A/N: I'm currently looking for a beta reader for the remainder of this story. If anyone is interested, please PM me. Much obliged, and happy reading!

"George," she cried in utter frustration, "you promised me you were going to do inventory over the weekend." Staring down the shelves upon shelves of items in the large storage room, her heart sank. As she took another step closer and continued to examine the task ahead, she let out an exaggerated sigh. "Things aren't even on the right shelves!" she yelled, in part so George could hear her from the front of the store and in part because she was entirely fed up.

"Yes, well," George said in an offhand manner that annoyed Ginny to no end, "you promised to product test the latest Burping Bubbles Bubble Gum. So I'd say we are fair and square."

Spinning on her heels, Ginny yanked the door to the storage room shut behind her. Slamming it as hard as she could for dramatic flair, she set her sights on her brother and stomped across the store. A few customers lingered here and there, but they were wise enough to ignore the bickering between the owners. Most of their frequent patrons were used to it by now.

"That was before I ended up at St. Mungo's with my face precariously close to exploding because of the last version you'd concocted. Which," she placed heavy emphasis on the words, "I distinctly recall you saying you had worked the kinks out of."

George laughed at the memory, which only fueled Ginny's anger. "Relax," he said as she reached the front counter where he stood and slammed her hands down on it. "That husband of yours fixed you right up."

"I was in a coma for two days," she reminded him, which only made him laugh again.

"Oh, come on, Gin," he said, trying to smother his smile to avoid the glare she was aiming at him. "You are way too tense. You need to relax."

George!" she snapped again. "I can't relax because I am having to do everything you swore you would do this weekend."

"I was planning on doing it," he said earnestly. "But Luna had a staff party at The Quibbler and dragged me along, and..." he trailed off as he saw the look on her face. "And I will get to work on the inventory right now," he finished instead.

"And you," Ginny said, spinning around to face a pair of students still in their Hogwarts robes, "had better pay for those love potions you've got crammed in your pockets, or I swear you'll regret it."

As if on cue, George pointed to the sign hanging above his head that read 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is not responsible for sticky fingers that become unstuck from their respective hands'. For fun, he wiggled his fingers as he returned them to his sides. "I do wish you'd stop warning them," he said with a sigh of disappointment. "Just once, I'd like to see our anti-theft charms in action. I can't remember if we ever fully tested the final product or not."

"We promised Malfoy we wouldn't," Ginny told him with a shake of her head, "after you ended up at St. Mungo's testing that one."

"Ahhhh, yes. We do keep him gainfully employed. But does he ever thank me? Not once, dear sister. Not a single time. I believe, in fact, he's expressed feelings of the exact opposite nature. Something along the lines of 'For the love of Merlin, please stop sending my wife to the hospital'. Ungrateful prick," he ribbed good naturedly. "He does love you so.

"And speaking of him," George said with a rise of his eyebrows as his eyes grew wider, "have you asked him about it yet? What did he say?"

"No," Ginny protested adamantly. "You are not going to sidetrack me to get out of doing inventory, George." To prove she was serious, she reached for the clipboard on the end of the counter. Dragging it across the surface of the counter, she placed it directly in front of him. "In-ven-tor-y," she said, stabbing the top piece of parchment with her index finger on each syllable.

Picking up the clipboard, George moved around the counter and started to move across the shop toward the storage room. He was not, however, done with the subject he'd brought up. "If you keep postponing asking him, you know as well as I do that he'll find some excuse to not be able to go that you won't be able to argue against."

"Please," Ginny replied with a scoff as she trailed behind George, fully intent on making sure he actually started on the inventory instead of goofing around in the back. Though thirty-two, when left to his own devices he acted closer to three-years-old more often than not. Ginny was still amazed they hadn't managed to burn the store to the ground yet, though they had come close more than once. "Malfoy has yet to come up with an excuse that could get him out of a single event he didn't want to go to. Give me some credit."

"You married Malfoy," George shot back, "so the amount of credit we afford you depends on how generous I'm feeling any particular day."

He was simply teasing and she knew it, but reoccurring comments such as this one still got beneath her skin. Though she didn't let it show and refused to mention the topic to her family, it bothered her that though they finally had accepted him as part of the family, she doubted they had ever truly accepted him for himself. She knew it would take a while, but she had hoped that they would eventually be able to look past the boy he had been to see the man he had become, the man she had married.

It was part of the reason she wanted to go so desperately. She wanted people to acknowledge him, and not just refer to him as the son of a Death Eater.

"Stop it," George said, slapping her arm gently with the back of the clipboard to jar her from her thoughts. "You're brooding. I hate it when you brood."

"Just thinking," she countered. "Anyway," she said, before he could pick her brain and analyze her thoughts, "I'll go man the front desk. If those sneaks do try to steal those potions, I'll holler when they're getting ready to leave so you can witness the spectacle."

"Much appreciated!" he called after her as she moved back to the front counter.

The kids were still milling about the store. As they saw Ginny return, they straightened themselves to their full heights, as if that could possibly impress her. Ginny smiled a wide grin, mentally daring them to go ahead and try to leave the store with something lifted in their pockets. She was churning over the conversation she knew she would have to have when she got home, and it would be a welcomed distraction to watch their fingers fall off as they walked out the door.