WARNING: PLEASE READ THIS! This fic makes mention of main character being gay. If that bothers you or you don't feel comfortable reading about it, LEAVE NOW. This isn't the fic for you. However it only mentions that the character is gay and that he might have a potential date. That's the extent of it. Now if you DO decide to read this and you become offended, DON'T, I repeat DON'T send me your flames because I have warned you and if you chose not to read this it's your own fault.

Now; this is an 'I'm-all-done-chemo' present for you all. ) So I hope you enjoy it. Oh, this this is also the longest piece I've written to date. Well by myself. So please review!

Update: I wanna thank slytherinsess for telling me the fic would be better broken down into chapters-so I made this a two-shot but I've changed nothing (just the way it's broken down).

Disclaimer: Hi, my name is Lady Rachel Lupin and I'm, oh God this is so hard. Um, hold on I need a moment. -blows nose loudly- Okay, I can do this. My name's Rachel and I'm an obsessive Harry Potter fanatic. OH GOD! Phew. I'm so glad I got that off my chest. I feet better now. -claps-

It's That Simple

-Hermione's POV-

We were best friends. It was seriously as simple as that.

It was inevitable really. I mean I spent enough time around him. We ran into each other constantly in school (for good and bad reasons), around the Burrow, and now we were living together; it just happened.

But no, everyone couldn't accept that, especially Ginny. She nearly drove me barmy with the third degree she put me under whenever we were together hanging out or out shopping or on a simple lunch date.

I suppose you couldn't blame her really. I mean he was one of her older brothers, and I was her best friend. But I was telling her the truth. At the time…

---------- Breakline to BackStory ----------

George was sitting in one of the plush arm chairs him and Fred had moved to the corner of the common room for their own purposes, whatever they might have been. Fred was nowhere in sight and George was bent low over a sheet of parchment. Every so often he would tug slightly at a strand of hair in a frustrated manner.

I was sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the room Books surrounded me like the castle walls as I worked diligently on a potions essay that wasn't due until next Tuesday.

He let out a frustrated sigh and that's when my concentration finally broke and I had to take a break.

I noticed it was relatively late and most of my other fifth years had already gone to their respective dormitories for the night. I looked at my essay. Damn, three more inches to go. I'll be up at least another hour. Mind as well… My thoughts broke off as I stood up and moved across the common room to take the seat Fred normally occupied.

"Homework?" I offered when George seemed to not even notice me sit down.

George jumped slightly and his hand flew to his heart. "Hermione, you gave me a fright."

My lips quirked into smile, "Little old bookworm Hermione Granger scared prankster prince George Weasley? No one's going to believe that one."

He eyed me for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not he was in trouble, and if not, why I was over talking to him in the first place. However he finally smiled. "Then how about we keep this our little secret?"

I laughed lightly and my smile grew wider. "Mm, we can't have our reputations being ruined now can we? We've worked to hard for them."

It was his turn to laugh. "That we have Princess. Though I think our respective reputations just came naturally to us."

I never knew George was this insightful. I voiced my thoughts to him.

He laughed again. "You mean out of the, I don't know, handful of times we've talked you never picked that up about me? I'm hurt." His smile lit up his eyes as he took the mickey out of me.

"Oh well excuse me Mr. Everyone-can-read-me-like-a-book, but it seems when ever you do talk you're trying to dig yourself out of the proverbial hole you and Fred dug yourselves into." It was my turn to tease the mickey out of him.

George waved a hand dismissively and I looked him strangely. Since when does he do that? That was a little too feminine-what am I talking about? Who cares? Apparently he noticed my look and cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "Soo, did you need something or do you enjoy teasing my poor innocent soul mercilessly?"

I snorted into my hand and tired to turn it into a cough but failed miserably. "I just noticed you looked frustrated and wondered if it was homework or-" I left the sentence hanging there. "Plus I needed a break." I added.

He sighed. "Well part of it was homework." He admitted rather vaguely looking toward the dying fire.

"A girl?" I guessed looking at his facing, gauging his reaction to my question.

Ever so slightly he winced. "Er, well not exactly," he said just as vague as before.

"Listen," I said, "I know we aren't really good friends. Well, not even really friends," I changed my phrasing at his raised eyebrow, "But if something is bothering you, you should tell someone. What about Fred? Don't you two tell each other everything?" I crossed my legs and leaned back into the over stuffed chair.

George sighed again and he's shoulders slumped. He seemed to struggle for the right words. "We do tell each other everything. But this, I just don' think he'd understand. I don't think a lot of people would understand." He added the last sentence as an after thought and I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear it or not.

I tipped my head to the side and began to study him. He was staring at the fire again but I could tell that he wasn't really seeing it. His brown eyes had slight bags under them, like he wasn't getting enough sleep. His brow was furrowed, think lines creased his forehead. Also his fist rested under his chin in a very 'The Thinker' pose. He sat leaning forward in his arm chair with the arm with the hand under his chin on his right knee and his other arm resting in the triangle it made with his body. I had never seen him so serious in all my years of knowing him.

"You know," I said pulling his from his stupor, "you could always just, I don't know, tell me?" I suggested pointing out the obvious.

Deep brown eyes pierced my lighter cinnamon ones. "Could I?" He questioned me. "Could I really trust you with something that I'm not even sure of myself?"

"George, you know me better than that. I might be best friends with your little brother and sister but when have I ever proven to be untrustworthy?" I asked him quietly, slightly hurt.

He shook his shaggy red head and closed his eyes. "That came out wrong. It's just I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now and I just feel like if I tell something this it will be true."

The poor boy was talking him self in circles and I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. His hand went up to tug at his hair again but I leaned towards him and gently pulled his hand away.

"Well how about you just tell me and we can see if I can offer any help." I asked just to see if he'd bite. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered what happened to the bright eyed boy I had been talking to ten minutes ago.

George eyed me dubiously. He seemed to take me in for a moment, as if he was trying to judge whether or not I was worth of knowing this powerful secret that was tearing him apart. I must have done something right. "You have to have and open mind." He said suddenly, almost like he was slightly scared perhaps.

"Wide open," I confirmed uncrossing my legs and leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, hoping that I wasn't looking overly eager to know something about George Weasley that not even his twin, his best friend, knew about him.

He seemed to go though an intense internal battle. A wide range of emotions crossed his face and I felt my heart go out to the red headed boy sitting in front of me. Suddenly, so I was almost startled and let out a squeak of surprise, his head ducked into his lap and hurried his head in his long freckled arms. "I think mmf mmp."

I heard the first two words but the last two were too muffled for me to decipher. I found his wrists and moved them away from his head and he looked up at me frightened. "George," I told him firmly, not letting go of his wrists, "Please just tell me. You are going to make your self sick drawing it out like this. Now, I distinctly heard 'I' and 'think'—you think what? Please tell me." Okay so I was practically begging at the end but for some reason, probably George's vulnerability, I was close to tears near the end.

Taking a deep breath he said, "Gay." It came out breathy and quiet, like a balloon being deflated. "I think I'm gay." He tugged his wrists out of my slackened grip and once again buried his head. The idea that he reminded me of an ostrich flitted through my brain but I shoot the thought from my head and turned my attention back to the clearly embarrassed and scared boy in front of me.

"Oh George!" I sighed after a moment of collecting my thoughts. I slowly moved my left hand had to stoke his auburn hair. "Is that really it?"

I felt him shake his head up and down under my hand.

"Oh George," was all I could say again as I pulled him into a hug. His face went straight into the crook of my neck and his arms encircled my waist tightly. My arms went around his neck and I continued to stroke his hair soothingly. That's when I felt a wet spot forming on my right shoulder. I shushed him quietly and rocked him slightly, like you would a small child who'd had a bad dream. He quickly contained himself but made no move to pull away.

"What, did you think that I'd hate you George? Throw things at you? Call you names?" I asked quietly. "Do you really think I'd do those things?"

"No of course not," he said, his voice thick with phlegm. He cleared his throat and went on. "I don't know what I thought. Maybe you'd just leave, tell everyone, the list goes on." He admitted softly.

"Because of something you're not even sure of yourself? I know most girls come off like well, tarts, I suppose I even do, but I do have a heart George."

"I guess I knew that." He continued to talk into my shoulder. "But sometimes you never know." I nodded my head in understanding. "So what do you honestly think?" He asked after a moment's hesitation.

My hand stilled and finally rested on the nape of his neck. "Hm, honestly—well first off it doesn't bother me in the least and I defiantly don't think any less of you as a man or as a human being in general." He had tense up in my arms at the beginning of my answer and I felt him relax back into my embrace as I paused. "But I'm also surprised. I mean I never would have guessed." I explained hastily.

"Yeah, well I couldn't have anyone becoming suspicious. I have a reputation you know." Now I could feel him smiling and I found myself doing the same.

"So—well, um--how long have you, er—thought this?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

George thought about it for a little while. I was almost sure he'd fallen asleep on me when he sucked in a breath to answer. "Actually I'm not even really sure. I mean I guess I kinda always thought that boys and girls were well, pretty or attractive I should say, but I thought that was normal, that everyone thought that. It must have been when I was in my fifth year that I really started noticing boys, in that way, but I still kept it to myself." He shrugged nonchalantly at the end but I knew this was difficult for him.

"It's been that long? That you've kept it a secret I mean?" I asked delicately, surprise evident in my voice.

"Mmhm, something like that maybe," He said not really committing to anything.

"Oh, and no one ever noticed that there was something bothering you? Or has this just become a problem as of recently?" I felt horrible that I had never noticed anything this big before.

"Well, I guess a little of both essentially. Something recently has resurfaced or maybe I've been slacking off on how well I've been hiding it." He was joking, I could tell by the tone of his voice. I smiled. He was a prankster after all.

"It must be my Inner Eye." I teased.

Finally he pulled away and I was met with slightly red rimmed eyes and a smile. "Thank you Hermione." He said finally after staring at me a few seconds. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Of course George," I hugged him once more briefly.

---------- Breakline of PresentStory ----------

See? Just like I said, it was simple as that. He told me his biggest darkest secret and that was that. Now here we are, four years older and four years wiser. Well, I'm wiser at least; George is still a prankster after all.

In four years we all find ourselves deeply changed. Harry, The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die had defeated Voldemort in our seventh year and we were able to finish our final year of schooling, albeit a little late.

After that everything seemed like a piece of cake. Harry and Ron are Aurors for the Ministry, although they aren't very busy anymore. I on the other hand felt my services were better need for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the head to be exact and youngest ever. But what can I say I've always been an overachiever.

Of course Fred and George still have their joke shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes'. They've even ventured into a branch in Hogsmade giving Zonko's a fun for their money, literally. Fred manages that one while George decided to stay in the hustle and bustle of number 93 Diagon Alley.

Wondering about George? Well he's never really 'come out of the proverbial closet' yet except for telling Fred (with the help of yours truly), and Ginny is still fully adamant on proving that we were secret lovers.

She told me she could 'practically hear the wedding bells now' when I told her over lunch that I'd be moving in with George in his flat over the shop.

"Trust me Gin, your brother is defiantly not my type." I told her as I tried not to snort into my glass of water on the day in question. I went on to explain that if I lived with George I had an easier commute to work, and that I wasn't ready to live all on my own yet.

Bellatrix had killed my parents' days after Voldemort fell to fulfill a personal vendetta she had against me for kill her husband Rudolph Lestrange. Hours later I found her, hiding away in the dirt that she was, and had her suffer a fate worse than death; the Dementor's Kiss. Now she sits in Azkaban, a vegetable until the day she finally dies in her own pool of freakish misery.

This however was a devastating blow to me emotionally so I had been living at the Burrow with Molly, Arthur and who ever else happened to be staying there with them at the time. Then George had asked me to move in with him a few weeks after Fred left to live over his shop in Hogsmade. He missed the company and said he couldn't 'think of anyone else I'd rather live with!' How could I have said no to that? So I moved in the next day and it's been like that for almost three and half years now.

"'Mione, you here?" I was pulled from my thoughts as the aforementioned red head walked, or rather, flounced into the living room of our flat. "I have big news!" he sing-songed.

I looked up from the tome I had been trying to concentrate on for the past hour. "Right here," I told him twirling a strand of hair I'd been absentmindedly wrapping around my pointer finger.

He hung up his magenta work robe on the hook next to the door and bounded over to the sofa to sit right in front of me, his grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat's. He took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves and tucked his legs to his chest. I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, telling him to get on with his story.

"Imetsomeonetoday." He said quickly hugging his knees tightly.

"You—what?" I asked, too shocked to ask anything more intelligent.

George began nodding his head enthusiastically. "Yeah, today in the shop! He's gorgeous Hermione really! And we're going out tomorrow!"

My reaction was still to gape at him like a fish out of its water bowl. "Tomorrow?" Was my next intelligent question.

"I know it is a bit sudden but it's okay! I already know him!" He told me, a slightly dreamy expression slitting across his freckled face.

"You already know him?" The sock was wearing off and I could form complete questions now.

Again George nodded happily. "Yes, you even know him. I mean he was a few years older than us in school. But you remember Oliver right? Oliver Wood?"

Hold the phone! Oliver 'Quidditch Star Keeper and Captain' Wood was gay?! Needless to say my newly found eloquence went right out the proverbial window. "Oliver?" I managed to squeak out.

"I know I couldn't believe it either! But he came in the shop today and he said 'we should really get together soon' and 'catch up.' Of course I didn't want to seem over eager so I just casually threw out that I was free tomorrow and he said it sounded 'perfect.' Mm, just like him," George relayed the events to me like a child on Christmas morning.

"Wait—he asked to catch up?" I asked, fearful that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. Oliver couldn't really be gay, could he?

"Well yes. Get together, catch up, go out, it's all the same really. It was the way he asked thought that I could tell what he really meant." His smile seemed to falter a bit during his explanation.

"Are you sure George because it sounded pretty platonic if you ask me?" I really hated to rain on his parade but I didn't want him to get his hopes up for nothing.

"What are you saying? I'm jumping to conclusions? Hm, is that is?" His smile was gone now and replaced by a deep frown.

"I-I just don't want to see you hurt again." I told him honestly, referring to his last potential 'boyfriend.'

George waved a hand impatiently. "That was totally different."

"Honey, he wasn't gay—and he was a prostitute for heaven's sake! He hit on me!" I tried to stay calm, I really did.

"Exactly my point, there's no way Oliver is a prostitute. I think I know my friends better than that 'Mione." A smug look graced his face at his last statement.

I however didn't miss what he was insinuating. "I am your friend George—I'm just looking out for you!"

"Did you ever stop and think that maybe I don't need a nanny anymore?" He asked his face hard and his tone slightly mocking.

"I'm certainly not trying to be your nanny!" I said defensively.

"Really, well what is it then; jealousy maybe?"

I knew he didn't really mean anything he was saying and that he was just angry, but that didn't stop it from hurting all the same. "Take that back," I told him darkly.

"I knew it." He said cockily. "Why cant' you ever just be happy for me?"

"Because I'm always right!" I finally exploded. "I've always been right about you so called 'dates.' And who's always been here for you to cry on after I was right? ME! Well not this time! You just go on your little 'date,' get your heart broken, again, and come crying back here. Alone!" With that I slammed the book on the coffee table shut and stomped down the hall toward my room.

"You're wrong!" He shouted to my back. "And I'll prove it to you tomorrow! You just wait and see!"

I whirled around. "FINE! But don't come crying to me!" I walked into my room and slammed the door, muttered a quick silencing charm on the room and proceeded to scream.

How this man infuriated me. Why couldn't he see that I was only looking out for him and his well-being?

Is that the only reason? An inner voice asked.

"Of course it is." I answered myself aloud.

I wouldn't be to sure of that if I were you—oh wait, I already am. The voice replied snottily.

"What are you on about?"

You do always rain on his parade. And bring up the worst things about his dates…

"I do not rain! It's reality—I'm looking out for his well-being remember! And it's not the worst—just the truth!" Why I was arguing with myself, I'll never know.

Yes but then why do you always try to talk him out of these 'dates' by saying 'someone you know will see you' yet you keep urging him to come out to his family and friends?

"I—wait what?" I had only confused myself.

Exactly, and tell me; why haven't you gone out on a date since you've moved in with him? Don't you say you don't have the time either because lord knows you go out and see Ginny enough.

This left me thinking. Why haven't I? Well I really haven't had that much time. Plus I really haven't meet anyone and I can't think of anyone I'd want to even go out with. Then there's always work to be done…

Stop trying to talk yourself out of it. The voice chastised. You know the real reason. I'm proof of that. Now, think. It is what you do best after all.

"Fine, fine, shut up a minute then will you?" Yes I was still talking to myself. "Now okay, um more reasons as to why I'm raining on George's parade… Oh dear, I'm not jealous like he says am I?"

Five points to Gryffindor! The voice answered me sarcastically.

I scoffed. "Me jealous of George? Oh honestly. Jealous of what exactly; his so called 'dates?' Please, I could find dates ten times better than the lot he's brought back."

I never said it was him you were jealous of love.

"Well who else is there to be jealous of; certainly not his dates."

Bingo! Five more point for Gryffindor.

"That's absolutely absurd. George is gay."

Just because someone's gay doesn't just stop the opposite sex from finding them attractive. There's not on/off switch. That deserves a 'duh.'

"Now you're implying that I fancy him?" I asked incredulously.

If the wand sparks, use it. The voice said mockingly.

"B-b-but—he's gay" My argument was weak and I knew it. "Besides we're best friends—I don't like him like that." I tired a new tactic.

Mmhm, you just keep telling yourself that love and you will keep believing it.

"We're just friends." I told myself firmly. But as I began to get ready for bed I found myself becoming less and less convinced. "Just friends—that's all." I mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. With a spit and a rinse I made my way to the bed and turned it down. "We are friends." I climbed into bed, stifled a yawn to say, "Nox," and closed my eyes. "Friends," I mumbled to myself sleepily.

Right?

TBC