Author's Note: This is one of my favorite chapters I've written ever. Not Rowling.

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DAY TWENTY

Hermione was sitting at the tiny table that served as their dinner table, reading The Quibbler and drinking her coffee, as George had left made a pot for the two of them. As she had settled down into her chair, she made a mental note to thank him later. She flipped past the table of contents and her eyes landed on the first article, the bright pink title of "Umbridge Back From the Dead" complimented by a caricatured zombie with a simpering smile, a pink cardigan, and a velvet bow atop dirty, lank curls. Chuckling, Hermione began to read.

It is well-known that Dolores Umbridge, former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Head of the now-defunct Muggleborn Registration Commission, does not approve of magical creatures and anyone who she considered a "half-breed," and her caustic words towards the centaurs that live in the Forbidden Forest a few years back landed her in Saint Mungo's. Well, now she's at it again. Last month, we reported that Umbridge was rushed to Saint Mungo's after she was attacked by a band of goblins as she walked around her neighborhood in the evening. That same morning, she had petitioned to the Wizengamot to remove Gringotts from the control of the goblins. When asked for a reason, she responded that she "refused to associate with dirty vermin." The culprits' identities are still unknown, and the Ministry's aurors are at a loss for what to do as, in an unusual twist, every goblin they have interviewed has proudly taken full responsibility for the crime and denied that any other goblin assisted them. In another strange twist, when reporters tried to visit Umbridge for a quote on the matter, the nurses said there was no one on record by the name of Dolores Umbridge currently in the hospital. Has she checked out and been hiding? We at the Quibbler think not. A hospital insider has reported that there have been whispers about "special treatment," while another (who wished to remain anonymous) believes that Umbridge may have already died, and her body is now being used to test spells and potions that would prolong life. If Dolores Umbridge was already an enemy of the Wizarding community, a zombie Umbridge would be immensely more dangerous, and the Wizarding population should be on the lookout.

Hermione shook her head in amused disbelief. "Honestly, where do they get these ideas?" she said to herself aloud. As she flipped the page, she heard footsteps from behind her and she turned. It was another new female visitor, this time a tall, waif-like redhead. Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly.

"Morning," said Hermione rather unemotionally.

"Hello," said the woman, sounding rather haughty. She glanced over and saw the mug in front of Hermione. "Ooh! Coffee. Excellent. I could use a cup."

She threw her jacket over the back of the armchair and started walking over. Silently, Hermione surreptitiously pointed her wand at the pot of coffee and vanished it. "Sorry, none left. This was the last cup."

A flicker of disappointment flashed across the woman's face before she turned to survey Hermione. "I didn't know George lived with his sister."

Hermione looked at the woman for a second and blinked. Was she actually that dumb or was she trying to be rude? "He doesn't," said Hermione simply before looking back down at the magazine. Obviously the woman was not finished with her, though.

"So, what, you're his cousin?"

Hermione fought a grin and tried to keep her face as emotionless as possible. "No, all of his family is redheaded. Actually, you rather look like you could be his cousin. Are you? Because I think that's considered incest."

The woman's eyes widened and her lips pursed, obviously displeased with Hermione's last comment. "Then who are you?" she asked, rather rudely.

Honestly, she got this question far too often. It had happened so frequently since she had moved here that she had now started changing her answers, just for her own amusement. So far she had been his flatmate, his fraternal twin, his girlfriend, and George in his female form. "No, actually I'm his wife," she said calmly as she brought her cup to her lips.

"WHAT? HE'S MARRIED?" the woman screeched.

Hermione smiled at the woman. She knew she shouldn't be enjoying this, but if George had unconsciously made her the disposer of his playthings, she could at least have a little fun doing so. "He is irksome, isn't he?" she asked nonchalantly, taking another sip of her drink. The woman paled considerably as everything seemed to finally connect.

"So…he's…your…husband?" she asked, terrified. Hermione smiled at her. "Oh Merlin, I am so sorry! I had no idea! He didn't say-! I'm so, so sorry, ma'am!" She grabbed her coat and practically flew from the apartment, the door swinging shut behind her.

Hermione looked at the closed door for a minute before grinning to herself. "Well that was fun," she said to herself. "Better go get changed and drop the news to Mr. Granger-Weasley." She snickered at her own joke as she got up and headed to her bedroom.

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George was helping a customer with a special order for her nephew when Lee walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. George turned to see his friend smirking at him. "Excuse me for a moment," George said with a smile to the woman. He stepped a little ways to the left, away from the customer, and turned to Lee. "What?"

"The missus would like a word," he said with a chuckle.

"Who?" Lee pointed to the front desk, where Hermione stood waiting, her arms folded across her chest. "Oh, Hermione, gotcha." He turned to the woman and smiled. "Ma'am, Lee will help you from here." He nodded his thanks to Lee and hurried over to Hermione. When she saw him coming, she looked at him pointedly and headed to the back room, where the extra products were stored. He followed her. "Yes?" he asked once they were away from the bustle of the front shop.

"George, have you noticed you have a tendency to run away from women?"

"Good morning to you too," he replied sarcastically.

"Why is it that every time you have a 'guest' over, you leave me with the unenviable task of removing them the next morning?"

"Uhh…" He had never really thought of this, but, looking back, he realized he did always leave to go to work, which left Hermione to essentially clean up after him. "I didn't realize I did that."

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of disapproval. "You have a problem, George."

"What problem?"

"You don't invest in these women, not even enough to wake them the next morning. Well, besides Charlotte, but you still lied to her, so that's not helping you." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling sheepish. "I had to get rid of your newest conquest this morning. She won't be calling again, by the way."

"What did you say?"

"Well," said Hermione, staring into the middle distance, thinking. "She asked if I was related, and I said she must be because of her hair, which made last night incest." His eyes widened as he listened to Hermione, the little smile on her lips growing as she finished her story. "Oh, and then I said I was your wife." Hermione giggled. "She probably doesn't think too highly of you currently, but, then again, neither do I."

"Oh gee thanks, Hermione," he replied facetiously. "Now I'm an adulterer."

"Adulterer, compulsive flirt, same general field," she shot back.

He opened his mouth to argue, but he took one look at the look of disapproval on her face and his argument vanished. "Okay, fine. I'll admit I have a problem."

"Good. Now what are you going to do about it?"

"You want me to change immediately? That's a lot of personal growth in a short period." She frowned at him and he smiled weakly. "That was a joke, Hermione. Calm down." She shook her head slightly, obviously irritated with him. "Can we talk about this later? Work's busy right now." He started walking from the room and she followed.

"Alright," she sighed, "But you're not avoiding this. We're talking about this tonight."

"Fine. And I'm sorry about this morning," he said as he finally reached the counter, where Lee was ringing someone up. Hermione nodded and headed back towards the stairs to the apartment. He turned to see Lee smirking at him. "What?"

Lee chuckled. "Nothing. I'm sure you and the Duchess will have a lovely discussion tonight. I'd come to watch, but I'm out of popcorn." George smacked him on the arm and walked away. This was not a good morning.

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George walked up the stairs, exhausted from a day filled with exploding products that shouldn't have mixed and a quick trip to Saint Mungo's for a nasty burn, all thanks to an aggravating blonde boy so reminiscent of Draco Malfoy who had thrown a temper tantrum in the middle of the "For Ages 14 and up" section. As he opened the door, he called, "Okay, Hermione, what would you like to talk about?"

"Oh good. You're back," said a pleased voice from the direction of the couch. His eyes traveled in that direction and fell upon a most unpleasant sight.

"Mum?"

"Hello George," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile.

Well, he was certainly awake now. "Hermione, can I talk to you in the other room for a moment?" he said in a voice of forced calm as he hurried over to her.

"Well, I was actually-, oh, okay I'll come with you then," she said, her sentence changing as he grabbed her upper arm tightly and pulled her up from the couch, dragging her with him into the hallway and then into his room.

He shut the door quickly and whirled around to glare at her. "Hermione, why the hell is my mum here?"

"I thought you might listen better to my point if it was coming from her," said Hermione with an innocent smile on her face.

George pinched the bridge of his nose as he breathed deeply. "Hermione," he said slowly, trying desperately not to shout at her, "I'm sure you don't understand this because you seem to have no concept of the idea of privacy, but I have a social life mainly because I no longer live at home. I date because I no longer live at home. I bring girls home because I no longer live at home. And why do I no longer live at home?"

"Because you live here?" said Hermione haltingly, her voice lilting up into a question.

"Because my mother and father are at home, and I cannot have any of those things IF I LIVE AT HOME. So having my mum in MY home is rather a big problem, especially because we are discussing my dating life WHICH DOES NOT INVOLVE MY MOTHER."

"Oh," said Hermione after a few moments of silence in which all of this information seemed to be processing.

"Although I appreciate the nostalgia of returning to the old Hogwarts threat of 'I'll tell your mother,' this would be a moment where it is really inappropriate."

"Oh," she said again.

"You haven't told her about everything, right?" he asked. Hermione's eyes widened and she looked down at her shuffling feet. "Hermione, you didn't, right?" he asked cautiously. She ducked her head and looked away, an obvious sign of guilt. "No. Hermione, no, you did not."

"Well, I might have mentioned the sleeping over…and the leaving in the morning...and the number…," she muttered in a quiet voice, shifting guiltily and refusing to meet George's eye. George's eyes widened in shock and anger as she spoke and when she finally got to the last part of her statement, he turned and punched the wall in anger. The two loud cracks were almost drowned out by his cry of "DAMMIT HERMIONE!" Hermione's eyes widened in fear and she rushed forward to look at the hand that George was determinedly ignoring as blood dripped down his fingers. "George!" she chastised. "Look what you did!"

"Look what I did. Yeah, that's putting things in proper perspective," snarled George as he tried to pull his hand away from Hermione, who had a firm grip on it.

"Oh shut up," she said quickly as she checked over his hand. She pulled out her wand and, after a few carefully chosen spells, healed the split skin and knuckles George had just broken. "There, it's fixed."

"I don't give a damn about my hand, Hermione! You told my mother everything? Do you understand how damaging that is? I promised you we would talk tonight and I would stop, but then you had to do this? How the hell are you going to fix that?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay! I crossed a line." George snorted and Hermione shot him a look. "Okay, fine. I crossed more than one line."

"Blew up the bloody line," George muttered.

"Okay! There were a plethora of lines that were crossed. I get it. I'll fix this, okay?" George started out of the room and she followed close behind. "I should have mentioned your anger management issues," she muttered. George turned around and glared at her before continuing out to the sitting room.

"George, is everything alright? I heard shouting and a loud noise," said Mrs. Weasley, standing up from the couch as she saw them enter.

"Just slipped and fell. That cat of hers again," George lied smoothly before shooting Hermione a pointed look.

"Umm, Mrs. Weasley," began Hermione nervously, "I've talked to George and I seemed to have called upon you in error." George snorted, but she seemed to ignore this. "We've talked and he has told me that he has already apologized to those women, and they have accepted his apology and are now on good terms with him." His eyes widened for a moment at the ridiculousness of this statement before he regained his cool composure. "He is also not bringing over other guests for the time that I stay here, which I think shows mature growth on his part."

Mrs. Weasley turned to look at him and he hurriedly hitched on a smile. "Is this true?"

"Would Hermione lie to you, Mum?" he said with a smile, knowing this would plant yet another seed of guilt in Hermione's heart. 'Good;' he thought, 'she bloody deserves to feel guilty.'

"Well, that's very mature of you, George. I'm proud of you taking responsibility for your actions," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile as she came over and hugged her son.

"I am an adult, Mum," he said wearily.

"Oh I know, dear," she said, patting his cheek. "But you'll never really grow up. And that's what makes you so wonderful at making people smile." She turned to Hermione and gave her a hug. "Well, I'm off. Arthur is taking me out to dinner tonight. He's so sweet. Well, I'll see you two this weekend! Love you!" And with a pinch of powder and whirl of green flames, she was gone.

George was still staring at the fireplace, a look of confusion on his face. "Did she just compliment me on being funny or say I'm still a child?"

"I'd say the latter, but I'm afraid you'll punch another wall," said Hermione dryly, earning another glare.