Hermione Granger was known as many things - the brains of the Golden Trio, a know it all, the brightest witch of her age, amongst many other titles she had been deemed worthy of. The brightest witch of her age was currently standing in the doorway of Mr. George Weasley who was staring at her as if she had gone mad. "Blimey, Hermione, what in Merlin's beard are you doing," he roared, eyes widened in shock at her sudden entrance. Granted, she hadn't even given him forewarning of her had been knocking on his door. For all he knew, it could have been his mother with the dinner plate or his father with those silly self-help Muggle books. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

She had devised this plan at dinner after Molly had shrugged off her questions regarding George. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Molly Weasley was hurting - both from the loss of her son and the withdrawal from his twin. George had isolated himself from his entire family for almost a year now. Hermione at first had understood when Ginny, Ron, and Harry described the daily situation at the Burrow in their letters to her. She had been more than understanding considering she was doing the exact same thing. Rather than locking herself in a bedroom, she chose to run from her reality. The difference though was that Hermione had come back, ready to enter the wizarding world again with the surrogate family she had grown up with.

She had been traveling across Muggle Europe, briefly making a stop in the States for a brief study on comparing and contrasting the Muggle worlds between the two continents of Europe and North America. She had remained in contact with those closest to her via weekly letters, being careful to avoid any questions that asked of her exact whereabouts. She would tell them of her adventures from the week prior, worried that they would try to intervene with her traveling if she told them her exact whereabouts that week.

Hermione had sent George one owl - only one that asked if he wanted to correspond via letters while she was traveling. She had taken his silence to mean that he was either not receiving letters, or was not interested in continuing any correspondence with her for the time being. At first, she had been hurt by his lack of a response but on some level she understood. George and Hermione's relationship had been in the grey area since her fourth year during their Yule Ball.

She had always imagined that Ron Weasley would be her first kiss. She had silently hoped that he would ask to escort her to the Yule Ball. Viktor Krum beat him to the punch and while she only viewed him as a fellow intellect interested in similar areas of academia as her, she agreed to his invitation to the dance. A part of her took joy in seeing Ron's dumbfounded look when she walked into the room on the arm of Viktor Krum. She had no expectations of how the evening would turn out, but she knew that she wanted Ron to get off his bum instead of scowling the entire time to ask her to dance. As per usual, Ron fell short of her hopes and left her in a heap of tulle and tears at the bottom of the stairs. It was George Weasley who had found her wailing, throwing her pointy shoes down the stairs.

At first he had simply been comforting her, reassuring her how daft his younger brother was. One moment she was crying in his shoulder cursing the Weasley name and the next he was pressing his lips against her own, becoming her first official kiss. She had not planned on it, nor did she ever breathe a word of it to anyone else but George Weasley was her first kiss. The two of them never spoke about the kiss to each other, nor anyone else. It was almost like they had an unspoken rule to not mention the kiss.

After that, their relationship had gone from her being his little brother's best friend, to her being his acquaintance. At first, they would smile and nod towards each other, occasionally exchanging simple pleasantries. Hermione would continue to lecture the twins about their obscene practice of testing their products on first years. George would smile at her with a twinkle in his eye and listen while she lectured while his twin would roll his eyes and moan, "Granger, we're paying them!" Their relationship graduated from acquaintances to friends when George walked in on Hermione hysterically crying when she discovered Ron was dating Lavender Brown in her sixth year. She had been sniffling, frantically trying to wipe her tears away in the middle of Diagon Alley when he discovered her.

"What could possibly have the infamous Granger sniffling and tearing about," he had asked teasingly, approaching her from behind. It was almost as if she recognized his voice before seeing her as her shoulders relaxed at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Your daft thickheaded brother," she managed to let out, snot beginning to run from her nose from all of her sniffling.

"Oh Hermione, I thought we had already discussed how much of a blundering idiot he is," George whispered, stepping closer. He reached out to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I think you should begin to look elsewhere for the attention you crave. My brother, I love him dearly, but he wasn't the one to get the brains of the loot. I believe that would be me actually, plus I'm the better looking Weasley out of all of them! I think it's safe to say I took all of the good genes and little icky Ronniekins with whatever was left over," he had teased, smiling at her, his eyes searching hers to see if he was helping her feel better. She managed a small chuckle and nodded, not being able to say a word. He had looked like he was going to kiss her in that moment. She would have welcomed it, but he gave her arm a squeeze and walked away.

That was the end of their alone time. After that, the war picked up and life went from normalcy at Hogwarts to frantically fighting for their lives. The last time Hermione had seen George was at her parents' funeral. It had been a few days following Fred's funeral and she was shocked to see him there. He was dressed in the same black robes he had worn to all the others. He looked like George, but he stared in front of him the entire time, never catching her eye. He did not approach her as his family had at the end of the ceremony to offer their condolences and support. George had stayed back, refusing to speak to anyone. When his family was done offering their apologies and kisses, he apparated back to the Burrow where he remained in isolation for the next eight months.

Now, Hermione was standing in his doorway, wand ready in case he tried to hex her out of there. Her plan had been to try to coerce him out of his room. She had not anticipated having to practically blow the door open just to get a sight of him. "What am I doing, George Weasley," she started, having found her voice in her moment of silence. "What are you doing?"

He blinked at her, gesturing towards his desk, "You may find this hard to believe but I was trying to read before you went and bloody well blew my door off the hinges!"

She rolled her eyes at him, waving her hand as if to dismiss his comment. "I don't mean about the book, I mean what are you doing locked in your room? This is exactly where you were when I left almost eight months ago now! Your mother is still leaving food outside of your door? When is the last time you've even showered," she asked incredulously. She almost expected to sense a foul odor from him, but was pleasantly surprised that he seemed to have decent hygiene. "I mean you don't look as bad as I was expecting, but why are you still barricaded in your room?" She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him sternly, a look she had given his younger brother frequently but rarely him.

He sighed, running his hand through his shaggy red hair. He had attempted to give himself a haircut at least once a month, but that had never been his forte. He was sure he looked like a younger, red haired version of Sirius Black when they had first found him. "I shower, thank you very much. Every other day," he lied, not wanting to admit that he showered only once a week. "I just want to be left alone. With that, I would appreciate it if you would get out of my room now and fix the damn door, Hermione," he said harshly, pointing at the door now hanging off of the wall. "It's bad enough I didn't have a door the first few years of my life!" Molly had refused to place a door on the twins' room when they were younger for fear of what they would do if she couldn't hear or see them directly.

"No," she responded defiantly. "I haven't seen you in eight months, you never even answered my owl. Do you even realize how hurt your family is? How upset your mother is? She waits for you every meal to come down, only to be disappointed when you don't." She was searching his face for any signs of weakness or regret.

The comment about his mother hit home and he winced. The thought had crossed his mind that this must be hurting his mother that he refused to even speak to her. "I look too much like Fred, she'd be happier if she didn't have a constant reminder," he said in a monotone voice. He had a lot of time to decipher what everyone's reactions would be when he eventually did emerge. Part of the reason as to why he let his hair grow so long was to distinguish the difference between himself and his twin. He didn't want to look in the mirror and see the face of his dead twin staring back at him.

Hermione wasn't having it though. "That's absurd and you know she wants to see you." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. He had completely avoided answering the part about his ignoring her owl.

"It wasn't anything personal," he mumbled, "I didn't respond to anyone. I didn't want to speak to anyone, not even my mom." He felt guilty for not responding to her letter. He had intended to at first. He left it on his desk and stared at it for days, trying to figure out exactly what to say. He wanted to write to her, but he didn't know what to say without feeling like a damn fool. He didn't want speak about Fred, he didn't know if she wanted to speak about her parents, they hadn't mentioned their kiss or almost kiss for years. What could he write her? 'How's the weather over there wherever you are? Weather is dark and gloomy in my room for the hundredth day in a row.' "I'm sorry I didn't respond," he offered a weak attempt at an apology.

He looked her up and down for a moment - she looked good. He had heard through the wall at mealtimes what Hermione had been up to. The walls at the Burrow were very thin, so even though he had not been present at meals, he heard every word that was said. Hermione had decided to travel after she had lost her parents and wanted to do it alone. His brother, Ron, had taken it the hardest. Ron and Hermione's relationship had always been undefined which is why he had kept his distance from her. He hadn't meant to kiss her that night in her fourth year at the Yule Ball, but she had been upset. Crying women were George's weakness, he didn't know how to respond to them. She had looked so pretty and sad, he had been drawn to her lips. One thing led to another and she was one of his few kisses at Hogwarts. Fred had always been the ladies' man, George had been the shy one in that department.

After that kiss, George had tried to steer clear of her. It was a known fact that Ron and Hermione had a thing for each other. But if she had feelings for Ron, why did she kiss him back? The two of them had never spoken about that kiss again, but had exchanged small talk. Two years later he found her again in a heaping mess crying over his blundering idiot of a brother and his girlfriend. Ron was such an idiot and again, George's weakness was crying women. He attempted to comfort her and then she looked up at him with those same sad, wanting eyes that she had at the Yule Ball. Her hair had felt so soft and her cheek fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. He had stopped himself then, it was one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do, but he walked away after he got her to smile. She wasn't his and technically she wasn't his brother's, but he didn't know what would happen in the future.

He thought she was braver than him for being able to channel her loss and anger into something positive. She was traveling, searching for something that maybe she herself didn't even know. He wondered when she would come back, wanted to reach out to her, but didn't know where she was or if she even wanted to hear from him. It had been months since she sent her letter and he had not responded. The question of what if was less painful than her own radio silence would have been if he had reached out months later.

She stood there silently, not sure how to respond to his apology. He looked genuinely sorry for not having responded to her. "George, will you come down with me," she said, nodding towards the door. "There's a lot of leftovers we could -"

"Get out."

He interrupted her with a harsh voice. He had gone from feeling genuinely apologetic to angry. "Get out of my room," he demanded. How dare she return after all these months and barge into his room and start demanding things. She hadn't been here for months, she didn't know what he was feeling or what he had been through. All she knew was what his family had told her through letters. She could have tried to reach out to him multiple times, she didn't need a reply to continue sending her letters. She sent letters to everyone else, but him. When she didn't move," he raised his voice, "GET OUT BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT," he ordered, reaching for his wand that had been resting untouched on the desk.

Her eyes widened as he held his wand threateningly at her. She glared daggers at him, "Fine." Wordlessly, she stormed out of the room and slammed the door back on its hinges with the lock with a wave of her own wand. She stared on the other side of the door, her chest heaving with every deep breath she took. Her heart was beating so loudly, she heard it in her own ears. On the other side of the door, George stared at the now closed door. He dropped his wand on the floor and took a step towards the closed door. He felt absolutely horrible. He had raised his wand at Hermione and threatened her, something he had never done before. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled so softly that he wasn't even sure if he said it to himself or aloud.