Silly Wand Waving

Chapter 33: Silly Wand Waving

October 30, 1997

"I'm very disappointed in you. Didn't know you were such a kiss-arse. Percy would be pleased."

"Fuck you," Annie spat the whispered swear at George. She knew being compared to Percy was a low blow from him, even though she had never met his elder brother.

George snorted. "Kiss your Gran with that mouth? Tsk, tsk."

Annie shoved a heavy bag of groceries into his arms. It contained all the ingredients for dinner that night; she had offered to cook for the Weasleys in honor of Molly's birthday.

"I'm not your beast of burden!" he protested.

"Bye, Gran! Bye, Mrs. Finnerty! See you about eight, I expect," she called toward the front room in a light, cheery voice that was completely at odds with the glowering look on her face directed at George.

"Bye, dear!" came two answering ladies' voices.

Annie smiled to herself, pleased that her Gran was up and out of bed for once. She had been so tired lately. The prospect of an evening of cards and gossip with her dear friend and neighbor had cheered her immensely.

Then Annie turned back to George with a stern look. "Your mother deserves a night off. It must be excruciating for her to be stuck in that house with no one but you lot all day for company. The poor dear must be stark raving mad by now," she argued in a whisper.

George insolently stuck his tongue out at her while mimicking her pose: hands on his hips, foot tapping the floor. Annie rolled her eyes, spun on her heels, and grabbed the carefully packaged cake. Michael trotted into the kitchen from where he had been napping, keeping the ladies in the front room company. George and Annie both patted him on the head as they walked past him through the back door.

They left the house and climbed into the truck. It was a complicated process now to get to the Burrow. First they drove off in the truck for Gran's benefit – they couldn't exactly Disapparate from the kitchen in front of her. But neither could they risk a Muggle truck being spotted at the Burrow, since they were never sure if the house was being watched. Usually, they parked it at different random spots on the side of a deserted country road, then Apparated once they were out of sight and invisible.

"Hope you don't get splinched, prat," George taunted her just as they were about to disappear.

Annie knew he was teasing, but that thought was never a welcome one as the oppressive blackness hit her and she fell into whatever dimension they passed through on their way. She never liked it much to begin with, but they were forced to travel this way rather often these days.

"Bloody knob," she huffed under her breath and forcefully jabbed her elbow into his ribs when they found themselves rematerialized at the back door of the Burrow.

She usually loved the predominant smart-arse streak in George, but he had been getting rather stroppy with her lately. She understood his aggravation at being forced to remain hidden in his home; his only opportunity to escape his henpecking mother was to work on his owl-order business at his unlikable Aunt Muriel's house or trek off on what he described as "another boring, safe, and stupid" routine Order mission after dark. Understanding his grouchy mood only made it slightly more tolerable, however.

Captivity did not sit well with George, and she could tell he was itching for a victim on which to unleash his frustrations. Annie realized this probably meant she had a target on her back. She'd had higher hopes for tonight; it felt like ages since she was last in Molly's cozy kitchen for nothing but a simple, friendly visit. Not to mention forever since she and George had seen each other before midnight. It had been a week since they had seen each other at all.

George dumped the bag onto the kitchen table and sat down noisily, looking profoundly put upon.

"Annie, dear!" Molly hugged her in welcome and relieved her of the cake.

At least someone in the room seems happy I'm here, Annie thought. "I know it's not easy to let someone else putter in your kitchen, Molly," she began.

"Don't be silly, dear. Nicest thing anyone's done for me in the longest time. No one else even raises a finger to help around here," she said as she cast a disparaging look toward George, who smirked in response.

"My pleasure," Annie replied. "I'll still need your help operating the stove, but otherwise, you just sit back and relax."

Molly was beaming at her with delight. George looked utterly disgusted and rolled his eyes. Fred sauntered in, said hello to Annie, and then joined his mother and brother at the table.

Annie set to work. Behind her, she listened to Molly continue to harangue the boys about chores that needed to be done around the house. She had to admit, being badgered like that all day long would have driven her batty as well, and she felt a pang of sympathy for both twins.

Then something began zapping Annie's ear like a tiny, electrically charged mosquito. All sympathetic feelings dissipated as she closed her eyes for a few moments, willing herself to resist the urge to swat at it and give him the pleasure of seeing her irritated. She forcefully kept her focus on the potato she was peeling instead.

As she reached out for the next one, she watched as the peelings from the first potato wrapped themselves back around it.

"Oh, come on," she muttered in frustration under her breath.

She tried peeling another one with the same results. Fine. It'll be mashed potatoes with peel, then. She started chopping one roughly, tossing the pieces into a small pot. As soon as she reached for the next potato, all the chopped bits began to float up and out of the pot, swirling around each other in midair like asteroids in orbit.

"Not funny," she whispered, biting her lips to quell the amused smile before it spread visibly across her face.

Suddenly, the cubes all crashed loudly into the pot, splashing her with water. She sighed audibly as she grabbed a towel to mop up the mess.

She turned then to the carrots. The peelings stayed in the sink this time, to her relief. A relief that turned out to be short-lived, however, when one carrot started attacking her by rapping her knuckles as she tried to chop the first one.

"That's it!" she hissed, spinning around to face the table, rubbing her painful hands.

Both boys were carefully looking at their mother with innocent expressions, apparently listening intently to Molly's current rant regarding their slovenly housekeeping habits.

"What's wrong, dear?" Molly asked, surprised and curious.

Annie didn't answer, only glared at the boys.

"Serves her right, eh?" Fred muttered under his breath in George's direction.

George responded with a smug look.

Molly caught the exchange between her sons, unbeknownst to them. She glanced toward the sink and noted the carrot still jabbing Annie roughly in the back. Annie watched the expression on Molly's face swiftly change from curiosity to suspicion and finally to vengeance as a plan instantly formed in her mind.

"I'm warning you two: stop this nonsense this instant!" their mother scolded.

"What d'you mean?" and, "Didn't do anything!" the twins protested. The innocent looks were replaced by ones full of indignation.

"Culpablo!" snapped Molly, her wand instantaneously appearing in her hand.

"Ow!" George yanked his hand out of his pocket, vigorously shaking it like he had just received an electric shock. His right hand began turning red before their eyes.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, George! Apologize to Annie this instant!" Molly demanded.

"Why d'you always blame me for everything?" George whined, persisting with the shocked innocence defense.

"Shameful," Fred chimed in, shaking his head in an attempt to egg his mother on.

"You're no better! Out of my sight!" Molly barked at him.

Fred and George both rose from the table, laughing at their cleverness.

"Oh, no! Not you, George. You'll be helping Annie now."

Fred laughed harder as he strolled out of the kitchen. George shrugged and walked toward Annie. A malicious grin appeared on his face once it was beyond Molly's line of sight. Annie gulped nervously, realizing she was really in for it now.

"Hand it over," commanded Molly from behind his back.

George spun back around to face his mother, a confused look on his face.

"Your wand. Give it to me. Clearly, you can't be trusted with it," she said, holding out her empty hand.

The confusion turned to disbelief. "You're joking!" he cried.

"Accio wand!" Molly shrieked.

George's wand flew out of his pocket and into her hand.

Molly pointed with her finger at the sink with a stabbing motion and a scowl on her face. "Chop!" she commanded her son. Then she turned to Annie, smiling. "He's all yours now, dear. Let me know if he gives you any more trouble."

George was standing in the middle of the kitchen, still spluttering, paralyzed in shock. Annie, who had been just as stunned by the exchange as George, began to giggle. George shot her a glare as his mother gave him a rough shove toward the sink.

Reluctantly, he began to chop the carrots while Annie started on a pie crust. "Done," he grunted after almost a minute of work.

Annie glanced over to the pile of carrot pieces. He was apparently attempting to punish her with incompetence: the irregular sizes wouldn't cook evenly, and she suspected he knew it. She smiled sweetly, feeling full of mischief herself now that she had Molly on her side. "Hmm.... These bits are too big. Make them smaller," Annie instructed him.

The look on George's face told her he'd like to see her try to make him do it.

"Is there a problem, George?" asked Molly in a warning tone from her seat at the table.

George scowled at Annie as she laughed, "Ah, ah, ah – be nice now. Show me a smile."

He stuck out his tongue at her.

"That's much better!" she teased.

George spent a minute more chopping before he quit again, folding his arms on his chest in a pout.

Annie made a show of inspecting his work. "I've certainly seen better, but I suppose that will do."

"What next, dear?" asked Molly, who was clearly enjoying this as much as Annie. "Pots need stirring?"

"Erm, no," Annie chuckled. "The intent is for you to enjoy your birthday meal, which could be difficult if it's poisoned. I'll take it from here. Just sit here on this stool and keep me company, George. I do so love your cheerful face."

He did so with a dark look.

Molly did everything in her power to make her son squirm. All she and Annie talked about were fashion (That skirt looks lovely on you dear. Is that jumper wool or cotton? I do love to knit, you know...), recipes (I do like a bit of rosemary with the beef, don't you?), and romantic stories of Molly and Arthur's days of courtship at Hogwarts.

George spent the entire time shooting looks at Annie promising painful revenge. She couldn't help but smile back at him. It was difficult to remember back to a time when she had been quite so entertained.

"All right, George. You may set the table now," directed Molly.

She continued to harass her son throughout the dinner, requiring him to perform all the serving duties – second helpings, refilling beverages, clearing the table – all without the use of his wand. Fred was working his brother's punishment to the hilt, stopping just short of insisting his brother feed him bite by bite. Annie was starting to feel pity for George, who was wallowing in sullen misery, by the time the meal was finished.

While the rest of the family sat in the living room, listening to the wireless, she walked into the kitchen with George's wand hidden in the waistband of her skirt. Molly had slipped it to her during dinner when he was in the other room with a warning to be careful not to point it at anything valuable. She found George standing at the sink full of sudsy water, pouting.

"I'll wash, you dry," she offered. She was willing to help him the old-fashioned way but not so stupid as to surrender her only advantage.

"You're enjoying this far too much for your own good," he grumbled as he took the last dish from her dripping hands.

"Careful now – don't say something you're going to regret," she warned him playfully.

"She can't protect you forever," he retorted, unamused. "Just remember... paybacks are a bitch."

"Oh, dear. You had to go and spoil it, didn't you?" she lamented theatrically, shaking her head. "Molly! Need anything else?" she called out, looking smugly at George.

"Couldn't keep his mouth shut, then?" Molly answered from the other room. "Oh, well. Some more wood for the fire would be nice, I suppose."

George threw the dishtowel on the counter and stomped out the back door. Annie followed him outside, skipping coyly.

It was a surprisingly warm night for so late in the fall, and they didn't even need jackets. The cloudy sky glowed a deep ruddy purple to the west where the sun had set a short while ago. She casually leaned back against the fence in front of him and watched as he split a few pieces of wood. The sight of George hefting an axe was possibly even more entertaining than witnessing him slaving away in the kitchen.

"Despicable – hiding behind my mother like that. Where's your self-respect?" he needled her as he worked.

Annie made a show of looking all around her. "Oh, I'm not hiding from anybody." She carefully pulled out the wand from its hiding place and spun it between her fingers, tempting him. "I suppose you want this back?"

"How long have you had it?" he asked in a gruff voice. He held out his hand expectantly.

Annie shook her head and gave him her sweetest smile. "Not yet, I think. I'm having far too much fun for my own good, as you said."

George returned her smile now, accepting her invitation to play. "I could just take it back, you know."

"Hmm. I rather doubt that, actually. No tricks to help you now, Magic Boy." She twirled his wand in lazy circles in the air.

George lunged at her but missed. Annie had anticipated the move, easily dancing out of his reach. They had played similar games since they were children, and she knew his tactics too well. He chased her briefly, but she managed to stay just ahead of him. They stopped after a minute, breathing a little harder now, cheeks flushed.

"Maybe you should try asking nicely?" she offered.

"Please?" he said insincerely as he held out his hand.

Annie shook her head and tsked, unsatisfied.

He rolled his eyes and tried again. "May I have it please?"

"It's missing something. Perhaps it needs an apology. You know, for your horrid behavior toward me this evening," she baited him.

He gave her a half smile and a look that told her he wasn't ready for the game to end. He'd not be capitulating just yet. "Sorry. Please," he said flatly.

"Surely you can do better than that," she encouraged him.

Clicking her tongue again, she began to draw the tip of the wand slowly down her throat, her breastbone, down to her navel. It emitted a few tiny sparks along the way. "Ooh," she exclaimed quietly.

George's eyes widened slightly, taking in the show: just the reaction she was looking for. Then he emitted an expansive, put-upon sigh and began to speak. "I'm sorry for...?"

"Torturing me," she prompted. She lightly tapped her chest with the wand, indicating the identity of the victim.

"I'm sorry for torturing you." His voice was low and quiet. He began taking slow, cautious steps toward her. "Please may I have my wand back?"

"Hmm," she mused, resting the tip of the wand on her lips, mimicking how she would sometimes tap her finger there while thinking. She could see she had lit a fire now burning in his eyes. "Still sounding rather forced, I'm afraid. Not very sincere. Try again."

George heaved another sigh. "I'm sorry...."

"On your knees, I think," she interrupted him. "And make it really heartfelt. I want to be moved," she taunted.

George fell onto his knees at her feet, smiling up at her in an insufferably smug manner. In a soft, pleading voice, far more patronizing than sincere, he said, "I am ever so sorry for torturing you, my love. Please may I have my wand back?"

Annie was confident they were no longer talking about the wand. She bit her lower lip, then smiled as she gently tucked the wand into her cleavage. "Come and get it, then."

George rose to his feet. Towering over her, his body mere inches from hers, he slowly withdrew his wand from its momentary resting place. Annie felt a thrill of electricity that was not entirely due to the wand being reunited with its master.

He pressed her tightly against his body with his left arm. "You ought to be more careful," he said as he drew the wand lightly along her jaw line. "In the wrong hands, this thing can be quite dangerous," he warned, pressing the tip of it into the flesh of her throat just slightly.

"Ooh. Promise you'll show me sometime," she cooed sarcastically. She had already demonstrated – with explosive force – what a wand could do in her hands.

"No time like the present," he insisted. His lips claimed hers in a fierce kiss, almost bruising in its forcefulness.

She threw her arms around his neck and melted into him. He lifted her up bodily while still kissing her and carried her a short distance toward a small nearby building, out of view of the house's windows. He pressed her back against the rough surface of a stone wall covered in bare, dormant vines.

"Inside?" she asked breathlessly when she noticed a tiny eave above them, realizing it was a building supporting them. Her knickers had somehow found themselves dangling around her left ankle, her skirt hiked up indecently. She heard the faint tinkling of his belt buckle bouncing against his thigh. The sound of it was maddeningly arousing.

"Spiders," he offered as an explanation without skipping a moment of a kiss.

There would be no stopping him now, even if she had the slightest inkling to do so. This was what she'd wanted, after all, and she had done exactly what she had to do to get it. Two weeks was far too long to go without, she rationalized, and the self-denial had driven them both into some sort of fiery insanity.

Annie braced herself with her arms against the wall, felt a vine jab into her back repeatedly through her thin sweater with his every thrust. She had wrapped her legs around George's waist in a deathgrip, losing herself in the quest to take him ever deeper within, to fill herself to overflowing. His strong hands were on her arse, supporting her weight, guiding her down onto him as she met his rhythm. Any second now....

It was over quickly. As they both leaned against the side of the tiny building, catching their breaths, Annie's conscience came alive once more, and she was mortified by her own behavior. "What... was that?" she asked him, gasping and bewildered.

"How can you... expect me... to resist... such a performance?" he answered between breaths, his head leaning against the wall next to her ear. She could tell from his expression that he was equally shocked by what they had just done.

Annie brought her hand to her forehead and looked away in shame. He was right: she had incited him mercilessly. She searched within herself, casting about for some excuse that could help her feel better about what had just happened... outdoors... up against a shed... at GEORGE'S MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY DINNER!

It was no good: her behavior had been irresponsible and disrespectful. Didn't she have some scrap of self control? "This has got to stop," she muttered to herself.

"You don't want to... do this... anymore?"

She glanced at George's stricken face, immediately realizing that he had misunderstood her. "No, I don't mean that. Of course that part is... amazing." Irresistible, obviously, she chided herself. "It's all this sneaking around. I hate it!"

George nodded slowly, considering what she'd said. "I just don't see any other option right now. Anything else is.... Would put us – you, me, my family – in danger," he said after a few moments.

Annie nodded. She knew all about the danger. More than she had ever wanted to know, in fact. And because of that knowledge, she was in it up to her neck. As a Muggle with her particular awareness of the magical world, she would be a target for persecution, as well as George and his family. But that was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the list of crimes the Weasleys were currently involved in.

"The Ministry's rounding up wizards just because they have Muggle parents, putting them in prison," he added softly. He held her face to his, stroking her cheek with his thumbs. "You know how I feel about you, Annie! We'd be married tomorrow if it wasn't for...." He trailed off, unwilling to voice the rest of the thought.

"I know, George," she reassured him quietly. She gave him a gentle kiss and stroked his slightly shaggy hair; he was in the process of growing it out to cover his missing ear. "And getting married would create far more problems than it would solve, anyway," she admitted.

George grimaced at the truth of her statement. She knew how much it pained him: the fact that they were forced to hide their relationship like it was something to be ashamed of. Their engagement was still a secret from everyone, for what was the point of celebrating something that had no reasonable chance of happening in the foreseeable future, anyway?

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who lacks the moral fiber to say no," she said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Moral fiber?" he laughed.

She gave him a confused look - apparently it was some private joke she didn't know about.

They had righted themselves now and had begun to readjust their mussed clothes and hair. He'd been helping by brushing debris from the back of her sweater. He paused and hugged her around the waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Moral fiber's highly overrated, love. I can see I'll just have to work that much harder next time to distract you from that guilty conscience of yours."

"Next time? You're being presumptuous," she teased back.

He kissed her neck, sending chills traveling down her body into the pit of her stomach. Already? So soon after? It wasn't fair, this hold he had on her. Like gravitational pull, almost. She inhaled deeply, willing her mind back in control of her body.

He chuckled to feel her body respond to him despite her wishes to the contrary. "Not presumptuous. Let's call it confidence, shall we? You just admitted you can't say no to me, remember?" he said softly, brushing his lips against her ear. He pressed his body against her back, one hand at her hip, the other sliding up her side toward a breast.

"George? Annie? Time for cake and presents, you two!" they both heard his father call out.

Arthur's voice was like a bucket of cold water, dousing them with a more appropriate mental focus. They walked back inside the Burrow without touching each other again to better diffuse any suspicions in the house, as well as keep their own responses under control.

Fred wasn't fooled, however. He took one look at them as they walked by and wrinkled his nose in disgusted disbelief. Thankfully, Molly and Arthur had busied themselves with cutting and serving the cake and missed his theatrical display.

As Annie sat down at the table, she felt Fred briefly brush her back with his hand. He walked around behind her to sit directly across the table from her, next to his brother. The look on his face further fueled her now very anxious stomach.

Fred flicked the tiny twig he had plucked from the back of Annie's sweater at George's face. George's arm lashed out and punched his brother in the arm before he could mount a defense.

The scuffle drew Molly's attention. "What's the matter now, you two?" she asked them.

Annie noticed George's face was flushing and felt her own begin to do the same.

"Ask him," Fred answered, rubbing his arm where the punch had landed. "He started it."

George shrugged under his mother's gaze. "Happy birthday, Mum. Open this one first," he said awkwardly, holding out his gift for her in a weak attempt to redirect her focus.

"All right, then," Molly said slowly, suspiciously.

Annie hid behind her camera, which she had busied herself with by digging out of her bag while most of the last exchange had occurred. She hovered around the margins of the room, snapping away as the mood began to brighten once again. Molly was visibly pleased with the gifts her children and husband had given her, and Annie's cake was met with rounds of compliments. The light was soft and warm, and the genuine happy feeling amongst the family was making for some wonderful candid shots. Annie looked forward to seeing how they would come out.