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Sometimes he sneaks into the old library at Number 12 Grimmauld Place-and with its aging, creaky floors this is no easy feat-just to watch Hermione read. There's nothing truly spectacular about it really, and there's probably a million other things his mum would have him do instead, but he can't stay away. It's something about the way she bites her lip, he thinks, or perhaps the furrow of her brow as she absorbs all the information she can. Whatever it is, he's hooked. Fred would have a field day if he ever caught him staring at her, but despite their tendency to be attached at the hip, his twin still hasn't caught on to his, well…whatever it is. Until he's caught, George will be content to stand in the doorway for a few spare minutes and just look.

"It's awfully hard to concentrate, what with you staring at me and all." Hermione hadn't even looked up from her book.

George jumped from where he was casually leaning against the doorframe, his face flushing scarlet.

"Well," she continued, her eyes looking up to meet his, "are you going to sit down or are you content to watch me from the doorway again?"

There was a rather disarming smile in her voice so he finally cleared his throat and stepped into the room and sat in the chair across from her.

"Ah, well, I was just curious you see. This room with all these books, never seen anything like it." He flashed her a nervous smile at which she raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes; the aversion the Weasley twins seemed to have for libraries (well, books in general) is something of a joke between them and the resident bookworm.

He fidgeted in his seat and she finally put her book down to give him her undivided attention. George noticed she had that look on her face she gets when curious and determined to find answers he didn't even know if he had.

"George, why have you been watching me?" Never one to beat around the bush, that Hermione. At least she didn't seem creeped out, just curious.

"I, well, I don't know. I find you interesting, I guess…" Oh, god he sounded like a bumbling first year.

Hermione was raising her eyebrow again, a pink tinge slowly rising to her cheeks. "Oh."

"Yeah." He didn't know what to say and he wished, and not for the first time, that he had Fred's ability to talk to girls one on one. Hermione was looking at him expectantly and Merlin it was so much easier talking to her before he realized how pretty she is.

"Um, Hermione, do you think maybe you'd-"

"Ah! Hermione, there you are! Molly's been looking for you. Something about a recipe…" Sirius, who had all but leapt into the room, suddenly realized that he had perhaps interrupted something. Based on the blush gracing Hermione's face and the almost-glare on George's directed at him he decided that, yes, he definitely interrupted something. He couldn't help but smirk as he slowly backed out of the room. "I'll let her know you're busy. Carry on, children."

By then both George and Hermione's faces had an uncanny resemblance to a tomato.

"You better go find my mum, if she's been looking for you. Trust me; you don't wanna keep that woman waiting." He attempted a smile that came out more a grimace and made his way to the door.

"George, um…maybe we could talk later?" She looked as nervous as he felt and her question threw him off a bit. He quickly recovered and flashed her a rather excited grin.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

And so it began.