He walked in to the kitchen, spotting his wife on the floor picking up the shattered porcelain. Her hands had a few cuts, and he could only surmise that she wasn't paying very much attention to what she was doing.

It had shattered earlier, and he cringed realizing that it was mostly his fault. He had a very bad day, and it had taken its toll on his temper. He had not said a single word to his wife since he arrived home, and they had been in the process of sitting for dinner…

She'd smiled tentatively at him, getting up to go to the kitchen for another dish.

They ate in silence, and they'd sat in silence. Eventually she'd gotten up to put the china away, and he had realized they had eaten off the good china. He watched her.

She cleaned the leftovers onto one dish, and gathered the empty ware onto the tray she kept for that purpose. She had been walking into the kitchen archway when he had stood abruptly and turned to go to his study.

His chair had fallen over with a loud bang and the china had fallen with a loud crash.

Then there was silence.

The white and colored pieces of china had shattered across the stone floor, and his wife was looking horrified at the mess she had made. He couldn't stand it. That was the only thing he had left of his parents, and his family had been very close in their lives.

He turned and stormed out of the room, not looking back and not speaking to his wife.

He had taken refuge in his study, and a few minutes later the phone rang. "Hello." His voice was gruff.

"Hey George! How'd dinner go?"

A confused silence. "What?"

"Your wife called to tell you something today; you were out so I told her that you were having a hell of a day and that you had been sent on another duty."

George felt his breath still for a minute of time.

"So she said that she'd make you a fancy supper and hope it made your day brighter…she did do it, didn't she?"

With a start George realized that dinner had been extra fancy tonight, with all his favorites spread upon the table…and the good china. His distracted reply came; "yes…yes it was a nice dinner."

A sigh. "That's good; if my wife did that for me I'd love her to the end of time." An incoherent grumble reminded George that this particular coworker was having trouble in his marriage. "Oh got to go, the Mrs.' is on the rampage."

The end of the conversation was heralded by the click of the muggle phone line being disconnected. He sat in silence and went through his recent memories.

He had entered the house in a tiff, not even bothering to greet his wife with their customary hug and kiss on the cheek before he'd locked himself away in his study only to be called down for dinner by her timid voice.

Diner had been a stilted affair, and he had been frustrated that his wife made no overtures to start their usual dinner conversation to him and that he didn't feel like having the conversation himself.

But that was wrong.

His wife was a strong woman, and she had the grace and intelligence all the scholars seemed to possess; but she was deathly afraid of men.

It had taken her years to get used to his presence, and sometimes, if she had a very vivid dream of her past, she would even be scared of him again. It wasn't her fault, as she was a muggle born in the wizarding society and the death eaters had captured her.

He had been one of the aurors that had captured the hang out of a particular group, and had been the one to find her in the deep bowels of the manse. She had been beaten bloody and dirty, and she had whimpered when anyone approached her.

He had found out laterfrom the medical report that she had been raped, and that the psychological fear of men would probably follow the rest of her life. It had been nothing compared to the rest of the report.

He had taken a while to actually warm up to the girl, but the truth had been that she was still herself. She was witty, collected, graceful and kind; but now it was in a quieter way than what she had been in their schooling together.

They had gotten over her fear of men, and he was one of the very few that she trusted to actually be near her. That had been a particular accomplishment for him, as even her two best friends had taken longer to touch her, and they still sometimes acted like she was a china doll…china….

So here he was, watching his beautiful wife cut herself with her carelessness in her worry. The china pieces that she had collected into a pile were being joined by the small groups she would collect in her hand before placing them down, and he noticed the minute red streaks that dappled some of the larger pieces.

He walked quietly over to her, his socked feet making no sound on the cold stone as he approached. His hand appeared before her face to help her up and he flinched as she visibly shrunk away from the hand before her. He backed away and crouched down, finding the small stool they kept near to seat himself upon. He established the distance he knew would let her feel unthreatened, and watched her hunched form stay tense- waiting for a blow he would never give.

"I appreciate the dinner." That wasn't a lie, now that he knew she had gone through the trouble and he noticed it, he couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed and thanked her before. She looked up from behind her mass of brown curls, and he could barely see her eyes as they peered out at him in confusion. "I do." He enforced his comment to ensure she believed him.

"You're," she paused and her tongue darted out over her lips, "you're not mad at me?" Her whisper was broken, her voice cracking near the end of her sentence.

George kicked himself mentally and shook his head as he opened his arms to his wife. He hated it when she acted like this…no, that wasn't right. He hated seeing her like this, it wasn't her fault. "I'm not mad, honey."

Her amber eyes got teary and she turned to carefully wipe the porcelain chips onto her pile before facing him. She looked tentatively at him and his open arms before glancing around; her bottom lip was pulled into her mouth where he knew she sucked on it in hesitation.

Slowly, she turned her whole body to face him, but kept low to the ground and tense. Starting a slow crawl his way, she moved with the grace and agility of a cat. It hurt him, watching her cower as she approached for affection she craved and feared. The tears made their way down her cheeks and her hair hid most of her face from his view.

"You …you are sure… you're not mad?" Another soft entreaty, a few more tears.

George shook his head and smiled at her even as he felt the pricking at the back of his eyes. A sob escaped her throat and he watched her from shake with its force before she threw herself into his arms.

She had a small form, and it curled around him searching for comfort even as she remained tense and frightened. He shushed her gently, cooing soft words into the shell of her hear as she sniffed and sobbed. Her bloodied hands were gripping his shirt, and he paid no heed to the stains that were sure to mar the once pristine grey cloth. His wife was more important.

"I'm sorry honey, I had a bad day." George paused. "That's no excuse, I was in a bad mood, and I should never have taken it out on you." He knew if there was one thing his wife was frightened of, it was a man, and if the man was brooding and angry she was terrified.

He felt her nod into his chest and he kissed the crown of her head before drawing her closer to him and lifting her. A swish of his wand had the floor tidied, and a wry smile came to his mouth as he remembered that his wife tended to resort to the traditional muggle methods when she was highly emotional.

He carried her into their bathroom and set her on the counter, he slowly picked out the pieces of china in her cuts, taking his time and speaking soft words to her. It didn't matter if they were nonsensical, his voice would calm her.

Finished, he washed them gently and bound them with the white bandages he had plenty of practice with. Being a part of the terrible twins made certain that you knew how to care for another's wounds- when asking mum to care for them meant getting a lecture. Fred and he hated the lectures that were true, the ones brought about because they had injured themselves and the point was valid, it put both of them in a mood. Everyone knew that the twins had a temper, and once you crossed the twins you better watch your back, but it's not like they could prank their mother.

He sighed and shook himself out of his memories and to his wife. She was flexing her hands quietly and staring at them from her perch on the counter. George grinned at the cute picture she made. "Hermione, I do appreciate it."

A small smile appeared on her lips and a single tear made its way down her cheek. "Thanks." Came a small whisper, one he heard loud and clear after years of learning to listen.

He grinned and kissed the tear trail from her cheek, and hugged her as he helped her off the counter. He watched her quietly walk away to the living room, probably making her way to a book and the fireplace. He glanced out at the dreary spring weather, London always had the wettest and most depressing aura around it during spring, and it had only added to his mood today.

He sighed, and then George grinned. He had to make it up to his wife.

.x.

"Honey I'm home!" He called out as he entered the house an hour later. He grinned as a confused looking woman came around the corner into the entrance hall of their flat, he was sure she would be surprised when he said that- it was reserved specially for when he returned from work.

"George…?"

He cut her off with a strong hug and an enthusiastic kiss to her cheek. A slow confused smile made its way onto her lips as she looked up at him through her lashes. He grinned even more, his wife was beautiful, and she was his- which made him all the more determined to make it up to her.

With a flourish he had perfected in his childhood with his brother, he produced the triangle package of florist's paper. Her eyes widened and she looked at him with shock before taking it gently from his offering hand. The paper was removed and his wife gasped with a small smile as the white and pink roses with blue violets and fern were revealed to her.

She hated red roses. They reminded her too much of blood that had been shed.

His grin faded into the gentle look he only gave his wife. Everyone else could see his impish look, his serious face, but only his wife would see the face meant only for her. Her smile creased her eyes even as the bouquet covered her mouth as she lifted it to breath in the heavenly scent- he had to smile in return.

Her gaze turned hesitant as she looked back up at him, and he gently took her arm and led her to the living room sofa. "I heard from a little bird that someone called my work today."

Her gaze became worried. "You're not mad are you? I wanted to tell…"

George almost winced. He had forgotten that more than her physically being affected by the death eaters, she had an unhealthy fear of jealousy. Rightfully so…the death eaters were known for their jealous tendencies and base cravings, and he imagined that many a time she had been beaten by one because she had spent time with another.

Shaking his head he smiled. "Honey, I told you I can never really get mad at you," she blushed and he grinned, "I can get pretty mad at myself and my day but not at you."

She smiled and shifted to lean into his side. His arm went around her shoulders, pulling her closer and he buried his nose into her thick curls, watching the fire dance and her hands play with his free one.

He reflected on his day, and sighed softly as he remembered what a prat he had been. And as he reflected a particular snippet came to him; "…to tell you something…."

He shifted to face the top of her head. "Hermione," she looked up and he was tempted to just kiss her and forget his question (but damn his curiosity!), "I was told you had something to tell me?"

A quick and nervous smile passed over her lips before disappearing as she bit her bottom lip. A quiet murmur he didn't catch resounded. He tilted his head and watched in wonder as she stammered out the answer again.

"Say it slowly, Hun."

She blushed deeply and averted her eyes, the action more telling then any. Her eyes were always open, and she knew this. To avert them meant she was frightened of a reaction or so nervous that she needed a different kind of courage than the stuff she used everyday to live with her memories.

He slipped off the couch and crouched in front of her, drawing her hands into his larger ones and gazing expectantly up into her face. She blushed in embarrassment, and he wondered what could make her do so when their relationship was always open.

"I'm acting so foolish." Once again she answered his mental question without him voicing it, something he had found she tended to do in abundance. Her tongue wet her lips and a quick glance of her eyes to his with her blush. "I…"

He smiled and squeezed her hands. Hermione was so cute when she was unsure of herself, it made him want to hold her and dance. If anyone found out that one of the terrible twins was acting so…stupid really… "Just tell me. It must be important for you to have called me at work."

She smiled unsurely and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. A whisper reached up to him and he swore he heard her wrong. "Come again?" Her expression turned vulnerable, and he realized that he was going to make a prat out of himself if he didn't react soon.

Her voice came stronger. "I'm pregnant."

George felt a smile bloom on his face and saw the wondering surprise written across hers. "That's GREAT!" He let out a whoop of joy and threw one fist into the air as he picked her up and twirled her around. Her tinkling laugh filled the room and he brought her down to give her an Eskimo kiss.

He loved her laugh; it wasn't her muffled giggle at all. It was a happy, loud, out there laugh- one that you could hear from every corner of the flat. It was rare, and it was his.

She smiled shyly and tucked her head down into the length of his neck and he smiled. 'She is pregnant, we can have a baby.' It had been one of her greatest insecurities; as a result of her captivity she had been told that for her to get pregnant would be a miracle. It had hurt her that something so horrible could wreck one of her dreams so easily.

He rocked back and forth on his feet as he hugged her, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself down. He knew she had felt bad for not being able to bare children, as he had dreamed of a large happy family like he had as a child. She never brought it up, and he had understood that she never enjoyed the family get-togethers because everyone had children- it hurt her.

But now- he let out a laugh and kissed her head. "I love you. I love you I love you I love you." Her awed face turned up to his, and tears gathered in her eyes. He sobered and smiled at once, she still had trouble thinking that he loved her, and they had been married for years. He kissed her upturned lips. "I love you." Her smile was tentative and her eyes shone.

"I love you too." She whispered back to him, and he fought the smile that was a direct result of the warm rush in his heart. She could always do that to him; this strong yet needy woman, this beautiful woman, his wife, he never grew tired of hearing her say those words. He never grew tired of her, period. Never. End of case. "Do you think he'll make it?" The worry crept into her voice, telling him that she feared disappointing him and hurting them again.

"He? How do you know it's not a she?" She smiled unsurely up at him through her bangs before shrugging and looking away.

For all her insecurities she was his, and that was all that mattered. He brought her into his lap on the couch and breathed in the scent of her hair. A muffled giggle reached his ears, and he smiled before pulling back and placing a tender kiss on her lips, she grinned up at him.

Yes, this was where he wanted to be, right here like this- with his lovable wife and new family. He couldn't wait…

"How bad a day was it?"

He grinned up at the ceiling as she rested her head against his neck, her breath fanning out over his skin. "Bad day? Who said it was a bad day? I think this is one of the best days of my life…second only to one of course." Her confused look was sent to him before he grinned even more. "That was the day…what a day."

"George?"

He smiled, going back in his memories to the day. She was in white, smiling shyly at him from Harry's arm as she walked up the aisle. Despite her insecurities, this beautiful woman had accepted his love, and he couldn't be any luckier.

"I seem to recall a certain May…"She gasped in shock before the slow smile made its way onto her face and she beamed up at him. Merlin he loved her smile, and he would do anything to keep it on her face. "I love you."

THE END.