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Regretting Regrets

She didn't know why she did it. To this day, more than a year later, she questioned how she could possibly have been so stupid. He was her best friend's brother. He had no interest in her... at least, none that he would admit. It was simple really; he had needed comfort and so had she. It was sweet. It was innocent. It had felt so right.

The house was quiet, dark. Everyone was asleep but for two people who were leaning comfortably into opposite corners of a slowly tattering couch. He had needed someone to talk to and she had been lonely. Together they found the perfect solution.

"My girlfriend is cheating on me," He had told her, eyes distant, once their light-hearted banter had subsided.

"How do you know?" She had asked.

"I've suspected for a while... but last weekend, she told me she was visiting her parents. I called her a few times and she didn't answer until I called with a friend's phone. She was at some party, I could hear a guy in the background... I recognized his voice from another time she'd been hanging out with a so-called friend. She told me that her plans changed and she was staying with a cousin instead."

There was silence. She didn't know what to say.

"Did you know," He looked at her. "That I have never had a girlfriend who hasn't cheated on me?"

It broke her heart.

"Viktor and I broke up," She had told him eventually.

"When?"

"Two days ago. My birthday."

He frowned. "...May I ask why?"

She shrugged and looked away. "I'd rather not discus it, really. Let's just say I finally realized what a bastard he is... it never would have worked out between us."

Silence. He knew she was probably hurting but wasn't sure how to comfort her.

"Did you know," She smiled at him. "That he was always jealous of you?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Jealous of me?"

She nodded. "Yes... he never said anything specifically, of course, but it was obvious. He didn't want me going camping with you. It didn't matter that Harry, Ron and Ginny were going as well. He was adamantly against you being there with us."

He laughed and her eyes lightened at his laughter. "That's ridiculous!" He exclaimed. "Is that why he showed up and whisked you away for the day?"

Her eyes darkened again and at once he felt guilty, as if he had brought back a rotten memory. "Yes."

Silence.

"...Do you need to snuggle Hermione?" He attempted to lighten the mood. It worked.

She laughed, her eyes twinkling brightly, but she shook her head. "I'm fine George, don't worry about me."

From there they resumed their light-hearted banter. It was over two hours later that they found themselves sleeping on two separate couches. Or, rather, they lay there quietly. Both were absorbed in their own thoughts and each suspected the other to be asleep. Every fifteen minutes or so of silence one would whisper, "...Are you awake?" The other would chuckle and whisper, "Yes." And then they would be talking all over again.

During one particular moment of silence Hermione had found herself actually contemplating snuggling with George of all people! How would Harry and Ron react? Oh, she could just picture their faces. She giggled.

"What are you giggling about?" He asked her, amusement lacing his voice.

"Oh, I was just thinking about snuggling." She told him playfully.

"Well, come here."

She blinked, flabbergasted. "What?"

"Come here!"

She sat up, giggling, "Are you serious?" But she was already wrapping her blanket around her shoulders and walking toward him.

"Yes, I'm serious...!" He opened his blanket for her. "I tell you, there's nothing better!"

Still giggling a bit, she snuggled up next to him, only just realizing how tired she really was. "I'm going to end up falling asleep, you know."

"Me too," He responded. "...You know, my girlfriend would never do this with me."

Hermione paused before attempting to reassure him. "She's insane."

He smiled. "Merlin, what if Ron comes down here for some warm milk or something and sees us like this?"

She started giggling again - she just couldn't help it. "Would you tell him you propositioned me?"

"He'd probably punch me in the eye," He laughed.

"Well, I suppose if it got too out of hand, you could just tell him about Viktor and I. He'd probably understand that I was needing comfort."

There was silence.

"Okay," She amended. "Perhaps understanding is going a bit far for dear Ronald but it might difuse the situation... erm, a little bit."

They both broke into laughter.

It wasn't long, however, until they both simply snuggled together in silence. She, enjoying the comfort and safety that she felt with him. He, reveling in being needed and having someone who cared about his needs. Soon she was drifting off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat. He, to the smell of her hair.

She woke to the feel of him adjusting the position of his arm. She automatically moved to accommodate him. He rubbed her back softly to assure her of his comfort. They drifted back to sleep.

The next time she jerked awake it was to his alarm. Not knowing if he planned on getting up right away she sat up. He turned the alarm off and lay back down. He even looked to be asleep. She sat there for a moment, worrying her lip indecisively. She was enjoying his warmth just a little too much to be willing to get up... however, in the light of dawn this situation was quickly becoming awkward. She didn't want him to be stuck if she fell asleep again.

And so she got up and moved over to the other couch. With nervous butterflies in her stomach, and feeling rather less warm than just a few moments prior, she drifted off once more.

The last time she woke up that morning was to the sounds of him shuffling about the house, getting ready for work. She was silent, forcing her eyes to remain mostly closed. After all, what would she say to him? After a while the sounds of his shuffling had ceased and, curiously, her eyes fluttered open. What she saw was not what she had been expecting. He was standing by the front door, a hand on the doorhandle, watching her. When she met his gaze he offered a somewhat hesitant, but genuine, smile.

"Goodbye."

She smiled back and whispered an embarrassed, "Goodbye."

He was gone.

It was then that things began getting weird. Her feelings confused her and she couldn't decipher his feelings either. Sometimes it seemed so clear that he liked her and then it would be out of the question altogether. She was just his little brother's best friend, after all. She held little to no importance to him. Less than two weeks later he was dating some new girl. Cecile.

In response to this news Hermione had tried to give him space. She assumed that he thought she liked him and was uncomfortable with it. His friendship had become important to her and the thought that she might have messed all of that up in one stupid night upset her a great deal. But it hadn't felt stupid at the time, had it? She hated the cliche of it all but she had truly slept better beside him than she had in years.

Only once had she really made an effort in distancing herself. It hadn't gone over too well. A group of friends, including the new girlfriend, had been sitting around talking. When Hermione entered the room there was but one seat left - one next to him. Instead she had sat on the floor. Throughout the night he continued to reach a foot out and poke her in the back, tickle her side, or push her over until she responded. Her efforts quickly diminished. She simply couldn't stay away from him.

The next time a group of friends got together it was to watch a muggle contraption called a television. It played these things called movies, you see, which were quite fun to watch. Luna left early, before the movie even started, and Ron followed almost immediately afterwards. This, of course, left the group laughing and teasing in his wake. Cecile had had to leave not long after that. Harry and Ginny had fallen asleep on the couch not but halfway through the movie. Only two people remained awake. Hermione and George.

She was nervous again. Anxious. They were sitting so close. She was leaning the wrong direction but, if she were to sit up straight, she could be touching his shoulder. Butterflies - no, they were more like elephants - were causing her stomach to twist and flutter and shake. All because of him. She would admit (but only to herself, mind you, and only back in depths of her mind that she refused to acknowledge more than once) that she had feelings for him. That much was obvious. What she could not do, however, was understand them. He was wild and had always been somewhat of a hooligan. He had dated more girls than she could ever hope to count. She assumed that he'd probably had sex with at least half of them. And she...? What was she? A bookworm who loved school, work and rules. She'd dated two men in her entire life and she'd only had sex once. They weren't right for each other at all.

So why, she wondered, can't I stop these feelings?

Sometime during these thoughts the girl resigned herself to the fact that she wanted to be close to him again. Shifting herself around a bit, she was now leaning more toward him. She waited a while, yawned a time or two, trying to appear nonchalant. Finally, she let her head rest on his shoulder. He didn't respond. Relaxing slightly (for at least he hadn't pushed her off or anything) she let her eyes flutter shut. If he were to question her, she could tell him that she was tired. In fact, she was tired, so she wouldn't even be lying. But, for now, she simply wanted to enjoy the comfort that being close to him brought her.

Hermione jolted awake as George stood quite suddenly and left the room. How long had she been sleeping? She rubbed her eyes in confusion while heart sank with despair. Oh, she'd really gone and done it this time. Not only was she his little brothers best friend and completely off-limits but he also had a girlfriend. He probably thought her completely shallow for flirting with another girl's guy.

Trying to seem as normal as possible she relaxed on the couch for a little while before getting up to find him and try to patch things up.

But find him is something she wouldn't do that night. He had left.

As it turned out, George had not only left the house, but he had soon left England altogether! Ron had told Hermione all about it. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes had been doing so well that George had gotten complete funding to open another shop in America. (Though it wasn't as if he needed the funding in the first place, she mused.) He would be gone for seven months, he said, and the entire thing was to be dedicated to Fred. She was really quite offended; he hadn't even said goodbye.

Those seven months had started off agonizingly slow. Hermione had tried writing him once but he hadn't responded. She didn't have enough confidence to stand losing anymore of it; she avoided trying to contact him again. Then, slowly, time began moving by faster. She became absorbed in her work, her hobbies, her friends. She still thought of him often, of course, but she always pushed such thoughts out of her mind before she could dwell too much on him.

Naturally, she'd heard of the problems between George and his girlfriend. Hermione had even gotten to know the girl somewhat and, she would admit, the two had lasted even longer than she expected. George was, at heart, a country boy while Cecile, in contrast, abhorred the country and everything in it. George enjoyed hard work and didn't mind getting dirty. Cecile would spend an hour in the bath if she got a speck of dirt underneath one perfectly manicured fingernail. George liked reading, though it was something that very few would expect from him, and Cecile despised books entirely. Sometimes Hermione wondered if there was anything this girl did like... and then she would remember. Cecile adored two things; fashion and George.

It was late one evening, still three months away from George's homecoming, when Hermione realized something new. George and I aren't that different from each other, after all. Soon all she could think about was how alike they really were underneath the stereotypes that they had been labeled under.

George's girlfriend was her own polar opposite, though, that much was sure. In looks, in personality, in interests... they had absolutely nothing in common. (Except George.) How he had managed to go from showing (relative) interest in Hermione to dating someone so completely different just didn't make sense. Unless, she thought, he was trying to get away from me.

The thought saddened her immensely and she set to getting over whatever nonsensical feelings she might have harbored for him. She did a good job of it. In the few weeks leading up to George's return, however, he began residing in her every-day thoughts once more. She missed him and was excited for his return. His problems with his Cecile had been escalating over the past month and everybody knew their relationship would be over soon. This made it increasingly difficult for Hermione to consider him off-limits.

Not that they could ever get involved anyway, she would tell herself. It was always for the same reasons too; he was Ron's brother (well, Ron could just deal with it), he wasn't interested in her (but she didn't really know that), and she shouldn't be interested in him (but she was).

And then, just like that, George was back.

At first Hermione assumed that she'd see him right away... but that didn't happen. Weeks went by before she saw anything of him. When she went to the Burrow he was at work. When he was at Harry and Ginny's for dinner she was busy with work and couldn't make it. When she visited his shop he was at home (and she wasn't about to go there). She assumed he was avoiding her.

But, two weeks after George returned, she finally saw him.

Hermione put the last batch of cupcakes in the oven feeling quite satisfied with herself. The pasta had been ready for about fifteen minutes, she'd finished making the sparkling raspberry lemonade an hour ago, and now the dessert was almost done. Harry and Ron had promised her that they would come over for dinner to try out her new recipes. Not that it had taken much convincing. All she had to do was say "FOOD!" and they were there. She was excited anyway, though, as they hadn't had a good hang out night in a while. Since George left, actually.

The familiar sound of thudding on her front porch made her smile. They were here. She set the glass of water that she'd been sipping on down and skipped toward the door just as it was being thrown open. The first head through the door was covered in messy black hair.

"Harry!" She cried, giving him a great hug. "Ron! Oh, I've missed you two. You need to visit me more often." She gave them both a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, if you'd stop working so hard..." Harry began teasing her.

"Yeah, and you could always visit us you know!" Ron put in.

She chuckled. It was then that she noticed another head of red hair coming through her door. The sight of him made her heart stop. Maybe if she'd been more prepared she would have been able to act more at ease but as it was...

"George...?"

"Hello, Hermione."

There was an awkward pause where she was rooted in place and he merely gave her an unsure smile.

"Well, uhm, come in... come in you guys." She fumbled with her words. "Everything is ready and waiting."

"Great!" Ron said, shrugging off his jacket. "I'm starved!"

Her timer went off and she was thankful for the excuse to escape for a few moments. "I'm just going to check the cupcakes."

In the kitchen she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, attempting to calm her nerves. How could simply seeing him cause her heart to jerk and twist like that? This is ridiculous, she thought to herself. He has far too much control over you. So, putting on the best nonchalant expression she could come up with at the moment (which wasn't very good at all), Hermione pulled the cupcakes out of the oven and placed them onto a plate. In a few minutes she'd conjured everything onto the dining room table.

The night passed by in a relative success. Harry and Ron loved her new recipes - raved over them, actually - and she'd managed to go without embarrassing herself in front of George. Her heart had sunk (ridiculously, she knew) when George hadn't commented on the meal or her ability and, even more so, when he avoided eye contact with her from time to time.

They were in the sitting room when the boys were getting ready to leave. George had reached over and gave a Hermione's knee a light slap, allowing his hand to rest there for a moment as he gave it a squeeze. Her stomach twisted. It was such a simple gesture, something reminiscent of the friendship they once shared. It spoke volumes to her. She knew she couldn't let it pass without some sort of action on her part to show that she too wanted that friendship back.

She stood up a moment after him and spoke. "Well, give me a hug."

It had meant to come out playful, like was once their norm, but instead it sounded resigned or regretful. Neither he nor her were sure what to make of it, but he reached out to her anyway.

Against his chest time seemed to still. He'd tucked his head next to hers and his breath tickled her ear softly. He was warm and soft despite having a more lanky muscular form. His arms were wrapped gentle yet firm around her small form, squeezing her to him softly, and she knew... she knew that he had missed her too.

Then they had let go. Her cheeks were pink and, if she'd been less embarrassed and able to look at him, she would have seen that his were too. Ron hadn't caught anything unusual but Harry wasn't quite so oblivious. He, however, had chosen to let it slide without comment. Without comment, perhaps, but not without green eyes giving her that look that was all too understanding. When did he get so all-knowing, anyway?

So now Hermione walked around her flat in distress. Seven months and she had not been able to get over him. If anything her feelings had grown stronger. This stupid game could not go on any longer. Who did he think he was, anyway? If he'd just been open about his feelings in the first place none of this confusion and awkward nonsense would have happened. Or maybe it would have, but Hermione didn't care about that right now. Surely this couldn't be entirely her fault, playing with her feelings like he was. She would just have to talk with him. Why, she'd apparate over to his flat right this very instant... why wait?! She'd waited seven months!

Hermione marched over to her door with determination plastered across her face. Her door flew open. She jumped back, squealing, in surprise.

"George...?!" Her mouth was hanging open and she knew it. This was the second time tonight he had surprised her!

"Uhm, hi." He fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, looking everywhere but at her.

Suddenly Hermione had forgotten the entire speech she had planned out. "Did you... need something?"

"No! No, I, uh... just... wanted to thank you?" He certainly didn't sound very sure about it.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "You wanted to... thank me?"

"Yes, of course. I didn't do that properly earlier tonight, I'm afraid. So, thank you. I'll just be going now."

...And he was gone.

Her mouth still hung open. She shook her head. What was she doing? Was she going to let him escape her twice in the same night? She opened her door and ran outside paying no heed to her lack of shoes.

"George!"

He was standing a few meters away from her and, though she could only see his back, she knew he was distressed. He was running his hand through his hair in that way that he always did when under pressure. He turned and blue eyes met brown. She opened her mouth to say something but could only promptly closed it. His gaze was so intense. His lips parted as if to speak but no words came out.

And then his lips were on hers. She wasn't sure who had moved forward first, or even why they did so, but he had definitely initiated the kiss. Oh, the kiss. It was just so George. He had descended with such a fiery passion that she was sure she would melt. It became hesitant then, as if he were unsure of how she would react. But then she leaned into him and slipped her arms around his neck. He quirked a smile and it was suddenly languidly playful. It had softened then, turned into something utterly romantic; he was so gentle brushing his lips over her like that. The kiss ended in a few new kisses, these ones short and sweet but no less wonderful. What made the night so wonderful though was not the kiss at all.

"I'm in love with you."

So Hermione decided that perhaps she shouldn't have regretted that night all those months ago, after all. In fact, Hermione had so regretted wasting all of that time regretting what had been a wonderful night that she soon found herself regretting her regrets. That is, until George kissed her soundly on the lips and told her she was being ridiculous again. So she had smiled and happily left her regrets in the past. She was fairly sure, after all, that with George by her side she wouldn't need to regret anything ever again.

...Well, except - perhaps - forgetting to tell Ronald about their relationship before he walked in on them making out on her bed.

The End!

Please let me know whether or not this was difficult to follow along with!