CHAPTER TWO – CAN I SLEEP ON YOUR COUCH?

"George!" Hermione exclaimed. "My God, what are you doing here!?"

She ran out of her apartment and gave him a hug in the hall. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's great," he said. He was smiling, but Hermione couldn't help but notice that there was a sadness in his expression that hadn't been there before.

"Come on in," she said and directed him into her apartment. "It's not exactly roomy in here, but…"

"It's nice," George said, passing the old wooden furniture and noticing several vases of flowers. "I never thought of you as a flower person though." He turned around to look at her. She was wearing a pink sweater and a black skirt. "Or one who dresses so… elegantly."

Hermione tilted her head to the side and gave him an annoyed look, but she was smiling. "Look, George, don't think I'm not glad to see you, but… why are you here?"

"Right." He sat down on a brown sofa in a small room that was both kitchen and living room. He scratched his head on the side where his ear had been cut off. "Ron got your letter. I was home when he got it. When he realized it was from you, his face lit up like it was Christmas. He was so happy."

Hermione smiled, but thinking of Ron caused a stabbing pain in her chest.

"Anyway, he told me and Ginny that he really wanted to visit you, but… It's been good on Mum, him staying home. He told me to tell you that he wishes he could see you but he needs to take care of her. She's, um…" George was searching for words. It made Hermione sad how much he seemed to have turned into a much sadder version of himself. "Mum can't stand to look at me. She never said that, she never would say that, and I don't think she wants to admit it even to herself, but… I mean, I get it, you know? I can't stand looking at myself. I covered up all the mirrors in the burrow, because I can't stand it, so why should I expect her to?"

"Oh, George…"

"It's alright," he said. "I realized that me being there wasn't making anything better. So I decided to leave. Just go somewhere else. I told Ron I'd come here, and see how you were doing." He looked up at her and smiled. "It seems to me you were happy before I came, huh?"

"No, don't say that." Hermione pulled out a chair and sat down next to him, looking concerned. "Your Mum loves you, you know that, right?"

George didn't reply.

They sat there in silence for a moment – George was staring at the floor, Hermione was looking at him worriedly –, then George got up and it was like he had taken the sad-mask off his face – or put on a different one. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really just came here to see how you were and tell you Ron sends his love."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you. Look, everything is going to be fine, okay? George?" – "Yeah?" – "I'm going to take you to a bakery downstairs and I'm going to buy you a French croissant – okay?"

George laughed, and Hermione was glad she'd managed to make him do that. "Okay."

"Come on."

"This is delicious," George said as he was taking a full bite of his croissant. "Why didn't I come here sooner?"

"Wizards often don't even think about going to a place full of muggles," Hermione said.

"That's a shame," George said. "A real shame. Muggles can do great things, I mean, taste this! Hey, how do you say 'I'd like another croissant' in French?"

"Je voudrais un autre croissant, s'il vous plaît!"

"Okay, I didn't get any of that," George said.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," Hermione grinned.

"I am." George nodded, staring into space, seemingly lost in thoughts. Then he looked at her. "Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled. "My pleasure, George."

"You know, you're different here," he said.

Hermione sighed. "I know. Do you think that's a good thing?"

He shrugged and watched an old lady order large amounts of cakes and pastries. "If you keep being so nice, then yeah."

"I was nice before!"

He turned to her and gave her a mocking look that said "Yeah, right!" "'You can't do that! – That's against the rules! – You'll get expelled!'" he mimed her.

"Shut up," Hermione said but she was laughing. "You seem to have gone back to your old self."

"Does it?" he asked, in a suddenly very serious tone. "'Cause sometimes it seems to me like that'll never happen."

They were interrupted by a waitress who took away their dirty plates. George and Hermione just stared at each other. Hermione couldn't quite figure out what he was thinking. He had that sad smile on his face and he was looking her right in the eyes, and it didn't feel like they were talking about Fred anymore.

"Can I get you anything else?" the waitress asked in French.

"Two more croissants, please," said Hermione without taking her eyes off George.

After a few more seconds, George leaned back. He opened his mouth to say something; he hesitated, and finally asked: "How would you feel about me staying a while?"

Hermione looked at him, a bit confused as to what exactly this staring-contest had been about. "That'd be nice," she said.

"Can I sleep on your couch?"

"It's a really small couch."

"I'll just make it bigger, then."

Hermione hesitated.

"I want you to cover half the rent," she said.

"Fine." He seemed amused.

"Fine."

They sat in silence as they ate their second croissant serving. George was acting strangely. And not just in a He-just-lost-his-brother-and-he's-very-fragile-rig ht-now-way, but he was speaking and acting like he had the upper hand in… something. When they got back to Hermione's apartment, she watched him enlarge the sofa and get his pyjamas out of his bigger-on-the-inside suitcase. He looked at her. "Would you mind not looking while I change?" he grinned.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Sure. Good night, George."

"Good night, Hermione!"

Hermione went into her bedroom, still confused. Something was up with George, and this wasn't about Fred.