(So this is my first fanfic I have ever uploaded, please be kind D: totally up for reviews! I'm a huge George-Hermione fan and I have a much longer fic concerning them on the go. Er, so I don't own anything HP, no matter how much I wish I did. Meow).

"Hermione?" a voice whispered through the darkness and I tumbled out of my sleep, which had been uneasy and fitful at best.

A shadowy, thin figure knelt over me in the semi-darkness of Ginny's bedroom and I caught a whiff of sweat mixed with Mrs Weasleys' homemade lavender soap. That voice was so familiar, had I dreamed of him again? My stomach lurched uneasily.

"George?" I murmured back, hoping not to wake Ginny up who still had nightmares about the battle and Fred, and slept very badly when without Harry.

He took my hand and gave it a gentle tug to indicate that I come with him. I rose carefully to my feet and followed him quietly from the room, all the while thinking… remembering.

George had become extremely withdrawn since Fred's death, among friends and family alike. He and I had been friends for years, and there had been times when we had been more than friends… such as the night of the Yule Ball, when after the argument with Ron I had found myself in a very secluded part of the school grounds by the lake. I had thought I was quite alone, until I heard the squelching sound of someone walking through the damp grass in my direction. When he spotted me, he had stopped, and I don't doubt for a moment he was tempted to turn back and find a more secluded place... but he had not. He had sat himself beside me and I saw a part of George I had never known existed, one who was sad and sorry that Fred had asked Angelina out when he knew George had wanted to. There was a great part of him though that wanted to stop being regretful and miserable, a part of him that wanted to be happy for them... and that same part of him needed to be alone. So we sat together both of us feeling quite alone.

Now I followed him down the stairs, through the living room and kitchen and out into the garden. I had no idea what he wanted from me, but I felt I would do anything to help him beyond his pain. We all had scars from the battle, some physical, some not, some a bit of both. George was missing his left ear and his best friend and brother. I had had the word 'mudblood' carved into my skin and my parents had been discovered and murdered by Death Eaters, despite my best efforts to protect them. I knew how George felt, I was heartbroken, at a loss, and I felt as though I had somehow failed them and when I realized this was how George must feel... well, I guess we were somewhat connected in that.

Now he walked briskly over to the broom shed and began to unlock it with a key; my curiosity grew.

After I had discovered the death of my parents, I had not wanted to tell anyone, but that had been beyond my control as Kingsley Shacklebolt, being the new Minister for Magic, knew. He had told me, been there with me at the funeral, discussed bank accounts and house deeds with me and living with the Weasleys and how all these stupid arrangements could be made. And all I could think the entire time was 'I was an idiot. I was a fool. How could I have let this happen?' And, 'I'm not a child, Kingsley; I can take care of myself'. I was so angry, so terrified and in a state of denial, trying to shove my sadness and grief as far away as possible; but of course it had caught me up.

It caught up to me when I decided I needed to get away from the Weasleys and Harry's smothering attempts to comfort me and help me "let it all out". George had exited his bedroom properly for the first time in days and had heard me telling Mrs Weasley that I was "going out". Mrs Weasley did try to stop me, but enter George who had been listening at keyholes, who scooped up a pile of buttered toast and muttered, "I have to go out too. Be back later."

Mrs Weasley had been too surprised to see George actually up and about and had let him leave just like that. George had caught up to me as I was about to apparate and we had shared a look and George had caught hold of my hand and said very softly, "I'm coming too."

And so he had. We arrived at my childhood home and found marks that showed the Death Eaters had been here, the broken gate, blasted front door, smashed windows, and everywhere evidence that Greyback had been here himself. We took down the spells, jinxes, hexes, nasty curses, and ate the toast George had taken from the Burrow. We had reached my old bedroom and continued as we had been, when George stepped in front of my mirror – and froze. I looked about at him and found him staring, slightly open-mouthed, at his reflection. There was an expression of intense pain on his face, and he didn't seem to even know where he was anymore. He gazed at his reflection and his hand rose slowly to cover the absence of his left ear.

And then it struck me. I understood. They had been twins. Of course. George and Fred had been identical, down to the last freckle... until the accident where George had lost his ear. And now George, seeing himself in the mirror, could see his brother once more if he hid his absent ear.

George seemed almost bewitched by his reflection. He took a step forward, and another step, and I flicked my wand absently searching for more dangerous spells. There were more! Right where George was about to place his foot.

"GEORGE!" I shouted and dived forward, working my wand furiously. My shout awoke him and he started to turn about, though his foot set off the trap spells as I collided with him. The most powerful shield charm I ever performed wrapped around us and did not even break when we fell to the floor together. Spells had gone everywhere – except into our bubble of protection. George seized me hard, holding me to him and I could feel his heart beating a violent tattoo inside his chest.

I didn't stop the spell until the banging and breaking sounds about us had finally stopped. I sat up shakily, looking everywhere but at George, noting that the mirror was in pieces, there were holes in the walls and door and burn marks on the furniture and dusty curtains. I looked back at George who was now sitting up and I was shocked to find tears in his eyes.

"Hey... hey it's – it's okay." I said, uncertainly, not really knowing what I should say.

"No." he gasped and he didn't seem able to hold the tears back. "No – Hermione – I almost... I almost killed you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. After everything..." he trailed off, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and looking so very vulnerable. It was disconcerting.

"No – it's –"

"After – after everything. It was my fault. I almost killed you and I did kill him. It should have been me. Hermione."

I shifted forward on my knees.

"No, George. No, it's not your fault and it should not have been you. If – if you had died... God... if you had died, he would feel the same. It's never your fault. It's the Death Eaters who did this to us." And I placed my hands on his cheeks, trying to brush away his tears even as my own began to descend. "George..."

And so we held each other and comforted each other while our sadness and grief overwhelmed us and when we could finally move again, we both felt immensely lighter, though of course still sad beyond belief. Something else had happened then too: while our tears were drying on our faces, George leaned forward and kissed me very gently on my mouth. We finished taking down the spells and returned to the Burrow and George Weasley never left my mind that night.

Now, in the present time, I watched as George fumbled with the lock and finally the door swung open. I hesitated only briefly before following him inside. It was very dark until he lit his wand – I had forgotten to grab mine from Ginny's room – and then I noticed how close he was standing to me. I shouldn't have been surprised, of course, as it was a very small shed and not really made for two grown humans to stand inside with the door closed.

"Hermione... I need your help with something." He murmured.

"I – uh – okay. With what exactly?" I was never sure what to expect from George. He was so uninhibited.

He created a ball of light and hung it from the ceiling of the tiny shed, then gestured down. When I saw it, I was quite surprised I hadn't felt it against my leg. A small size brass cauldron stood to my right and it seemed to be filled with a thick blue-ish something.

"What is it?" I asked, perplexed.

"A hair potion." He rubbed his hand almost nervously over his ginger stubble. "Hermione... I want you to dye my hair."

I couldn't help but stare at him. "But it's blue." I finally managed.

"Yeah," he nodded, "it is. It's all mixed together – I just need you to put it in."

"But – why? Why blue?"

"Well..." he said slowly. "It didn't have to be blue, I could have chosen another color, but, I dunno. It just made sense." His riffled his fingers through his hair.

"Oh okay. Well – well sit down. I can't exactly reach your head." He obeyed. "What do I do?"

"Just get a handful and put it in my hair. You have to make sure you get all of it. I swear, Hermione, if I find a single strand of ginger..." but he smiled slightly to show that he was joking.

I took a handful of the stuff and began to rub it into his hair. I was midway through this when he spoke again.

"If you really want to know why... it's because of my damn reflection. Every – every time I see it, I think it's him. And, I mean, I know it's not him, I know he's gone and – and can't come back, but... it's making me mental. I thought this might help for a bit. Hopefully it won't have to be permanent..."

"Oh, George..." I whispered, feeling an inexplicable sadness within me.

"You probably think I'm bonkers, but I have to do something... it's too hard otherwise."

"You're not bonkers."

"Good."

I massaged the dye into his hair and he talked about other things, about Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and his plan to reopen it –

"It's what Freddy would have wanted."

And then when the dye was in and he was waiting for it to set, he looked at me properly, as if seeing me for the very first time.

"Hermione... I'm sorry for being such an idiot at your house; for almost killing us both... and for kissing you. I don't imagine you want much to do with a Weasley after Ron..."

What was he saying? He regretted the kiss? Or did he think I had not wanted it? Certainly, I had not expected it, but that didn't mean it wasn't unwelcome. And I told him that much.

"And I don't know what you mean by the Ron part. We never actually dated, it was too awkward."

Something flickered in his eyes.

"So... you wouldn't mind if I kissed you now?" he asked cautiously.

"That would depend... I'm not the kind of person you can just kiss and walk away from without your legs being transfigured into paper clips."

"I don't know what a paper clip is, but I don't plan on having them for legs." He said, very softly and leaned across the gap between us to kiss me. My insides fluttered and I kissed him back. When he pulled back, he spoke again. "Do you wanna go on a date with me? Not yet, just at some point, after I've fixed up the joke shop and all."

"Yeah... well, you'll have to ask me again then just to be sure, but I don't have any other plans and I'm not exactly going anywhere."

"Good. Another favour, Hermione, if mum bugs you about this hair dye business, I want you to tell her my reasons."

We tiptoed back up the stairs, and after I washed the blue dye from my hands – though it actually stained my hands and George, apologetically, informed me that it wouldn't wash out properly for a few days – I headed off to bed. No matter what I thought of or how many times I rolled over, I could neither get to sleep nor even get comfortable and as the sun began to rise, so too did I.

I cooked breakfast for everybody that morning and was quite surprised that Mrs Weasley did not notice the blue stain on my hands. George was late down, but when he did finally burst through the door, dressed in a red dragon-hide suit and carrying a pile of files and papers, Mrs Weasley let out an enormous screech of shock. His hair was beautifully done, I had not missed a bit, and it clashed absolutely horribly with the red of his suit.

Mr Weasley, having heard Mrs Weasleys' shriek, rushed back in from the yard (he had been heading off to work with Percy) and gaped at George along with the rest of the family.

"What have you done to your hair?" Mrs Weasley bellowed.

George's hand jumped to his hair.

"Thought I'd try something different. Calm down, it isn't permanent… at least I don't think it is." He shrugged and his eyes met mine. He smiled slightly. "Going off to do a bit of work today. Planning on getting the joke shop back up and running. See ya."

And he dived toward the fireplace. I leaped up instantly.

"George! Did you use flammable substances in the potion?"

George stopped and looked at me.

"Oh yeah. Excellent point, 'Mione." And he turned back to the front door, squeezing between a stunned Mr Weasley and a horrified looking Percy.

It was a very tense moment then, particularly with Mrs Weasley staring at my hands.

"Hermione..." she said weakly. "You did this? You colored it for him? Why would you do such a thing?"

They were all looking at me as though they had never seen me before. I knew George must have paused outside to listen to what I said of him... I had to do it. I took a breath.

"Mrs Weasley – I know it seems like George and I have done a terrible thing here, but there is a perfectly good reason for it. He came to me last night and asked me to help him color it – and I know why. He – well – I know it's hard for you all to have lost Fred, but can you imagine being George right now? Fred was not only his twin, but his best friend, and they were absolutely identical. Think about that – George lost Fred and has to try to deal with that on a daily basis while also looking exactly like him. He's actually been avoiding looking in mirrors because of the effect his reflection has on him. He said – he said every time he sees his reflection, he just has to cover up his missing ear and he thinks it's Fred staring back at him. He knows it isn't, but... it makes it harder for him. He said the dye would just be for a little while..."

And that was my awkward attempt at reasonably arguing George's sudden change in hair color. But Mrs Weasleys' eyes were brimming with tears and she threw her arms around me.

"I had no idea." She sobbed.

It was later that day and I was sitting outside with Harry, Ron and Ginny. They had been talking about Kingsley and the Ministry, and then about Quidditch and how they were thinking of going to watch the next match to show in Britain. A thought had occurred to me during their talk and I voiced it when a silence finally fell.

"Harry... do you remember the Mirror of Erised?"

"Yeah, Hermione, why's that?"

"Well... I just thought... the whole mirror thing with George... it's like every ordinary mirror in effect is, to George, the Mirror of Erised." And there were tears in my eyes again. The others were silent for a long moment, before Ron spoke.

"Yeah... but the real Mirror would show his reflection with both his ears."

Three weeks later, George's hair was still a bright blue, but he seemed better. He and Charlie had reopened Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, with the help of the rest of the family and Lee, and it definitely did him some good to have something to occupy him.

I was sitting inside, finishing up a crossword puzzle and feeling absolutely dreadful, when George came in. It was an odd time of day; he was supposed to be at the shop, not at home. Perhaps he had some more things to retrieve from his bedroom, which would soon become Harry's or Ron's room. That thought disappeared when he fell into the seat beside me.

"Hermione." He said softly and I looked around at him. It was then that I realized that his hair was a different color: it was green. I stared at it and he grinned, though his grin still did not quite reach his eyes. "I tried to dye it back. It went terribly wrong, but that's not why I'm here."

And he leaned in and kissed me very softly. At this point, Mrs Weasley pushed open the door, deciding to prepare lunch, and found us completely lip-locked. Her eyes widened and she quickly backed into the living room, pulling the door closed as she did so.

"Hermione," George whispered, pulling back, "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

THE END.

Er - I hope people actually read this/enjoy this and whatever :o