"George." A breathy moan escaped Hermione's lips as the red headed Weasley twin found himself rocking his hips into hers, filling her up each time without any sort of remorse. It was a blissful feeling. The boy buried his face into the crook of his neck to keep himself from crying out, the smell of her strawberry shampoo seeming to send him even closer to the edge. That didn't stop Hermione's own moans from passing her lips, though, as she hit her high. George had to slip his hand over her mouth carefully, whispering that the twins were asleep down the hall.

She still moaned against the skin of his hand, and the feeling of her walls clenching around the lower parts of George's anatomy had the boy grunting quietly, his hips picking up the pace until he spilled his seed into her. Hermione moaned at the feeling.

Carefully, the Weasley placed a gentle kiss to the girl's lips and sat up to yank on his clothes. It was always the same routine – and there was no hiding Hermione's disappointment as he slipped his boxers up onto his hips. This had been going on ever since Fred's death – they'd both lost someone irreplaceable. George a twin and Hermione a boyfriend. This was their way of coping, even three years later. She carefully stood up from the bed in George's guest bedroom, a bed she shouldn't have been filling at that moment, and with a wave of her wand she was fully clothed. "Thank you," The red head glanced back at her, trying to hide every emotion from his face. It was what he always did. Instead of replying, he gave a curt nod and left the room. Hermione sighed. Katie wouldn't be pleased that he had come home so late again – even if he'd been home all the while. With a single flick of her wand hand and the crushing feeling of apparition, Hermione was home in the flat that she shared with Dean Thomas – her boyfriend.

"Have you been at the shop all night?" George glanced up at his fiancée with a raise of his eyebrows. It was a bit weird, to him at least, that they weren't married – they had two beautiful children together and lived in the same flat. They had for nearly two years. Living in the flat above the shop had just been to hard – it was a horrible reminder that Fred would never come back in sporting purple hair again. Honestly, purple was that man's color.

"Yes." He glanced over at Katie, watching as she swept her light brown hair out of her face. She wasn't pleased.

"You're working yourself to the bone, George Weasley. Allison and Rebecca miss you." The twins, oh lord, the twins. He hadn't seen them since this morning – and he missed their pudgy faces. However, it was late, and they were fast asleep.

"I know. I'm sorry, love. It's just been hectic lately." He kissed her cheek as he stood to his feet, towering nearly a whole foot above the girl, and pushed his chair in while slipping his plate into the sink. Let me tell you, Katie Bell was no Molly Weasley. She wasn't exactly handy in the kitchen, but she did well enough. When she cooked it was edible.

"Come home early tomorrow." George glanced over at her, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. If he did that, he was agreeing not to see Hermione. He'd seen Hermione nearly every day for the past two months without hitch. Maybe that's why Katie was so bitter lately – George barely touched her. He swept up the girl into his arms, pulling her closer to him.

"I make no promises." With that, he swept his fiancée up into a heated kiss and pushed her towards their bedroom, throwing a silencing spell towards the door as he did so.

"Dinner's ready." Hermione swiftly set the baked ziti onto her dining room table, looking rather smug about the whole thing. When someone tells you that Hermione Granger is good at absolutely everything, well, they're not lying. Her cooking skills rivaled those of Molly Weasley's – though she wasn't quite there yet. Within a few years, she was sure she'd be right there with her. The thought made her stomach churn. Would anyone actually want her around if they figured out what she and George were doing? It was very unlikely, which was unfortunate seeing as Dean would kick her out so fast her head would spin.

"Smells lovely, babe." Hermione's eyebrows rose ever so slightly at the name 'babe'. It wasn't something she was particularly fond of, then again, Dean had several annoying quirks about him that Hermione found herself picking out daily. Not that she'd ever throw them into his face – honestly, the woman was cheating on her boyfriend of a year with her dead boyfriend's twin brother. She wasn't exactly citizen of the year.

"I'm sure it tastes just as good." Her voice was tired, obviously warn out, as she often was. She'd been tired since May 2nd, 1998. It was currently January of 2001. Obviously, things hadn't been going so well. She was working for the minister of magic, having taken up Umbridge's job – it seemed that she was unable to do it from Azkaban Prison, after all.

"You don't sound too sure." A playful smile swept up onto the boy's face, forcing Hermione to smirk in his direction. Dammit, why had she agreed to move in with him again? Oh, right, living at the Burrow and seeing George and Katie all over one another with their precious family nearly every night wasn't something she was willing to do. She'd come to love the other Weasley, nearly as much as she had loved his brother, and Dean couldn't compare to that.

"That's because you're a pessimist. Just eat it." Dean gave a hearty laugh and pushed a piece of the pasta into his mouth, swallowing it down without further hesitation. He grinned over at her automatically.

"I knew there was a reason I asked you to move in with me." Hermione retaliated by throwing an oven mitt in his direction, hitting him square in the chest with a laugh. Dean was a lot of things, truly, but he did know how to make her smile. Maybe that's why she stuck around. George was taken, after all, engaged to be married with two beautiful little girls. They were only six months old, but that wasn't the point. George loved his family. He loved Katie. How could she take that away from him? That's right, she couldn't.

"You're an ass, Dean Thomas." He grinned over at her, having finished his dinner, and stood to his feet to pull her up into his chest.

"And you're awfully pretty."