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How They Fell in Love by annaawakening

Format: Short story collection
Chapters: 5
Word Count: 11,457
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Contains Spoilers

Genres: Fluff, Romance
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Lily, James, Tonks, OtherCanon
Pairings: Arthur/Molly, Harry/Ginny, James/Lily, Remus/Tonks, Ron/Hermione

First Published: 02/08/2011
Last Chapter: 03/25/2011
Last Updated: 03/25/2011

Special thanks to my fabulous beta firefly910! This story wouldn't exist without her.

A collection of when the famous couples of the Wizarding World fell in love. But not everybody falls in love at the same time.

Full story for gingersnape's I Love You challenge other challenges are intermingled through the chapters. :)

Beautiful banner credit to victus. @TDA

Chapter 1: When James Fell for Lily
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 Snow fell gently from they grey sky onto her nose. James watched as it fell softly, like millions of tiny down feathers and landed in her shiny red hair. Her nose and cheeks were red with cold and her mouth was wide open in a laugh. 



Lily Potter. It rung pleasantly upon his tongue as he spoke to his best-mate: Sirius. "Getting a bit ahead of yourself mate, aren't you?" 


"Yeah, no offense Prongs, but just this morning you were complaining about how much you couldn't stand how stuck up she is," Remus, another one of his close friends mused, taking in a deep breath through his nose, to avoid trickling mucus that was no doubt threatening.




It was no secret that James had fancied Lily in an other-worldly way since third year when she began filling out, but his chases were to no avail, and eventually he seemed to have cooled his jets, chasing other Marauder-worthy Hogwartians. Since this phase, James had been particularly nasty to one Lily Evans, to make the point he wanted nothing to do with her.




This however, only pleased her, as she had no desire to ever be around James. To her, the Potter boy was a precocious wanker who needed a good kick in the mouth rather than a kiss on it. It had been this way for years, and frankly, his fellow Marauders were growing a bit tired of the day-in day-out head games James played with himself that focused around Lily. 




"Oh, was I?" James muttered, as they walked into Honeydukes behind Lily and her best friend, Mia. 




"He's mental," Sirius concluded, grabbing a licorice wand and snapping the end of it between his glistening white teeth.




"You should at least pretend you aren't stalking her, eh Jamsey ol' boy?" Peter piped up, but James paid him no mind. It was as if he had been gripped by a smoky pink hand, fragrant and all knowing. He was suffering the type of tunnel vision he got when he was chasing the snitch. Only one thing mattered, and that thing was Lily Evans.




Sirius, Remus, and Peter all muttered incessantly about James' strange behaviour, and while they did so, James wandered through the endless aisles of candy. Chocolate frogs, chocolate cauldrons, sugar quills, Bernie Botts' Every Flavor Beans all called his name. 




Grabbing a chocolate frog carton, he tore it open, snagging the head off of the squirming confectionery amphibian inside. Students sniggered as they walked past him, staring down at him as he stared around the shop, watching the red-haired phoenix girl wander about.




"-and they made him head boy? What a laugh!" A very familliar tone rung in his ears. He knew before even looking that standing above him with his gang of incredulous misfits, was greasy Snivellous Snape. James normally would have caught Snape off guard with a body-bind jinx or something of the like, but simply put, James Potter was just too enamoured to care.




As Snape went on about loudly insulting Gryffindors, James especially, from only a few feet away, James entered a moment of lucidity. Was this James Potter in love? If it was, he wasn't sure he enjoyed the idea of following some know-it-all sod of a girl like an obedient toad. But this is Lily, he thought. My flower. 




"My flower. My flower." James was muttering slowly, standing up and walking around the shoppe as if he had a purpose there. He could see his friends gathered outside in the snow, huddled behind the Honeydukes' sign. They were pelting snowballs at unsuspecting third-years as they walked by. James beamed brightly and pressed his weight onto one foot preparing to apparate into the street and join in the chaos when a soft voice tickled his eardrumbs and stopped him dead in his tracks.




"Colour me surprised. James Potter, apart from his gang of miscreants while they're causing nuiscance in the streets? Tisk, tisk." His face turned bright red as he turned to face the girl he had followed into the shop in the first place. 




'Yeah, wel erm-" he paused, shrugging, then looking back out of the window.




"And with no quick witted response? Are you feeling okay James?" her smile widened as she placed her hand jokingly on his forehead.




"Stop it Evans." he swatted her hand away playfully. 




A look of great offence crossed her face, as she glanced back between her hand, James' hand, and James' face. Just as he was about to break into an apology, a smile cracked across her face, and a giggle rose in her throat. "That's more like it," she laughed. They strolled out into the street together, talking and laughing, all the while James was still clutching to his chocolate frog box.




"Feeling kind today, are we Lily? Usually you're a bit of an ice queen to me," said James, as they walked out into the freezing cold. 




Lily shivered before gaining composure to say "W-w-well I g-guess this is my n-n-n-natural environment." They made their way to the Three Broomsticks, a pub across the street from Honeydukes. They passed the remaining Marauders, still in the street, lobbing snowballs at anyone who dared walk near them.




There was a long pause before she re-initiated the conversation. "Really though, Potter. I figured that as long as we're both Heads we may as well be civil," she held out her hand as a peace offering. Looking at it, at her soft milky skin stretched over her bones and muscle, he had an urge not to shake her hand, but to kiss it. And so he did. Lily let out a little squeak of surprise, and when he looked back up- her face was nearly as red as her hair.




Their eyes locked, and James stomach became suddenly hot and began to churn uneasily. His thoughts immediately turned to his overly-dirty glasses and his unkempt nest of hair atop his head.  Had he heald on to her hand for just a moment too long? Lily pulled her hand away promptly, as if she had just touched something unpleasant and unmentionable in Herbology.




Butterbeers slammed onto the table, courtesy of a young, rude waitress, who James often flirted with while he was in the pub. She barked out the combined cost of both beverages. Lily began to raise her voice in protest when James shot her down, throwing down enough for both drinks, and then some. 




There was a silence between the pair, and they avoided each other's eyes for what seemed to James like centuries. When he snuck glances at her, he realized how the dim light of the pub made her look even prettier than she normally was.




There was a rumble of rambunctious male voices as James' three friends entered the pub, and without even a sideways glance at him and Lily, took seats at the far end of the room. 




"You four have a falling out or something?" Lily asked, looking a bit concerned. She glanced back and forth between the boys as if looking for a sign.




"I think they just, they just want to leave us alone."




"Wonder why," she pondered aloud, taking another dainty sip from the very lip of her cup.




Conversation stretched from his friends, to school, to familly and back. The moment seemed to be passing him in slow motion and fast forwarding all at once. Every move she made seemed to stop time for another second or two while his heart skipped erratically. At the same time, each glance at his watch showed him that half an hour, and hour, even two- had passed while they sat at the table laughing and carrying on. 




Before James knew it, he was snogging Lily Evans.




Lily Potter, he thought, smiling a bit through kissing. Just as the pair stood up to leave, a definite pricking feeling touched James' hand. As he raised it to eye level to examine just what had caused the painful sensation, he realized what he was still handing in his hand- the choclate frog card. Something was off about this card... James considered himself to be a collecter of these cards, but had never seen this young wizard before. 




"Lily?" he asked quietly, still gazing at the card.




"Hmm?" she replied, casually spinning the round, checking for prying eyes as she placed her coat back on.




"Who is Harry Potter?" His voice raised in question, as he shoved the card toward her.




She raised her eyebrow at him quizzically. Lily was the best witch in their year. If she didn't know who Harry Potter was, then no one would. "Is he a relative of yours? He looks just like you James." James shook his head, dumbfounded. "What are his accomplishments?"




The answer made James question his sanity momentarily. Hopefully he was just seeing things.James glanced at the card again, but the image was gone, and in it's place was a winking Albus Dumbledore, even though the name still read 'Harry Potter'. Bewilderment hit him like the Hogwarts Express. He was sure he had seen the boy-wizard awkwardly waving from behind his film just seconds ago.


 "No relative I've ever heard of." he lowered his voice as they began to walk out. Examining the card, flipping it back and forth as if something was going to change again, the pair both though on how something here was fishy.


Lily's face had imprinted on it an air of confusion that wasn't far off James'."Must have been a misprint or something," she said, puzzled, gazing down at the card, in which Dumbledore was now yawning.


"Must be."




Sirius watched as Lily slipped her hand into James', and the couple exited the pub. Remus' voice sounded from behind him, although he never broke his gaze. A smile cracked upon his face as he reached deep inside the pockets of his robes to pull out a small vile , with a few drops of a shimmery pink liquid left. The pull of gravity caused what was left of the juice-like concotion to wriggle around, snake-like, at the bottom of the container.


"Sirius you're a lucky git he didn't see you slipping that into his pumpkin juice this morning at breakfast, or we'd all be dead." His eyes joined Sirius' as they watched James and Lily walk from the pub hand in hand. All around them, snow was falling in mass amounts.


"Well, we know all they needed was a little shove in the right direction. It's obvious to everyone but them that she loves him, and he loves her." There was a pause as the trio watched James and Lily fade into the distance. "And a little love potion never hurt anyone."



Chapter 2: When Lily Fell for James
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 "You take honey in your tea, right Mia?" Lily called from the kitchen. She took the whistling kettle off of the flame it had been boiling on, and poured two mugs.



"Yes, please," her friend answered.


Lily fixed the tea, and re-entered the living room. Her friend was relaxed on the couch, flipping through a copy of The Daily Prophet. She looked up as Lily entered the room, and stood up to take the tea from her hands.

"I wish you woud have said it was ready, I could have helped," Mia scolded, glancing down at Lily's bulging tummy.

"Mia, I'm pregnant, not dying," she laughed, pulling her long read hair up into a pony-tail and off the back of her neck, which was now sticky with dripping beads of sweat. It had been one of the hottest summers Lily could ever remember, and of course, she was enormously pregnant, making it even more unpleasurable. Just as she took a seat on the couch, she felt a bump in the kidney. "Oh, oh oh. My little boy is going to be a beater. I'm sure of it." she smiled, rubbing her stomach.

She grabbed Mia's hand, and pressed it to her exposed belly. She laughed before asking "How much longer now?"

"Well, Molly's positive that I've only got a few weeks to go, even though I'm only seven months today. I think I'm going to trust her, though, as she's had enough to tell."

 "She just had her boy, didn't she?"

"Mmm. His name was Ron. Such a strong name. I liked it for awhile, but James refuses to even consider the idea that we're having a boy. He's sure it's a girl."

 "You've always wanted a girl." Mia smiled at her best friend, taking a bite of her sandwich. 

"Yes, I know, but I just don't think that it's going to be a girl. And I'm almost happy about that. Anyway, if it is, I hope she isn't as fair-skinned as me. I'm tired of this sunburn!" Lily exclaimed, touching her cheeks gingerly. They had been scalded red by the sun every summer since her birth, and to her chagrin, this one was no exception.

"Do you have any names picked out?"

"Well, if it's a girl, James wants to name her Azalea, you know for a flower theme. I think that's a bit corny. If it's a girl I really like Ameilia, and we can call her Mia for short. After you."

Her friend beamed brightly. "And if it's a boy?"

"James wants Sirius. I say no, I refuse to name my child after a dratted constellation, even if it is also after the kindest man I've ever met. Not to mention, naming him Sirius is just dooming him to get into trouble during his Hogwarts days." Lily stuck her tongue out and made a face at the end of this thought. After a brief spurt of laugher, she continued. "And maybe this is a bit dumb, but do you remember that day James and I first got together in Hogsmead?"

Mia nodded, "Sure I do. It was completely unexpected, even though the whole school knew you both loved each other," she teased.

"Oh hush!" Lily blushed, although it was undetectable underneath her sunburn. "Anyway, that funny chocolate frog card, the one that said the name of that wizard no one has ever heard of?"

"Oh, yeah! He had James' surname, didn't he?""Exactly," Lily grinned. "Harry. Harry James Potter."

"Oh Lily, it's perfect!" Mia clapped happily. 

"You know, Mia, that day I never would have guessed I'd be... here," she looked down at her baby bump on the last word, a look of softness crossed her porcelain face.

"That's funny, because everyone else knew you would, even Severus."

Lily frowned a bit at this. She hadn't talked to Severus since he'd owled her back in response to her wedding invitation.

I cannot, in good faith, attend the union between you and that complete idiot. I'm sorry, Lily.

Stay safe.



She had cried for days at the reply, but nevertheless went through with her wedding.

"You know, Mia- I haven't looked at the pictures from the wedding yet. I've just never felt the need to reflect. Do you want to?"

"Of course!" she jumped up. "Where's the photo album?"

"I can get it Mia. I'm not a fragile doll," Lily said, wiping her hand across the back of her neck, in an attempt to relieve the heat.

"Hush, and tell me where it is," she countered, tapping her foot

"In the den, on top of James' desk."

Mia rushed back in, carrying a large beige book that Lily recognized as her wedding album. They plopped down on the floor together, as squeezing next to Lily's belly on the couch was a feat that not even Albus Dumbledore himself could render himself master of.

Opening the book they saw picture upon picture of Lily in her gown, smiling at James. They were dancing. They were waving. They were kissing. They were in love.

"I hope one day that I love some one as much as you and James loved each other here." Mia whined enviously, touching a picture of James and Lily throwing cake at each other.

Lily's heart sank a little at her friend's comment. "Can I confess something to you, Mia?" Her voice trailed, as if she was unsure of what she was about to say was safe or not.

 "Sure," Mia said, closing the book once she sensed the sincerity in her the girl's voice.

 Lily grabbed the book from Mia, tracing her fingers along the shimmering, glittery outside. She swallowed the lump that was in her throat, and took a deep breath in. She examined her friend's short brown hair. Her purple-blue eyes shone with the questioning tone that had just escaped in her voice. This was her best friend. She had known Mia since first year. They dormed together, ate together, learned together, even dated together. Now, here she was questioning her ability to share her deepest secret. Her body seemed to be made of ice suddenly. The heat was no longer a bother to her.

"When these pictures were taken, at the wedding," she paused, a tear trickling down her face. "I wasn't in love with James."

Mia raised an eyebrow.

Lily shook her head defiantly. "That came out wrong," she sighed. Taking another breath in, she said "What I meant to say, is that I loved him, truly I did, and I still do. I just wasn't quite in love with him."

"Are you now?" Caution filled Mia's voice, as if she was unprepared for the answer. However, the answer was coming anyway.

"Of course I am, Mia," Lily grinned, absentmindedly twirling her wedding ring around her finger. The weight of the room seemed to disappear around the two young women.

"Well, when did you fall in love with him, then?"

Pure happiness rose within her at this thought. When had she fallen in love with James Potter? She knew the exact moment in time.

"Well-" Lily began.

Inky night enveloped the British air in London, where thousands of people slept soundly.The night was so black that it could have been mistaken for a large, midnight blue velvet curtain, hung about the atmosphere. Not a single star shone in the sky. The only break from the unfailingly deep night was the soft snow falling like little crystalized messages from the angels.

Snow was dropping everywhere, blanketing the town in a fresh, white wonderland. Lily Evans was awake, gazing out of the window of her rickity flat, watching the messages fly down, and whisper sweet-nothings into the ears of sleeping humans.

The apartment she sat in was small, built for a single person, but she and her husband James were blissfully unaware of its size, having only lived there for a few months since returning from their honeymoon. Their newly-wed mentalities had yet to forsake them.

She watched the street for any signs of life. She had sent her husband out to make what could quite possibly end up being the most important purchase of his life.

Glancing back and forth desparately from the clock to the window was simply doing no one any good, so she moved to the couch, and clicked on the television, trying to calm her anxiously beating heart. Before she knew it, she had dozed of.

She was awakened by the sound of the key in the lock. Her eyelids shot open, and her heart fluttered at the sight of her husband. His scarlet and gold hat and scarf were both covered in a thick layer of snow. His round-rimmed glasses were fogged slightly from the transition from chilling cold to brilliant warmth.

"Did you get it?" she asked, her voice shaking with anticipation.

He said nothing, just held out a small, brown-paper bag. Lily snatched it and ran off into the back hall.

James sat in the spot that Lily had just vacated. Some terrible public-access program was playing on the BBC. James had tried many times, but finally decided he would never understand muggles and their obsession with the television. He clicked it off, and stood up, walking towards where his wife had just disappeared.

When he reached the end of the hall, he rapped on the door lightly.

"Lily, darling? You okay in there?"

"Just another moment, James," she called in return. James placed his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He had been fully asleep when his wife had woken him to run to the nearest drug store and buy the item she had requested.

Pulling me out of bed in the middle of the night to go trudge out into the snow, he thought. This better be worth it.

Just then, the bathroom door cracked open, revealing a sliver of the woman he loved. He pushed it open further, and further still until he saw her blank face.

"Really, Lily? You're going to put your poker face on for this?"

"Yup," she replied.

"Well? Are you?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Lily then revealed a small, white stick. James grabbed it, and in his anticipation, took a moment to focus in on the results.

A small blue plus sign gripped his vision for what could have been the longest moment of his life.

He looked back up at his wife's smilng face.

"We're having a baby, James." she laughed. "A baby. All ours."

"I'm going to be... a father!" He cried, grabbing Lily around the waist and spinning her in circles. When he placed back down onto the ground, he immediately drew her into a deep kiss. When he pulled away he whispered "I love you, Lily Potter" to her. As he said her name, he thought of a far-off time when he had first whispered it aloud to himself. Only the reply was much different now than it was then.

"I'm in love with you James Potter."

Mia sighed happily as Lily finished her story. "Oh, to be young and in love."

It was true, Lily was both. She was barely twenty, and so in love some days she was surprised she could see straight.

As Mia prepared to leave, James and Sirius walked through the door, laughing with each other.

"Hey, hun," James grinned, rushing over to his bride and pecking her on the forehead.

"Hello Mia, Lily." Sirius said suavely. "Mia, let me make sure you get home okay. These are mad times we're living in. Mad times, indeed." Mia smiled exited through the door that Sirius was holding open for her, all the while calling her goodbyes to the Potters.

Once they were gone, James redirected himself back to his wife. "Did she give you any trouble today?" he asked, rubbing her stomach gently.

"A few kicks, nothing serious."

"You know I had the strangest notion today," said James knowingly, as he took the dirty tea mugs from the living room into the kitchen. "This child of ours; he, she, whatever it may be: it's going to be great."

He filled the sink with soapy water and began to scrub the dishes clean. For once in his life, James felt like he had a chance at being normal, thank you very much. And he was going to take this chance and run with it.

Chapter 3: When Ron Fell for Hermione
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Ron found himself in the middle of a deserted British street. The cobblestones underneath his feet were welcoming to him. He had missed the feel of solid pavement. For the last few months of his life, he had been hiding in the woods; hunting objects he wasn't even sure existed anymore. He wanted to just give in. He was soaking wet, even though the sky was bone dry. He felt a raindrop slip from his scalp warmly onto his face, and the flash of pouring rain in the woods flashed infront of his eyes. 


He took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Walking over to the side of the street, he sat down, reflecting on the events that had just unfolded. Hermione's voice was still pleading in his head. Her face still imprinted on his vision. Her beautiful, soft face was contorted into expression so pained, so guilty, that just thinking of it made his heart ache with grief.


"Bloody hell, what have I done?" he muttered, burrying his head in his hands. 


There was a shuffling noise of feet near by, and Ron looked up to see a group of rather shady looking characters wandering towards him. His heart sank with fear as he stood up. They were so close he could hear their muttering. He took long, pronounced strides, turning down strange street after strange street, until he heard a deafining cracking noise, and bumped into a wall of people.


"In a hurry mate?" A man with deep blue robes on, and three scraggly yellow teeth was smiling at him, his eyes crackling with suspicion. 


"Yeah, actually. I erm- have to go- erm- meet my girlfriend." He spat out, thankful for the semi- smooth lie. His stutters could have been mistaken for coughing afterall, couldn't they? He was soaked to the bone, maybe they would have thought he was cold. After all, it was late November.


"'Sat so mate?" the second-third of the dastardly trio asked, but this time, with no mocking smile on his face. Instead, in the smile's place was a deep, fresh cut that was green with infection. "I would have thought you were just avoiding us." 


"Erm- uh- nope," Ron squeaked a bit, his hands shaking, so he shoved them deep into his jumper pockets. "But listen, blokes, as much as I'd like to continue this chat with you, I would also really like to get back to my girlfriend- as she's pregnant and-" a thought of Hermione smiling at him, hands on a bulge where her normally slender stomach was, crossed his mind. He blinked furiously as his insides contorted into guilt ridden knots.


"Oh yeah?" the last man asked. He was repulsively hairy, so much so that one may have assumed he was a werewolf- but Ron had never seen him before, and doubted that he had a drop of canine in him. There was no doubt in Ron's mind that these we the snatchers he had heard about on the radio. These were the bounty hunters that ran around searching for mudbloods. The ones who were desperately searching for Hermione. The one he had to leave. "Well, we don't want to keep you, but can you answer me one thing?"


Ron's heart sank. He knew it was coming. "Sure, mate." Ron muttered, forcing a smile.


"What's your name?" the third man smiled devilishly. The man thought he had Ron. And he almost did, as Ron, out of instinct began to form the sound of an 'R' in his throat. As soon as he realized this, he forced a deep, bone rattling- yet fake, cough into his fist, causing the three men to back off of him a few inches. This gave Ron some much needed breathing room- thinking room. 


C'mon Ron, purebloods. Think of all of the adult purebloods you know. It was then that he realized that the title 'blood traitor' wasn't entirely un-true to those of the other side who called the Weasleys this. It took him just a moment too long to "The name is Shunpike. Stan Shunpike." He almost instantly regretted this decision. What was he thinking? Shunpike was on their side they would know....


Flipping through a small red book, the man with three teeth shook his head at the one who Ron had just been speaking to, the leader. Ron thought of his family, of Harry, of Hermione, how much he loved them all. How could he have run from this? This was one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made, and he knew it right away. How could he have been so selfish? And now Hermione would never know, and he would never be able to be there for his best mate in the hardest times he'd ever face. They trusted him, and he let himself think they were pushing him away. 


"Okay, mate. Get back to your girlfriend- pureblood, right?"


"Oh, yeah. 'Course," he smiled a bit easier, however, suddenly aware of how sweaty he had become. He thanked Merlin for the fact that he was still visibly wet, so his nerves weren't showing as badly. 


"Good for you, man. Breeding the next generation. Just hope he doesn't get that red hair of yours, someone might mistake him for a Weasley," the toothless man laughed.


"Yeah, that is if there are any left after this war. The Dark Lord wants them all dead," piped up the second man, the cut on his face pussed a bit as he let out a wide laugh.


Ron laughed uncomfortably, clenching his fist so that he could feel the skin stretch tensely over his knukles, bones, and tendens. "Yeah, those damn blood traitors," he coughed again.


"Well good luck, out there," the leader grinned, a mischeivous twinkle in his eye. He held out his hand. Ron took it, and gave it a firm shake, all the while his insides crumbling. The trio walked off, laughing and talking about Ron's family. He wanted to shoot curses at their backs, but he knew it would put some kind of suspicion on him, some kind of trace. 


When he turned the corner, he looked over his shoulder to make sure that they weren't still there, following in the shadows. Once he had made sure they were gone, he broke into a sprint. He was running, running as fast as he could away from them. Away from his mistake, away from his thoughts. And for a moment, it worked. He ran through the streets of the suburb of London. 


He needed to get somewhere no one would know him. He needed to go somewhere no one would be angry with him for leaving his best friends behind, the weight of the world resting on their shoulders. He couldn't return home. The chances that his family would be staying at the Burrow would be slim enough. The chances that his family would eat him alive after finding out that he left his friends in their time of need? Much, much greater. 


He ducked into an open pub, where a round, yet very pretty woman was drying glasses behind the counter. 


"What can I do you for, hun?" she smiled at him, setting the glass down and letting her weight rest on one hip. 


"Uhm- a butterbeer please," Ron sighed, folding his arms on the counter, and laying his arms down on top of them.


"A what?" she asked with a confused grin.


Ron raised his eyebrows. Muggles, he thought. All he needed was a nice tall fire- "Whisky," he finally ordered. After a few moments, she smacked the glass down on the table in front of him. He downed it in seconds.  It was then that he realized, he had no muggle money on his person. Today was just not Ron's day.He felt bad about it, but he had to sneak out while she was in the back. The last thing he needed today was to have the muggle aurors, or whatever they were called, called on him.


He wandered down the street, his feet clopping against the cobblestones, thinking about how he would rather die than continue on without his friends. He might as well just avada kedavra himself, for doing what he did. Just as he was wondering if that was even possible- he stopped. An idea popped into his head, and he turned on a dime, and with a loud crack, he was gone.


His lungs were compressed, his stomach was turning, his thougths went all fuzzy, but only for a moment. Then, he was standing by the side of the ocean, smelling the salty air. He walked a few hundred meters up to the door of a small, inviting college in which the lights were on, and he could see movement in the kitchen.


He raised his hand, and knocked gingerly upon the door. It was only a minute or two tops before the wooden door creaked open slowly, his older brother Bill holding a wand straight out, stern-faced and tempermental looking. He squinted at Ron, letting his face, scarred as it was, soften into a look of empathy and confusion. "Ron? Why are you here?"



He had spent weeks laying in bed at Shell Cottage, grieving the loss of his dignity. 


Bill and Fleur had tried to revive him on several occasions, tried to bring back the spring in his step, the grin on his face, but nothing seemed to work. He would go days without eating. He felt like a ghost. He would much rather die off and become some spirit than continue on pretending that everything was going to be okay. He was miserable like this. 


He had been keeping tabs on his friends, making sure they were all right by reading the Qubbler, the Prophet, and listening to Potter Watch every week. He knew they had to be alive, he would have heard if the opposite was true. 


There was a soft tapping on the bedroom door. Ron turned his vision at it just as Fleur entered holding a tray with his lunch on it. "Ronald, I know zat you are not een zee mood to eat, but you must. You 'ave to get out of thees, thees funk zat you are een." Setting the tray down, she sat on the foot of his bed, looking at him in the way that his mother always had when he had gotten sick, or been hexed by one of his brothers. 


"Thanks, Fleur," he sighed, stirring the soup over with his spoon, watching the spinach and bits of bread and meat rise and fall in waves. "I'm sorry about putting all this pressure on you and Bill. I just didn't know where else to go," he said, and although he would never admit it his eyes began to water.


"Oh Ronald, you know zat you are always welcome 'ere," she exaulted. She stood up, hugged him briefly and then began to walk towards the door. She stopped for a moment and spun around, reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a shiny silver object. "Oh, I almost forgot!" she cried, a smile on her face as she looked down at the artifact in her hand. "Zees was een your pants pocket zee night you came 'ere." She tossed the object to Ron, who caught it easily. Fleur then exited the room. 


The deluminator. He smiled weakly at it, and drank down his soup in no more than two gulps. He stood up, placing the deluminator in his pajama shirt pocket, and took the tray down to the kitchen, where Fleur and Bill were talking in hushed tones. They stopped immediately upon his enterence. 


"Good to see you'e got a bit of you're appetite back, mate," Bill smiled, gesturing to a seat next to him. Fleur placed her sun hat on her head, and exited the house to walk to the shore.


"Thanks, Bill," Ron sighed, plopping down next to bill in a wood chair that looked almost hand-carved. 


"So, you wanna' talk about it yet?" Bill asked, pushing the lemon slice that was sitting in hi his tea down, letting it rise, and then repeating the process; all the while keeping a firm lock on Ron's gaze. 


"I guess I have to tell you sooner or later, yeah?" The corner of his mouth twitched up as he clicked the deluminator, which did nothing, as all of the lights in the room were already off.  Bill nodded, taking a long sip of his tea. "I just felt so empty all the time. So lonely. And I couldn't do anything after the splinching," Ron gestured to his now healed shoulder, "and Harry and Hermione... I thought that they were.."


"Together?" Bill helped the obviously struggling Ron.


"Yeah, and for some reason I couldn't take it."


"It's because you love her, mate. Everyone knows it. Everyone but you and her," Bill laughed, glancing out the window at Fleur. "I was the same way with Fleur. After about a thousand letters to Charlie, he told me to ask her out, and I did. Now look where we are."


"That's... that's not it," Ron scoffed defensively, thinking again of the smiling, pregnant Hermione he had imagined all those weeks ago when he got away from the snatchers. 


"If you say so, Ron." 


"It's just that, I was beginning to feel transparent. They didn't see me anymore. I was just dead weight. I felt like some ghost. Like Nearly Headless Nick was travelling around with them instead of me. It felt like all we were doing was camping, and you know how much I hate camping. We were just endlessly travelling. Nothing made any sense. We should have been the same people, like we always were, but I was starting to see just how different I was from them. I started to think they didn't want me there anyway. So one night I lost it, and just left. I've wanted to go back since the second I left, but I have no idea how to find them," he looked down at the deliminator clicking it. 


"Such is life, little brother. And as for your friends, it will come to you. I know you're meant to be out there with them. You're in so much pain for a reason, they way I see it, it's payment of sorts,"Bill said, standing up and patting his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Now, could you please go take a shower? You aren't in the woods anymore, and you don't need to smell like it."


Smiling, Ron walked out of the living room and up to the bathroom to take a shower.


After he had finished, he sat in his room, clicking the lights on and off with the deluminator until it no longer pleased him, and he placed it back into his jean's pocket. 


He lay back, closing his eyes when all of a sudden he heard his name.  




He raised an eyebrow and listened for it again, and it came again, from his... pants? He had always thought himself a bit weird... but this was just plain looney.


"Ron," the whisper came again as he pulled out the deluminator. Eyeing it curiously, he clicked it, and as he did a bright white ball floated out of it. He watched it, in awe, as the orb approached him, and sank into him. Suddenly he was warm inside. He knew he had to return, and he knew how. 


He stood up, throwing everything he owned that was sitting in his room into the bag that he had stashed under his bed, and ran down the stairs taking them two at a time, deluminator still in hand. 


"Bill! Fleur!" He called, sprinting out of the house, to find them sitting on the shore, the cold, grey, water lapping over their feet. They both looked up at Ron, understanding filled all four eyes.


"You found them, didn't you?" Bill questioned. 


"Yeah, I did," Ron smiled, leaning down, and kissing Fleur cheek. "Thanks guys, but I have to get there, before it's too late,"


"Au Revoir, Ronald," Fleur smiled at him, as he turned on the spot and with a crack, he was gone.


He appeared on a hill side, and sat in waiting for the pair to show their faces. However, after hours, and hours, they never did. Once the night had envelopped him, he decided that he had somehow missed them and pulled out the deluminator again. 


He heard the whisper of his name escaping from it again, but this time recognized the voice as belonging to Hermione. A smile stretched across his face from ear to ear as he clicked the deluminator again and the glowing orb, warm and friendly, reappeared. It floated around his head once, and he watched it until it finally sunk again into his chest.


He stood up, grabbed his rucksack, and turned on the spot with a crack. 




After an interesting night in which Ron defeated a piece of Voldemort's soul, a horcrux, he and Harry returned to the tent where Hermione was sleeping softly.


The morning was filled with Hermione's screams. Her anger at Ronald spewed into ever word that she spoke. However, this just made him happier to have come back when he did. Hermione's sensitive temper was one of the things he loved about her.


That night, as they each lay in their separate bunks, Ron slipped out of his, and went to crouch next to Hermione's. 


The sound of snow as it padded down softly outside filled the tent. Ron watched her breathe in and out, her small ribcage rising and falling. He leaned over, and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, then kissed the place where it had been. She stirred slightly, but did not wake.


"Sweet dreams, 'Mione," he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears of guilt, thinking of how selfish he had been. "I'll never leave you again. Not even for all the chocolate frogs in the world. I," he lowered his tones so much at the next phrase, he was the only one that could have dreamed to hear it: "I love you."


A tear dripped down his face and splashed onto the ground. Maybe he was nothing more than a misguided ghost right now, but he would be until Voldemort was defeated, so he might as well stay in the company for those he loved.

Chapter 4: When Hermione Fell for Ron
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 Hermione breathed out heavily. She was sitting in Flourish & Blotts, a crowd of people sat in front of her, grinning, all holding a very familliar book: her book. Luna was standing in front of the table where Hemione was sitting, talking about her experiences with Hermione, and her help in editing her book. She was shaking an incredible amount, for as important as she had become in the wizarding world, she had never gotten used to public speaking in it. Especially when there were reporters present. 

She traced the gold letters emblazened on the front cover, Discovering Home by Hermione Weasley. There was a picture of her family on the front, smiling and waving at the perspective readers. Ron was standing next to her, smiling greatly. He had worn his favorite tie for the occasion: the one that Rose had picked out for him for Father's Day that year. It had chocolate frogs on it bouncing around in patterns. His left hand was placed on his daughter's head lovingly. Her  bush of curly red hair had been braided into a tame, neat pigtails with green ribbons on the end to match her dress. Ron's right arm was placed around Hermione, who was showing her pregnancy at the time. Today, she was heavily pregnant. 


I should have rethought the release date, she thought. I'm scary enought without crazy hormones.


"but I guess that's enough about me, as none of you have come hear to listen to me blunder. I introduce to you the wonderful, beautiful, Hermione Granger for a reading of her new book," Luna smiled, moving to the side. She backed up onto the makeshift stage where Hermione was seated, and took a seat on a stool near the edge, facing Hermmione, her eyes wide in anticipation.


"Thank you, Luna," Hermione stuttered. She could feel her face growing hot with nerves, and she tried to push them aside as she looked at the crowd that had come to gather to listen to her read a chapter out of her book. While most of the crowd was mostly witches that she knew from work, or from Hogwarts, there was still a plethera of faces she did not quite recognize. She glanced out to see Molly Weasley, her mother-in-law front and center with Ginny, Harry, and Ron.  


"I'm not the best at speeches, you'll have to forgive me," she began, a small and (hopefully) unnoticible tremor shook her body as she opened the book. The spine crackled. It had never been opened before. "As you all know, I wrote this book as a resut of the rumors that have surrounded me as of late in our world. Rumors such as my eleged nomination for the next Minister- or in this case, Mistress- of Magic, my pregnancy, which I'm sure you all know the answer to by now," the crowd laughed, and Ron turned a shade of pink, the look on his face somewhere between embarrassment and pride. "Also, this is about my role in school system, the legislative system, and, to put it frankly if I may, an attack on the thought that I couldn't or shouldn't be able to handle all of this as a muggle-born. However, I trust that most of you aren't here for that. Most of you are my friends, my family, people that I've known all my life, so I will not bore you with a chapter filled with law talk, or historical information on the lineage of my family. Instead, I'm going to read the first chapter in the book. The chapter about how I fell in love with the man that has supported me through all of my endeavours. My husband." At the mention of Ron, the baby launched a playful kick at Hermione's, thankfully empty, bladder.


She placed her reading glasses on the tip of her nose, and with a smile, began to read. 


"I was given very good advice, by one of the best wizards to have ever lived once. And although the phrase has been uttered many times throughout the course of history, the fact that Albus Dumbledore had said it, and had said it to me, meant that it must be true. He told me that love conquers all. Love is the beginning, and the end of all things. Love is what builds us up when we are broken down and longing to find a way out. Love is what keeps us together. 


"I know this to be a fact, and trust me when I say that I know fact from fiction. I've seen first hand what love can do for our world. One of my best friends saved the world, with the help of the last gift he ever recieved from his mother, the protection of love. He gave it to me when he meant to die for me and all who fought for his cause. Love kept our world from falling apart. 


"However, when Dumbledore gave me this piece of advice, one of the last glimpses of wisdom he was able to give me, I was skeptical. I was unsure of love, because I was young, and foolish. Love was nothing I could learn from a book, or create with a spell, or even brew in a potion no matter how many times I tried. Today I know that even then,  I knew fully what love was, even if I was afraid to admit it. 


"My husband has asked me many, many times when I fell in love with him. I've told him time and time again as a response 'I love you, isn't that all that matters?' I knew it was all that mattered to him, but his develish curiosity is why he was asking. This chapter illustrates the story of how I fell in love with Ronald Billius Weasley."


She looked up at Ron, who was beat red, his mother crying tears of uninhibited joy next to him. He had no idea that this chapter had been written. He had no idea that she was planning on reading it. Suddenly, there were butterflies in her stomach, swirling around in excitement. She was finally going to tell her husband the day she fell in love with him, and it was going to be in a room full of people he didn't know. She adjusted her glasses a bit, and then looked back down at her copy of the book. 


"Saying I loved him the first time I saw him would be a complete and utter lie," she began, and the crowd laughed. "To be honest, I didn't even like the bloke. He was pompous, and had dirt on his nose. Eleven year old me cared about nothing more than books and hygene. He had violated both of my rules within the first three minutes of my meeting him. 


"I was nervous, being a muggle-born in a world I hadn't known existed until roughtly a month prior to my integreation into it. I was an outcast, too smart and too willing to show it for my own good. Ron Weasley was no comforting point. He and Harry were the boys I clung to, I thought them to be my friends, but I found out the hard way, from hearing them talk about me one day, that it wasn't the case. 


"I stuffed myself in the girls bathroom, crying my eyes out for hours. I was convinced that I had made the worst decision in attending Hogwarts. I was on my way to inform Professor McGonagall that I wanted to go home, and have my memory wiped of this place, when I heard the door of the bathroom slam open against the wall. A rancid smell filled the bathroom, and I walekd out to face the biggest creature I had ever seen. 


"Harry and Ron ran in, crying at me to duck. I ran as the troll, that we later found out had been let in by our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was ironically posessed by Lord Voldemort,  began smashing in bathroom stalls. 


"Harry climbed on top of the troll, and had shoved his wand up his nose. What he thought this would do, I would never know. But it was then that the troll got a hold of The Boy Who Lived, and Ron did something to save both of our lives. He used the only spell he had learned thusfar in the coursework, and levitated the Troll's club, knocking him out. This was when I started to fancy Ronald Weasley.


"Fancying however, is not love. Sitting down to write this, I thought of all the moments where, when in my memories, I looked at him and though 'this is love.' They stretched all the way from when he returned to help Harry and I, to the day he proposed to me, to the birth of Rose. The earliest moment I remember truly thinking of how much I loved him, was in second year."


"It was the first time anyone had said it to my face. Draco Malfoy, who at the time was our sworn enemy, called me a mudblood. In less than a second, Ron's wand was out, pointing straight in his face. His face was contorted into a terrible look of disgust, his eyes were filled with anger. He shouted out some hex that I had never heard of, and it backfired." Hermione glanced up to see Ron, who's face was an awkward mix between green from the sickening memories of the moment, and a light red of embarassment. She cast him a slight smile, and his colors faded quickly. His eyes grew observant again. The way he watched her, it was obvious he loved her.


"Harry, Hagrid, and I spent the next few hours waiting for all of his hexed slugs to emerge from his belly into a large wooden pail in Hagrid's hut. And I hate to say it, but as I watched him upchuck slugs over and over again, I realized that I loved Ronald Weasley. I realized that I would always love him. He was the first person to really stand up for me in this new, exciting, and scary world that I found myself a part of. I knew in that moment, although I doubted it many times as the years passed, that Ron and I would be together." She closed her book with a sigh. The binding crinkled satisfactorily. Her brown eyes flickered up at those she cared about most. Molly was falling apart in the front row. Harry was wiping a tear from the brim of his left eye, claiming that some of the dust from the books had gotten into it. Ginny smiled up happily. 


Luna stood up, a great smile on her face. She was clapping along with everyone else in the room, but for some reason, to Hermione, her clapping stood out among the rest. With a flick of her hair to reveal her radish-ordained ears, she hushed the crowd and said something that was entirely Luna. "Wasn't that lovely?"


Hermione walked off the stage and into Ron's arms. "Ready to go home?" he asked, grinning down at her. "Rosie's waiting with Teddy and Mrs. Tonks."


"I'm ready," she smiled, taking his hand. They walked out of the shop together, turned on the spot, and were gone.



Chapter 5: When George Fell for Katie Bell
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An incredible splashing noise from upstairs made Katie cringe. She sighed, pulling her hair up. "George, Fred? You two doing alright up there?" There was a gurgling laughter from Fred as George called down an affirmative, however strained, response. 


Raising her eyebrows in doubt, Katie sat down on the sofa. She waved her wand, and stopped the automatic knitting needles from their work, and began to hand knit the pink baby booties that were hanging from the shining green needles. She had almost forgotten about her worry for the boys upstairs when there was another great splashing noise, and what sounded like her fiance George trying not to yell.


"I'll never have these done in time for Hermione's shower if this keeps up," she said to herself, setting down the needles and making her way up the stairs to the bathroom.


Upon reaching her destination, she realized that the door was shut, and even more worrisome, locked. She brought her hand into a fist, and tapped on the door lightly. "George darling, open the door."


"Erhm- Just a moment, Katielove. I'm just drying Freddie off now." There was a creaking noise, and a shifting of weight that signaled to Katie that George was walking toward the door.


The door opened inwardly, and George poked his head through the open crack. His hair was mysteriously sopping wet."Erhm- Kate, love... do you happen to know where the towels ar-"


In the middle of his question, a red haired streak of lighnting shot from behind the bathroom door, and ran stark naked down the hall and to his room. Katie looked back at her fiance who was now showing his entire person rather than just his head. He was soaked from head to toe. Katie, who had been tapping her foot in judgement since her appearance infront of her family now could not help but laugh in spite of herself at the sight. 


Walking to the linen cupboard across the hall, she pulled out a towel and tossed it to George. "I'll take care of Freddie. You... you just need to dry off." She pecked his cheek and with the corner of the towel dabbed a bit of the water off his face. He laughed slightly before walking back into the bathroom and closing the door. Katie then took off down the hallway after the little mischief maker she called her son. 


Catching him, she began to tickle him which caused shrieks of laughter to fill the house. As she pulled the zipper on his footed red and gold flannel pajamas into place, George entered the room. He walked over to his son with a smile on his face. "You remind me of Uncle Fred more and more every day," he said, planting a light kiss on the lightly freckled cheek of the four-year-old. 


Freddie's eyes shone happily. He picked up the picture of his father and uncle before his uncle's death which was sitting on his night stand. "Uncle Fred..." he said quietly. Katie looked at her fiance, who was obviously choking back tears. She too missed Fred, the little one looked so much like him it was hard to stand sometimes. 


Placing the picture back onto the standd, George tucked Freddie tightly underneath the covers. He watched as Katie stood up from the end of the bed, and began to walk toward the door. Just as he was about to follow suit and do the same, Fred stopped them.


"Mummy? Dad? Will you tell me a story? You know, how you used to?" George was befuddled. Fred hadn't asked for a story at bed-time in well over a year. Katie spun round with a bright smile on her face. She came back immediately to Fred's bedside. 


"Sure, sweetums. What story would you like to hear? Something from Aunt Mione's version of Beadle the Bard?" Katie smiled, as George pulled up a large, plush chair that had been in Freddie's room ever since it had been in place as a nursery. He sat down as far over as he could, so Katie could squeeze in next to him. 


"Not tonight. I want to hear about when you and Daddy fell in love," a light flush rose across his cheeks, causing his freckles to blend in with the rest of his skin. His blue eyes which normally shone bright with mischief, were filled instead with an innocent curiosity. 


George smiled, his eyes twinkled as he looked at Katie. Her brown hair was pulled up, and she was wearing pajamas, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The mother of his child. His fiance. 


"Sure, Freddiepie," she smiled, brushing her hand over his forehead. 


"How to start, how to start..." George sighed, as Katie settled down next to him in the chair. The couple glanced at eachother for a long moment before a smile cracked across George's face and he began.


"Once upon a time not too long ago, there lived a princess. Not only was she a princess, she was a witch too. She was the fairest princess in all the land, but being fair had its downfalls."


Katie smiled, she had an idea of where he was going with this, and continued once George had paused, unsure of what he would say next. "The princess had gone to school and was in training to be a teacher, but had no desire to do so. Her father, the King of the land, however, had made it clear of his intentions for the princess. She was to marry a pure-blood wizard, and have pure-blood children. She would not work, as it was not lady-like. He even had a plan of who she was to marry. But the princess said no."


George stopped her, and started the tale again from his perspective. "The princess was tired of being fawned upon by her father's chosen suitors, and devised a plan to get away from them. So the princess made a bet with the king. She would marry any suitor of his choosing, and live the life he had always wanted her to live, if she couldn't make the British... Dragonitch team."


"Dragonitch, George? Really?"


"I'm a jokester, not a novellist, bear with me, Katie," he muttered back to his fiance, and then looked back to his son with smile on his face. "Anyway, Dragonitch was the roughest, toughest game in all the land, so initially the King would not hear of this. However, after weeks of consideration the King decided to let his daughter have her way. She would be allowed to play Dragonitch and live as a civilian if she could make the Dragonhead Dragonflies." A loud snort erupted from Katie's throat. Finally, she managed to contain her laughter long enough to continue the story.


"And so the Princess began to train. Her father had promised to find her the best dragon with wich she could ride for practice and try-outs.  But the King had a plan as well. Ever since he had agreed to the princess to let her try out for the Dragonitch team the Dragonhead Dragonflies," Katie couldn't help but laugh in saying this. "He had been scheming and plotting ways to get his way. He knew that the Princess could make the team, as her determination was well known kingdom-wide."


"And so he agreed with the Princess, but with three conditions," Geoge held up three fingers, and smiled. His son looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant. Freddie was the mirror image of him and his late twin when they were his age, but his spirit shone differently. His eyes sparkled with a fire that was more Katie than anything he had ever seen in himself, or even Fred. "The first condition was that he insisted on buying her dragon. The day after their agreement had sealed, a large and ferocious dragon appeared in the courtyard of the castle. The King thought he had her. He was sure that his daughter would never be able to tame the beast he had forced upon her. However, on the King's daily stroll through the castle grounds, he found that the dragon was no longer roaming the courtyard in chains. Instead, it was in the sky, the Priness riding it, pursuading it which way to go."


He looked at his fiance, signalling his passing of the story. "And so the King was enraged. How could his daughter have tamed the dragon so quickly? He knew she was of magical blood, of his blood, but he knew not how she could be so successful with such a dragon. The King had two conditions with which he could yet rest on. The second condition, the King thought, ws sure to leave the princess stumped. His second condition was that the Princess be instructed daily by a trainer of the King's choosing. And so the king hired a dark sorcerer to train his daughter in the ways of..."


"Dragonitch," George cut in, noticing that Katie was going to burst into laughter at any moment. "And so the sorcerer came to the castle to train the Princess. He promised the King that he would put a dark spell on the Princess, but in return he wished to be a suitor for the Princess. He wished to woo her and take her as his sorceress. Her determination could bring about a new world order of wizards. The King agreed, begrudgingly. He was sure that he could back out once the goal was reached. Th Princess' hand in marriage had already been promised to a prince in the next kingdom. However, after training the princess for weeks successfully under a dark spell, the sorcerer accidentally intercepted an owl in which told of the Kings plan to marry off the princess in one weeks time. The day after the try outs for the Dragonitch team."


"So the sorcerer left the castle, but not before cusing the King and his plans against his daughter." Katie smiled, but it was empty. She realized that this was an embellished story, but it was still her life. Her father had denounced her for wanting to play professional quidditch. He had thrown up every road block possible to get in her way. Castion Bell, her father, the Death Eater.


George noticed the pain that began to flood Katie's eyes, and took over for the rest of the story. Fred noticed nothing but a seamless transition of story tellers. "And thus the King was left to rest on his final condition. The condition that he would be there to attend the Dragonitch match that would determine whether or not the young princess would make the team. The match that would determine her future.


"On the morning of the match, the Princess and the King rode to the Dragonitch Pitch in the royal carriage, dragon in toe. He begged the princess to reconsider. He wanted nothing but the best for her, and he feared for her safety. He admitted that he had other motives, but this was the main reason as to why he didn't want her to try out for the team. The Princess, however, refused. She knew that this was her final test. She knew that her future depended on it."


"Dad," Fred yawned. "I know that mum's the princess, but where are you in the story? It sounds like it's about to be over."


"It is almost over, Freddie," George laughed, wrapping an arm around his fiance, who was looking up at him almost as expectantly as their son. 


"Well can you just skip to the part where you two meet already!? I've got pre-school tomorrow, and I'm tired."


George smiled, and watched as Freddie batted his eyelids, heavy with sleep. "Okay, I'll try to skip ahead. Anway, after getting ready, the Princess was on the pitch, preparing with the other witches and wizards to mount their dragons and begin the game. Looking into the stands, the Princess saw her father, staring across the field. She followed his gaze to a man standing a few meters away. When the Princess turned her face towards his, he smiled meekly and looked away. She was immediately entranced by his charm, and great red hair-"


"George!" Katie laughed, pushing him lightly. 


"That's you Daddy! That's you!" Fred clapped happily, beaming and looking back and forth between his parents. 


George smiled, patting his son on the head before continuing. "Anyway, the Princess couldn't take her eyes off of the ravishing man in her presence, but managed to do so when the Dragonhead Dragonflies coach blew the warning whistle and all the prospective players mounted their broomsticks. The Princess was nervous as she flew through the air; the gaze her father was casting upon her boring into her. Suddenly, she felt twitchy and tingly. Her vision started to blur and she let go of her dragon. She felt herself plummetting towards the earth."


Freddies eyes grew wide, as he looked at his mother, as if he was in disbelief that she was alive. "But the FABULOUSLY attractive red-head from earlier had been watching her through the game, unable to take his eyes off of the fair princess. He noticed that when she started to act funny, the King was no where to be found in the stands. He dove from undreds of meters in the air, and caught her, bringing her to a safe landing on the ground. The gorgeous man set her down, and took off running, intent on finding the King. When he found him, the King was trying to coax his coach into leaving, but the footman refused to go without the Princess.


"The incredibly attractive red-headed man grabbed the King, and dragged him back into the stadium, to face his daughter. Both the delicious redhead and the King were surprised to find the Princess and her dragon missing from the ground, instead, they pair were hurdling toward the goal posts with the... Draufll in their grasp. The magnificent red head watched in amazement as the girl and her dragon did acrobats in the air, scored points, and won the game for her team. It was at that moment that he knew this was the woman he loved."


George looked at Katie, who was laughing hysterically by this point. He kissed her forehead and squeezed her closer to him as they stood up from the chair.


Fred looked up disappointedly. "That's it?" he asked. "No living happily ever after? What happened to the King? Did she make the team?" his eyes shone bright with inquisitive spunk. 


"Oh! Silly us," Katie smiled. "Yes, dear son. The Princess did in fact make the Dragonitch team. She still plays for them today. She married the marvelous red head, and they had a little prince together. As for the King, he ended up being locked away in the tallest tower of the castle, never to meddle in his daughter's life again."


"And they lived happily ever after?" Freddie smiled up at his father, whose hand was on the light switch, about to click it off. 


"And they lived happily ever after. Good night, Freddie."


"Sweet dreams, My Prince," Katie cooed, kissing his cheek, and then joining her husband in the hall.


They walked down to the living room hand in hand, where Katie picked up her knitting once more. George watched as the needles clicked together, and looped through the pink fabric. The look of intent on Katie's face was mystifying. The passion she put into everything she did, it was incredible. The spark in her eyes that never faded. It was what made her who she was. And he loved her for it.