Unrequited
Because he is the right guy, but at the wrong time.
Because she already belongs to someone else.
"If I have a son, I'd name him Fred," George muttered as he sauntered out from 93, Diagon Alley.
"What if you get a daughter?" came a question from the girl strolling beside him.
"I'd name her Freda," he answered instinctively.
She tilted her head back, trying to restrain a chuckle. "Uhh…okay…"
"No, wait!" he snapped and nudged her elbow gently.
She lifted her eyebrows. "Hmm?"
"I'd name her…Hermione. After you," he said thoughtfully. He was imagining how the name would appear printed on the birth certificate. "Hermione Freda Weasley," he repeated enthusiastically, satisfied with his own genius' craft.
Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead, her mouth went dry. "I'll take that as a compliment," she replied guardedly. Her steps faltered and took a halt. Her gaze was fixed on the ground.
He too, paused in his stride and turned to look at her. "Well, it is a compliment. I'd want to have clever children like you, but just less up—,"
"—tight?" she cut him off and glared at him.
He could only let out a nervous laugh as he took two long strides towards her. "Yeah. But," he defended, "you've loosen up a bit. No. A lot, actually, than last time…"
He was towering over her with his overwhelming height. Gently, he held her soft hands in his and placed a few strands of her hair behind her ears. The touch of his cold fingers sent shudders up her spine. The warmth of his earnest, if not nervous half-grin pierced through her heart.
They stood steadily in the middle of the endless throngs of moving crowd on Diagon Alley. As if they were the constant focal point of the world revolving around them. As if the hands of time would never shove them away from this uncanny, yet precious moment.
"Is that how you would like your wife to be? Carefree? Relaxed? All loosen-up?" she asked bitterly without thinking.
"What???" He was clearly taken aback by the abrupt question. Since when was she interested in what kind of women he would like to marry? There was no more "Excuse me," or "Sorry," all courtesy was gone. Just a "What???"
She clamped her hand to her mouth, horrified. "Did I just ask you that out loud?"
"Yes you did, Granger," he replied, amused. He took a deep breath and kicked a pebble in front of him. "Have you heard of the saying, 'Opposites Attract'? Oh, of course you have," he moped slightly.
Putting two and two together, she realized that he was implying that he'd like someone…different from him. To balance the Yin and Yang, as she once had read somewhere. Someone…like herself? Or was she merely deluded?
"But we both know that it won't work," he added gravely, snapping her out of her thoughts. Reluctantly, he let go of her hands and walked away.
'Between us, at least,' George whispered to himself. 'Not with Ron by your side.'