I'd like to start off by thanking everyone who reviewed!!! You guys are great! A few people asked me if there was going to be a part two. Well here it is! I'd had it stored in the back of my mind for a while, sorry for the wait. Don't worry theres going to be a part three and that'll most likely be the last installment. Then there'll be another yummy story (:

Enjoy!

The Stupidity of Hermione Granger

Part Two

"Did you here-,"

"-were swimming in the lake last night!"

"Who was it?"

"I think it was that jerk Ra-,"

"You heard about it, right?"

"Of course. I heard that it was couple having wild sex-,"

"So let me get this straight, it was five first years and Professor Snape giving swimming lessons?"

"I bet it was Kristy and Daniel… you know how they are."

"I heard that they got expelled."

"Wait, wait, wait… it was seven first years, three house elves, and Harry Potter all swimming and then Professor Snape came out and gave them floaties?"

"Apparently who ever it was got caught and has detention for a month."

"Really?"

"Yea."

"They were floatie rafts?"

"No way."

"That's what I heard at least."

George leaned back and enjoyed his morning pumpkin juice as rumors flurried over everyone's breakfast. He grinned into his cup; the day had already taken an auspicious start. There was something truly delicious in knowing the truth while the rest of Hogwarts blundered about in amusing ignorance. Some of the tall tales he was hearing were ridiculously over the top. The kid going on about Snape and the floaties looked like he was about to accidentally inhale his fork.

Oh, how he loved it.

Honestly, the day Snape handed out floaties to little first years and Harry Potter would be the day he'd suck on old hag toes. Perhaps that's why the misinformed fool looked like he was going to choke, it was in disbelief that the evil monster of a teacher that lurked below was actually capable of such a thing. Not that it mattered. None of it was true anyways. It would probably stay that way too, if he knew Hermione well enough. There'd be no way that she'd allow the truth to rear its hideous head into the schools public circle. Ginny, George shuddered at the thought of his naked sister, wouldn't want anyone to know she was skinny dipping either. Mom would kill her if she ever found out.

George screwed his eyes shut and attempted to eradicate that particular image from his mind. That had been an unwelcome shock, seeing his own flesh and blood flouncing about in the water with nothing on. The older brother part of him wanted to scold her, wrap her up in a nun's outfit, and padlock the zipper. Sending her off to a convent would probably be a good idea too... a convent up on a mountain surrounded by water with no males for hundreds of miles. Mom would love him for it. Besides Ginny, Lavender Brown and Hannah Abbot had been easy on the eyes. Last night had been quite enjoyable.

Although the biggest shock of all had to be Hermione and her cute-

"George!"

He looked up, momentarily caught off guard as Harry slid into the seat next to him.

"Harry," George acknowledged, nodding his head before poking at the potato on his plate. A short silence stretched out between them before Harry finally broke it.

"Oh come on, you're not honestly going to make me wait, are you?" Harry picked at a dent in the table impatiently, his voice pleading.

George sighed, running a hand through his shaggy mane, feigning disappointment. He drew out the tension and Harry twitched in his seat, uneasy. The only news George had to tell was good, but it was irresistible to mess with people's heads.

Okay, enough fun.

"Nah, tell the boys I got it. Snatched a box of fire whiskey right out from under the bastards nose, thanks to the invisibility cloak of yours," George said, cracking into a smile.

"Brilliant. Enough for us all to split evenly like we agreed, yeh?" Harry said as he waved Ron and Fred over.

"Ah, has our gallant knight returned in victory?" Fred asked as he plopped down next to his twin.

"When have I ever failed before?" George asked, holding his arms out in a defensive move, a wide grin fitting perfectly across his freckled face. He shook his hair out of his eyes and leaned in. "It's in my trunk, a beautiful case holding 24 bottles of Britain's best fire whiskey. Six bottles for each of us, mates."

"The Hogshead will rue the day it threw the Weasley twins out of its bar!" Fred crowed, elated.

George leaned back and basked in his victory as his twin clapped him on the shoulder. Last night had been an adventure for sure and he had certainly been rewarded, part from the alcohol waiting up in his room and partly from the fresh memories still dancing in his mind.

His bubble was suddenly popped when Harry spoke up.

"So when can I get my cloak back? I kinda need it tonight."

Hermione's horrified expression swam before his eyes as he thought back on their brief encounter that morning. Eh… perhaps he hadn't thought far enough in advance on that one, Hermione might avoid him for a while. Still, the fire whiskey wouldn't have been a reality if is hadn't been for Harry and his cloak. He'd have to go to her then.

"It's in my trunk as well, I'll get it to you when I get the chance."

He was never flustered. George's quick wit was something he treasured. After all, it had never let him down when shoving Slytherins into enchanted cupboards and hurling hexes at wankers. It had taken a lot of work to become part of this generation's most infamous pair of troublemakers, much to his mother's dismay. This was his last year and he was on the top of his game, now was the time to make the best of it.

Then why did the idea of getting the cloak back from Hermione make something inside his chest squirm in unease?

"Bloody Hell, " he murmured, stopping halfway up the main stairway to look out onto Hogwarts' perfectly trimmed lawns.

The large expanse of green grass seemed to stretch on for miles, pushing the Forbidden Forest far out of reach. Large pines and oaks congregated in groups, casting down shade for anyone taking advantage of the bright day. Then there was the lake, almost out of view as it peeked out from behind its shield of trees. Snape must have just caught a glimpse of movement down on the water. Sunlight caught the surface and flashed out, catching his eyes in a painful glare. George shielded his face, moving on.

"You didn't seem to mind last night," he grumbled, climbing the stairway heading towards the only place he could think of.

Hermione was practically married to the library.

He never would have expected Hermione capable of skinny-dipping. It was beyond surprising. He could still remember feeling his eyes grow wide as she had pulled that sweater up and over her head. Her shirt had ridden up with it, revealing the curves that he'd never been able to see before… or rather, that he had never taken the time to stop and appreciate. She'd always been Ron's little friend, the annoying one that constantly stuck her head in and lectured them on proper conduct. Perhaps that was why she'd always seemed like a child to him, distant. Yet last night, he'd seen nothing but full blown, honest to God, glorious womanhood.

Who knew she'd be hiding the most gorgeous ass he'd ever seen underneath that school skirt of hers? George was amazed that he hadn't cried out in shock when she had pulled her jeans down, showing off a pair of cute, low-riding panties. Then of course when those panties had slid down her thighs and hit the ground… George felt his groin heat up. He paused, placing his hand on the railing and gaining control of his thoughts. There was nothing wrong with admiring the curves his brother's crush had to offer, in his mind at least, but springing up a tent in deminville during broad daylight was not on his to-do list.

Why had he gone by the lake last night anyways? Their plan had been a simple one: get out of the grounds using the cloak, sneak into Hogshead's cellar, snatch the biggest case he could carry, and get back. He'd managed to get to stage three of their operation, but the for some reason he went by the lake only to be beckoned by the sound of splashing water and female voices. At least he knew all the secret ways in so he was able to make his way back into the castle without the cloak. Hermione owed him big time. A devilish thought entered his brain; he could use that to his advantage.

No, messing around with Hermione would only make things complicated.

The library air was thick with tepid silence as he entered. The only soul he could see through the maze of shelves and books was the tip of Ms. Venchuelaz's ridiculous feathered hat. The Assistant Librarian was relatively new and was by far the most bizarre person he had ever met, which was saying something. As he rounded the mess of books that hid the main desk from view, the plump woman could be seen scribbling away, humming to herself as she updated the libraries catalog. She was a sweet lady, kissing the cheeks of every child that made its way past the library doorframe. Her obsession with tall and overly decorated hats was distracting, George didn't know how anyone could study when the lady walked about with half a peacock stuck on her head. A floorboard creak underfoot and she popped up with a surprised gasped.

"Georgie!" she cried out in surprise, her heavy Hispanic accent giving his name an interesting sound.

Oh God, here came the kissing.

After her treatment, his cheeks almost matched the tint of his hair. Great. Venchuelaz stepped back and gave him a wide smile.

"Love the hat today," he said, pointing at today's choice of plumage. It wasn't as tall as some of the ones she owned, but this hat was adorned with large jewels embedded in a bed of brown and cream hawk feathers.

"Oh, thank you," she blushed, reaching up to primp the plumage. "What can I do for you today?'

"Actually I was wondering if Hermione had stopped in this morning," George said, craning his neck to search the stacks within eye reach.

"That busy bee? Of course, she was in here about 30 minutes ago. I tell her she should go easier on herself, nothing but work, work, and more work. She never listens though," she said, turning back to her quill and chart. She reached out a heavily ringed hand and pulled an old volume off the awaiting stack. "Today she seemed different, maybe she was sick 'cause her face was red and she seemed really unfocused."

George grinned.

"And then Professor Sprout came in, all flustered- she always comes in to talk to me- and said that she need help. Was I on my break? Well, obviously not, but she really needed help on repotting Hutzpoxels. Hermione looked like she needed some fresh air so I sent Sprout in her direction. I mean, the girl wasn't even writing on her parchment so I assumed she couldn't be that busy."

"So…. Hermione is replanting…"

"Hutzpoxels,"

"Hutzpoxels, thanks. So she's at the Green Houses then?" George asked, edging towards making his exit.

"I guess so," she replied, shuffling around to a new chart.

George trudged his way to the Green Houses, a frown growing heavy on his forehead. This was annoying. A part of him wished he had never gone by the lake… but the better half was glad he had saved her from imminent Snape-ish Doom. Still, had he made a mistake in seeking her out and letting her know that it had in fact been him last night? It certainly changed things between them now, especially after he had made it clear he had liked what he had seen.

Really, George, you're brilliant.

He couldn't initiate anything between them because of who she was. Messing with Hermione, if she would even let him, would only make trouble between Ron, himself, and her on a level that he really had no desire to encounter. It was a double edged blade, hooking up with her wasn't an option and now they were forever sentenced to being awkward around each other. He let out a few curses under his breath.

George's fuming suddenly came to an abrupt halt as he rounded the door to the first green house.

Hermione Granger was bent over a crate, her sleeves rolled up, skirt riding, and ignorantly offering him an impressive view. The shape of her buttocks was clearly visible from the tightening of her skirt as she bent, retrieving a hutzpoxel or whatever the hell it was. She was pissed; her shoulders were tight and muttering soon reached his ears. She stood and leaned over to place an unfortunate looking plant on the hefty wooden table next to her. She bent again…

And according to physics her skirt corresponded, further than before.

George leaned against the doorframe and observed, touching his tongue to the tip of one of his canine teeth, an intense expression washing over his face. His hands would fit perfectly over those cute little-

"What are you doing here?!" Hermione horrified voice broke him from his trance. He looked up to see Hermione staring at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest in a small, defensive gesture.

"What can I say, I've taken to following you around," George said without missing a beat, casually striding forward and hopping up on the table, crossing one leg over the other.

He bent back on his hands and took another look at her. Her normal, pressed white shirt was smudged with dirt. Her sleeves were wrinkled where she had bunched up the cloth and her top most buttons were undone. From this angle he could see straight down and admire her cleavage. God, Hermione Granger just seemed to be oozing sex the past 24 hours.

He flashed her a toothy grin.

"What do you want?" she asked, reaching for another pot and ignoring his previous statement.

"Something's come up and I'll be needing the cloak back," he said, casually slumping a shoulder.

She stiffened in mid-bend. A cough to clear her throat later she'd regained composure and calmly extracted another plant. She didn't look at him but instead started to jiggle the hutzpoxel by its base, loosening the dirt. George watched, waiting.

"It's in my bag," Hermione flicked her head in its direction, never taking her eyes from her work. Mere seconds ago she had been emotional and wide open. Now she was withdrawn, clamped shut. Somehow it seemed fitting.

Something suddenly curdled and turned sour in his stomach. Things were much more enjoyable when she reacted openly. This guarded demeanor she had now suddenly erected put things in a different light, the mood more dour and unpleasant. She was upset. Obviously.

Damn females and their raging emotions.

He sighed and got off the table, his mood plummeting with each motion he took. Her soft leather bag was tossed carelessly on the floor by her robe. It was heavily worn from six years of use, the shoulder straps starting to fray. George lifted the bag and grimaced at the ghastly weight. Lord only knew how many books she had crammed in there. He placed it on the table and pulled it open and began to rummage through the seven-no- eight books she had. Blimey, one book was his strict limit and even that was pushing it. The warm scent of ink and paper drifted up to his nose as he searched. It was a simple, practical smell. Did she smell like this herself?

He was momentarily distracted as the idea of finding that out occupied his mind, until the soft silk of the cloak brushed against his stilled fingers. He snapped back to life. Gotcha. Now time to make a hasty exit before she got pissy. He folded the cloak and tucked it safely in his shirt.

"George."

He didn't want to, this thing had lost its amusement, but he turned in her direction despite the foreboding filling his chest.

…Women. God, where was the 'Oh thank you for saving my stuck up ass, George. Let me snog you crazy to make up for it." Girls were so ungrateful.

"Wha-," George choked on his playful words as he met her eyes… eyes that happened to be a mere foot from his.

She'd come up behind without him noticing. He swallowed uncomfortably as he straightened his shoulders. Come on, pal, turn on the Weasley charm and wit.

"Yeesss?" he asked, drawing out the note and quirking an eyebrow.

She frowned.

Then looked away.

And to his confusion, she smiled, a blush coloring her face.

"What were you doing out there, last night, anyways?" She finally asked, shifting her feet and meeting his eyes.

"That, my dear, is my secret," he purred and in a male driven urge, leaned in.

Hermione didn't look upset or frustrated. Instead her bottom lip disappeared as she nibbled at it nervously. A small gesture yet, from his point of view, incredibly sexy. She lowered her eyes and dug the toe of her toe into the dirt. Their bodies were close; close enough that George leaned in further and took a deep breath in. His nose filled with an earthy scent. It was a good smell. Clean soap, the dirt from the green house, and something soft and sweet that was unbearably alluring.

"Thank you… for what you did."

Hermione Granger was acting in a way he'd never before observed, bashful and girly… because of his proximity. He didn't even want to delve into what had caused her sudden change in heart; all he cared about was that he liked it.

"I think you owe me more than that," he said, letting a deep chuckle rumble up his rib cage.

Her hair brushed his lips as she raised her head abruptly, a retort ready to shoot back in flames. She had a tongue of venom when she wanted. George wasn't about to give her the chance.

He was so terrible.

He caught her off guard, cupping both hands around her face and swallowing any words she would have spoken. Open mouth met mouth as he nipped at her bottom lip, caressing her lips with his own, making her tremble with a series of hot kisses that she couldn't refuse. Her breath was warm against his face as she began to respond, meeting his attentions. That was good, George wasn't sure he'd be able to recover quick enough if she had pushed him away in disgust. His appetite flared like a torch as she gasped into his open mouth, taking in his breath in an intimate way that had him wrapping a strong arm around her waist.

Things began to blur as their lips began to pick up, building into a hungry speed that surprised and left them both breathless. A ball of heat was building in his stomach; his mind simplified into feral, lust driven thoughts. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, intensifying the passion as George drove his fingers through her hair. Neither could remember how this had started and neither cared. What were mere seconds began to seem like minutes and were slowly starting to spin into an endless void. All that was present in the front of his mind was her body heat mixing with his. A squirm of excitement shot straight to his groin as she tentatively stroked his tongue. The soft, slick texture was inviting and had his hand shooting from her lower back to grip the soft flesh of her bottom.

A low growl filled his throat only to be outmatched by the moan that broke from Hermione's lips. Her head titled back against his hand as he ravaged her curves. Through the haze that had filled his vision, George turned his attack to the smooth skin of her throat. He tasted her with hot, searing, wet kisses that drew more delicious sounds from her swollen lips. The slow rhythm their bodies had picked up left both with a dizzying rush. Hips ground against hips in an ancient human need that couldn't be ignored. A heavy gasp escaped unwittingly from his chest as her body ground against his need. He pulled her cooing mouth into a whirlwind of lust, demanding everything her lips and tongue could offer.

Somehow he knew deep down that this was going to stop, but George was trying to ignore it, pretending that that part of reality didn't exist. However the sudden resounding crash of wooden crates jolted them both apart. George stumbled from the sudden change in contact as Hermione darted way to a safe distance. Professor Sprout had entered, placing more hutzpoxel-laden crates on the ground. Thank God the woman was oblivious to everything.

George made a quick exit during the distraction. The moment had been lost.

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