Mistakes
Hermione sighed and began making her way down the stairs of the burrow; she had pulled on a maxi dress with a white cardigan over that after she had a shower. She was barefoot and barely making a sound as she made her way down the stairs. She touched the spot on her arm where Ron had grabbed her, his hand print had left an awful bruise, three or four days ago, now it was faded into a yucky yellowish brown colour compared to the vibrant blue it had been.
She padded into the kitchen to find herself some breakfast; she was going away for the day. She needed to get out of the house and have some time for herself. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket in the middle of the dining table and made her way to the door where her sandals were. She slipped them on, finished her juice and started to walk out of the house.
She was about to apparate to muggle London but then decided to walk for a bit. She didn't notice a certain redhead following her. She walked and walked. Hermione didn't feel like stopping. She climbed over fences, walked across fallen trees. Eventually she happened across a creek and took off her cardigan and transfigured it into a pick-nick blanket and laid it down on the grass. She then stripped off into her panties and bra and walked into the creek. The creek was two meters across and came up to her waist.
She let herself slip under the water and watched the sun play on the water. Creating little lights like the fairy lights in her mums back yard. She surfaced and whipped her hair over her head and shook it, water drops flying everywhere. She heard a wolf-whistle behind her and she turned around quickly and tried to run up the bank to get her dress, but slipped and stumbled instead.
When she finally got a decent amount of her body covered she looked around for the speaker, and for a moment thought she had seen a ghost, until she noticed the sad smile and one ear. 'George, you scared me, what are you doing here?'
'I could ask you the same thing; it's a week till you get married, aren't you supposed to be running around doing wedding type things, like making sure the cakes organised, the dress doesn't need repairs or taking in, the beauticians booked and making sure everything's set?'
'Really George', do I seem like that type of girl?'
'I'd rather not answer that for fear of being hexed to hell and back'.
Hermione giggled but, apparently dead-serious, George didn't even crack a smile.
They sat on the blanket talking for the rest of the day until George decided it was time to go home. He got up and helped Hermione up, when he noticed the bruise. He looked at Hermione questioningly 'What happened? Did Ron do this to you?'
'Of course not, he wouldn't hurt me intentionally' Hermione realised she had just put her foot smack bang in the middle of it.
'Intentionally' George repeated, mulling the word over. 'So he unintentionally grabbed your arm hard enough to bruise it? And it seems he only grabbed the one arm too'.
'I don't remember asking you to check up on me'.
'You didn't have to', he growled and pulled her in for a kiss.
Hermione froze for a few seconds before kissing him back, this kiss was different to the ones she had had before, and there was a sense of urgency, under toned by shock, from both of them. Hermione pulled away. 'I never asked you to kiss me either', she apparated back to the burrow.
George realized that for the first time in a long time, he was feeling an emotion other than guilt, regret, remorse and anger, he felt hope, as well as that bubbly feeling that one gets when they look at, or talk to someone they like. He realised that this wasn't going to go away soon, and the feeling itself felt like a stranger, or granger, to him, he wasn't going to let it go anytime soon.
Hermione spent the next few days away from the Burrow, as soon as she had gotten back from the creek, she had told Molly that she needed somewhere to think and had packed up her little carpet bag and apparated to France, the one place she loved more than the Hogwarts library.
