Author's Note: New chapter up and interesting direction chosen by my lovely friend Hailee. Let me know what you think. Not Rowling.

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George,

There is no way you have been sick for two weeks. I've checked your apartment and your mum's house, and she said you were fine when she saw you on Sunday. Something is obviously up. Either you tell me or I'm prepared to hold the stores hostage. Don't you laugh, I honestly will. You better write me back or I'm going to beat the crap out of you when I find you.

Lee

George,

I don't know why, but Lee stopped by the house today searching for you. He said you hadn't been at the shop for the past two weeks. I told him that you were okay last time I saw you and I didn't have an answer about where you'd been. He seemed pretty frustrated, so I wanted to let you know. Have you not been keeping in contact with him? Anyways, can't wait to see you Sunday and try to bring Hermione as well. We do miss her and it was lovely having her last week. I love you.

Mum

Lee,

Sorry, mate. It's a long story and too complicated to explain over a letter. Go to St. Mungo's Fourth Floor and say you're looking for me. Thanks.

George

Mum,

Thanks for letting me know. Don't know what's gotten into him. He obviously forgot to check our other branches. Thanks for writing me and I'll see if I can convince Hermione into coming.

Much love,

George

George paced his room, unsure of how his best friend was going to take everything. He knew he couldn't tell his family, but as Lee was not only his best friend, but his business partner, he had to tell him. He heard his friend's deep, sonorous voice as if he was standing outside his door, even though the nurse's station was three hallways away. "Sorry, but I'm looking for George Weasley." George vaguely heard the nurse responding in her soft voice, her words unintelligible from this distance. "Thanks." George tensed, knowing that in less than a minute, he would be confronted, and deservedly so. He heard footsteps outside his door and suddenly it opened, revealing a tall, muscular young man, a white t-shirt crisp against his caramel-colored skin, his coffee-colored eyes immediately falling on George.

"What the hell, mate?" he asked immediately, somewhat angrily. George felt his stomach clench.

"Come on in?" he said hesitantly, his words lilted like a question.

Lee looked around before sitting down at the table. He crossed his arms and stared at George expectantly. "This better be good." As George got into explaining, the angry expression on Lee's face was slowly replaced by one of nervousness and confusion. "So you checked yourself in because you almost threw yourself off Big Ben?" George nodded. "And then you almost died from an accident?" He nodded again. Lee sat back in his chair, his wide eyes on George, and whistled one note. "Damn, man. No wonder you haven't told your family."

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you right off."

"You know, it does sting a bit knowing you couldn't come to me, but on the other hand, I completely understand."

"Thanks, man."

Lee smiled. "So, how has it been cooped up in the nuthouse?" he joked.

George laughed and began to talk about the weird things he saw and heard about the people in the hospital for the last month, including Hermione telling him to write to Fred.

"You think it's helping?" Lee asked, his brows contracted slightly.

"Dunno. I've only does it once. I feel a bit silly doing it, but I figure…I dunno, I guess we'll see." Right then, there was a rap on the door and the blonde nurse walked in shyly, a bottle and tumbler balanced on a chart in her hands.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," she said hurriedly, blushing as Lee smiled at her. "It's time to have your potion, Mr. Weasley."

"Right you are," he said, getting up and walking over to the table next to the bed, where she was measuring out the potion. As he took it from her, their fingers brushed and she flushed a deeper pink, determinedly staring at something behind George. He drank it and handed it back with a smile, which she returned nervously. "Thanks so much."

"Ah-, uh, well, it's my job," she said hurriedly, obviously flustered. She smiled quickly at the two of them and hurried out of the room, forgetting to close the door in her haste.

"What in the world?" said Lee, half-laughing.

"Apparently, she's a bit taken with me," replied George with a grin, lowering himself back down into the chair.

"Apparently!" laughed Lee. George began to laugh, but it caught in his throat as he heard another deep voice laughing. Looking out the door, which looked out onto the rest of the hallway, he saw Hermione talking to an older wizard in lime green robes. He knew about Healer Gastrell and didn't like him one bit. He was slimy, one of those guys that relished in making every woman swoon over him, though he obviously had no feelings for them. George had thought he had escaped pretentious prats like that when he left Hogwarts, but alas, here was Gastrell, wreaking havoc on the female population of St. Mungo's. He heard another, more familiar laugh and turned his head somewhat to the side. Hermione was now visible, talking to him and leaning up against the wall, her index finger playing with a stray curl on her shoulder. "George?"

"Huh?" His eyes snapped back to Lee, who was watching him curiously.

"Something bothering you?"

"That guy's a prick," said George, his jaw clenched. "And Hermione's apparently his new target."

"And she seems to be fine with that," said Lee, turning around again and watching the pair.

"She's too smart for that," muttered George defiantly. Lee turned back, a small smirk on his face.

"You don't like seeing her with other blokes. Why do you think that is?" he asked, his tone hinting that he already knew the answer. George, too busy peering at the pair with slits for eyes, did not catch this.

"I couldn't care less about other blokes. I just hate this bloke. He's a complete tosser."

"Uh huh," hummed Lee, a small grin on his face as he watched his best friend glaring at the other man.

It was the evening and Hermione was heading to check up on George, since she hadn't been able to all day. As her feet traveled, taking her to where she needed to be, she thought about earlier. She and Simon had had a lovely chat and he had actually asked her to coffee tomorrow. She was pleasantly surprised at this and was quite proud that she refused to act like the swooning schoolgirl that the other nurses turned into when he approached them. Sure she had twirled her hair once or twice, but she had stopped as soon as she had noticed she was doing it. And that smile he gave her as he said, "Goodnight, Hermione,"? 'Well,' she thought with a small smile, 'it had been very nice.' She realized she had made it to George's room and she pulled her mind back to the present.

She opened the door and said, a smile on her face, "Good even-" The words died in her throat as she saw George's smile, the smile that lit up his eyes and made them twinkle, being directed at the other woman who was in the room, writing something on his chart. Rose. Hermione felt her stomach tighten and the smile slid off her face as her lips pursed and her jaw clenched. "Rose, I thought Helen was the nurse in charge of the permanent ward," she said, her tone light, but the insinuation was evident.

Rose turned around and smiled at Hermione, her cheeks still a little pink from her conversation with George. "Oh, you didn't hear? Helen wasn't feeling well today, so I got assigned here for the night. It's always nice to get in extra hours for training, don't you think?"

A tight smile that didn't reach her eyes appeared on Hermione's face. "Yes, it is. How kind of you to take part of your time off to check on my patient."

"Oh, it was nothing." Rose smiled and looked back at George. "I had a very nice time talking to Mr. Weasley." George smiled back at her.

The tight smile appeared again on Hermione's lips. "Well, isn't that lovely?" she said. Rose turned around to say something and she faltered, her smile slipping momentarily as she saw Hermione's gaze, so cold it could have frozen the blood running through her veins.

"W-well, I think I should head home," said Rose, the cheery tone to her voice not completely believable. "It was lovely talking to you, Mr. Weasley," she said, turning to George and smiling at him.

"You can call me 'George' if you like. And thanks for talking to a nutter like me," he said with a grin.

She blushed slightly and a tinkling laugh erupted from her lips. Hermione felt her stomach churn and flexed her fingers, not knowing why she suddenly had a strong urge to throttle the blonde in front of her.

"George it is, then," Rose said with a smile. "Goodnight George, and goodnight Hermione."

"Goodnight," they both said in unison, although one was cheerful and one was rather forced. Hermione watched her leave the room, her lips pursed. She walked to George's chart and picked it up, surveying it for errors.

"Probably too busy simpering to write anything correctly," she muttered tersely to herself.

"What was that?" George asked from the bed, on which he was reclining.

"Nothing," replied Hermione brusquely.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"Long day," she answered, her voice curt.

"Did I upset you somehow? Because you seem awfully abrupt."

She looked up and saw the look of concern on his face. She felt her anger slowly draining out of her. "No, you didn't do anything. I just-, she's rather frustrating sometimes. She's not supposed to be on duty and I've caught her numerous times trying to sneak in to talk to you when she was supposed to be elsewhere."

"You know, she is quite nice."

Hermione pursed her lips unconsciously. "Nice and professional do not mean the same thing."

"I never said they did, Hermione," replied George, his voice terse. She looked up from the file she had been reading over and was surprised to George looking at her, his arms crossed. "Although the same argument could be applied to that Gastrell fellow."

"What about Simon? He's a lovely man."

"I'm sure," replied George dryly, one eyebrow raised. "Have you noticed he's only lovely to women?"

"Even if that was true, why have you noticed?" asked Hermione in an attempt to avoid his question. "He's never attended to you."

George scowled slightly. "He's a great prat, he is."

"You don't even know him."

"I don't have to know him to know he's a slimeball."

"A slime-! George, where do you get off making comments like this?" she asked, her voice raising slightly.

"Fine. Defend him. Go ahead. You'll see I'm right eventually." George crossed his arms and looked at her defiantly.

There was a crack! and Hermione saw that she had been squeezing her quill so tightly that she had snapped it in half. She made a noise of frustration. "Are you fine?" she asked tersely, looking up at George with an angry look on her face. "No episodes of suicidal thought? Haven't cut yourself on anything today?"

He glared at her for a moment. "No."

"Great. Have a nice night." And with that, she walked out of George's room, the door slamming shut behind her.