AN: Just a little Geomione drabble inspired by Rita Ora's "Young Song". You know I can't resist a song-fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.
Your Song
Hermione hurled herself out of bed like a shot, the unfamiliar alarm ringing too close to her head. She slapped a hand to her chest and tried to regulate her breathing. She closed her eyes and counted to ten when she opened them she got a better look at where she was. She was pretty sure this was the guest room at Lee's, which would make sense considering she'd joined the boys for their weekly poker night last night. She could still taste cigar smoke in her mouth and something pleasant she couldn't identify. Something slightly sweet and minty. She vaguely remembered standing next to someone on the roof last night that smelled the way this tasted, passing a cigar back and forth between them. She couldn't quite remember who it was…
She remembered warm lips on hers in the cold and an offer to take her back to his flat, but both of them were too drunk to apparate and it was too late to go looking for a Muggle cab. They'd kissed some more where they were, enjoying the silence of Lee's rooftop patio until the someone had put the record player on… and the air had filled with music he seemed to love. She didn't recognize it, but he'd gotten so swept away in it he'd danced her around the roof in dizzying spirals. How the hell had she gotten from there to here? And why wasn't he next to her now? She was certain she'd shagged whoever it had been. She wished she could remember the song, maybe that would jog her memory.
She had been so wrapped up in sad and angry songs to soothe her soul after she and Ron had broken up months ago that she'd forgotten other music existed. Happy songs. Love songs. Songs like the one she'd been spun to the night before. Songs that made her feel like her heart was whole again, that was the kind of music she wanted now. She wanted that feeling of falling in love that only a great song could bring. She closed her eyes and tried to call back up the feelings of the night before, of losing her poker chips early on and watching as the others had played. George had bowed out not long after. George? She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in realisation. George is who she had drunk with for the rest of the night as his brothers, Lee, and Oliver had continued the game. That's who had invited her in the first place. George.
She needed to find out if he'd gone home or if he was still somewhere in Lee's flat. She rolled out of bed, still dressed from the night before. She opened the door and made her way into the morning quiet, hearing several snores coming from different rooms. It was the unmistakable sizzle of cooking bacon that led her to the kitchen, where she saw George plating up breakfast for everyone who had stayed the night before.
He smiled when he looked up and saw her there, setting aside the fork he was using to turn the bacon and meeting her halfway. He leaned in and kissed her, not saying a word. She felt her heart thump excitedly in her chest. This is exactly what she remembered feeling. Not the quick burnout of a one-night-stand, but the lingering nervousness of something about to start. She remembered tumbling to the couch with him, fumbling with zippers and buttons in the early hours of the morning when everyone else had gone to sleep. She didn't remember why they hadn't gone to the guest room she was staying in, but she did remember thinking he was a gamble worth taking as they came apart on his best friend's couch. He lingered on her lips now the way the memory of the night before lingered in her mind. She wanted more of this. She pulled back from his lips and smiled up into his face.
"What are you thinking?" he asked with a small smirk.
"I could listen to your song forever, George Weasley, if dancing on rooftops with you leads to more moments like this." He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again in response and she was absolutely certain she could fall in love with him.