She looked distraught. He'd seen her at her worst, of course, soot and bloodstained as well as emotionally bereft after the battle that changed his world, well, and the world; this wasn't that, but it was too damn close to watch from afar.
Hermione was shivering, hair matted down from rain, and she was lugging a heavy brown leather bag. She was still wearing her nice work clothes, he thought, as she labored in through the door of the Leaky Cauldron in slacks, heels, and a dark, well-tailored trench coat. But her face looked fearful, lost. George's mind continued tabulating her appearance as his body did what it wanted, which appeared to be standing and moving toward her.
"Oh! There's Hermione!" Lee Jordan said to his right, following George's stare. They were seated with Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet who were happily arguing something and didn't seem to notice. The group had been enjoying a relaxed drink together on a stormy Friday night, their end of week tradition. "She doesn't look so good, want to-"
George turned back and cut him off with a fast and low whisper, "I will pay your bar tab for the rest of the week if you make an excuse to them," nodding to Oliver and Alicia, "and keep 'em," he looks around the pub, "and anyone else for matter, from disturbing me for the next 15 minutes."
"Cheers!" Lee said with a big grin, then asked with a disbelieving smirk, "Still?"
George ignored this and resumed his progress toward Hermione who was speaking with Tom at the bar. Did something happen at her ministry job? Was she coming here to get sloshed? Alone? Of course Lee would remember the crush I had on her back in school...okay, the crush that started back in school.
"at least for the weekend," she was telling the barman and, George was putting together, inn proprietor. She's getting a room at the Leaky Cauldron? People got drinks here, pub food. Not rooms. Not Hermione.
"Hey," he said quietly as he made it to her side. Seeing the strain the bag was putting on her shoulder, he cast a featherlight charm at it.
His voice, a presence right beside her, he realized, startled her at the same moment the bag's weight became nothing.
"George," she breathed out as though just his name was a relief. She leaned her shoulder next to his tall one in familiarity. As he took her bag, she wiped under each eye with the back of her thumbs. Hermione had been crying; she was crying even now.
He placed a hand lightly on her back, only to feel the wetness of her soaked coat and clothes. George instantly performed a drying charm with his free wand hand.
Hermione took the proffered key from Tom as she felt the warmth from her drying clothes and George's stabilizing hand.
Seeing that her business was done, George turned away from Tom completely. She looked devastated, despite supreme effort trying to stay composed for the duration of her exchange. What in the world could have happened to bring her here? He lightly held onto her upper arms, his fingers touching the now dry ends of her long wavy hair. "Want to talk about it?" he asked with kindness, looking directly in her eyes.
Hermione ducked her head then peeked past his frame. "Who all is here?" she asked nervously.
"Just my lot," George said gesturing to their table with his head. He quickly said a notice-me-not charm, and Hermione nodded in agreement. "Lee looks like he's got them pretty entertained though. We can go somewhere else?" and then, because he couldn't help himself anymore added, "What are you doing here, Hermione? What happened? I know you're not okay, but I don't know what else to ask."
She shocked him further by stepping into his arms, wrapping her arms around him tightly, resting her head on his chest and saying, "I'm so glad you're here, George."
He knew enough to just enjoy the moment and not try to interrogate his troubled friend further. The details would come. George shifted the bulky, but light, luggage and held her as tightly as he dared. Being close to Hermione like this, his presence wanted by her, was more than he let himself think about in months. He hated that it was because something had obviously shaken her.
"Tom?" she asked, turning back to the barkeep,"could you please send some firewiskey to my room with a couple of glasses?"
Tom frowned at this. His scowl of disapproval at George showed he had seen many women taken advantage of in tearful states.
"Uh, and maybe a pot of tea too?" George said with wide eyes looking back between Hermione and Tom, trying to appease them both. When both seemed pleased with this addition, he relaxed.
Hermione reached for his hand (he tried not to smile, he really did) and led him to the stairs. "He said I would have room 8," she said shyly.
That bashful note in her voice along with her small fingers linked through his made his heart rate skyrocket. What is happening here? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. This was the familiar refrain he told his ridiculous heart with each exhale. She has a history with Ron. She's dating 'Ravenclaw' now. George hadn't relented calling him by his actual name. She's not herself right now. Don't be an idiot, just be her friend.
He silently watched her unlock the door while she performed standard protective spells to prevent apparation and disapparation. Hotels, of course, were common places for a lot of different people and once you could picture a place, one could transport there by holding it in your mind, but there were no secretkeepers. Only the first occupant in a hotel room each stay could dictate who was safe to come in and George Weasley noticed he had, as the muggles would say, just been given a green light by Hermione for the weekend.
"I've never done that spell before," she said with a small, but happy and proud voice. It was so reminiscent of Real Hermione, that George pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head near her temple. He stiffened, severely aware that his mouth had never once graced her body. Not even on the cheek. 'This is about to implode,' he thought with dread.
"Come to think of it, I haven't stayed in a hotel since I became a witch," she mused., seemingly oblivious to George's panic over the placement of his lips to her hair, "My trips abroad with my parents were always to see distant family, or their friends, and once we stayed in chalet..." Hermoine hugged his waist tighter, and to his horror, he noticed she began to sob again.
So this is about her lost parents, he reasoned, holding her and sitting them on the bed. I'm not being a cad; it's the only space in the room big enough for us both! And if Mr. Smarty Pants Barrister wasn't going to step up and hold the strongest, most precious woman in the world while she lost her mind, well then George Weasley was up to the task.
Holy shite, I am gone for this girl.
He rubbed her back softly, like a friend would do!, he kept telling himself. And sometimes he touched her soft, rain-washed curls. And smelled them a little. Just a little. It'd been a year and a half since the world/the war ended, and she had yet to be reunited with her parents, as best he knew. As they sat on the bed for the next 10 minutes, wrapped in each other, she calmed. And once, George would swear before the Wizengamont, she nestled her cheek against his LIKE A KITTEN. Immediately after this, he felt her stiffen then rest her head fully on his chest. Her hair hid her face, so he couldn't tell if she was blushing like he was.
"Listen," he began, still holding her tight with one arm while the other traced down her hair and back over and over again, "I'm here for you for whatever. You know that, right Hermione?"
She nodded and squeezed him tighter once. "I mean, I know we don't know each other that well," at this, she substantially loosed her grip on him and removed her head from his chest.
He countered by lifting her chin up so their eyes met while he simultaneously rolled his eyes and re-positioned them back together.
She snickered at this, and George beamed as he continued, "but even so, I hope you know how much I care about you." Woah. Was this the time? He hadn't really planned to spill his heart out, but it looked like he was doing it. She nodded at this, and he felt encouraged to go on. "So really, whatever you need, I'll do it. I'll help you research more on where they might have gone. I'll practice memory reversal spells...maybe on Draco? Or I'll see if Kingsley has any spare Death Eaters no one else is experimenting on right now in Azkaban-"
By now, her eyes were wide and completely focused on him. "I'll figure out a way to get things clear at the store and I can go with you to Australia to look. I'm serious, and you know how much it pains me to use that word, Whatever. You. Need."
"George? What are you talking about?"
"You aren't upset about your parents?"
"I mean, of course, I definitely am. And that is so unbelievably kind of you...charms and Australia and everything. But that's not why I'm here tonight."
"Hermione, I'm sorry. I don't know wha-"
She steeled up her Gryffindor, he saw it happen. "George, I just flooed home to find Anthony having an affair."