Molly Weasley yelled a quick goodbye to her family, followed by a warning not to break anything, while she was out of the house. Hermione giggled at the prospect of any of the boys' chances of not causing a sizable mess. It had been a bit over a year since Victory Day. Everyone had lost enough friends and loved ones to last a life time. Hermione's eyes drifted to George…and to Fred. That had been a personal victory for her. What's the point of getting all Es on your OWLs or NEWTs if you can't save someone, who's practically family, from a flying wall? She gave the scene in front of her a warm smile before returning to her book.
The scene of the field behind The Burrow wouldn't have looked out of place to any ordinary muggle that happened by the family home in Ottery St. Catchpole, that's the whole point. Ginny had already explained their new, suspicious neighbor, who is able to see through many of the illusions put up around the Burrow. He'd already had to be obliviated three times this year and it was barely July. In the last incident the gentleman had walk by as the Weasleys were playing quidditch. So, they had resorted to playing muggle games until they found alternative wards. Dean was teaching them football. Everyone was on the make shift field behind the Burrow, except for Hermione of course, even Ginny was getting her head around the game.
It took George three tries to get Hermione to pop her head out from behind her tome she called light reading. Hermione ignored him for an appropriate amount of time, knowing exactly what he was going to ask her to do.
"I'm not playing that silly game," she answered, her eyes not leaving the page.
"Don't be like that! Look, you can stand in the outfield, jog 'round a bit with Percy, and pretend to be useful," countered Fred.
To Percy's redeeming credit he only turned slightly pink, instead of the usual Weasley red, and he didn't even gawk.
Hermione looked up to see that George had moved off of the makeshift field toward her spot under the large picnicking umbrella.
He's much more handsome than Ron, she thought to herself. Ron…had been a fluke, a very dear fluke. They hadn't talked much about the final battle and everything else, but they had a silent accord: They would only ever be friends.
She realized she'd been staring to long, probably at George. One look at George's face told her she was right. In an attempt to draw no further attention to her reddening face she agreed to stand in as long as she didn't have to receive or kick the ball. She'd be more like a referee, than anything. Trying to ignore some of the groups teasing, she jaunted over to Percy as they resumed the game. For only having ten people, they were pretty spread out. Percy was on the far side of the field.
"What team am I on?"
Percy adjusted his spectacles and replied, "Uh, yes, you're with Fred, Charlie, Ginny, and Dean. I'm with George, Harry, Bill, and Ron."
"Oh," she replied lamely. It was never easy to talk with Percy…
"You really like George," he stared at her.
…and this is why Percy was hard to talk with: he was observant. He'd been so absorbed in himself and that was an aspect of his character he tried to stamp out the most, followed closely by being an uptight git. He laughed more and was severely dedication to his family.
She looked down at her off-white trainers. She hadn't known she was so obvious.
"It doesn't matter, it wouldn't be right," she fidgeted.
"You two got really close while Fred was recovering. You saved both of them. What could be wrong about that?"
"He would feel like he'd owe me, for Fred," she answered uncomfortably.
"Hermione…Everyone owes you, not just George; besides, if he likes you-"
Percy stopped as the main group got close to them. George shot them a funny look, but chased after the rest when Ginny kicked the ball more down field.
Percy continued, "If he likes you, does it mattered?"
Hermione felt that Percy was almost emotionally invested in this – Her and George. However, she did take his question in to consideration, did it actually matter?
It only took Percy one try to get her out of her own mind, "Hermione! Ball!"
Hermione looked up to see, not only George, but the rest of the team chasing after the ball. Nothing unusual in a football game, except for the ball was headed straight to her. Not to her side of the field, not to her and Percy, nope, just her. Whatever sports instinct, that had been MIA for all her life, snuck up on her. She squeezed her eyes closed and kicked the ball as hard as she could.
She heard the most wretched "crunch" and popped on eye open. Everyone was standing in her and Percy's section of the field. Well, everyone except for George. He was flat on his back with the football rolling slightly away from his head.
He didn't want to open his eyes, it hurt too much. He tried to focus on all of the voices. Hermione…he heard Hermione. The voices became clearer, but his eyes wouldn't open.
"…you guys know I'm rubbish at sports," Hermione said, which set off another round of bickering until Gin threatened to thump 'em if they didn't shut it.
He cleared his voice, "Nice shot, Granger."
"I'm so sorry, George, I wasn't paying attention. I just freaked," Hermione profusely apologized.
"How bad is my face?"
"No worse than usual," she joked.
"Heh, funny, Granger. A right kick in the shins you are," he groaned.
He let Charlie and Bill help him up and then walk him over to the table to sit back down.
"Thanks guys, I'll fix his nose and let him rest," he recognized Hermione voice again.
He heard them shuffle off, "For real now, how bad is it?"
"I think I broke you nose, you have two black and swollen eyes, and that's probably why it's hard to open your eyes," she answered and continued, "I'm going to fix your nose and make the selling go down. It'll probably hurt."
"On a scale of one to a football in the face, how painful-" she cut him off with a spell that provoked some very creative language.
He opened his eyes to see her grinning at him, "You're such a baby," she teased.
He watched her as she applied some salves to his face and put a large bandage on the bridge of his nose. She work and he sat in silence for a few more moments before George spoke up.
"You and Percy, what was that about?"
Hermione almost snorted. George was every bit as rash as Percy was observational.
He would jump to a conclusion like that, she thought to herself.
"Just talking, we're not…you know," she answered, trying to not look him in the eye.
"That's good," George retorted quickly
Hermione had to ask, "Good?"
"Well, yeah," he replied lamely and then continued, "So, I suppose if I were to ask you to go out for some drinks, you wouldn't say no for Percy's sake?"
She took a few moments between answering, "No, I wouldn't. I suppose I do owe you a few drinks after all this."
"How 'bout you get drinks with me, because you want to get drinks with me," he pushed the point.
If she didn't know better, Hermione would say George was nervous.
She blushed, "I'd like that, but let's wait till after the black eyes are gone. Don't want people thinking I'm into charity cases."
"I'd be the best charity case of your life, Granger," George smiled easily.
"We should get back out there," she nodded to the back window of the kitchen.
"Nah, let's ditch 'em for a bit. My face still hurts, it might need to be kissed."