Hermione trudged up the stairs to the second floor of the campus library. She loved going to the upper floor. It had restricted areas with the older reference books and was almost always deserted. The only room that ever got regular traffic was an AV room where people could watch VHS's from the library's collection.
She would normally pick one of the small tables that was far enough into the stacks that she was guaranteed silence, but close enough to the restrooms that it was still convenient.
But not today.
She beamed.
Today, she had selected a table out in the open. Because for the first time this semester, she wasn't going to be studying alone in the library. Her table was right in the eyeline of both the stairs and the creaky elevator. There was no way George would be able to miss it. She took a seat facing the entrance.
Hermione took out her Chemistry textbook and flipped through the chapter that she had already highlighted and starred. She glanced nervously at the watch that her father had gotten her for her birthday last year. Ten to nine. He would come, surely? He wanted to pass… so he would come.
A stray thought passed her mind that maybe that was the only reason George tolerated her; maybe he only wanted her help to pass the class. Maybe at the end of the semester, he wouldn't want to be her friend anymore.
She shook her head. This wasn't high school, and George wasn't like that.
She looked grimly at the scratched up table and picked at her nails.
He wasn't like that.
The stairway door slammed. She jumped, nearly yelping. She watched as George strode purposefully towards her, a drink carrier in one hand, and a large grocery bag bursting at the seams with potato chips and packs of cookies in the other. He looked prepared to spend his Saturday studying, but…
She eyed the food and drink warily before looking at the clearly posted sign nearby that explicitly forbade it.
"Morning!" he said loudly.
Hermione winced before replying, "Good morning, George."
He sat his illegal items down and walked around to her side of the table. He dropped his book bag on the floor, took the chair to her left, and pulled out his textbook. He pushed one of the coffees toward her.
She didn't dare touch it.
"So, where do we start?" He grinned.
Her stomach flipped a little at the sight and she smiled back at him. "Have you read the chapter?"
"Of course." He pulled a pack of Oreos out of his grocery bag and ripped the top seal off. The screech of the label tearing open filled the room like a sin.
She placed an uneasy hand on his wrist. "You're really not supposed to eat in here, George," she said carefully. She hated that she had said it as soon as it was spoken. But… it made her uncomfortable. There was a sign.
He cut his eyes at her, elbow on the table with his head propped up on his hand. "I didn't know you worked here," he teased.
She looked down, dejected.
"Hey, I'm only joking," he assured her. "How about if we get caught with the food, I'll make sure that I get all the blame? Your record will be untarnished," he suggested.
Hermione looked at him warily. "I—"
"Okay, no—not that," he openly pondered for a moment, tilting his head and tapping his chin with his pointer finger. "Oh, I know!" he said loudly, clapping his hands.
Hermione grabbed his hands quickly and hissed at him, "You're also supposed to be quiet in the library, okay? People are trying to concentrate."
He stared around at the empty second floor. "What people?"
Hermione pouted at him. "All of them."
George smiled, clearly giving up. "Anyways—how about this?" He took the pack of cookies, stuffed it in his backpack, and then left it unzipped between their chairs. He waited for her to meet his eyes, then looked cautiously both ways, snuck a hand down between them, and slowly pulled out a cookie.
He checked to make sure the coast was clear, used his body to shield it from prying eyes as he crept it upward, and then stuffed the entire thing in his mouth quickly. "'Ows tha'?" he asked before swallowing.
She stifled a laugh behind her hand. "What about the coffee?"
"We'll have to chug 'em," he said immediately. "They're fresh though. You'll probably burn your tongue." His teeth caught his bottom lip as he watched her. He stopped suddenly and glanced at the pack of chips. "Oh shit—I got this," he whispered. Georgetore his hoodie off and laid it on top of them. The bag crinkled as he completely concealed it. "Whew," he said dramatically, wiping his forehead, "that was a close one."
Hermione grinned at him before taking a careful sip of her coffee and then placed it back on the table. Sure, she sat it near her satchel so it was somewhat hidden, but it was just a coffee. And it had a lid. Even the scroogiest librarian would probably be okay with a coffee that had a lid on it.
George looked proud at her defiance. Her stomach cartwheeled.
"Now—let's make me smarter," he said, still beaming at her.
"Let's discuss the different types of energy," she began. She flipped to a colorful chart in the book and began her lesson.
George listened with rapt attention, occasionally grabbing a cookie from the bag. Every time, his sneakiness became more obvious. It was a distraction from the course material, but she found herself excited about what he might try next. Fifteen minutes into their discussion on the Law of Conservation of Mass, he made her laugh out loud.
"Ahhhhh-chooo!" he bellowed with complete commitment as he masked the sound of the potato chip bag ripping open. It quickly joined the cookies in his backpack.
Being around George was… different. She couldn't remember ever having such an easy time with someone. She wiped her eyes as she recovered from his new bout of ridiculousness.
"Here," she said, pulling a large stack of three-by-five notecards out of her satchel. They were bound by a green rubber band. This semester, green meant Chemistry. "I'll be right back. You look over these while I'm gone," she instructed.
George took them obediently and glanced at the top card before objecting. "But this is from the first chapter. We already took that test."
She smiled, shaking her head. "Just because we've taken the test doesn't mean that we get to forget it, George. When you get one right, pull it out and put it in a different pile. We'll see how many points you have when I get back."
He narrowed his eyes playfully, but began reading over them all the same.
She smiled and walked the short distance to the ladies room. When she was finished, she examined her makeup in the mirror, clearing away the smudges that were caused by laughing hard enough to cry at George's antics.
It was hard to wipe the grin off her face. Try as she might, it just kept creeping back up.
As she approached their desk, she was proud to see that George was still reviewing her deck. She grinned when he fistpumped quietly and placed a card triumphantly on his very small 'knew it!' pile.
His discarded hoodie still lay on the desk. His arms looked… bigger today. She admonished herself quietly. How would she feel if George ogled her every time she wasn't looking?
She gulped at the thought. She was much less conflicted about that situation than she would have originally guessed.
Hermione let her eyes sweep over the way his t-shirt clung to his torso for just a moment longer. A spattering of scars along his upper arm from what she figured was a childhood injury were jumbled together with his untidy mess of freckles. They formed an array in the field of stars before disappearing beneath the sleeve of his tee.
She licked her lips and ripped her eyes away. "So, how many did you get?" she asked. Her voice was just a little breathier than it should have been. It came out much more sultry than what she had intended. She knew she'd think about how mortified she was in that moment for years to come.
However, George didn't seem phased—he continued to flip through the cards completely unaware of her presence.
"George?" She stepped closer.
He grumbled under his breath, repeating the answer to a card quietly. He closed his eyes tightly in an effort to commit it to memory.
She felt like she was in the Twilight Zone for a moment. She had once seen an episode of a late night show where a character died but didn't know it. They wandered around trying to connect with the people they cared for but got no reaction. She shook away the feeling and then reached out to touch his arm. "George?" she repeated.
He yelped, grabbing his chest before laughing. "You really snuck up on me, Hermione, my god." He laid his head down and chuckled.
"I'm sorry," she said, feeling confused, "I said your name a few times." She walked around him and sat down in her chair.
George shifted uncomfortably. "I was really focused, I guess," he explained.
She shrugged it off. "So how many did you get?"
He thumbed through his "knew it!" pile. "Uhhhhh… fourteen," he said, "what do I get for fourteen points?" He held his hand out expectedly.
She grinned and reached between them, sneaking a cookie out of the bag and setting a single Oreo on his palm.
"My favorite!" he exclaimed.
By noon, Hermione felt her eyes drooping. She had explained the chapter in its entirety twice, then she made George explain it back to her. He also had 62 flashcard points by the end of the day and had been rewarded with a few more of his own cookies.
She laid her head on her textbook while George finished up his discussion on pH and then went on to detail the pH of various substances.
"How was that?" George said through a yawn.
"Nearly perfect," she replied, looking up at him and smiling.
"Nearly perfect is good enough for me." He stretched his hands up towards the ceiling and rolled his shoulders. She silently took in every detail of the movement.
"Wanna get lunch? I'm buying," he proclaimed. He started packing up his stuff, and Hermione followed suit.
"You're not buying. You bought breakfast—or at least what I think was supposed to be breakfast. It was hardly a balanced meal, but—"
"The chips were Garden Salsa flavored," George pointed out.
Hermione picked up their discarded cups. "And?"
"That means we count them as vegetables," he insisted.
She smiled. "No way." She moved to place the empty cups in her bag.
George reached for her hand. "What are you doing?"
"Cleaning up," she explained.
"Just… throw them in the trash." He pointed at the garbage can nearby.
"I will in a minute," she said uncomfortably, "but not in the library."
George snorted. "Oh my god." He ran his hand through his hair carefully. "You're concealing the evidence," he hissed conspiratorially.
"Shush," she commanded while she shoved the door to the musty staircase open. Somehow the stairwell was perpetually wet, but it was better than the elevator, which lurched violently during the short trip to and from the second floor. That thing was a death trap. She hoped the shiny new football stadium was worth the library being in shambles.
George trudged down the stairwell behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief when they finally stepped outside.
"We got off scot-free!" George exclaimed sarcastically.
"Hey," she warned.
He threw up his hands in surrender before putting them in his pockets lazily and grinning down at her.
After she felt they were far enough from the library, she skipped up to a garbage can and discarded the illegal cups. She looked back triumphantly at George. He smirked at her and opened his mouth to say something that would surely have been endearing but became distracted with a sight behind her.
She whipped around to see scantily clothed freshmen sporting togas and looking like they might collapse. Older frat brothers sat in fold out camping chairs around them. One blonde brother had a megaphone.
"Come on, boys! Give up! I want you to give up," the blonde taunted into the megaphone. "Wanna know why? I know that you're not worthy of being a brother! I know that you're weak."
George sighed and walked towards the crowd of Greek Row idiots.
Hermione jogged a little to keep up with his quick pace.
"What the hell is this?" George pushed through the throng of spectators. As the onlookers moved out of her view, she realized what had caused George's annoyance.
Ron's eyes were red and unseeing. His complexion was paler than usual, and his gaze was glassy. He was swaying on his feet as the older brothers of Alpha Sigma Phi laughed cruelly.
"Ron," George called out, waving his hand in front of his younger brother's face.
Ron blinked tiredly at him. "George?"
"What's going on here?" George glared at the upperclassmen.
Ron yawned. "It's hour 23 of the second challenge." His voice sounded so small to Hermione. He hardly sounded like the boy that had insulted her in the coffee shop a week ago. He seemed like a little kid in that moment.
"Did I give you permission to talk, maggot?!" The ring leader tossed his megaphone in the lap of a fellow Asp, and sauntered over to them.
"Get him, Draco!" another Asp jeered.
Ron snapped to attention. "No, you did not, Senior Brother Malfoy!"
Malfoy squared up to Ron aggressively, his nose nearly touching Ron's. "Then drop and give me twenty, maggot," he drawled, "and don't half-ass them either. Touch your nose to the ground."
Ron dropped down onto the grass and began his penance.
"Count 'em off, boys!" Draco called out over his shoulder.
As the laughing mob counted, Draco turned to George and smiled.
"What the hell are you doing to him?" George growled at him.
"We're not letting them sleep," Malfoy explained. "Isn't it great?"
Ron finished his punishment and scampered up to his feet looking green.
"No." George glared. "It's not great. That's my little brother you're torturing." Hermione had never seen George angry before. His shoulders were tense as he towered over the slim frat brother.
Malfoy laughed. "Yeah, well if he's tough enough, then maybe he'll get to be my brother."
Ron beamed with pride.
George took a step toward the blonde, his fists clenched at his side.
"George," she pleaded with him. Hermione put her hand on his arm carefully. He tilted his head toward her, looking worried and a little ashamed.
"May I talk to him, Senior Brother Malfoy?" Ron asked, glaring at George.
Draco shrugged lazily. "Make it quick, maggot." He paced down the line of pledges, zeroing in on a weak looking boy at the end that looked like he had reached his limit.
"Get out of here, George. This is none of your business," Ron hissed at George.
"This game they're playing with you isn't safe, Ron," George insisted. "If you think that I'm just going to—"
"I don't want you here," Ron said, "I don't need you here."
George shook his head and looked at Hermione helplessly.
She grabbed his hand and pulled gently. "Come on, maggot. Let's go get lunch."
George chuckled at her. "Hermione, you do not have my permission to call me maggot. Wanna know why?"
She nodded.
"Because I would never let someone publicly humiliate me like that." He looked at Ron. "In fact, I would be ashamed if I ever let anyone treat me like garbage for something as stupid as being friends with the right kind of people."
Ron stared back defiantly.
Hermione could tell that the matter wasn't over. Both of the redheads seemed to have more to say. But George held her hand and pulled her toward one of the campus cafeterias. After they were out of sight of the Greek Row hazing, George dropped her hand and ran both of his hands down his face wearily before fidgeting with his hair. It was a nervous tick of his that she had noticed a few times before.
"He'll be okay," she assured him.
He huffed. "I know that plenty of people pledge fraternities, get hazed, and come out fine… but he didn't look well," he explained, " and I just hate that it doesn't even seem to matter to him," he said, his voice breaking. He sighed loudly.
George looked lost.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his middle.
He hummed in her ear as he hugged her back. "That's nice," he whispered.
She stepped back and smiled at him. Her body tingled all over. "You looked like you needed it."
"I did," he admitted. He bit his lip, his ever present grin creeping back onto his face. "I seem to remember promising to buy you lunch. C'mon." He gestured towards the cafeteria.
"I seem to remember declining." Hermione started up the concrete steps towards the building. "Actually," she said marching with purpose, "I'm going to buy you lunch."
George caught up with her easily. "We'll see who buys who lunch."
It was a challenge if she ever heard one.
Don't mind me—I'm just swooning over that hug that they shared. That was a sexy hug.