Author's Note: I have finally returned! And with a Hermione/George story which I think is one of my all time favorite pairings. I know the idea of this story has been done but I hope I have an original spin on it. Some romance, some drama, etc. And I hope you enjoy! Here's the first chapter and as always I may love these characters but I do not own them!

Conception

Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the twins' room. Even though a week had passed since Fred had died in the Battle at Hogwarts she still couldn't bring herself to think of it as just George's room.

"I know that you don't want to come out George but you really should. It'll be hard but I think your family would feel better if they saw you at the services," she called.

The door slammed open and George appeared, looking like he hadn't bathed since the day after the battle when Arthur had forcibly pushed him under the showerhead, clothes and all. "Why'd they send you up here? You weren't even here for Fred's funeral."

Hermione's sympathy quelled and her anger flared at his tone. "I wanted to be here. I just planned on going to Australia, restoring my parent's memories and returning by the time of the services. What I didn't plan on was needing to identity their bodies and plan their funerals."

George's stoic facade faded for a moment but just for a moment. "I didn't know your parents had died," he admitted though he did not apologize or offer condolences.

She pushed past him and into the room, wrinkling her nose when she saw the state it was in. No wonder he looked so unclean, his room was a disaster. "I told Harry and Ron about it through the Floo the day I found out. They must have decided not to tell you."

"Nah, I'm sure that was mum's idea. She thinks I'm too fragile for any real news, especially the emotional sort," he said as he threw himself onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Hermione.

"Are you? Too fragile I mean," Hermione asked as she carefully paced around the piles of dirty clothes and discarded Weasley Wizard Wheezes products. She could have conjured herself a seat but she felt too tired for magic and the only other place to sit was Fred's bed which she instinctively knew was not a real option.

"I don't know. Are you?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe. Probably. I don't really know anymore. I think I spent too much time tempering my emotions, trying to be strong during the war, that I'm finding it hard to really express my grief now. I feel numb."

"Hmm. I figured you'd be into talking about your problems and all that," George said as he finally looked over at her.

"Is that because I'm a girl?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

George laughed. "Not at all. I just remember how vocal you were when Fred and I…" he trailed off, looking stricken.

"You are allowed to remember him and smile you know," Hermione gently assured him. "And that's what the memorial today at Hogwarts is supposed to be. Not a funeral service to say goodbye but a time and a place to get together and remember all the good things about the people we lost."

George sighed. "But remembering all that good times will make everyone sad again. Whoever planned this memorial just wants us all to feel mental, don't they?"

"Maybe but I still think we should go even though we'll laugh until we cry or cry until we laugh. Now what'll it take to get you to shower and get dressed in clean clothes? I can pick out your outfit if you'd like," Hermione offered.

George slowly slunk off the bed, not stopping until he was inches away from the girl. "I'll take a shower but only if you take one with me," he teased.

Hermione froze as her mind raced. Sure she'd thought about him like that (he was smart, attractive and had a great sense of humor, three traits she really appreciated) but hadn't thought he'd ever return the favor. But she knew it was not a good time to start anything.

His hand slowly slid up from where he'd rested it on her wrist and she looked into his darkening eyes. "This is a very bad idea," Hermione murmured.

George removed his hands from where they'd finally settled against her waist after he'd trailed them up her arm and down her sides. "I should have known you'd say no but I had to try, right?"

Remembering the years old crush on the twins, a crush which had started when they'd been so nice and normal around Harry when everyone else had thought he was the heir of Slytherin, she stepped into the hall. She knew everyone else had already left so she slipped her panties out from under her skirt and tossed them back into the room.

"I didn't say no," she hollered as she reached the bathroom, leaving a trail of her clothes behind her.

First Trimester

Hermione had just pulled out the outfit she planned to wear to help rebuild Hogwarts, an activity she'd volunteered to do every day since the battle nearly eight weeks before, when the nausea hit.

She rushed to the bathroom and was surprised and grateful when she found it empty. Nearly all the Weasleys, plus her and Harry, had been living at the Burrow since the end of the war. Sure it was a tight fit but they were all so busy helping to right Voldemort's wrongs that the house was usually only a claustrophobic's nightmare late at night and in the early hours of the morning when memories of the war crept in and the company was welcome. Just not when one felt like they were about to lose all the contents in their stomach.

But once Hermione had slammed and locked the door behind her the vomit she had expected didn't come. She was just about to turn and leave, assuming the sick sensation was a fluke, when it hit again and she barely had time to lean over the toilet bowl.

Once it was all over she slid to the floor as her mind raced. She hadn't been sick to her stomach since she'd gotten food poisoning during her family's trip to France after her Second Year. None of the other Weasleys had gotten sick, at least not that she'd heard of, and with such close quarters and their shared meals she could only assume any sickness would have spread like wildfire.

"So if it's not an illness what could it be?" she muttered to herself, still sitting on the bathroom floor, afraid any movement would just make her sick again. "A prank by George but he hasn't been in the pranking mood since the war and her certainly wouldn't target me first. He hasn't even really spoken to me since…"

The memory of their shower time tryst (a one time and one time only event, thank you very much) brought on a whole slew of implications and Hermione became very friendly with the toilet bowl for a few more agonizing minutes. Once she was certain there was nothing left in her stomach to heave up she raced back to the room she shared with Ginny, determined to get to the bottom of her situation without any more bile making its way up her throat.

She snatched up her wand and then rushed back down the stairs, incredibly thankful that the house was empty (everyone was either at their regular jobs or doing their duty by helping to rebuild the various towns and buildings that had been damaged in the war. Hermione was only still at home because so many people had offered to help at Hogwarts that the volunteers had been asked to arrive in shifts).

She selected the most recent volume of "Madame Minskey's Guide to Common Ailments and Afflictions and How to Test for and Cure Them Yourself" and took it back to the bathroom with her. Then, just to be on the safe side, she locked the door using as many charms as she knew.

Hermione quickly found the index and then flipped to the correct page. "Well here goes," she whispered after reading through the passage a half dozen times. Then she lifted her shirt and waved her wand over her stomach while she recited the incantation.

She closed her eyes as the last word of the spell left her lips, hoping to delay what her mind was screaming was the inevitable answer to her nausea. But even that didn't prevent the shining blue light (an indication of a positive result not a gender specification) from piercing through her eyelids.

"Damn it," she muttered, slowly opening her eyes and watching the blue glow fade from her exposed stomach. "How did I not know? It's been seven weeks since…" she trailed off as she realized the sign, the most obvious one, had been there (or hadn't been there if you were being specific). Her "time of the month" had been erratic ever since she left on the Horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron, presumably due to stress and the inconsistent unhealthy meals that had led to a drastic loss of weight so it hadn't made her overly suspicious not to have had one since the battle.

Even though she was panicking on the inside Hermione knew that the best way for her to work through a problem was to actually work, be it physically or mentally, so instead of sitting around to worry she took a quick shower (even though she'd already had one before she'd gotten sick) and got ready for the day. Nothing was going to change until it had to.