

"That's more like it," he joked, pleased at last with her animated reaction. He produced a broom from behind his back.

Annie's eyes grew wide as she took in the odd-looking thing. She had seen them before in photos, of course. She had even seen George flying on one once, but she would never confess it to him in her lifetime. She took it reverently from him, held it in front of her, to better examine it. Curiously, with the footrest-type thing near the base, it somewhat resembled a pogo stick, she thought.

"Wanna have a go?" George asked.

"Absolutely! How do I fly it?" she asked enthusiastically.

"You can't, silly girl. I didn't mean on your own. With me."

Annie's face fell slightly. George took the handle back from her and straddled it, then motioned with his hand for her to come to him.

Suddenly, Annie felt unsure about the plan. Her face must have shown it, because George teased her about it.

"You're not scared," he chided her.

"Dubious is not the same as scared. Where am I supposed to sit?"

"Right here." He indicated a spot on the broomstick just in front of him.

"Like this?" Annie tried to straddle the broomstick in the same manner. But there was no place for her to brace her feet: she would be dangling in midair, balanced on the broomstick supporting all her weight directly on her crotch.

"Er, no, that won't do..." he muttered, trying to find an arrangement that would allow them to get airborne at least. "Okay, not that either, I can't see around you now. Hang on, get off a sec.... Here, try this way...."

Clearly, George had not attempted this with anyone before. Annie was slightly mollified that no one else had rated an attempt prior to her, but that feeling was quickly overwhelmed by the nervousness she felt at being the guinea pig.

Annie now found herself sitting sideways with both hands on the broomstick in front of her, sort of sidesaddle. George was astride directly behind her, supporting her back with his chest, steadying her as she pressed against him, and would be steering the broom with his hands just behind hers. They were both hunched forward a bit awkwardly, and his chin was resting on her shoulder.

"Are you completely sure about this?" she asked.

"Utterly," he assured her, his expression one of disbelief that she could doubt him. "I am quite good at flying this thing, you know."

George pushed off the ground, and they lunged upward into the air with the force of his kick. Annie wobbled a bit, but George corrected for it expertly. They rose slowly and steadily, following the pathway of clear air directly above the river until they reached the tree tops. He skimmed just above the forest, picking up a bit of speed as they headed away from the village.

It was exhilarating, Annie thought. Terrifying, too, as he started to swoop a bit, dipping under a branch here, darting around a tree there. It was the most amazing feeling of freedom, to be moving through midair with nothing but his arms surrounding her. She had to admit he was quite good at flying the broom. Their flight was utterly smooth, his body and arms supporting her whenever they changed course.

They were now flying over the Weasleys' orchard, where Annie had paid dearly for sneaking a peek at the boys playing quidditch years ago. Fred was there, below them on the ground, with a broom resting on his shoulder. She wondered if maybe he was going to join them.

"Oi, Fred!" she shouted down to him as George circled in the air.

Fred looked up in surprise and waved once he located the voice. George directed their broom to dive down toward his brother, forcing him to hit the dirt to escape a collision. He and Annie were laughing as they sped skyward again, circling around for another go.

Fred grabbed a rotten apple on the ground and chucked it after them in retaliation, swearing as he jumped back to his feet. It missed them completely and fell harmlessly into a tree filled with sparrows. The birds protested the intrusion and took flight en masse.

George and Annie were still laughing when a hundred tiny bodies suddenly swirled around them. George tried to maneuver out of the flock, but the birds seemed to center their movements on them, tightly orbiting around the two of them on the broom. Annie felt a few of their little bodies pelt painfully into her.

George momentarily lost control of the broom, trying to dodge down and away from the birds. Annie then lost her already delicate balance and began to lean to one side. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, George had let go of the broom with one arm for just a second to swat at the birds. Without George's arm to catch her, Annie tumbled over backward. One hand came loose as she dangled precariously upside down, hanging from the broomstick by her knees and one hand.

George had managed to regain a little control over their flight a moment later as the sparrows had finally dispersed, alighting in another tree, but it was difficult because Annie was swinging, throwing off all his attempts balance. He tried to pull her back up with his hand, but quickly discovered he needed both hands on the broom to steer as they almost crashed into a tree. She managed on her own to get her other hand back on the broomstick at least.

Annie thought quickly. It occurred to her that she had been in this identical position probably ten thousand times during the hours she had been forced by her Gran to spend at the playground in Ottery. Dangling by just her knees, she had practiced flipping herself off the monkey bars daily for about seven years at least. It seemed like a reasonable solution to her now.

"Let go!" she shouted to George, who was trying to hold on to her legs and the broom at the same time. "And look out!" she warned.

"What!?" George cried.

"Trust me!" she yelled.

She let go of the broomstick with her hands as soon as she felt George release his grip. As her body swung down, she felt the broom lurch. She swung her arms back behind her head for momentum, kicking out with her feet, and felt her knees release the broomstick.

"Annie!" she heard two voices yell in tandem.

The aspect of the plan she had failed to account for was the difference in altitude, she realized too late, her body rotating as it fell through the air. The monkey bars in the park had been about six feet from the ground. The broom was closer to twelve, maybe more. She felt her body over-rotate, but didn't have an opportunity to compensate. Instead of landing solidly on the balls of her feet, as she reliably had done on the playground, she barely caught land with her heels first. Unable to scramble backward quickly enough on her feet to correct herself, she hit the ground hard, flat on her back. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her.

Seconds later, both boys were at her side.

"Annie?" George had a frantic look. His face was close, and she felt his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't move her!" Fred barked, searching her face. She could see he was angry and afraid.

Annie's eyes and mouth were wide open, struggling to draw air back into her empty lungs. She couldn't tell them she was fine, that nothing was hurt. Maybe I could try to nod or something, she thought. She looked up into their faces, attempting to nod. But she could only see George's face; Fred was now looking away toward her feet, inspecting her for additional damage.

"She's moving her head!" George cried. "Are you all ri-ARRGH!"

Fred had responded to George's initial exclamation by spinning back toward Annie's face. The brothers' heads then collided with a loud crack.

"You stupid git!" yelled George, hand pressed to his eye socket.

"You bloody idiot!" countered Fred, clutching his forehead and reeling backward.

At that instant, air finally rushed back into Annie's lungs. A moment after her brain registered the delicious sensation of a chest full of air, she blew the breath back out in a loud guffaw. She couldn't help it, even though it was quite painful. She began laughing hysterically.

"You addled her brain!" Fred accused his brother with a violent shove.

"Annie? Did you hit your head?" asked George in a worried tone, scrambling back to look her in the eye.

"You.... The birds.... I fell... on my ass... then you two... cracked heads...." She was laughing so hard tears were running down her cheeks.

Fred was smiling now. "She's rung her bell a bit, that's all," he chuckled, still rubbing the bump on his forehead.

"Did you see that?" she squealed with glee as she sat up, George's arm immediately around her back for support. "I flipped off that effing broom in midair, goddamn it!"

George too began to chuckle now. "That was bloody impressive. Stupid, but impressive, I'll admit."

"Poor Fred. Gave you quite a fright, didn't I?" she laughed.

"Shut it," he said with a playful shove to her shoulder.

"Get off!" George angrily shoved his brother back.

"Now, now, don't quarrel over me, boys," she teased. "Fred, it's been lovely to see you, mate. Hope your head feels better in the morning."

"No harm done. Drop in again anytime," he chimed in, a sarcastic smile lighting up his face.

Annie and George groaned in unison at the horrid pun. George began gingerly probing his brow ridge, examining the damage and wincing.

"George, I think we'd better start walking back. No, I'm not getting back on that thing tonight," she said as he brandished the broom. "I'd prefer to keep my feet on the ground for the rest of the evening, thank you."

George proffered his hand to help her to her feet. She took it, and didn't let go as they made their way back to her house through the darkening woods.