Miss. Granger,
This is your final notice. You have thirty days to get your affairs in order. If you are not out within the time limit you will have a police officer escort you out.
Wishing you well,
Theodore Hordle.
Hermione found herself staring at this letter over and over again – well, not so much the letter as the large envelope that came with it. An eviction notice? How had this happened? It couldn't be possible! Hermione Granger always paid her bills. She was almost always on time, as well. It had to be some sort of practical joke. Maybe George had been up to it, wondering if he could scare her into moving in with him. She shook the thought from her head automatically. George wouldn't do that. It wasn't within his nature. He wasn't so cruel.
This was really happening – Hermione was being evicted. Fred was being forced out of the only home he'd ever known. They were going to have to take George up on his offer – she just didn't have the money to find a place to go right now. With a loud sigh, the woman slipped the envelope into her purse and began working on dinner. Thirty days. She still had thirty days.
It was strange, really, how fast time could go. Nearly ten days had gone by since Hermione received the letter telling her to get out of the home she'd known for the last decade or so. It was really quite cruel. Though, she had thought more about her options. There was always her parent's house – but she already asked them to do so much for her, could she really burden them with this? Then there was Ginny, but Ginny already had three children of her own and another on the way. How on earth could she impose on them? That left her with George. George Weasley – the man she'd slept with for two years, the father of her child, and someone who earnestly wanted the woman and their son to live with him. It was dangerous, though, getting too close to George again. Could she stop herself from falling in love with him a second time? He'd never want her back in any form – not after she'd left without letting him know she was pregnant with his third child. A sigh pressed past her lips. There really wasn't another choice.
"Hermione, dear, we need to have a little chat." Ten more days left in the apartment. Ten days, oh lord, she still hadn't talked to George about moving in – what was she going to do? Shaking that thought from her head, Hermione turned to look at one half of the infamous Weasley twins and raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so?" For the first time in what seemed like forever, George looked nervous. Oh lord, this couldn't be good. What had Fred gotten into now?
"Yes. I told my parents about Fred." Hermione was frozen in place. Oh, no. No, no, no. This could not be happening. Of course she wanted them in Fred's life – they were his grandparents and she loved the both of them so much, but she'd hoped to be present whenever the two found out about the little red headed devil she called her son.
"You could have warned me, George." A scoff twisted up onto his face effortlessly.
"You could have warned me eleven years ago, Hermione." Okay, that was a low blow – but an extremely fair one at the same time. She huffed slightly and nodded her head. "They want to meet him tonight. They're not angry – well, I don't think they're angry. My mum is hurt though. She's always considered you her own, you know." Hermione made a face automatically. There was no one she'd ever regret hurting more than Molly Weasley. The woman had given up her home to Hermione in her time of need, always treated her like a daughter, and wanted the young girl to marry the eldest twin more than she wanted to breathe. It must have just seemed wrong to her for Hermione to have ended up with George's child. The witch knew then that she'd taken Molly Weasley screaming at her for the next ten years over hurting her.
"I know." A soft sigh slipped past the middle-aged witch's lips before she nodded once. "Yeah, okay. Tonight is good." A triumphant grin slipped up onto the thirty two year old man's face automatically. "And George?" He'd turned to go back to the register, Hermione had stopped in on her way to go apply for a job at the Ministry of Magic.
"Yes?"
"I've thought about your offer, um, moving in with you. If it's still up, I think it would be a splendid idea." The smile that erupted onto the man's face was nearly blinding – and the fact that it made Hermione's stomach twist into knots wasn't something you'd ever get her to admit.
"Brilliant."
"George Weasley, stop it this instant!" Some people never grew up – George Weasley was one of those people. Not that Hermione was complaining, of course, he was loads of fun. He always had been. It was something that she'd always loved about the mischievous man. Molly Weasley, however, had other opinions seeing as her thirty two year old son was currently using his spoon to toss noodles across the room at his own children. Fred was absolutely loving it, Allison and Rebecca didn't share his giddiness. Hermione giggled to herself quietly as she leaned across the table, murmuring into his one good ear.
"She's going to castrate you." George chortled automatically, knowing fully well that his mother would never hurt a hair on his head. He paused for a moment, glancing around the table – presumably for his next victim. Unlucky for his brother, George had no problems whatsoever filling his spoon up once more and flicking it towards the third eldest. Percy gasped in surprise, Audrey giggling at his side as his daughter roared with laughter. Lucy Weasley was a good kid – she was just like her Uncle George, however, in that she loved to cause as much trouble as possible. It was a bit weird, seeing as Percy happened to be her father. The family dinner hadn't been quite as big as Hermione would have hoped – she wanted to see her friends again. Ron, Harry, Charlie, nor Bill and Fleur had shown up to the dinner table. They all had prior things to attend too. So, the only Weasley boy's present were Percy and George. Hermione hadn't gotten to latch onto his younger brother like she had so intended too.
"Are you quite done then, brother?" Percy's voice was as stiff as ever, his bright colored eyes narrowed at his younger brother. George grinned and placed a piece of the pasta into his mouth.
"Yeah, only because mum won't give me more pasta." Once again, Hermione was giggling into her hand. He really was impossible. Tonight had gone smoothly though – Molly wasn't mad. She was so very upset, but she believed that Hermione's intentions had been good. Apparently George had explained everything. Hermione couldn't have been more grateful to him for that. The older woman ignored her sons, setting her eyes on Hermione for what must have been the tenth time in the last half an hour. She'd been questioning her life – what had been going on, how Fred had been growing up. George said that she'd cried for nearly ten minutes after learning that Hermione had named the young boy Fred. She supposed that it was time to get his last name changed to Weasley, if that was what the boy wanted anyways. She'd speak to George about it.
"So, Hermione dear, I heard you applied for your old Ministry job." A smile lit up the younger woman's face automatically, nodding her head in agreement.
"I did. I've been working with muggles for the last decade. The pay isn't exactly good." Of course, she didn't really want to tell Mrs. Weasley that she'd been working at a muggle bar in Downtown London. It was a fantastic thing that she didn't ask questions. Two days ago, Hermione had let go of her daycare job. She simply didn't have the time or energy for it. Besides, she was fairly confident that the Ministry would take her back – Kingsley had to have been dying without her recently. She had been his secretary – she did just about everything for him. Call her stuck up, but no one could do Hermione's job like Hermione.
"So you're around muggles often? What are they like?" This was Arthur Weasley – George's father. He was horribly obsessed with all things muggle. She giggled softly and brushed a piece of hair out of her face, vaguely aware of George's eyes on her.
"They're daft, really daft." Despite the fact that the people were incredibly intelligent, most of the time, they were so unaware of everything going on around them. Hermione could have made it snow inside of the building and they would call it a miraculous scientific breakthrough. It couldn't be magic, of course, there was no such thing. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Weasley. I've got an old microwave. It's used to heat up food and such, you can have it. Just don't put metal in it – it'll react badly." It was like Christmas morning for the older man. He was so excited it was actually kind of cute. George just shook his head softly, leaning over to murmur in her ear.
"I think you've just made his year." Hermione grinned over at the man, her eyes completely lighting up.
"It's all in a day's work."
"Merlin, Hermione. What do you have in this thing?" George's voice broke through the large house – he was carrying one of Hermione's many boxes. She'd packed up her entire home and was in the process of moving it all through to George's large house.
"George, are you a wizard or not?" She gave a flick of her wand and watched as the box flew from George's hand, his scoff showing his displeasure in this movement.
"I'm a man, Hermione. We move things with our hands." A giggle slipped past her lips as the box landed in the kitchen, the place it was meant to go.
"Yes, well you're also a successful business owner who's lunch break is almost up." A colorful choice of words left his lips automatically as he flicked his wand over his shoulder and Hermione watched several boxes come bounding her way. She ducked off to the side, careful not to get ambushed. "Careful, Weasley! There's breakable stuff in there." Now it was George's turn to laugh at her.
"Hermione, are you a witch or not?" She gave a warning wave of her wand, shaking her head gently.
"Watch it. I'm sure I can still kick your ass in a duel." George grinned over at her, fully aware that this could have easily happened. Hermione was extremely bright and extremely quick.
"You wouldn't hurt me." A grin twisted up onto the woman's face automatically, her eyebrows raising slightly.
"You're right." Though a little change never hurt anyone, did it? She was muttering the incantation and before George knew what was going on his hair had changed to a lovely shade of pink. "I couldn't hurt you."
Hermione was stunned to realize that as George got home that night, his hair was still a nice shade of pink. Apparently it wasn't coming off – and for that, Hermione was extremely proud. She'd pulled off a successful prank against a Weasley twin. Though she was fairly certain that she was going to pay for it.
"Does this ever wear off?" A grin swept up onto the dark haired witch's face as she gave a shrug of her shoulders.
"Yeah, twenty four hours I think." A groan passed through his lips automatically as he fell back onto the couch - though he perked up at the smell of food. Men, Hermione thought with a grin, always thinking about their stomachs. "There's homemade ravioli on the table. I wouldn't let Fred eat without you." She grinned over at him, which only widened as George was smiling back at her.
"Weird, I feel like we're married." A laugh poured past Hermione's lips at this as she nodded back in agreement.
"It certainly is weird." With a turn of her head, she called for the eleven year old boy up the stairs and sat herself down. Fred was quick to find his way downstairs. He was a Weasley boy, through and through. Molly had been pleased to find out that he could eat more than Ron on his best day.
"Can we finally eat, then?" Hermione tossed a paper napkin at her son's head, rolling her eyes playfully.
"You act like I've been starving you, Frederick." George was quick to mutter out an 'oooh' as Hermione used his full name. Hermione swiftly moved her glare towards George.
"I know where you sleep, Weasley." Nothing could have prepared the girl for the smirk that formed onto his face. Oh, god. This wasn't going to be good. Carelessly, he leaned toward her until she could feel his breath on her ear. It reminded her of the many, many times that he had whispered things in her ear before – things that were not child appropriate. The sudden stirring of her loins made her cross her legs rather uncomfortably.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" It was going to be interesting living here.
