"I mean, honestly, what were you thinking, giving one of your canary creams to my cat?"
George grinned cheekily. "You have to admit he looks funny."
Hermione glared down at her now-yellow Bartelby. "Does not."
"Does."
"You know, I shouldn't even let you in my flat anymore. All you ever do is make it look like I live in Wonderland!" Hermione sighed at George's confused face. "George. Last week you set off one of your marching piglet toys and it painted my bookcase purple. Your toys are always set with complex charms and I always have to either bang out my whole repertoire of spells or just deal with the color. I haven't been able to open my fridge without hearing 'Jingle Bells' for three months! Why don't you just get rid of that stupid jinx for me? It's not like it's entertaining you anymore! I never open the fridge when you're here, we just order food because you insist that Molly makes enough real food. You've been popping into my apartment every Thursday for damn near two years now, so it's time you respect my boundaries and don't make my parakeet speak Latin or my doorbell announce guests as raunchily as possible! And I know you stole my extra key, it went missing and then an entire drawer full of my clothes formed people and started dancing with me! And then the stupid daydream charm in my milk! I can't make any of your contraptions shut up and go away, and I swear, George, I'm going crazy! I don't mind you testing out some of your products, because I know you need somebody to test them with you, and you find my reactions amusing, but just don't make me go completely insane with all the music and color and yellow cats!" Hermione shook her cat in her arms, eliciting a plaintive screech. "I'm exhausted of my apartment! And you don't even let me in yours! Is it filled with experiments constantly going wrong and you just don't want to suffer alone? Bloody hell," George's eyebrows shot up at her swearing. "I'm going to change my locks and then send you to dog training school until you know not to torture cats! You're like a small child! I'm not your mother! Now empty your pockets and pull that damn sock off your ear before I have to feed you to my mutant cat."
George sheepishly pulled assorted goods out of his pockets and handed her his ear decoration. Hermione sorted through the huge pile of stuff on her kitchen table. His pockets had to have and undetectable extension charm on them, because she had a backpack's full.
His wallet was a fat orange monstrosity with dozens of little photos slipped into the plastic pockets, and she opened it slowly and flipped through it. Pictures of the Weasley clan, the Weasley's owls, a picture of Fred and George together, a picture of George and Fred laughing and pointing at Harry's scar, Harry looking perplexed, a picture of George, Fred, Lee, and Angelina after a Quidditch match, Hermione just-so-happening to be scolding Harry about something or other as they walked by in the background, a picture of Fred, and then a picture of her. Hermione paused when she saw herself. She was holding a Pygmy Puff that rapidly changed colors and laughing whole heartedly, smiling brightly at the camera and letting the puffy creature hop onto her head.
She let her eyes dart up to George's for an instant, noticing that George was sitting across the table silently as she sorted through his stuff. Hermione opened the money portion of the wallet, finding normal coins and no chocolates or anything. Hermione handed the wallet back to him, having approved of it. She sifted through a number of candies and sniffed a few vials of potions, placing them all in a confiscation pile. She found one candy she'd never seen before in his store and so she looked up at him.
"What does this one do?" she asked George.
"Nothing," he said. "it's just a lemon drop."
Hermione eyed him warily as she unwrapped it. "Just a lemon drop, right? You know if I put this in my mouth and anything bad happens, I'll never buy you another muggle pizza. Stop me now or forever hold your peace."
George sat quietly and shrugged.
Hermione popped it in her mouth and continued sorting through things. A tangled collection of extendable ears, a pen that sang when you wrote, and a bottle of perfume or something that smelled like-well, she wasn't sure exactly, but it smelled good—were all confiscated. Hermione picked up a set of keys and smiled at a little house elf key fob with S.P.E.W. on it. She'd passed them out back in what must have been third or fourth year. She took off her flat's key and handed the keys back to George. A Gryffindor-colored wool hat, poorly knit, with a G in the middle (for George, or maybe Gryffindor). It looked like something George might have made in an attempt to be crafts-y. A bunch of crumpled up papers were in the next layer.
Hermione found a receipt for a broomstick; one that she knew he'd bought for Fred back before the war. The next was a confirmation for a reservation for two at a fancy restaurant, made almost a year ago. Her eyebrows raised. A pair of movie tickets that'd never been used, their stubs still attached, dated nine months prior. A tiny card meant to go with flowers, the message scribbled out in dark ink and slightly burned on the edges. A photo of the entire Gryffindor house back in Hermione's fourth year, signed by everyone in it. Hermione touched her goofy, loopy signature in the bottom corner. A printed bill from the phone company, with dozens of phone calls made to a London number, only charged a few cents since they hadn't lasted past the first minute. A sketch of a house, a small-ish house, a cottage meets Victorian home. The porch was gigantic, it had a cute little turret thing, bay windows, and a two-part front door. A hodge-podge of flowers scattered around a curving walkway, and a giant tree with a tire swing stood in the backyard over some kind of pond or lake. It was beautiful. An unaddressed letter, severely crumpled. Hermione didn't open that, it was too private a thing, and a felony for muggles.
Underneath the pile of papers was a bookmark with a pressed flower at the top. A six sided die with a heart on each side instead of numbers. Dried up flower petals. Hermione found one more piece of paper, folded in half crisply. It was another receipt, this one for a donation.
George Weasley
Gringotts Vault 2034850-Q
Password: **********
How much would you like to donate to our cause today, June 19?
10_
25_
50_
Other_10,000_
What do you want the beneficiary's name to be for this donation? _Anonymous_
Would you like to receive monthly notifications on how our cause is doing via owl? _Yes_
Address_79 Diagon Alley, the flat above WWW_
THANK YOU FOR YOUR DONATION TO S.P.E.W. WE UNDERSTAND THAT MOST WIZARDS DO NOT USE COMPUTERS AND THEREFORE DO NOT FIND OUR WEBSITE, SO THANKS TO WHOEVER TOLD YOU HOW TO GET TO THIS WEBSITE. PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD ON THE INTERNET AND THIS HIDDEN WEBSITE IN PARTICULAR. IF YOU EVER WOULD LIKE TO DONATE AGAIN, YOU CAN ALSO DONATE VIA PAPERWORK THAT IS TO BE FOUND IN THE MAGICAL CREATURE DEPARTMENT OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC.
Click here to finalize your donation. DONATE
Hermione's throat suddenly felt like a giant rock was sitting in the middle of it. George had been the extraordinarily generous backer of her cause? That huge donation had been the one that let her finally get word out that her cause was not for freeing elves who did not wish to be freed; that it was for making beating house elves a crime, and relocating house elves who were beaten to new homes. The ministry had finally accepted S.P.E.W. into the department of magical creatures and all her dreams had come true. It was even her job, now—first as the head of S.P.E.W. and then head of the department of magical creatures. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she looked up to see George and thank him for giving her everything but he was gone.
Hermione glanced down the hall towards the bathroom, hazarding a guess that he'd gone there and then she happened to look back at the few remaining items left to be sorted through on her table. A piece of paper folded up tiny and a box with a ribbon around it. She unfolded the piece of paper slowly and frowned at the words.
What to say to not sound like an idiot… A blacked out mass followed those words, and then the bottom half of the page just said 'I love you'.
Hermione frowned again. George was in love with somebody and he hadn't spilled it to her?
She picked up the little box and pulled on the ribbon. She took the top of the box and then nearly choked on her breath when she saw the ring inside. It was word for word what she'd described almost a year ago as what she would want if she were getting engaged. She'd been talking to Ginny at a dinner, both of them laughing and smiling as the guys (Harry, Ron, George, Neville, Charlie, Percy, Seamus, and Lee) got bored and talked about Quidditch instead of joining Ginny and Hermione in conversation.
It was a silver/gold color, the band, that is, and the stone was a small diamond that seemed almost reddish orange when it caught the light. Hermione slipped it on her finger, giggling like a school girl. She'd never gotten to hold a real engagement ring before. She wondered briefly who George was going to propose to with his 'I love you' speech and copied ring. Hermione admired her hand for a moment, and then flipped her hand over.
She was about to take the ring off when a light caught her eye. She held her hand up close to her eyes and squinted. Written in George's cursive handwriting was Hermione & George.
Hermione's stomach dropped and she pulled off the ring like it was on fire, hastily sticking it in the box, wrapping it up and nearly throwing it across the table, eying it warily like it were a snake about to bite. She stared at the pile of stuff on the table. The hat that said G for Granger that was made by him. The bottle of perfume that had to be amortentia-perfume, a perfume spelled to smell like whatever the buyer smells in amortentia. It smelled like Hermione's favorite shower wash, raspberries and pomegranate.
His wallet with the picture of her. The key to get into her flat. The S.P.E.W. key charm and the massive S.P.E.W. donation for her. The broomstick that he'd bought for Fred but ended up using with Fred to try and teach Hermione to ride a broom the week before Bill and Fleur's wedding.
The restaurant reservation, made on her birthday—the birthday that George had offered to take her somewhere nice so she could relax ("for once"). The birthday that she'd had a headache and told him to just go home, that she couldn't deal with his jokes that night.
The movie tickets for the anniversary of the day Fred died. The movie was a cartoon, a super adorable and pick-me-up type movie, Up. She'd given George a hug that day, and then later, when he'd casually asked her what she thought about the movie 'Up', she'd said it sounded quite rubbish, to be honest. And he'd laughed. Flowers, the type of flowers on the back of the card being daisies and blue bells, Hermione's favorite. And daisy petals.
A picture from the last happy times at Hogwarts, truly, with Hermione standing between Fred and George because she was angry with Ron and Harry. Phone calls that must have lasted only one or two rings, when she'd been getting random phone calls that cut off quickly before she answered all year. A drawing of her dream home.
The letter. It was an invitation to a wedding, but it didn't have the bride and groom's name on it, only a drawing of roses around the border and a date for August, the month Hermione had mentioned to Ginny that one dinner she'd have a wedding in. A bookmark with her favorite flower.
Hermione shoved the load into her extension-charmed bag and bolted towards her fire place. He wasn't in the bathroom. He'd left before he could be rejected again, like she'd been unconsciously doing for a while now.
"Weasley Wizard Wheezes!" Hermione shouted and floo'd away. She landed in the main area, knocking over a stack of canary creams. She glanced around the store and then ran upstairs to George's flat, blasting away the door quickly before she could reprimand herself for breaking and entering. The flat was sparse, limited furniture and things. Mostly picture frames decorated the walls and the tables. Just like his wallet. She opened one door and revealed a bathroom. The next was a bedroom, as sparse and utilitarian as the main room, again with pictures and not much else. The third closed door she had to really crank at its doorknob to get in, as if it hadn't been used in years.
The inside was colorful, bright, filled with posters and knickknacks and toys and vials of potions and plants and a big bed with bright red sheets. A notebook lay next to the bed, and Hermione opened it slowly. Recordings of dreams. Ideas. Memories. A few pictures. Sketches of products. Doodles. The inside cover said simply 'Fred's'
Fred's room. Exactly as he'd left it.
Hermione burst into tears and bolted out of the room, blindly running back to the fire place. "The Burrow!" she yelled this time, her second bet. She landed loudly in the Weasley's living room, and everyone's head turned. It was rather late to come banging into someone's house unannounced, but not late enough for them to be asleep. All the Weasleys and assorted others sat casually around their giant table, some eating, some talking.
Molly. Arthur. Percy. Ginny. Harry. Ron. Charlie. Bill. Fleur. Teddy, in Ginny's lap. And George. They all stared at her. It was odd they were all here, but when Hermione thought about it, they had mentioned something about having dinner together today, and Hermione'd forgotten and just went about her Thursday as usual, eating pizza with George.
Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Hi," she said simply.
Everyone started talking at once, saying 'Are you alright', 'why are you crying', 'is Bartelby okay', 'what happened', and 'are you hungry'.
Hermione ignored it, shaking away Harry and Ron as they came up to her. Hermione pulled out one of the few extra chairs and placed it next to George, who stared at her, looking rather frightened. "Uh," he said.
"Shut up," Hermione said, and dumped out her bag onto the chair. A few of George's papers flipped into the air, but most of the stuff landed on the chair. Hermione picked up the ring box and shook it. "George." She said quietly. Everyone at the table sat in complete silence. "You're a complete idiot."
His face crumpled into a sort of frowning/puppy dog mixture.
"Your toys have over run my flat. You mooch food off of me. You're infuriatingly persistent. Your apartment made me cry."
"What?" interrupted Fleur briefly before being shushed.
"And you failed to show me all of this. I'm not good at taking hints. You've known me long enough to know that. I don't see through small gestures and behaviors. I like to be told things, straight up. I'm not going to say something isn't romantic or clever because it's simple." She thrust the ring box at him. "If you'd asked me properly last year on my birthday instead of dropping a hint, I would have taken a headache potion, gotten dressed up and gone with you to that ridiculously expensive restaurant and proceeded to make fun of the dish names with you all evening. If you'd said that you wanted to see something happy and wanted to see 'Up', I would have gone with you and probably smiled and felt better myself, too. If you'd given me the bookmark and the hat and the flowers, I would have treasured them, no matter how poorly knit or simple. I would use that bloody broomstick until I could do crazy eights under your instructions. I would have thanked you out of your wits for the house elf business. And, if you'd just stop being such a stupid wanker and use that bloody perfect ring already and say your nice and simple and straightforward speech, I'll eventually put my name next to yours on that wedding invitation. So go ahead. And yes, you have to in front of them because this is where you bolted off to."
George took the box with a shaking hand and opened it slowly to gasps around the table. "Do it, Georgie," Charlie whispered. Everyone else shushed him.
"I love you, Hermione," George said, standing. "Even though you yell at me a lot. I'm sorry for being a wanker. Will you marry me?"
"Yes. But not until after you properly court me for at least a year."
George pursed his lips and smirked at her. "Of course."
"And go to that fancy restaurant?"
"Yup."
"And see Up?"
"Yes."
"And I get to wear the hat?"
George smiled, slid the ring on her finger, and kissed her. Everybody whooped and cheered and Hermione clutched George to her, fully happy for the first time in a long time.
George pulled away and frowned. Hermione's eyes filled with worry, and doubt struck through her heart. "What?" she said.
"Don't wear that ugly hat."
Hermione smiled and beamed. "I don't care if it's ugly, you made it. But I might have to change the G to a W, you know?"
George smiled down at her and wondered why he hadn't down this a year ago.