A/N: This is written for the Twin Exchange's Monthly Challenge for March 2010.
Prompt: Forest
Quote: "You're not the first."
Pairing: George/Hermione
Theme: Fred and George's birthday, April 1st.
Hermione stopped for what she was sure to be the eighteenth or nineteenth time, turned and looked behind her, only to be faced with a big, fat lump nothingness – again. She sighed, for what she was sure to be the eighteenth or nineteenth time, turned and continued on ahead.
You're just being paranoid, she told herself firmly, snap out of it, Hermione.
Yet not even three steps down the path, she heard that persistent rustling noise again. She was sure something, or someone was following her, what she didn't know, was why. Who would want to follow her into a forest in a Muggle suburb anyway? She could think of no one. All she was doing was looking for the blackberry bush she'd found earlier that week, and her search was currently proving very unsuccessful.
She simply shook herself and continued walking, trying her best to ignore whatever was, or wasn't behind her. She told herself once again that she was being silly and nothing was following her, but her peace of mind only lasted a few seconds before she subtly reached into her pocket and grasped her wand tightly, ready for anything to happen. It was a good thing she did, too, because all of a sudden the rustling grow much more aggressive and she spun around, wand outstretched to come face to face with a bird.
She huffed to herself and watched as the small creature flew off into the distance. Smiling disbelievingly at her obvious stupidity, she tucked her wand away and continued down the path, still on the lookout for her blackberry bush.
When finally she found it, the late-afternoon sun was almost glowing in the sky. She pulled a tiny basket out of a pocket in her red cloak and magically enlarged it, before unclasping the cloak and folding it neatly, placing it to the left of the bush. She knelt on the ground and began the tedious and somewhat dangerous task of picking the berries, being very careful to avoid the thorns.
She'd barely picked a dozen when she heard the rustling again, but she dismissed it as another bird and continued for several minutes, before she heard it again. Sighing, she turned around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, not even a bird. With a slight frown, she set back to work, and had almost filled her basket when the noise came again.
Filling the basket as quickly as possible, she put her cloak on again, picked up her blackberries and began the journey back. Sure, she was a witch and could easily apparate back, but she missed doing things the Muggle way, so she walked. It normally reminded her of her childhood when she walked to and from primary school each day, but now that was the furthest thing from her mind. She was still thinking about the rustling noise that was continually getting louder.
No matter how many other things she thought about, it was always there nagging at the back of her mind. She was slowly beginning to think that maybe it wasn't just a bird again, that maybe it was something else, something bigger and more dangerous, but convinced herself that she was being paranoid. Her heartbeat sped up a little as the sound got even louder and she self-consciously grasped her wand again.
Her throat went dry as she felt a presence behind her and her breathing rate increased until she was nearly panting, but she kept walking. She hoped that whoever – she was sure it was a who, rather than a what – was a Muggle so it would be easier to get away from them.
She was preparing to turn and stun whoever it was, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of bright red hair. Immediately, Hermione knew who it was and had to fight against the groan of annoyance that threatened to slip from between her lips. Deciding a stunner was a little too much for the person following her, she settled for a sticking charm that would prevent his feet from moving.
Spinning quickly on her heel, she cast the charm and disarmed the redheaded man behind her before he could even blink. After placing the basket of blackberries on the ground, she picked his wand up from the forest floor and pocketed it while he tried to get a grasp on what had happen. When his eyes finally landed on her, she had her hands on her hips and was glaring none too kindly at him.
"George Weasley! What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" she yelled at him, watching with slight amusement as his eyes went wide and fear flashed across his face.
"I – I was just – " he stuttered, unable to get the words out.
"You were following me through a forest!" she exclaimed, "Were you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Hermione, I'm sorry – I didn't – " once again, the words refused to make it out of his mouth.
"Can I not even spend two hours by myself? Do I have to tell you every single thing I do to make you happy?" she snarled, getting angrier and angrier.
"No, baby, I just – "
"My name is Hermione," she growled, taking a menacing step towards him.
She heard him gulp loudly and he tried to step back, but her charm held him in place.
"Why were you following me?" she asked after taking several calming breaths.
"I – I was worried," he choked out, keeping his eyes firmly on the young witch in front of him.
Raising a curious eyebrow, she waited for him to continue.
"You haven't been yourself lately, you've been distant. You keep going places without telling anyone where or why. I thought that..." he trailed off, sighing and shaking his head.
"You thought what, George?" she asked, her eyes narrowed, "And I swear to Merlin, if you thought I was having an affair..."
The threat hung in the air for several long moments as she waited for him to finish.
"No, Gods no, Hermione. I know you'd never do anything like that," he told her honestly, looking into her slightly softened eyes.
"Then what did you think?" she demanded, wanting to be angry at him, yet in reality the honesty and vulnerability in his eyes made her heart beat a little faster.
He sighed and she saw for the first time the sadness on his face, "I thought you were sick," he admitted, his voice breaking his emotion as he looked away from her, "I thought something was wrong and you were going to see a healer, or a Muggle doctor about it."
Hermione's jaw dropped slightly as stared at him in shock, unable to believe what she was hearing from him. She'd never seen him this miserable, not since Fred died. She felt so guilty now, for thinking he was going to accuse her of being unfaithful, when he was just worried her might lose her, like he'd lost his twin, his best friend. His eyes were still downcast, his head still lowered, yet she could tell his face was etched with pain and that he was fighting back tears.
She took an uneasy step forward, but froze as his head lifted. His eyes, worried and hurt, met hers and she felt tears well up inside of her own. She couldn't stand seeing him so obviously distraught, it hurt her more than she could've imagined.
"Tell me I'm wrong, Hermione. Please, tell me I'm wrong," he begged, his voice rough and eyes pleading.
A single, salty tear fell from his eye onto his freckled cheek, dripping down the side of his face and finally falling from his chin. Her eyes followed it's movements, and only after it had fallen did she go to him, walking slowly, uncertainty while maintaining eye contact the whole time. She stopped in front of him, maybe two feet away and reached up to wipe the tear stain from his cheek. Even once it was gone her hand lingered, stroking his face lovingly as she bit her lip. His hand covered her smaller one, holding it against his face for a moment, before pulling it away and kissing her palm.
"Please, Hermione, I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you," he grasped her hand between his two and held it tightly.
"I'm not sick, George, you worry too much," she smiled softly at him, watching him breathe a sigh of relief, "But I have been seeing a healer."
His expression turned to worry again, any hint of reassurance gone in a second, "What? Why? What's wrong?"
"It's nothing bad," she said, pulling his hands down to her stomach, pressing them against the slight convex of her belly.
His eyes widened in realisation after a moment of typical Weasley confusion. He looked from her face to his hands on her stomach repeatedly before his eyes finally locked with hers.
"We're going to have a baby," she whispered softly, nervously, waiting for his reaction.
"You're pregnant?" he breathed in shock.
She nodded, biting her lip shyly as she looked up at him.
"I – I – " he blinked rapidly, once again unable to form a sentence.
Giving up on words, he slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her close, his lips descending on hers and kissing her softly. His other hand cupped the back of her neck gently as hers pressed against his chest and gripped his robe. They were in heaven, even if it was only for a few moments, they were wrapped in the arms of the one person in the world they loved more than anything else.
"How far along are you?" he asked once they pulled away.
"Just over two months, I've known for three weeks."
"Three weeks? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to tell you tonight, as a birthday present," she told him, "Without Fred, you've never really celebrated your birthday, because it was just a reminder that he's gone. I wanted you to have a happy memory about today."
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he smiled.
"I love you, too, Georgie," she replied, burying her head in his chest.
He chuckled at her nickname and kissed her forehead, "I'm going to be a daddy."
"You're going to be wonderful," she assured him as he wrapped her up in his arms.
"I don't know the first thing about being a parent."
"That's what Molly's for," she told him.
"She'll be over the moon," he smiled as he imagined his mother jumping up and down at the thought of grandchildren, "Let's tell her tomorrow, let's tell everyone tomorrow."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, pulling away to look up at him.
"Positive. I'd scream it out for all the world to hear if I got the chance."
"Let's go home," she smiled, picking up the basket of blackberries, "I have a very exciting evening planned."
"Hermione?" George asked as she began walking away.
She turned, "Yeah?"
"Mind unsticking me?" he looked pointedly down at his feet.
"Oh, sorry," she laughed quietly, pulling her wand out and allowing him to move, "I forgot all about that."
He smiled and hurried to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "You know, this cloak reminds me of that girl in that Muggle fairy story, you know, the one with the wolf and the grandma?"
"Oh, you're not the first," she told him, "That's exactly what Mum said when I bought it last month."
"What's her name again?"
"Little Red Riding Hood."
"Are you sure that's her name?"
"Yes."
"Doesn't she have a normal name?"
"Her name is Little Red Riding Hood," she said with slight frustration, "I think she may be called Little Red in some versions of the story, though."
"So, if you're Little Red, does that make me the wolf?" he nipped her ear playfully.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm not sure you're wolfish enough for that," she said dismissively, pulling out of his arms and skipping ahead of him.
She stopped a safe distance in front of him and smiled innocently, taking a blackberry to her lips and biting into it. George had slowed to a stop as he watched her, watched the juice from the delicious fruit drip down from the corner of her mouth and onto her chin. His tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips as one of her delicate fingers ran over her skin, gathering the juice onto it. She then took it to her mouth and her lips closed around it, her eyes shutting in ecstasy and a soft moan leaving her throat.
As the finger left her mouth with a small 'pop', her eyes opened and she grinned at him, lifting the hood of her red cloak over her head before turning on her heel and skipping away again. Her grin widened as she heard him growl and being to chase her.
It was going to be a very exciting night indeed.
