Hermione watched the water swirl around her bare feet, making foamy patterns of white against the sun-burnt sand that swayed beneath it. She hummed quietly to herself, sinking in to a world where only the ocean mattered. Scattered along the coast of the deserted beach, the Weasley children and Harry played beach cricket, watched by Mr. and Mrs Weasley who lay on a beach towel far from the water's edge. True, the heavy clouds and crisp wind could not have been described as the perfect holiday weather, yet Hermione was more than content with her surroundings. Her small hand came out of the pocket of the grey hoodie she was wearing to gently push her chocolate coloured hair behind her ear as the wind fought to smother her face with it. Hermione watched, still humming, as the soft rays of the afternoon sun wandered lazily over the mountains that proudly barricaded the desolate beach from the small town that lay further off.

Hermione Granger and her best friend Harry Potter had been kindly invited by her other best friend (Ron Weasley) and his family to accompany them on a short road trip before the beginning of their seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After the 3 day trip, Hermione would be staying at their home, the Burrow. Hermione's parents, being the trusting muggles they were, had agreed to let Hermione spend the last week of her holidays with her best friends and had lovingly parted with her that morning. Her plump, pink lips quirked at the edges at the memory of her parents and their predictions of the amount of mischief their little girl would get into at her final year at Hogwarts. Her smile widened when she remembered how she'd laughed at her mother's worries of how Hermione was sure to get into 'boy trouble' that year and would have no one but her male friends to talk about them with.

Suddenly, a wave of cold water crashed against Hermione's knees making her squeak as the water seeped into bottom of her rolled up jeans, sending goose bumps up her legs and arms. Hermione mentally scorned her laziness. Everyone except Mr and Mrs Weasly had gotten changed into their swimwear well before they went anywhere near the water but Hermione had stubbornly insisted that she wasn't going to get that wet, merely meander amidst the water's edge and so didn't need to get changed into her bathers, especially since it was far too cold. Hermione splashed back to the shallower waters, realizing that she'd unknowingly waded deeper whilst occupied by her thoughts. She watched, eyes ablaze with wonder and appreciation as her foot dipped delicately into the clear water, then dragged it in a semicircle round her body. Hermione watched the water ripple around her playfully, redirecting the pale sun to flitter across the sand too. How peaceful the beach was at the moment, she thought as she spun childishly, spraying water in all directions, how entirely –

'I got it!'

Hermione turned; surprised that she hadn't heard George Weasley thumping along the beach earlier. She barely had time to register the fact that he hadn't seen her either – his sea blue eyes fixed on the purple tennis ball sailing through the fierce wind above him – before he barreled roughly in to her. A small 'Eep!' escaped Hermione's lips as she and George began to fall. She felt his strong arm wrap around her middle, as if trying to hold her up but it was no use and she crashed down into the sea, George toppling down on top of her with a loud 'Whoa!'

Hermione felt a wave surge over their bodies and she burst through the water moments later, gasping for air and shivering violently on her elbows. A few metres away, Hermione spotted the purple tennis ball bobbing off towards the shore, as if teasing her; laughing at the situation it had landed her in. George was holding himself up by his arms too so that he wasn't putting any weight on Hermione and although she knew it was wrong, Hermione couldn't help but feel as if it would have been better if he didn't so that she could feel the warmth from his bare chest spread through her own freezing body. Hermione felt another cold wave of water crash against her fully clothed back and she cringed, resisting the urge to cling to George so as to hoist herself away from the water.

George's shoulders were shaking as he took deep, shuddering breaths, suggesting that she wasn't the only one feeling as cold as Severus Snape's voice, though Hermione couldn't see his face since it was facing downwards to the sea rolling around them.

'George?' Hermione asked quietly, afraid that perhaps he'd hurt himself during their violent fall. George's dripping face snapped up and his eyes instantly locked onto Hermione's large brown ones.

'Huh? What… Listen Hermione,' he said, as if only just noticing her body squished beneath his, peering into her face so seriously that Hermione was sure that something must be wrong with the usual jester. 'D'you want to do that again?' George's piercing blue eyes twinkled in mirth as Hermione's worried frown deepened to that of utmost displeasure.

'George!' she snapped, 'I'm soaked in water!' Now it was George's turn to frown.

'Soaked? In water? Are you positively certain? Gosh, Hermione, I can't even begin to even fathom how absolutely devastated you must feel at the moment…Soaked! How lucky I feel to not be soaked with water Hermione, I must tell you. I can't even begin to describe my ecstasy.' Hermione rolled her eyes as yet more waves crashed against her back but couldn't help but giggle at George's dumbstruck expression. He gave her a charming Weasley grin and opened his mouth to say something more when –

'Oy! If you two are finished with each other, care to throw us that tennis ball? It's Ginny's favourite.' The rest of the cricket players had grown impatient and were jogging towards the two, hooting suggestively and lead by none other than Ron.

Hermione blushed severely, mortified when she realized how suggestive indeed her current position with George was, with his arms and legs on either side of her body, straddling her, their faces ever so close together and both of them taking great, gasping breaths.

George, however, didn't seem to find this mind blowingly humiliating. Instead, he turned to Hermione with an odd light to his eye, quite similar to the one she's seen him share with his twin brother, Fred Weasley, right before an unsuspecting first year realizes that the toffee that they'd handed him is in fact the cause for the abnormal swelling of his nose. However, Hermione had barely any time to prepare herself for whatever came next before his strong arm wrapped once again around her small waist, tugging her closer to his lean form, making her squeak as he buried his head into the crook of her neck, muttering 'Work with me here, Hermione,' before erupting into a series of low, loud, guttural moans.

'Hermione…Oh, yes, baby!' Hermione had never been so embarrassed in her life, though that time at the Yule Ball with Ron definitely rivaled. Yet, she couldn't stop laughing as she writhed about in George's tight hold, slapping his shoulder every now and then in lazy attempt to break free.

'George!' She squealed as he moaned louder, nuzzling her neck most inappropriately. 'George – stop that! It – it tickles! George!' Hermione squealed again as George rose out of the water, standing with Hermione still held close to him and moaning as if jinxed. By now, the Weasley children and Harry had arrived and were standing at the shore, the cold sea washing over their feet.

'George,' called Ginny Weasley, the only daughter of seven children, impatiently, 'Would you let go of Hermione? I need to sanitize the poor soul with Mum's dettol and some very advanced magic before your contamination spreads.'

George, grinning, let go of Hermione who splashed back to shore, her face brick red and teeth chattering at the sudden loss of warmth. George tried to follow but Ginny stopped him.

'Nah –uh, you have still got to find that purple tennis ball.' George gave Ginny an obscene hand gesture and whipped out his wand [from where Hermione will never know and muttered a quick spell before it came zooming out of the waves to knock against Ginny's head before falling to the sand with a soft thump. 'Thanks, George.' Ginny muttered bitterly. Hermione smiled as George returned Ginny's retort with a deep gentlemanly bow.

'Anytime, dear sister, anytime.'

Small, plump body jiggling, Hermione spotted Mrs Weasley running towards the group, face red with anger and beach towel floating behind. Hermione winced as she saw her eyes narrow most motherly at George.

'Frederick Weasley!' she shrieked as she bumbled along the sand. The real Fred looked horrified and instantly jumped up, waving his hands in the air as his mother came closer.

'Mum! Mum, absolutely spiffing to see you too, but what the hell did I do?' Mrs Weasley paused for a moment, looking confused before she apologized kindly to Fred [who in turn looked incredibly relieved and turned instead to George who was cowering behind Harry. Mrs Weasley, yelling to George about what a clumsy ogre he was; pushing innocent girls into the ocean in hot pursuit of a tennis ball ['Of all things, George!', flicked her wand and supervised as the beach towel that had been frolicking along behind her wrapped it's magically warm self around Hermione, ceasing her chattering teeth, and then flicked her wand again so that Hermione was as dry as Snape's hair was oily. Hermione thanked Mrs Weasley ['Thanks, Mrs Weasley, though it really wasn't George's fault…' but she didn't seem to hear as she battered George with her harsh words, though he seemed to be quite enjoying himself ['Mother, dear, I must say you look quite the beauty with your hair matching skin tone and that delicately placed foam at the corner of your mouth.'

Mrs Weasley bustled away to gather their belongings after announcing that they would be leaving, since her sons seemed incapable of civilized behavior. With the useless towel now in her hands, Hermione joined the others in walking back along the shore, the cooling sea rippling over her toes as it fought to be first to shore, when George approached her and cheerfully slung a long arm around her shoulders.

'Wipe that sweat from your fore, dear Hermione, for I do forgive your blessed soul for desperately pulling my muscled, clearly defined, mucho sexy body into the water with you so that you could ravish me with your feminine-ness so as to satisfy your sexual needs. And I shall never speak of it again except when the time comes to blackmail you. So you can now relax and bask in the glory of what is me, because as I have mentioned, I have forgiven you for your mighty sins.' Hermione rolled her eyes and, winking at Ginny who had come to walk beside the pair, pulled out her wand behind her back and coughed, muttering 'expelliarmus' in between so that George was thrown into the water and his wand [again, Hermione didn't know where it came from sailed into Hermione's waiting hand.

George rose from the waves, looking amusingly murderous, growling in a way that made Hermione's skin prickle before she made a run for the large van the groups were travelling in, giggling uncontrollably all the way. George chased her and even the formerly fierce wind seemed to be joyful as it tumbled around the two teenagers, pulling cheekily at their clothes and whistling distractingly in their ears.