I'm reposting this and deleting my OneStepAway account. I have trouble following through with things and a new account was no different lol.
For the Twin Exchange September Challenge.
Pairing: Hermione and George
Prompt: An unpainted room
Quotes: People might think we are in love or something and it's so ... big.
The roar of the crowd was deafening at its quietest, painful at its loudest. Conversation, even shouted into each other's ears, was impossible. Most wore some sort of ear protection while those who hadn't thought to either pressed their hands over their ears or simply gave up and gave into the inevitable hearing loss.
Hermione wondered at the intelligence at holding a celebratory Quidditch game combined with the award ceremony for the heroic wizards and witches from the war against Voldemort. People had come from all over the world and she was more then a little intimidated standing in the middle of the pitch on a floating platform.
Ron's hand in hers was slicked with sweat and he looked both overjoyed and completely ill, if that was at all possible. Which apparently it was. Harry on the other side of her looked simply awkward. There was no other word for it. Not happy or sad or excited or sick. Just embarrassed and as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world then right here amongst hundreds of thousands of wizards and witches.
It was designed to be a joyous occasion. The funerals and memorial services had all been conducted. Voldemort's body and every possession relating to him – the horcruxes, his wand, and the few personal possessions he owned – had been burned in fiendfire. People still mourned, still grieved, but today was about celebrating freedom and those who had fought to reclaim it. And to see England take on the World in an exhibition Quidditch game to mark the start of the Season.
The new Minister, Kingsley, stood, addressing the crowd. His voice magically enhanced to reach the ears of every person in attendance boomed in Hermione's ears, adding to her growing headache. She jumped in surprise when Ron and Harry rose on either side of her. Ron's slick hand in hers pulled her to her feet and she stumbled forward to receive the thanks of the Ministry and the Wizarding world in the form of a thick gold medal they strung over her head. She managed a smile before retreating back to her seat. Ron was beside her, his hand still firmly entwined in hers, pulling strength from her. Harry said a few enhanced words and then rejoined them.
Others were called and the farce went on. Hermione felt like a fake. She racked her brains, replaying everything that happened over the past few years and came up blank. She hadn't done anything special, hadn't contributed anything particularly important. She had stood by Harry, supported him even when it broke her heart, held his hand when they were both desperate for human contact, told him what little she had been able to learn or deduce but that was it. She and Ron were pillars which held up Harry under who the rest of the world stood.
"I have to go," she gasped to the roaring crowd. She pulled her hand free of Ron's, ignoring his questioning looks and the mouthed 'what?' and stood. There was nowhere to go on the stage. No way to get down and no where to hide. Instead she simply circled on the spot and where Hermione had stood seconds before was now empty. Harry and Ron looked at each other in concern but let her go. They had both had more then one moment of panic and the need to be alone.
Hermione gasped for breath, sucking in the clean pure air of the orchard behind the Burrow. She clutched at her chest, her heart beating too quickly. She stripped off the long, heavy robe she had put on over her jeans and blouse and then unbuttoned her shirt to reveal the thin camisole she wore underneath. The heat of the day pressed down on her, closing in on her. It was stifling and before she knew what she was doing she was running to the pond, shedding her top along the way. When she reached the little jetty that jutted slightly out over the water, Hermione paused to kick off her shoes and socks and pull off her jeans.
The water was cool and refreshing, comforting as it washed over her body. She surfaced in the middle of the little lake and after a gulp of air set off underwater again. She kicked her legs, listening to the silence of the water, finding comfort in the tranquillity and isolation of it. She swam in the vague direction of the jetty, in no rush to do anything. Her heart slowed and with it her frantic thoughts that barrelled through her mind, tainting her memories. She continued in this fashion, surfacing when air was needed before submerging herself in her watery kingdom, her thoughts and strokes languid.
Above her the sky darkened and when Hermione finally pulled herself from the water the stars were twinkling and the full moon hung low in the sky. Her raw heart twinged but she wouldn't allow her mellow mood to be tainted with painful memories. She knew the others wouldn't be back yet as they had all planned to attend the dinner that was scheduled for after the match and who knew when the match would end. Even if Ron or Mrs Weasley was tempted to retrieve her, Ginny would put their minds at ease and convince them some time alone was what Hermione needed.
After a hot shower and a set of dry clothes, Hermione settled in front of the low fire in the lounge room. She brushed out the tangles and curls and let the heat from the fire dry her hair. She knew it would be a ball of fuzz but wasn't overly concerned. Who was there to see her?
Hermione's stomach growled loudly and she belatedly realised she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She moved silently through the kitchen, taking out bread and some left over roast beef. She didn't particularly want to eat the food, but her body told her she was hungry and Hermione was too responsible to neglect something so important as eating.
She sighed and placed her half-eaten sandwich in the fridge. Responsibility could only get you so far. Her restless mood from the morning crept over her, seeping into her body like black smoke filling an unpainted room. Her heart began to beat wildly as she rushed from one room to the next, looking for Merlin only knew what.
Hermione stumbled to a halt when she found herself in George and Fred's room… George's room. It took her a moment but she finally made out the lump on Fred's bed to be a person. George. His body shook but not a sound escaped from between his lips.
"I didn't want to forget him," he said after a moment, his voice thick with tears and pain. "Even for a day, an hour, a minute."
"No one is asking you to," Hermione said, still standing in the doorway. Her restless mood vanished; the smoke cleared leaving behind walls painted black with sorrow and anguish.
"Today-" George swallowed loudly. "Today was supposed to be about the living. A step towards healing. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't forget, put him aside, even for a day."
"George…"
"Don't Hermione, just don't. I've heard it all before. I just need… I just need him."
Hermione's heart ached as she stood helpless, watching George drown under his grief. Her feet moved of their own accord and she found herself lying against George, aware of every inch of him the pressed into her and not having the time or the inclination to care what it might mean past her immediate desire to comfort him.
He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest.
"Can you feel that? Surely, you can feel that hole. How could you not? It's so… big. It yawns, it's cavernous. It's where he used to sit and now it's empty. Who's going to fill it?"
"I don't now, George. I don't know."
Hermione's own hurt, her self-pity and her anxiety paled in comparison to George's raw pain. It swallowed her, dragging her down with him as he clung to her.
Outside, the night grew black as the moon sunk below the horizon and eventually lightened as the sun rose over the Burrow, lighting the pair that hung on so precariously to each other.
George's eyes flickered open as the rays of the sun penetrated the windows. Hermione was already awake, somehow peaceful after a tumultuous twenty-four hours.
"We better move," George said lightly, the only clue to the pain he felt was the absence of the mischievous sparkle that usually flashed in his eyes. "People might think we were in love or something."
Hermione debated silently for a minute before chuckling slightly and sitting up. She knew he hated to have shown that weakness, knew he would probably avoid her for a while. In an environment of nearly all brothers, the Weasley boys controlled their pain too well. But she hoped, at least for a few hours, she had helped. It would be worth George's avoidance if she had. She jumped out of bed and he flashed her a quick smile before she headed for the door.
"Hermione?" he called out to her, just as she was about to close the door behind her.
"Yeah George?" Hermione stuck her head back in, her lips quirked at the sight of George's ruffled bed hair. He looked about eight.
"Thanks," was all he said.
Hermione bit her lip, resisting the speech she wanted to give about moving on. George wasn't ready to hear it and quite frankly, neither was she.
She smiled at him, warmed by the love and affection she felt for Ron's brother.
"Anytime, George. Anytime."