April Fools

Chapter 47: April Fools

Spring 2000

"Are you awake?" he asked her.

"Of course," she replied.

"Have you thought about it? The thing we talked about?" George asked her in a soft voice as he held her in his arms in this strange room, in a strange bed, on a tiny island in the South Atlantic.

She could hear the smile in his voice, even if she couldn't see it in the pitch blackness. He must think he was being funny. Had she thought about it, indeed? As if her brain had thought about a single other thing for the past five days. It had barely spared enough neurons from obsessing over the idea to keep her body upright.

She thought back to the night of the conversation he was referring to – a mere week ago. They had been in their own bed at Mole Hill then, unlike now. She had been lying on her back, eyes closed, with what felt like a silly, blissed-out grin across her face: her usual post-coital state. As the nerve synapses of her body slowly regained their composure, and the perspiration cooled her, he had pulled the pin on that particular grenade and lobbed it into her peace of mind.

"I think it's time we had another, don't you?" he had purred into her ear.

"Another what? Another go? Didn't you finish?" She had been confused as well as embarrassed by her selfishness. How could she have missed the fact that he hadn't reached the same conclusion she had done only moments ago? She'd turned toward him, reaching out her arms, eager to remedy her oversight.

"No, not that," he had laughed as he kissed her forehead. "I mean another baby."

Just like that. No warning. Out of the clear blue sky. Kaboom! Her mind had been set to reeling in that moment, and she had idiotically and mutely stared at him in the shock of it.

He had misunderstood her silence. She'd watched as a mild amount of concern began to cloud George's features, dampening his smile. "Don't you still want more?" he had asked her.

As if it was possible not to want more of George's children – little copies of his ginger hair and chocolate eyes and freckled nose and laughing voice and devilish humor. It was the reason she was put on this earth, after all: to love him, care for him, and bear his children. As pathetically sappy and primitively backward as it sounded, even wordlessly in her own mind, she knew it was true with every fiber of her being. It was blasphemy to pretend otherwise.

"Of course I do!" she'd cried in an earnest whisper, and relief had washed over her as she'd watched the smile return to his face. "You just took me by surprise. I simply haven't thought about it at all. I mean, we never really planned it last time."

"That's true," he'd chuckled as he'd thought of the circumstances surrounding the twins' conception. "It was a bolt out of the blue last time. A happy accident, though," he had mused as he'd stroked her hair.

She'd giggled along with him, glad to have a chance to release the tension. "What brought all this on, anyway?"

"Dunno...." George had shrugged. "The boys are getting so big now. They're growing up too fast. Faster than I ever expected. I guess I just assumed that once we started – having kids, I mean – more would just keep coming along, sort of like the way we all did in my family. Every couple of years, you know?"

Annie had nodded, considering his argument. She agreed that the twins were maturing quickly – in fact, quite a bit faster than any of her parenting books had led her to expect. She also thought about George's family, the close-knit ties among all his siblings. She imagined she would like that for their children as well, never having had the chance to experience it herself.

"You think it's still too soon?" he'd asked.

"I dunno. Like I said, I haven't given it a moment's thought, honestly. Let me think about it for a bit, okay?" she'd offered.

"Sure," he'd said, comfortingly holding her head in his hand and stroking her cheek with his thumb. "We'll talk more about it later, then."

"Soon," she had promised.

A flash and a simultaneous ear-splitting crack rent the sky above them, startling her back to the present time and place. George's strong, protective arms held her even more tightly in reassurance.

"The worst of it'll blow through quick enough," he whispered in her ear as large drops of rain began to fall on the roof of the tiny, spare cabin they were renting.

The beautifully exotic seascape just beyond their door more than made up for the unimpressive interior of the spartan room. Lee and Angelina, who were riding out the squall in the cabin next door, had found this place on their honeymoon last year. Angelina had been right – it was the most romantic spot Annie had ever seen.

"Anyway, back to the original question..." George reminded her as he began softly kissing her.

What is it about electrical storms? she wondered. She had always felt it too, as if the electrical potential in the air somehow affected their bodies as well, demanding a connection be made to release the pent-up energy. She responded to him with enthusiasm.

Another flash, and the rolling thunder that followed was not quite as close as the last, but loud enough to startle her again. Then rain began to pour harder, pounding on the roof and windows, rattling them loudly. It only served to excite them further, though, as if some primordial part of their brains recognized danger in the cacophony of the storm, and the resultant adrenaline heightened their arousal.

George paused a moment to whisper his intentions into her ear. "I want us to make a baby."

Annie smiled as she kissed him, then placed her lips to his ear, whispering her answer. "Yes!" For she had come to the same conclusion as George, just a few days later than he had: it was time to bring a new life into their little family.

When she awoke late the next morning, Annie was disappointed to find it misty and overcast. As wonderful as it felt to sleep until her own body woke itself up – instead of when the twins began calling for her or with the rising sun shining in through the bedroom window – she would have rather been on the beach at dawn. She had been so looking forward to basking in the sun and warm waters for an entire week with George by her side, as well as their good friends, the Jordans.

George had apparently awakened some time earlier and was humming while teacups clinked onto saucers. He was standing in the tiny kitchenette in the far corner of the room, brewing a pot of tea.

"How can you be so chipper on this dreary morning?" she asked, amused.

"I think it's a perfect day!" he argued. George inexplicably seemed thrilled by the promise of the morning.

She noticed a plate of fruit, bread, and cheese was already on the bed, waiting for her. But she feasted instead on the sight of him: his strong, lean, athletic body dwarfing the tiny proportions of the miniature kitchen. No one has a right to look that good without their clothes on, she thought and quickly whispered prayer of thanks for perhaps the millionth time to whatever supernatural force had created her husband.

"Aren't you worried someone will see you, or have I simply missed this exhibitionist streak in you all these years?" she asked him teasingly. The curtains of the two windows had been opened to allow as much grey light as possible into the otherwise dim room. She sat up in the bed, wrapped the sheet around herself, and set the plate in her lap.

"There's not a soul within miles of us, Annie," he chuckled as he carefully carried two steaming cups over to the bed. For the most part, it was true: half a dozen little beach cabins were shrouded by a large orchard of ancient Dragon trees, magically hidden from the Muggle Canary Islanders. George had promised to deliver a large bundle of the valuable resin-laden leaves to his mother in exchange for a week of babysitting duties.

"Except for the couple right next door," she corrected him with a smile, accepting the cup he proffered and setting it on the little table beside her.

"Who are holed up inside, escaping the rain, same as we are," he argued, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking a sip from his cup. It looked so much smaller, cradled by his large hands, than hers did.

"So explain to me how being trapped inside here on our first holiday alone together, during what was supposed to be a sunny tropical island escape, is a 'perfect day' in your twisted mind." She took a bite of the banana she had been peeling as she spoke for effect.

George laughed into his teacup, a mischievous glint in his eyes as they peered over the rim at her. "I think it's finally my chance for a Naked Day," he explained, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Annie laughed out loud as she fell back onto her pillow. It had been a little pet fantasy of his for about a year now, likely arising out of the fact that throughout their entire courtship and marriage, they had never had any significant amount of time to be truly alone, just the two of them. There had nearly always been at least one someone else close enough to see, or overhear, or – even worse – walk in on them. It seemed they were forever doomed to sneaking around, hushing themselves, hiding their intimacy from her Gran, or his family, or more recently, their own children.

George had often lamented this very fact and cherished aloud with her the notion that the day would come when he and Annie could do whatever they wished, whenever and wherever the thought struck them, without any inhibitions or interruptions. Thus, the dream of Naked Day was born. And any time he found himself frustrated, thwarted by the demands of parenthood and other adult responsibilities, he would close his eyes, heave a sigh, and whisper, "Naked Day!" as a mantra. It had never failed to make her smile.

"Are you even remotely serious?" Annie laughed. She set the plate of food on the pillow next to her, turning toward him, propping herself up on her elbow.

"Why not? We're not missing anything outside, that's for sure." He crawled across the bed toward her and slowly pulled the sheet off of her body. "I won't let you get a chill." He laid himself down beside her, on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows.

She offered him the banana. "But all day long? You must be kidding," she teased.

"Nope," he replied, popping his lips on the P, then he took a bite of the banana. He shook his head slowly, locking his gaze onto her eyes as he chewed.

"I don't know..." she said with pretend reluctance. He's right – the day is sounding more perfect by the second.

"Good luck finding anything to wear," he added with a smirk as he swallowed the bite of fruit.

"George..." she said in a mock warning tone.

She sat up and scanned the room. There was no sign of the small satchel all their belongings had been magically packed into. He laughed as he set the plate of food onto the floor beside the bed.

That had been quite entertaining, actually: watching him stuff all their clothes, food, gear, and even surfboards into something the size of a small backpack. "Little trick I picked up from Hermione," he'd explained as he'd done so. Annie had even lifted the bag herself – it had been as lightweight as if it were empty. A backpack bewitched to perform some bizarre folding of spatial dimensions or something, she guessed. Typical wizard's solution to any ordinary problem: simply defy all known laws of physics.

"It's no use; you'll never find it," he said with a smug smile.

She knew he was right. In fact, it was likely staring her in the face, sitting invisibly in plain sight. Or equally likely, she could search the entire room all day long but always have a good reason to look everywhere except exactly where it rested.

"Hmm. I'm not sure I'm quite convinced," she said doubtfully. She had to put up some sort of resistance, or where was the fun? It was so entertaining to watch him maneuver, after all.

"I can be very persuasive, as you well know," he warned her as he reached out, hooked his arm around her waist and gently pulled her closer. As she lay back onto the bed, he began kissing in a small circle around her navel. All thoughts of the sun, sand, or sea were being washed away from her mind. Nothing was left there but love and desire.

"We have important work to continue today, anyway. Remember?" he declared in a serious tone.

"Are you referring to your latest little home improvement chore?" she teased as she twirled her fingers in his hair.

George looked up at her with his most charming, knee-weakening smile: the one that lit up his eyes especially. "Happy to be of service, as always, for your personal expansion project," he purred and brushed his lips once more against her belly.

Annie sighed with contentment and arousal. George rolled onto his back, catching her elbow as he did, lifting and guiding her to rest above him. As she straddled his waist, he reached up to hold her head with both hands, then pulled her face down to meet his for a kiss.

By midday, the mist had moved on, but the low grey clouds remained. Angelina and Lee knocked on their door then, waking them both from a light, post-orgasmic doze.

"Go away!" Annie and George both called out simultaneously in response.

"Well, that was rude!" Angelina complained loudly from behind the door as Lee laughed. "We were just going to invite you to walk into the village for lunch, but forget it!"

Annie began to slip out of bed, but George grabbed her hand. "Don't break the rules," he warned her in a whisper.

She smiled and nodded – the rules of Naked Day required participants to remain completely naked for the entire day, no exceptions – then crept carefully to the door, keeping out of sight of the windows which were fully curtained now, anyway. "Sorry, Ange," she called out from the closed door. "Just catching up on some sleep, you know. You caught us napping." Technically, it was the truth....

"Yeah, right," laughed Lee, not buying the excuse for a second. "Come on, Angelina. Looks like we're on our own today."

"Just you wait! You'll find out what it's like soon enough – living without a decent night's sleep," George called out from the bed. Lee and Angelina had confided in them last night at dinner that they were expecting a baby themselves in the fall.

The new parents-to-be chuckled as Annie heard them shuffle off the small porch of their cabin. She tiptoed back to the snug little bed-nest she and George had created for the day and nibbled on a slice of cheese.

"That's a good point, you know. All that work, the sleepless nights.... Are you sure you're ready for it all again?" she asked.

"Sleep is for the weak," George said in a low voice, wrapping himself around her. "Highly overrated," he continued, kissing the little red dragon on the back of her neck and sending ticklish chills down her spine.

He certainly is being thorough, she laughed silently to herself as the foreplay began once again.

They would make love three times that day – only rarely leaving the bed at all – otherwise dozing, or eating, or talking quietly together. It was a perfect day, she had to agree: beautiful, relaxing, and precious.

Annie peeked out the window as the sun was setting that evening, searching for the source of the constant buzzing sound she had been hearing during their otherwise quiet afternoon, and saw their two friends frolicking far out to sea. While she and George had been lolling about all that day, Angelina and Lee had found a place on the island that rented jet skis.

"You're in for fun tomorrow, George. Wait 'til you see the toys they got," she giggled.

"I'm not convinced anything will draw me out of this cabin," he chuckled in a low voice from behind her. "Now come back to bed this instant," he demanded.

The rest of their week spent on the island was just what Annie had been dreaming of: sun and beach and warm sea. Something about the ocean – she didn't know whether it was the water, or the sunny breeze, or scent of it – recharged her psyche more the longer she soaked it in. Annie wondered with amusement if perhaps she had been a sea lion in a previous life.

And the days had proven to be fun. It was almost like being children again themselves, she thought: playing with their toys, cavorting about in the sea. She and Angelina had even built a sand castle one afternoon, childishly digging and piling the sand, getting themselves filthy in the process. Annie couldn't remember being that dirty since she had played as a child with her twin playmates, and the thought brought her a small twinge of sadness.

She reckoned they all deserved some childish fun, though, considering how much of what should have been their carefree teenage years they had spent in the shadow of a war. They had taken a holiday not just from the gloomy winter weather at home, but from all the responsibilities of being grown-ups as well.

About two weeks after they had arrived home and were well-settled back into their daily routine of work and the twins, Annie greeted George as he came downstairs on April the First, the morning of his twenty-second birthday, with a smile and a kiss. She knew that this day, of all days, was hardest on him – on them both. The sadness felt sharp again, the loss heavy once more.

But today she was forearmed with more than one weapon she hoped would help them both combat the grief. She handed him a small pen-shaped piece of plastic – the first of his surprises of the morning – knowing he would demand physical proof on today of all days.

"Mission accomplished, love," she said softly, kissing his cheek as a broad, self-satisfied grin spread across his face, registering the implications of the small pink plus sign. "Happy birthday, George!"

*

"You should see it. It's unbelievable," Ron raved.

"Sounds really cool, Ron," Harry said to placate his best friend. He wasn't really sure he cared.

But Ron persisted, either ignoring or simply unable to pick up on such subtleties of tone. "Look, nobody else is stupid enough to hang around here, wasting the first nice day of the year," Ron said, pausing for a moment as they both glanced around the mostly empty office. "Let's skive off. Maybe George is free, and he can show you."

Harry was forced to agree about the waste of time. At the moment, it didn't seem as if the wizarding world was in imminent peril, nor would it be likely to miss a couple of junior Aurors for an hour or so. He could see the glorious day beckoning them outside the window of the Ministry. "Okay, let's go."

They took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then headed straight to the Wheezes shop. George welcomed them warmly, as usual.

"I've brought Harry to see your birthday present. Are you free?" Ron asked his brother.

"Yeah, I was just leaving for lunch anyway. Have you lot eaten? I'm sure Annie would whip up something for you," George offered.

"Don't bother; we ate already," Harry answered.

"Well, there's always room for dessert," amended Ron.

"How do you not weigh twenty stone?" George marveled sarcastically.

"Who says I don't?" Ron boasted as he flexed his arms and puffed out his chest.

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed at his best mate's bravado. Ron's teenage bottomless appetite had yet to disappear as of his early twenties.

"So he told you about my birthday present, did he?" George spoke softly, almost conspiratorially, under his breath, and paused while Harry nodded. "It's so damn fast... well, maybe not compared to a Firebolt, but for the rest of us mere mortals...."

"Come on, already! Let's show him," whined Ron.

"Hang on a sec...." George poked his head through the curtain to the back room, and they heard him speak to an employee there. "Verity, I'm off to lunch. When Sam gets back, have him start on last week's orders first; they're piling up. See you in an hour or so."

They left the shop walking a lively pace, chatting and laughing the entire way. All three stepped into the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron at once and headed to Mole Hill. As they emerged into the large, open living room of George and Annie's house, it became clear that the gorgeous, sunny day had not been limited to London. Every large window and sliding glass door of the house was wide open, allowing the sunshine and breezes to pour in.

"Annie?" called George softly, glancing around for sign of his wife. "I've brought the lads!" he announced.

"Over here," she answered quietly.

The twins must be asleep, thought Harry, reminding himself to keep it quiet. Suddenly, he was startled by George suddenly bolting across the room the moment he discovered Annie in the kitchen at the top of a stepladder, straining to reach a dish stored above a cabinet.

"Get down from there this instant!" George insisted as he lifted her off the ladder.

Harry shot Ron a look of amused curiosity, only to see to his surprise that Ron was looking slightly concerned as well. He turned back to see George summoning the platter from its storage place. No explanations were offered, no clues to the odd behavior.

Since when is a stepladder something dangerous? Harry wondered. Sure, Annie was petite, but reaching for a platter on a shelf was hardly a death-defying activity, even for a Muggle.

Annie smirked with amusement at her husband's overreaction. "Hello, boys," she greeted them once her feet reached the floor. "Come to nick a ride on the bike, I suppose?"

"Harry wanted to see it," explained Ron. "And then George mentioned something about dessert." He smiled expectantly, ogling the blueberry tart on the table.

Harry noticed there were also a large bowl of salad and two small meat pies on plates waiting for diners, all smelling delicious. Annie had a well-earned reputation within their group for being an excellent cook. Almost as good as Mrs. Weasley, in his opinion.

Though Annie's a Mrs. Weasley now as well, isn't she? he chuckled to himself. The idea really did boggle his mind. Who knew that George, of all people, had hidden a Muggle girlfriend from everyone for so long? That he'd married her while they'd all been living in hiding? The man certainly could keep a secret, Harry mused.

"Go on then, help yourself," Annie laughed, waving toward the small dessert plates and forks next to the tart.

George then lifted her up to sit on the counter, bringing her face level with his. He leaned in to press his forehead to Annie's and spoke softly, tenderly to her. "Are you feeling all right today?" he asked.

Annie nodded slightly, careful not to break their contact. "Not nearly as bad, this time," she replied.

Harry was made uncomfortable by the intimacy of the moment, but was curious all the same. Is something wrong with Annie?

Ron handed him a plate with a huge slice of tart, then coughed in a blatantly artificial way.

George fished into his trouser pocket without looking away from his wife and tossed Ron a small set of keys. "Not a scratch, mind you, or I'll curse you both sideways," he warned. "Mythical hero status or no."

Ron responded verbally, but no one in the room understood what he was trying to say around the enormous mouthful of tart blocking all intelligible speech.

As they left the house and headed to the garage, curiosity finally got the better of Harry. "What's the matter with Annie?" he asked.

"Oh, right. You wouldn't have heard yet," Ron chuckled. "She's expecting again."

"Really? Already? Wow, erm, I mean, good for them, I suppose," Harry said with a surprised smile.

"I know, right?" Ron laughed. "It's like George is taking it seriously, living up to the Weasley reputation for breeding like rabbits."

Harry laughed. "How soon will she.... I mean, when's the baby due?"

"This winter, I think. They went with Lee and Angelina on their anniversary trip last month – sort of the honeymoon they never had, you know? That island vacation must have been really something, eh?" Ron joked.

"That's disgusting, Ron! Shut up!" Harry had no desire to pursue that line of conversation, or to think of George and Annie that way... blech. He also knew from considerable personal experience as Ginny's boyfriend that he was not permitted even the smallest allusion to sex in the presence of any Weasley male if he did not wish to be pummeled for his trouble. He did, however, stow away the idea of an island honeymoon for future reference. Maybe I could ask Lee about it....

Finally, they had reached the large outbuilding that served as a garage for Mole Hill.

"Here it is. Wicked-looking beast, isn't it?" Ron said reverently.

A shiny, futuristically-styled black and chrome motorcycle was parked inside, looking completely out of place next to a beat-up old farm truck and an only slightly newer, slightly less beaten-up Toyota Land Cruiser that bore an amusing bumper sticker that read "My other car is a broom." Two bicycles with baby seats were hanging suspended from the ceiling. Several surfboards and George's old Cleansweep hung on the side wall, and a large, double-seated jogging stroller was parked underneath them. The back wall was lined with shelves crammed with various objects, about half of which Harry recognized as magical in origin or purpose.

Harry was impressed by the motorcycle. It did look fast – rocket fast, in fact. "Annie bought this for George for his birthday, you said? Lucky bastard!"

"Yeah. She has an inheritance or something from when her grandmother died," Ron explained. "Ginny and I tease her about being an heiress. She says it's not much, but it must be something. This thing wasn't cheap, I'll wager." He scraped the last bite of tart off the plate and into his mouth. "I don't care if she's a Muggle – what that woman can do with pastry is magic," he mumbled, spewing a few crumbs.

They set down their dishes on a bench, and Ron eased the motorcycle outdoors. "Grab the helmets, will you?" he directed Harry. "I can drive it all right – George showed me how – but I'd rather not kill us, all the same."

Harry hopped onto the back of the bike once they were in full gear, and Ron slowly drove them down the gravel lane to the road, where he then opened the engine up. It was fast, Harry discovered, as the trees and fields blew past them in a blur. He suspected the motorcycle would be quite a bit more fun to drive than it was to be the passenger, but all in all, he still felt the Firebolt was superior. He made a mental note to take advantage of the lovely weather later, after work, and take his broom out for a bit of real flying.

It was more than half an hour later before they returned to the house. All the doors and windows were still open, curtains fluttering like banners in the spring breeze.

"How did George learn to ride it?" Harry asked as they strolled toward the house from the garage.

"Annie showed him – can you believe it?" Ron chuckled. "Said she learned how as a kid."

"After all that in the kitchen, he let her on that thing?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Are you surprised to learn that George doesn't have the slightest bit of control over his wife?" Ron laughed, and Harry joined him.

They walked right into the bright, inviting house to find George and Annie were seated at the dining table. Ron tossed the keys toward his brother, who caught them midair.

"That was really cool, George. Thanks," Harry offered as he and Ron stood by the table.

"Precision engineering... isn't that what the Muggles call it, Annie?" George nodded slowly, smiling smugly as he chewed.

"A high performance machine, to be sure, love," Annie giggled.

Harry's nearly two years of working in the Auror office had fine-tuned his brain to detect when something didn't fit. That sense was nagging at him just now. Out of habit, he scanned the room, looking for the source.

He found it quickly: the food. He and Ron had been gone for nearly forty minutes by now, yet Annie was filling an unused, clean bowl with salad. George's meat pie had one, maybe two bites missing, at most.

Harry's eyes scrutinized the pair at the table, and he instantly regretted it. Barely flushed cheeks. Slightly tousled hair. Clothes disheveled in the smallest degree. Oh, dear God! Wincing, he scolded himself that he was going to need to find a way to turn his suspicious brain off somehow, at least when it wasn't called for.

"You can set those dishes in the sink, Harry," Annie instructed him.

The interruption caused him to break his involuntary stare. He gladly walked away from the table into the kitchen. Only a few seconds had passed, but Harry was incredibly relieved when Ron made an excuse for them to leave quickly.

"Better get back.... See you around.... Thanks again for the food, Annie. It was delicious, as usual," Ron stammered.

They took the Floo directly back to the Ministry. As they stepped into an empty lift, Ron burst out giggling, and Harry couldn't resist the temptation to join him.

"I can't believe them!" Harry cried.

"Rabbits, I tell you," laughed Ron, shaking his head.

Author's Note: The Canary Island Dragon trees are real: Dracaena draco. The resin obtained from the leaves is called Dragon's Blood and has been used for ages for medicinal, artistic, and magical purposes.