Waker gave him a look, letting him know that he was back to his usual, cheeky self. Which thrilled her. Even if it also ruffled her in a good way. But she was obviously playing along, encouraging it. Four days was longer than she’d ever imagined. She never wanted him to be lost to her for that long again. “I think where you want them might go against hospital protocol.” Which was probably another reason George would overexert himself to get out of there.

“And she gets that fearless look in them from you,” she said warmly, and she wasn’t joking. It was sweet, but daunting. Waker could already tell.

She smiled along with him, but then her mouth became rounder, a bit worried. Waker wanted to wince watching him do it. “It really depends on the angle I’m sitting at. We should be careful though, really,” she insisted, even if they both wanted the same thing. Walking was safer. Even if there was a lot George could do to make it unsafe.

She smiled as he said he missed Amelia; if there had been worries and arguments before the baby arrived, they were gone now, replaced by new ones. She knew George would do anything for her.

“Two minutes. That’s a little risky. I can jog very far.” Especially now that she wasn’t full of a baby. Walking along beside him at an easy pace, she made no effort to jog.  “The last thing you need is a blindfold, George. You can’t even bother with a helmet.” That was not going to be argument he won any time soon. “You can have as many kisses as you like if you promise to wear more protective gear.” But that was a many-layered conversation that did not begin and end with quidditch. Waker had already donned her protective gear. “Look at all of the people you’re leaving in your dust.” She gestured very discreetly toward a nurse who was busy with another patient in the corridor.

“Do you want me to ask?” George loved it when she gave him that look, the one that said she couldn’t believe him, even if she knew better. His tongue moved across his lips before slipping back behind his teeth, grinning cheekily. If he didn’t try, then he couldn’t say he... tried. Better to try and fail than to never know. Any sort of encouraging banter would work in this situation.

George would take the compliment, his chest going out a little bit at the mention of things his daughter and he shared. It could be worrisome, definitely, but at the same time... a point of pride.

He nodded in agreement. They would be careful. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t push the boundaries of his healing period. He would just be cautious with things that might hurt. They both had a healthy imagination when it came to mutual fun, though, and he wasn’t worried about it.

“I know you can.” George couldn’t be blamed for lagging behind when they went out together, admiring how her assets moved with her jog. If he’d then have to race ahead and turn around to watch other... well, he was just a man. Who loved his girl. His breath caught in his throat as he thought about the potential consequences to his injury. Things could’ve been a lot worse...

The laugh that slipped out was in part to her words and partly to get his mind off his thoughts. “I wear a cup, isn’t that enough?” For him, that was. He rolled his eyes, though, and glanced at her as he crossed his fingers on one of his hands. “Promise.” George gave her a wink before stepping forward, their slow walk pushing him to his limits. Who knew how exhausted you could be after puncturing a lung and trying to walk? Sore, too.

He looked over his shoulder, grinning and nodding. “I’m on the fast track to healed.” When they reached the end of the hall, he paused to catch his breath before swinging the walker back around. “Come on, I have to impress my healers.”

---

George nodded as solemnly as possible; of course he would take to bed rest very seriously. He wouldn’t rush anything at all. He swore on Merlin’s beard that he planned to keep to their potion schedule and rest as often as he could. With the way Waker was eyeing him, it was possible that he would keep to that swear by her forcefulness.

Once he had all his stuff, he leaned on the walker and chewed on his lip absentmindedly. “Can you apparate us?” He followed her slowly down the hall to the designated area for that sort of thing. Which was probably outside. “I’m feeling like some fish n chips!” Hospital food had gotten boring really quick.

The look soon became mildly panicky— or outraged. “Don’t!” She whispered loudly. He shouldn’t even joke about it. Waker would never be able to show her face in the hospital again if he asked about that. And since she had a newborn and a boyfriend with a helmet allergy, she needed to be able to come to this hospital.

But the part of her that knew he was joking was able to comfort the other half, and it was easy to leave the daring suggestions back in the room (along with a deep discussion on the logistics of one’s lap)… and replace them with new daring suggestions as they raced down the hall.

She seemed to roll her eyes back, but a small smile crept onto her face as promised. He sounded sincere enough, despite the wink. “That’s a start…”

Along with getting back on his feet. For some reason Waker though George would find the latter easier.

As they walked, she was cautious, but encouraging. Soon enough they had made it to the end and back, earning smiles from various medical staff. Waker was still more worried about George saying a little too much to a healer… through questions… than him having to impress them with his World Cup level comeback.

---

Time had flown after George had woken up. He had progressed from eating liquids in bed to racing Waker down hallways (on a walker) to this, his hospital release, in what seemed like a very impressive amount of time to his naturally worrisome other half. He had definitely stuck to the plan to charm the healers.

Whether he was actually listening to their instructions now was debatable, but it didn’t matter because Waker had ears for both of them. If he thought his injuries were uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to their couch in lieu of a bed— which she would threaten if he didn’t take those potions and… stay in bed. Was it fair to threaten other furniture if it went against hospital rules?

She helped him gather his things (half insisting on packing things a certain way), and took his arm. “Don’t you think we should apparate home first?” She asked, but there was something loving in her eyes. She could compromise. Sighing, she turned on the spot— and soon they were on their street. “We’ll order takeaway,” she said, with a look of satisfaction (before he could realize they weren’t at a chip shop), waiting for him to agree. “Your dad is bringing Amelia around soon, too. You can have fish, chips, and your baby.” Leaning into him, she offered a quick little hug before helping him toward the flat.

Within half an hour, the food had arrived (even the muggle place was wizard-level fast), and so had the baby. Waker hugged George’s dad goodbye and closed the door, leaning into it for a moment to look over the pair on the couch as the scent of hot chips reached her nose. It felt like home for the first time in the whirlwind of a week.

She moved toward then and smiled, dropping onto the sofa beside him. She wasn’t even fidgety that they were eating in the living room and not at the table. She looked down at Amelia, who was resting calmly between them, propped on a pillow. “Do you think it’s too early to train her to say ‘Welcome home, Daddy?’” She looked at George. She was joking. Mostly. “Not that Mummy won’t be her first word,” she added quickly.

George couldn’t wait to get home. And he couldn’t wait to eat real food. If they were battling for top spot in his desires, he couldn’t be blamed. He had been out for four days! Or so. He had to make up for it! Of course, if he couldn’t get up and exercise, it was going to start filling in his toned stomach. Goodbye six pack, hello food addict.

Not that he thought too much on it. It wasn’t going to be long before he was back up - actually, the thought of the broom was nauseating right then. He figured it was just the potions. He hoped it was just that. George couldn’t afford (honestly) to be nervous about a core part of his job. The problem was that he kept replaying what he could remember of the fall in his head; the way his hand had swiped at the wooden broom that stayed just out of reach.

George much preferred to not think about it. It opened up a whole bunch of apprehension in the pit of his stomach that threatened to drag him down into it if he did think about it. Luckily Waker was there, always talking about something that kept his thoughts elsewhere.

When they apparated to the street, he did worry he was going to lose the lunch he’d scarfed down at the hospital. As the feeling of queasiness dissipated, George settled his walker onto solid ground and raised an eyebrow at her. Eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips, taking her in, finally letting a smile slip out. “Both my babies.” He accepted the hug, trying to hold her there but unable to stop her from pulling away.

Swallowing, he started towards their flat, glancing around briefly before taking the stairs slowly.

Once in the flat, he collapsed happily onto the couch. “Oh... Merlin, it feels good to be home!” And then he realized the call to nature, and he took his time getting up to it. When he’d settled back on the couch, he had tried to con Waker into sitting with him.

When the baby arrived, George had waited impatiently for his dad to hand her over. Sam gave his son a hug and messed his hair before telling him how glad his mum and he were that George was ok and home. And that Penelope would be over in the next day or so to make sure he was really ok. While Waker said goodbye, George focused on his daughter, laughing and talking to her about how much he’d missed her.

He was rocking her to sleep when the food came. The commotion woke her up; he worked to calm her as Waker set up food. George shifted a little to the edge of the sofa, grimacing and trying to breathe through all the movement. He took a slow, deep breath before helping set Amelia in a comfortable position, flanked by pillows. George reached out and grabbed Waker’s hand, tugging her towards him. He pressed his lips against hers, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back to draw in a breath.

His eyes stayed closed as he kept her close, for a moment. He grinned and shook his head, finally looking at her. “I don’t know... Daddy seems a lot easier to say.” His hand fell to her thigh, squeezing it gently before he looked her over. Really looked her over. He was hungry... George licked his lips before smiling, softly. “I love you.” His hand reached out and gently rubbed her chin.

He straightened and turned to the food, leaning forward with a wince, coming back with a piece of fish, chewing on it thoughtfully. “A beer would go great with this.” He grinned wide, around his bite, before continuing to eat.

It did feel good to be home: Waker had not been able to enjoy it much in the few hours at a time she’d spent there since George had woken. Now that he was home with her (and hadn’t broken his collar bone getting into the building and up to their floor), she realized just how nice it was to have some place that was theirs.

She joined him on the sofa for a few minutes— teasing, kissing, and helping him take things slow— before his father showed up with Amelia. Waker chatted with both of them happily while she watched George reunite with Amelia. Something about watching him smile over her made her heart beat faster. It was a weird thing, and sometimes a scary one, to love two people so much. And the relief that washed over her when she realized they were both fine, or were going to be fine, was… almost anxiety-inducing.

Once Amelia was asleep (ish) again, Waker allowed herself to be pulled close. She fell easily into the kiss, bringing a hand up to his face. “Mummy is what the smart ones say first. They go for the challenge,” she said, giving his cheek a little squeeze. “And they know who holds the keys to everything.” She smiled, she’d missed the feel of his hand where it was now. And everywhere. Her hand on his cheek dropped down to brush over the back of his fingers on her thigh. “I love you, too.” As he rubbed her chin, Waker leaned in to peck him again quickly. “But I will be really, really angry if you ever terrify me like that again.”

As they started to eat, Waker lifted a chip, blowing on it a bit to make sure it wasn’t too hot— though they’d had a bit of time to let it cool. She looked over George as she ate. Waker had almost picked up a fork for the chips before she thought better of it. She swallowed and her look became a bit more of a… look. “Oh, would it?” But she was already raising her wand, summoning a beer— two beers. She didn’t even chastise him for not getting them himself. He was using a walker.

When they arrived, Waker opened them and knocked hers into his in a toast before taking a little sip. “To both of us healing.”

George realized a little how close it could’ve been to him not being able to kiss her lips again. He didn’t get anxious over a lot, but that thought... it would probably wake him up a few times in the night, if Amelia didn’t. On top of being home and with his family, it was... overwhelming. George didn’t get overwhelmed easily. Not unless it was household chores or actually having to focus on what he was reading.

Luckily coursework was done. It wasn’t as if he had a job that required a lot of reading, either. You either were good at what you did, and could easily learn plays and maneuvers, or you weren’t in Professional Quidditch. Even the Cannons weren’t full of a bunch of second string Little Quaffles. They were still picked from a pool of people who were considered top notch. That little bit aside... he had missed being able to kiss Waker in the comfort of their own home.

He couldn’t help her logic; he laughed and shook his head, sighing at the cheek squeeze. “To everything, huh.” Which was true enough. “I suppose she is my daughter, so she will be up for any challenge.” Which, again, anxiety. “Like not conforming to norms. She’ll say something ridiculous, like lollipop. Or snitch.” Anything was possible.

It was always nice to hear her say it back to him. It was an affirmation for something he knew already. He accepted the kiss back and smiled at her. “And I don’t want to see you angry. I don’t plan on doing it again.” His tone was serious, towards the end. 

They were getting back into the swing of them; he nearly burst out laughing at the look she fixed on him, but managed to hold it back a little, grinning nonetheless. His hand reached out excitedly for the open beer, toasting her quickly before taking a gulp, nodding as he did. There were simple pleasures to be enjoyed: good food, beer, and sex. He rested the beer on his knee and raised an eyebrow, taking in a gulp of air as he reminded himself to not drink so fast. “I thought only one of us was healing... And I think I speak for myself when I say I’m perfectly fine.”

Even if he had needed to catch his breath after making one flight of stairs. George took a small sip and smiled at her, tongue taking its time as he ran it over his lips. “I could jump right to dessert...”

“Everything,” she reiterated. She gave him a curious look as he shared his theory. “Her first word will not be snitch! That rhymes with—” Well, of course! “I guess it rhymes with witch,” she reasoned, raising her chin a little. “She can say that first.” She smiled. Maybe a little too haughtily.

Pacified by his promise, she settled into the food with him.

As they toasted, she gave him another look, but it was humorous. “Which one of us?” She quizzed, and there was a little bit of Waker-at-Hogwarts in the tone. She’d spent plenty of time asking him questions about their reading material. Among other things. “And you are not fine. I mean, yes, you’re fine— you’re going to be fine. You can eat now and… But you have a walker! You’re still wearing a hospital bracelet,” she pointed out. Or he should be. Her eyes flicked down to his wrist. She pointed the beer at him. “Can your ribs handle dessert?” She took a sip as her eyes dared him.

Even so…

“You can jump into dessert, but you can't walk to the fridge,” she said, mystified, and laughing a little. She fished up another chip and leaned in toward him, over the baby. “I bet you missed the early wake up calls, too.” Her eyes moved in the direction of Amelia, who was luckily asleep. The chip gone, and the beer safely on the table, Waker stood up carefully and lifted the baby, carrying her to the bassinet.

Once Amelia was safely down, she returned to the sofa, pushing away the cushions that had been between them. She turned a bit, drew up her legs. Her hand nearest him settled on his knee and the other one went to his opposite cheek, this time pulling him toward her. She kissed his cheek. “I think I’ll sleep better tonight with her screaming than all week at the hospital.” She kissed him again, her head tilting. “Maybe we can… have dessert… if we just go slow.”

An eyebrow rose with her words, amusement evident on his face. “Rhymes with what else, exactly?” Witch was one thing. George couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head a little. There were a few choice words that she could say first, but as a kid just figuring out how to say something other than a grunt or cry, it was probably going to be something that resembled one of their new names.

How weird was it that someone was going to call him Dad soon? Like he called his dad? He wouldn’t just be ‘George’ anymore. His stomach tightened as he considered the implications. George really hoped he didn’t screw it up. There was so much more to parenting than just failing at an exam. And whatever coursework he could do for it... he didn’t think it would help him out in the long run.

His finger found his chest rather easily, even if it only gently tapped his sternum. “You’ve been healed for weeks, right? She’s going on six months almost, yeah?” If his tongue found its way to stick at her, it was only because he was playful. George glanced first to the walker, dismissing it with a half shrug, and spared a look for the bracelet still loosely around his wrist. Ah... that. Finally he turned his attention back to the beer battle, and then her, nodding rather quickly at her question. “Of course.”

The laugh escaped him easier than he expected; it was controlled, so as not to jar his side too much, but also mirthful. “It’s far, and I don’t want to bother with the walker when I don’t have to...” He really wasn’t looking forward to trying to pee with that thing in the way. Maybe he would just sit down and save himself the trouble. But then where did all the fun go?

A small smile slipped over his lips as he also looked to their daughter. “A little bit. Just the part where she goes back to sleep in your arms.” The screaming part, that was for the birds. George took another bite of fish as Waker handled the baby; he was thankful they had gotten take away. She knew best (usually).

Once she was back, closer, he finished his bite of fish and swallowed it down with a gulp of beer before setting the bottle aside, wincing only just before he straightened up. His grin was big as she kissed his cheek. His own hand found its way to her knee, spreading out as he grasped the area just above it. Surprise filtered over his face before he returned the kiss, face a little too hopeful. “Of course, always, however you want.” George couldn’t help it; he was grinning too wide to stop.

He shifted just slightly, head tilting as he nuzzled against her neck, kissing just under her jaw line and forcing her head back a little. “I have a comfortable seat for you.” George attempted to encourage her position change as he pulled back, his free hand finding her hand on his leg and trying to tug her towards him more.

“You know what.” Waker didn’t need to say the word.

She watched him indicate himself, and pursed her lips into a small smile, glad he could at least acknowledge he was injured… if he seemed to have forgotten Waker had a lot to heal! “Hey! She’s barely a month old. And have you seen how big her head is?” Which, of course, was her fault, genetically speaking. It didn’t mean she couldn’t blame George for contributing. There had to be something in Gryffindor DNA that inflated the head… “Six months,” she repeated, her tone disbelieving. “It doesn’t really feel that long, does it?” She asked, raising her voice a bit, suddenly with the same anxiousness she had had a year and a half back, when she’d realized how long she’d made him wait. Was it really so short a time since then? They hadn’t even been… for two years… and they had a baby.

Laughing at his cleverness— and his cheekiness— Waker gave into the excuse. It was simple enough. She would wait until he was home for a night before she really laid into him. He did need his rest and some help! It didn’t mean she couldn’t welcome him home…

“Or yours,” she pointed out. “I think it’s easier to get her into her crib than to open the fridge.” It wasn’t.

With Amelia not hollering at the moment, it was easy to cuddle up: they had (somewhat) full stomachs, mellowing drinks, the welcoming glow of their apartment instead of the harsh hospital light. If Waker was a little nervous, she was also excited at how excited he seemed. She let him nuzzle her head back, her mouth opening a little as she breathed contentedly. She let out another laugh, and almost shook her head, but then crawled up onto her knees and carefully over George, staring at him as she did so. Settling down slowly, her knees on either side of his thighs, she let her skirt fall over his lap, hiding things in much the same way she had back in the library, so long ago. “I’m not sure… It’s a little bumpy,” she said, with a hmm in her voice. She leaned with another grin, kissing him as her hand crawled down to the edge of his t-shirt. “Does this hurt?” She added, as she settled in a little more… noticeably.

The size of the head did not mean he was entirely to blame. He gave her a look that let her know he knew better. In response, he lifted a hand to rest on top of her own head and gently rubbed his fingers against it. “My fault, right?” His hand retracted as he grinned. George had jokes, that was all. He wondered if they would feel like time had flown by - wasn’t that what their parents said? How time seemed to... speed up?

George chewed on his lip for a moment before shrugging and smiling. “No... and yet yes.” Six months of not sleeping great could feel like it would last forever. And then she’d be crawling or whatever they did at six months, and George would lose years off his life. “And I meant mine. I just...” His hands came up and he shrugged again. He wasn’t clear, obviously. George grinned regardless. “It would be nice to rock her to sleep.”

He pushed aside thoughts of his daughter as her mother climbed onto his lap. He swallowed and took a slow breath, finally grinning as she settled. Her statement had him laughing unexpectedly, holding his side as he winced. No matter what, George was going to grin and bear it, because it felt like forever. “No...” His eyes closed slowly, a breath of noise escaping him before he looked at her again.

Then he was kissing her, his hands wrapping around her waist, fingers spreading along the material of her skirt before he pulled it up and out of his way. His hand moved quickly under her underwear, holding on to skin. George pulled back as he took in a few shallow breaths, eyes closing briefly before he looked down at her shirt.

He felt like he was in a toy shop. His hands came back to the front and he started to unbutton the blouse. “How’s your seat now?” It was her fault that his voice was deeper, softer. And it was her fault if her seat was less comfortable.

“Always,” she said, still smiling. She meant it endearing, even if it also came out a little witchy.

If Waker was worried, she was also quick to want to put things back to normal. Orderly. Bring George to the present and future, and the not wistful past. (Not that that’s where his head was, judging by his bold comments.)

She smiled affectionately at the idea of him rocking Amelia to sleep— something he had pretty much achieved tonight (before she’d woken again) and would get plenty of practice doing in the next few months.

His wince made her freeze, but as he laughed and responded, Waker relaxed again, taking him at his word. He was obviously willing to put up with pain for the payoff. Miss Nolan had the suspicion that she would have to do the same. All things considered. She pushed into him a bit more, smiling before he cut her off with a kiss. Waker leaned into it easily, returning it with sudden, girlish eagerness. When she got her bearings, she continued to tackle the obstacle of his shirt… or at least got her hands under it, warming her palms.

As they took a brief break, she smiled again, her eyes on his. “Too much cushioning,” she admitted, and then forced him to pause in his task so that she could pull off his shirt. With that discarded, Waker’s mouth moved quickly back to his, her hands helping George contraptions masquerading as clothing; things were different for the young parents now, but it didn’t mean some things couldn’t be the same.