Ready or Not

"Ready or not, here I come!"

George pulled his hands away to uncover his eyes, letting the breeze rush over him like a refreshing wave of water. He lingered for a couple of seconds, partially because he was suddenly overwhelmed by the delightful pleasure of such a wonderful day, and partially because he could distinctly hear frantic footsteps somewhere behind him.

He bounded away from the trunk of the tree he'd been resting on, bursting into the sunlight with an almost limitless energy.

"Nooo!" a young voice squealed. George watched with amusement as his daughter, no more than five years old, scurried away in the opposite direction as fast as her stumpy little legs could carry her. "I wasn't ready!"

As the proud father that he was, George watched fondly, standing as tall and mighty as the oak he'd just been hiding behind. Roxanne Weasley, so intent on getting away from her dad, blindly stumbled towards the root of a nearby tree as it protruded from the ground. Quickly transitioning from pride to concern, George watched in horror as she got her foot caught in the root and fell forwards, landing on her face rather spectacularly.

In just a few quick strides, he had closed the gap between them, rushing to her aid. But when he approached, instead of finding a sobbing mess of a girl, hurt and distressed by her tumble, Roxanne was smiling broadly from ear to ear, never happier.

In one quick movement, George swept her up from the ground, pulling her into his arms and showering her with kisses. "My clumsy little girl!"

"Nooo!" Roxanne squealed again, beating her tiny fists against George's chest. "I wasn't ready!" she repeated, barely able to get the words out from in-between her shrieks of laughter.

"Well, too bad," George said, planting a kiss on top of the springy black curls that lined her head. "Because I've caught you now."

"No fair!" Roxanne protested.

"Well, I say it's perfectly fair."

"But why?" she moaned.

"Because," George said in a light-hearted, teasing tone. "I'm the daddy, and what I say"—he threw her up into the air, before promptly and expertly catching her again, with all the ease of a Seeker catching the Snitch—"goes," he finished.

For the brief moment Roxanne had been airborne, a look of breathless horror had broken out onto her face, but as soon as she landed safely back in her daddy's arms, that smile he adored so much was once again breaking out. She wrapped her little arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. And then: "Again, again!"

"Not now," George chuckled. "Now you've got to help me look for the others."

There was nothing but fierce determination on Roxanne's face as she scoured the surrounding bushes for any sign of her brother or mother. "There!" she yelled excitedly, noticing a rustling movement in one of the bushes that lined the edge of the forest.

George approached cautiously, still holding her in his arms in a protective manner, skilfully balanced on one hip. The forest was a safe place—just a short walk from their home—and a place they often visited as a family on beautiful Sunday afternoons such as that one. Nonetheless, George's mind was always on full alert wherever he went. Some things haunted you forever. And one of the effects of the War was constant caution in the face of the unknown. He had learned to expect danger at any moment. After all, anything could be lurking in the woods: Dementors, dragons, Inferi, a man-eating—

"Bunny!"

"What?"

"Look, Daddy, a bunny!" Roxanne was squirming in George's arms to point out the fluffy woodland creature that had just emerged from the undergrowth.

George was startled but immediately relaxed. He watched the furry creature in awe, its little nose twitching, one ear comically flopping down whilst the other was perked up deadly straight.

Father and daughter watched the display in wonder, as the rabbit hopped from one clump of grass to another, gently nibbling at whatever greenery it could find. A sharp cracking of a twig startled it, whilst simultaneously drawing George's attention. The rabbit was gone, hurtling back into the safety of the copse of trees.

"Shh," George murmured, sensing that Roxanne was about to get upset over the animal's disappearance. "Do you reckon it's Freddie or Mummy?" he whispered, referring to the noise they'd heard—a clear sign of human movement.

"Fred," Roxanne whispered back excitedly. "Mummy's too clever!"

George nodded in agreement and slowly began to edge towards where he was certain the movement had come from. The sun shone down through the canopy of trees, leaving patches of dappled sunlight on the forest floor. And there, just to his left, was a noticeable shadow that distorted one of the patches, distinctly human shaped.

"Roxy," George whispered. "Roxy—look." He nodded to the shadow, and Roxanne froze in wonder. "We found him," she gushed.

"Now we just have to catch him."

"I'll do it!"

George gently placed his daughter on her feet, careful not to make a sound. Fred, at seven years old, was gangly and agile—like a fox. Fast and slippery. "Go get him. But—be careful," he added as an afterthought, not wanting her to get overexcited and fall over again.

Roxanne was stealthy for all of two seconds before abandoning that approach and full on sprinting towards her brother with an anguished war cry. Just as George had predicted, Fred leapt out from behind the tree with lightning reflexes, sprinting off before she'd made it even halfway towards him. And then Roxanne was shrieking with laughter again, chasing after him, and George was left to watch with a feeling of great paternal affection. His children, his two beautiful children, were the most wonderful things to have ever happened to him.

Well, he thought to himself soppily, there was one more...

"Ready or... NOT!"

"GEORGE, NO!" She was shrieking and laughing at the same time as George caught her around the waist, drawing her into his arms.

His wife had been a ray of sunshine in a period of darkness for him—the push he needed to get his life back on track. And he fell in love with her all over again, every morning that he rolled over and saw her beautiful face on the pillow next to his, blissfully caught up in a world of dreams. And he always knew he was the luckiest man in the world. Despite what George had faced in his youth, she had made him the happiest man on the planet.

She eased into his embrace, recovering from the shock of being swung around from behind the tree trunk. His hands were still placed on her delicate waist, and hers were locked behind his neck as she stared up at him, drinking in the sight of the sunlight causing his hair to gleam as magnificently orange as the autumn leaves that surrounded them.

She fit into his arms as easily as two puzzle pieces slotting together. And George could feel the toned, athletic structure of her body, which she had managed to retain from her years as a professional Quidditch player. Her skin was dark and warm. And he got lost in her eyes—endless pools of melted chocolate.

"I love you, Angelina," George murmured softly, unable to contain the thought that had all of a sudden consumed his mind. "I am so hopelessly in love with you."

"George..." Angelina reached up a hand to cradle his face, letting her fingers run over each vivid freckle that adorned his skin. She looked at him breathlessly, their gazes drawn together by a force stronger than magic. And then in a low, soft voice she said, "I see you as more of a friend..."

In less than a second, George was tickling her with all the force he could muster. Angelina was screaming with laughter, her body shaking, warm and pressed up against his as he refused to let go. And then they were falling, tumbling to the ground and landing on a bed of leaves—ranging in colour from auburn to brilliant gold. The earthy smell of the forest floor engulfed them, and after a few moments of continued shrieking and tickling, George pulled his wife on top of him, both of them breathless.

"I love you," Angelina murmured, planting a small kiss on his lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

And then her lips found his properly. The forest disappeared from around them. Everything else melted away, and the only thing that remained was her lips against his, his arms cradling her back—two lovers united in the most blissful way possible. George was truly at peace. Angelina never failed to take his breath away, even after all the years they'd been together. And he never failed to make her smile. They were perfect for each other.

"Ten years of marriage, two children, and you still only see me as a friend?" George teased once they'd reluctantly broken apart.

Lying amongst the leaves, it was hard to distinguish exactly where George's vibrant hair stopped and the leaves began. Angelina was mesmerised by the sight. "You're my best friend," she told him. "My best friend—who I happen to be hopelessly in love with, too."

"I'm glad to hear it." George pulled her face down to his, letting their lips linger for just enough time to savour the sweet taste of her mouth against his.

"Speaking of our children—where are they?" Angelina asked, motherly concern suddenly flitting into her eyes.

"Relax," George said, "they're perfectly safe. Do you think I'd let any harm come to them?"

Angelina didn't have time to respond before a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream resonated through the trees, sending chills through both their bodies. "ROXANNE!" Angelina screamed back, suddenly on her feet. She and George sprung into action, sprinting through the trees with agility, like it was a complex, choreographed dance, their feet leading them to the sound of their daughter's voice.

They skidded to a halt in an opening of the forest. There was a small lake just ahead, glistening as the sunlight bounced off of it. And in front of it, stood their two children, grinning broadly, seemingly unharmed.

"Are you okay?" George and Angelina asked simultaneously. George felt a rush of warmth as he realised there didn't seem to be any apparent danger.

"Fred tried to push me in the lake!"

"Did not!"

"Oh, thank Merlin," George breathed, letting relief envelop him.

"We thought something horrible had happened," Angelina said.

Fred and Roxanne blinked innocently. "Well, it nearly did," Roxanne piped up. "He tried to get my new dress wet!"

"Did not!"

George and Angelina exchanged a relieved glance.

"Roxy, my darling, I am so relieved that your dress is as dry as ever," George told her, "but your screaming led me to believe you were facing a threat far more frightening that a soggy hemline."

Roxanne just blinked at him again, as sweet and innocent as the rabbit they'd seen earlier.

"Like a werewolf?" Fred piped up excitedly.

"I would have been deeply concerned if there was a werewolf running amok during the middle of the day," George teased.

"Dragons, then?" he asked excitedly.

"Dragons? Bit odd for them to be roaming around the English countryside but yeah, I suppose so."

"Mermaids!" Roxanne chimed in, joining in with the guessing game. "It could have been mermaids—in the lake!"

"Mermaids aren't scary, stupid!"

"They could be if they were dead, zombie mermaids," she countered defiantly.

Fred didn't look so convinced. "Roxy, zombies don't exist..."

"Yes, they do!"

"No, they don't!"

"DAD!" They both yelled at the same time, looking expectantly at George who had been observing the exchange with great amusement.

"Tell her that zombies don't exist," Fred ordered.

"Tell him that they do!"

By his side, Angelina was finding it difficult to stifle her laughter. "Well," George began carefully. "I don't know about zombies especially, but there's always the Inferi."

"George," Angelina said warily, not wanting her children to get frightened.

"Grotesque, mangled, dead bodies that come alive and—"

"George!"

"—eat little girls that don't do as their parents say!" he finished, lurching forwards and sweeping Roxanne up into his arms. She began shrieking with laughter once more.

"Cool!" Fred said enthusiastically.

The family of four began to walk back through the woods together. Roxanne was leaning into George's chest as he cradled her on his hip. His other hand found Angelina's, who was identically clutching Fred's on the other side. The sun was high in the afternoon sky, showering golden sunlight down on them from a piercingly blue sky.

"Daddy?" Roxanne asked in a soft voice.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Will you save me from the Infern-er-i?"

"Nothing could stop me, Roxy," George declared. "I'd face a whole army of the Inferi to save each and every one of you. I'd fight a dragon with my bare hands. I'd scour a giant and knock you clean out of his hands. Ready or not," he murmured, "there I'd come."

Roxanne was tired, exhausted from an energetic day of running around the woods. Very slowly the gentle motion of being carried in her daddy's arms was lulling her to sleep. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she asked in a slow, sleepy voice, "but... why?"

George sighed. This was where he belonged—his daughter in one arm, his wife by his side, and his son following closely. This was where he was truly happy, where he truly felt at peace with the world, surrounded by the ones he loved. His family meant everything to him now.

"Because," he finally said, and he gave Angelina's hand a squeeze to let her know his words extended to all of them, "I love you."

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2—Round 8

Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Captain
Task: Write fluff that features the Inferi