Author's Note/ Disclaimer
So, since I'm secretly in love with Hermione and adore the Weasley twins, I wrote this. And since it's a post-war fic, people have died, characters are older, things have changed, etc. etc. It's been five years since what would have been Hermione's seventh year where she would have been 17 yrs old. Five years later that puts her at 22. I would guess George would be at about 23 or 24.
So, George shows up, they both feel awkward, and out comes the alcohol.
Anyway, this is a fairly tame but kinda angsty chapter. Mentions of character death, rated M for the later parts.
Also, I own none of the characters mentioned below.
"Never Ever" Part One
Whatever had been left of her life, she hadn't wanted it.
It had been five years since the defeat of Lord Voldemort and the end of the Second War. She'd stayed with her parent's for some time afterwards. Attending funerals, mourning, comforting and eventually, recovering.
A year and a half passed as everyone who was left tried to pick up what was left of their lives. But the war had taken it's toll, and there had been an awful lot of funerals.
Harry's, of course, had had the largest attendance. The entire wizarding community of London and afar had shown up. Hermione had been asked to speak, and then politely declined. They understood, she couldn't have managed it.
Then of course there had been the Weasley funeral. Three out of seven children gone, just like that. Ron died at Harry's side, fighting with him to the last. Fred had been attacked at the shop along with several auror's while George has been gone. And Percy had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He witnessed several other deaths, and the Deatheaters weren't too fond of witnesses.
After she'd left her parent's, she had found an apartment in a decent-sized muggle town about 100 or so miles outside London. She got a job at the library down the street and had been working there ever since, even though McGonagall had contacted her twice about a teaching position at Hogwarts. Hermione simply wasn't up to it, she wasn't ready to go back there yet.
It was seven thirty on a Tuesday night, three days after the five year anniversary of the end of the Second War, and someone was ringing her doorbell.
"Just a minute!" She sat her book down on the couch and glanced out the window. It was probably her overly helpful landlord again, who would chatter about old pipes or rats or something. He was fond of Hermione and sometimes reminded her of Filch in a strange way.
But it wasn't her landlord. Unless her landlord had recently grown about six inches and dyed his hair red.
"George!" Something had caught in the back of her throat, she'd almost said Ron.
"What are you doing here?" she blurted before she could stop herself. "Er, sorry. I mean, come in!"
He looked about as uncomfortable as she sounded.
"Mum said you hadn't written in awhile and I was coming through here on business anyway, so I told her I'd stop by. And...well...are you alright then?"
"Yes, of course. Sorry I haven't written in so long, I've just been busy lately." she lied.
George glanced at the couch, where her book was still lying open. "Right, yeah, you look rather busy."
The awkward kind of silence that she hated had descended upon them.
"Do you want something to drink? I've got some tea or I could make coffee if you want." She started towards the small kitchen.
"Actually," George started, "have you got any alcohol?
Several minutes later she had emerged from the kitchen victorious. A bottle of scotch in one hand and a much larger bottle of firewhiskey in the other. George had praised her excellent hospitality and conjured up two small, glass tumblers, taking a seat in a chair opposite the couch.
"Hermione Granger, all books and logic and firewhiskey."
"Don't" she said, but smiled in spite of herself and poured them both a glass of scotch, handing him one.
"Why not? It sounds good." He raised his glass. "Cheers."
"Cheers." she echoed, wincing as the first gulp went down. It burned, she'd forgotten why she never really drank scotch. "So what kind of business were you doing out here?
"Delivery. Some rich bloke ordered a specially made product for his daughter and wanted it delivered by hand. Ginny's running the shop while I'm gone. She probably would have been here herself if I'd told I was dropping by." George took another drink and settled back into the chair.
"You should have brought her." Hermione said, nursing her own drink.
"Nah, she would have drank all the firewhiskey."
Hermione laughed. "Ginny?"
"I'm not kidding. On a good night, she can drink me under the table. Which is quite the feat. Fred and I nicked some firewhiskey during Bill's wedding reception and took off. She ended up finding us and we all got smashed. Mum never knew."
He paused and then finished off his glass. They were quiet for a moment while Hermione downed the rest of hers and he poured them both some more.
"Do you miss him?"
George looked up. "He was literally my other half, how can I not? Five years takes some of the pain away, but not all of it you know?"
Hermione nodded. "I went back after the first year passed, and they'd put up that monument at the gravesites. I hate that bloody monument." She paused and took a drink. "And I haven't been back there since."
"Mum and Dad go every year. So does Ginny. I went cause they had a service this year."
"Oh yeah? How was it?"
"Rubbish. A load of crock about how far we've come and how thankful everyone is and how horrifying it all was."
Hermione snorted into her glass. "Right, because Scrimgeour was there fighting by our sides the whole time. He's one to talk."
They were quiet again. Those last few attacks were something none of the Order members talked about anymore. That's where they'd lost Fred and Ron, and Harry.
George leant forward in the chair and sat his empty glass down on the table.
"I can't think about this anymore" He grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and wrenched the lid off.
"Firewhiskey?"
"But I'm not done with-" Hermione began, before George took the glass from her and downed the remaining scotch. He sat her now empty glass next to his and licked his lips, grinning at her.
"Lets play a game."
