Left to your Own Devices
"So let me get this straight." George Weasley stood by the doorway of his youngest sibling's room, scratching his head in mock consternation. "You have to have something old, something new, something borrowed…and something blue?"
Ginny nodded apprehensively. "Yes, but Hermione has it under control, George. Don't you dare get involved with any of the tasks I've set to my bridesmaids!"
His little sister's eyes narrowed into threatening slits that surely would have intimidated a lesser man.
"Don't you worry, Gin," he grinned. "No witch or wizard alive with half a brain would dream of getting between that witch and her work."
His sister stared at him warily for a few moments until Luna Lovegood unexpectedly materialized with a pop in front of them, holding a garment that caused the wizard to do a scandalized double take.
"I got the lingerie you purchased, Ginny, but I believe it's become victim to a Delirius Darglemin. They subsist mostly on fabric, and there's so little material on this that it's the only explanation I can think…oh, Hello George."
George paled in horror at the item in Luna's hands, but before he could get a word in edgewise the piercing scream of his youngest sibling deafened all thought.
"GEORGE, FOR THE LAST TIME – GET OUT OF HERE!"
Ginny pushed him with surprising force from her bedroom and slammed the door. With a shudder he tried to shake the visual from his mind. He couldn't fathom at what point sweet, innocent little Ginny became capable of parading around in lingerie, but he needed to divert his attention elsewhere – and fast.
Distraction arrived in the form of a rather frazzled looking brunette, who was currently working on seating arrangements for what appeared to be all of Wizarding Britain.
He snuck up behind the witch, who was so focused on her task at hand that he was sure she hadn't yet detected his presence.
"…needs to be at Kingsley's table…..can't put the Krums near the Lovegoods, better put them near the Bagmans. Augusta needs to be close to the front but not by Muriel in case she gets pissed off the dragon brandy – perhaps the Abbots? Then Padma wants to be at Dean's table now, and…..is there a reason you're still behind me, George?"
"Eyes in the back of your head as always, Hermione," he recovered quickly with a wink. "I was just admiring the brightest witch of her age in her element."
She snorted. "Right, because wedding planning is such a precarious task."
"Well, when it's the Chosen One…I'd say precarious is putting it lightly."
Hermione exhaled a resigned breath. "I'm sorry to cut this lovely bit of banter short, George, but I really am quite busy. Shouldn't you be out causing mayhem with Fred somewhere?"
"Alas, I am but a lone twin today. Angelina has taken Fred hostage, and I've been left to my own devices," he ended with a mischievous chuckle.
Hermione stopped short and scrutinized him with narrowed eyes.
"And just what does a Weasley twin do when left to his own devices?"
George grinned devilishly. "Help the maid of honor with the wedding plans of course!"
"Oh no you don't, George. I have far too much to get done, and I won't have you mucking up all the things I have to do for Ginny."
His face fell into a practiced pout. "C'mon, Hermione. I happen to have on good authority that you haven't found something new or blue for our dear Ginevra, and I'm more than willing to aid you in your quest."
Hermione peered up at him with uncertainty.
"I suppose I do need to get that done soon."
"—You absolutely do."
"And it would probably do me some good to get up and walk around for a bit."
"—Most definitely."
A slow smile crept onto her lips. "Alright, George, you can come with me…But No Funny Business."
He inwardly congratulated himself on his triumph.
"Who me? Never!" This was going to be fun.
Fred Weasley knew he probably shouldn't have left George and Ron alone to handle the shop. George hadn't had a break in weeks, and if Ron didn't have a snack every few hours he'd start shouting at customers, but he supposed old habits die hard. Angelina's proposal that the two skive off a day's work and visit a few Muggle London hot spots was simply too good to pass up. George was the more sensible twin anyway. Surely he'd keep things in check.
He and Angelina were strolling hand in hand after perusing a rather popular muggle sporting goods shop when his date raised an eyebrow and shook her head.
"You Weasley twins are unbelievable – always having to one-up the other."
Fred had no idea what she was on about, but he played along. "Nah, Gred's got more sense than to try and keep up with his incomparably superior twin."
"Is that so?" She rolled her eyes. "Then why is he walking out of the jewellery shop with Hermione Granger?"
A jolt of surprise sent Fred into a state of hypervigilant searching for George.
"That slacking duffer!" He shouted as he caught sight of his twin alongside wild mane of brown curls.
"You're certainly one to talk," Angelina teased.
Fred watched as the two rounded the corner – then decided in an impulse to dash after them in pursuit. Tugging Angelina's arm behind, the two laughed as they crossed a busy intersection entered the plaza just in time to see their quarry enter a large souvenir shop.
"C'mon…" He towed his lovely companion behind him with haste, glad that she was always willing to put up with – or take part in – his antics. Entering through the jingling doors the couple hid themselves surreptitiously behind a pillar of keychains and post cards. They weren't quite close enough to hear the entirety of the conversation, and that didn't suit Fred one bit. Stealing away into a nearby dressing room, he cast a Notice-me-not charm on his extendable ears and casually sent the end slithering toward the oblivious pair.
"I don't know what exactly you were expecting to find here, George—"
"Bound to find something blue though, eh? Everywhere you turn in this shop there's blue."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's because the Union Jack is printed on everything! Honestly, there's nothing here that's to Ginny's taste at all."
Suddenly George held up a bold, blue pair of boxer shorts, stamped with a Union Jack in an overtly controversial location. "These aren't those swim trunks I always hear about, are they?"
The witch's eyes widened. "Good Lord, George. Do I have to explain everything to you?"
The wizard twitched with barely disguised mischief. "A thousand pardons, Hermione. I'm just a lowly wizard trying to learn the ways of the world!"
"Oh, keep your voice down," she blushed deeply. "Men use those to cover their…well, they go under trousers to protect their…Oh Godric, George, I'll send you an Idiot's Guide!"
Laughter escaped from his lips, and he rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "Don't get your wand in a knot, Hermione; I was only taking the mickey." He let his hand rest there, and watched in pleasant surprise as the witch's blush deepened at the light contact of his thumb tracing her collar bone. "Perhaps you could educate me on one other matter—"
Hermione raised an eyebrow inquiringly but said nothing.
"—What would these muggles do if I were to kiss you right in the middle of this shop?"
"Oh!" The fading flush in her cheeks returned full force. "Well, I suppose it would hardly be appropriate – such a public setting…"
"Hermione, I'm going to kiss you."
Without a second thought she dropped her parcels and met his lips as the two escaped behind a mercifully placed clothing rack.
"Godric's boxers!" Fred's mouth fell slightly ajar with bemused hilarity.
"We'd better get out of here before they find us out," Angelina warned.
"Don't you worry, I won't tell a soul." Fred's eyes gleamed with mirth, and Angelina was suddenly concerned for the new couple.
Hermione and Ginny sat in the parlor the following morning, going through the spoils of Hermione's shopping venture.
"Hermione, this brooch is perfect!" Ginny squealed with delight. "It'll match the goblin-made tiara perfectly. However did you find something like this?"
"Oh, George had some time off and decided to help me find something new and blue." The brunette witch did her best to conceal the dizzying grin playing at her lips.
"Well, I'll be able to thank him as soon as he's down for breakfast," Ginny beamed.
"Wait, breakfast? Fred and George didn't go back to the shop last night?" Hermione wondered at this new development.
"I was as surprised as you, but apparently George got Percy to start working at the shop, and it's been running like clockwork. Who knew?"
Hmmm.
A crashing commotion of frying pans and shouts suddenly threw Hermione from her thoughts.
"GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY, WHAT IN HEAVENS NAME DO YOU THINK YOU ARE WEARING?"
A previously groggy twin blinked several times in a daze. He looked around and then down…to find that his pyjamas had been replaced some time in the night with a pair of bright blue boxers, complete with Union Jack brightly beaming in front of his morning obstruction. He darted into the hallway, but to his utter dismay the waistband seemed to adhere to his body like a permanent sticking charm.
Hermione rushed into the hall just in time to hear Fred chuckle, "Don't worry, Gred. I know for a fact that there's one witch who just might be able to get those off of you." And with a wink he patted the twin on the back and left the two of them to their own devices.
Fin.
Silly but fun to write. My first George/Hermione. w00t.
Written for the September 2014 Twin Exchange Challenge
Prompt- Twin Exchange Motto: "I solemnly swear that Fred never died, and George wears blue boxers."