George hadn't always loved her. In fact, he hadn't even always liked her. Not that he hated her, of course. But he was the reserved one, out of him and Fred. He was always aware that half formed opinions are just that – half formed. No use hating someone just because you're not sure about them. It wasn't until his and Fred's fourth year at Hogwarts that he realised he had a proper opinion on Hermione Granger – and he thought she was lovely, really. She was always making sure Ron didn't get himself into too much trouble, as well as helping him with his homework, she was usually very nice to everybody, and treated the twins with feigned disregard – always masked with a little caution, which was just the way he and Fred liked it, if they were honest. He would never have said he fancied her, not back then. More that she caught his eye every now and then. He noticed when she was upset (which was usually Ron's fault), and when she was happy; he just noticed her. It was never a conscious thing. In fact, he might never have realised without Fred pointing out that he was staring down the table at a certain bushy haired know-it-all entirely too often for his liking – obviously George assured Fred that he was keeping an eye on their icklest brother and the famous boy who lived, even though Fred clearly never believed him (although he never called him out for it back then, either).
It wasn't until halfway through Hermione's third year, his fifth, that he noticed something was wrong. Hermione seemed to appear out of nowhere, after she'd say she was on her way to somewhere else. She'd also hurry off for no apparent reason, midway through a conversation, and even George couldn't keep up with her. Even he knew that Granger couldn't spend that much time in the library. He managed to catch up with her once, and she quickly found a broom cupboard to hide in. For a few weeks, George convinced himself she must either have a secret snogging partner, or a secret book hiding in there (more likely to be a book, really!).
Until he found out for himself, that is. See, turns out the knowledgable little witch had a time turner! Astounded, George managed to keep silent throughout the whole explanation, and actually meant it when he swore not to tell another soul (because Fred didn't count, he's his other half!). He kept a closer eye on her then, and noticed she wasn't eating as much, looked tired, and was less interested in Ron and Harry's conversations than usual. Something just had to be done.
Hermione seemed even more exasperated than usual with her two idiot friends, and George was starting to feel her pain. Ron was never very good at picking up social cues, and Harry was far too focused on, well, staying alive, really. Neither of the boys had seemed to notice Hermione's near-constant state of exhaustion, and Fred had given him a great idea – except that George wasn't sure she'd actually take his advice. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Angelina to agree to write the note, and he had done the rest.
George watched with anticipation as the morning post owls swooped low over tables, picking at bacon and dropping packages to the students. Hermione seemed confused to be receiving anything – he really should have thought this through a bit more – and slipped the note into her pocket, presumably so that the boys didn't steal it (good move, they were right nosy gits, if you asked him and Fred!). He wouldn't know if his plan worked or not… Well, not without following her around anyway, at least figuratively. George had, last minute, decided to put quite a finicky kind of tracking spell on the note. If Hermione held that note on her person for more than a few hours, it would wear off the note, but transfer to Hermione. George was just praying to Merlin that he'd done it right; he hated it when she shouted at him!
It wasn't until almost curfew that he would finally be put out of his misery. He used the tracking spell, and an orb of light flew out of his wand, almost like a tiny candle flame really, waiting for him to follow. And so he did.
If someone had told George that he'd be following a tiny ball of light around Hogwarts castle after curfew, he'd definitely have believed them. But it felt really strange to do something like this without Fred – who had his own ideas about where his twin might be! – and it was very exciting, all at the same time. He didn't have long to dwell on it mind, as the little orb smashed silently against the door to the prefects' bath, then shimmered into nothingness. That might come in handy – have to tell Fred about this!
George was trying to muster up the courage to knock on the door, when Hermione opened it, obviously finished, and almost bumped into him. 'Enjoy your bath, non prefect Granger?' He joked, with a glint of amusement in his eyes. 'Very much so. It was relaxing, to say the least, but I find it strange that Angelina felt the need to owl me about it. Don't you, George?' Hand on one hip, there was no doubting her teasing tone, especially with that smirk gracing her lips. Lips… George just couldn't help himself, and kissed her quite soundly, one arm round her waist and one hand in her hair. Once his mind un-fogged, and he realised what he'd done, he gaped at her. He couldn't apologise, not for a kiss like that! He couldn't run away either, that's something Ron would do. But for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything to say, so he decided to just wink at her and stroll off. Simple, charming, and a complete idiot. At least, that's what Fred would tell him the next day.