Anything recognizable is the property of J.K. Rowling. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

Please do not read if you are not of legal age in your country. There are adult scenes, however short and to the point.

George Weasley

The battle ended and their losses were soon tallied, the survivors carefully laying those that were not so lucky in the Great Hall. Creevey, Tonks, Remus, Flitwick, and Fred Weasley. The rest of the red headed family gathered around the body, tears streaming down their cheeks. Hermione's heart went out to them and Harry who was nearly being strangled by the Weasley matron as he seamlessly joined with family, linking his hand with Ginny's. But Ron didn't look up as she stood awkwardly a few paces away.

Just as the brunette admitted that she was not welcome with them and was turning away, George looked up from his fallen twin and tentatively reached a hand out to her. Unable to ignore such a heartbroken silent plea, she approached and slipped her dirty hand into his calloused one. It was a long time before anyone moved away, but when Bill went to help the others sort out the mess, George tightened his grip on her fingers. She met his eyes and silently reassured him she wouldn't leave.

After that, the lonely twin never got too far away from the younger Gryffindor, even after they all returned to the Burrow. They sat quietly in George's room staring out the window, sometimes speaking softly but more often than not, they remained silent. Hermione didn't really mind after being on the run for so many months. She enjoyed the static surroundings. The nearness of the older man was also comforting to Hermione after Ron practically ignored her at every meal. It was nice to feel needed and feminine every time George clasped her hand in his or lightly touched her arm.

A month after the war ended, Hermione woke in the night and tiptoed to the kitchen for some warm milk. She had been staying in George's room despite his mother's objections. When the Weasley matron realized just how much the brunette helped her son cope with his twin's death, she had stopped openly protesting. They both slept better knowing the other was there, but tonight Morpheus eluded her.

As she put her cleaned glass back in the cupboard, warm arms slipped around her waist and the newcomer buried their face in her hair. George let her turn to face him, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her hips. He didn't speak as he leaned down to press his forehead to hers, their noses touching. Hermione slipped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through the long hair brushing his collar. He sighed, nuzzled the younger woman's cheek and neck, gently running his lips over her skin and she responded, peppering his face with little kisses. Neither stopped to think about what they were doing until the redhead pressed her harder against the counter.

Hermione ducked her head against the redhead's chest, letting her arms slip down around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. It was a moment before she realised he had spoken.

"What?"

"Fred. He always fancied you." She felt his voice vibrate through his chest.

"You're not Fred."

"But everyone misses him."

"We miss George too." Hermione looked up when he didn't immediately respond.

George slowly disengaged from the brunette and stood a few feet away. He nodded as if deciding something. "Thank you, Hermione. I think I'm going to be okay."

There was no awkwardness as they went up to bed, a clock quietly striking 3 am. The next day George really did seem back to himself and even played a little prank on his mother. After that, Hermione moved out of his room and began deciding what she would do with her free time.