Author's Note: I hope everyone is well this week :)


XxX
Chapter Nine

"Georgie?" I said, finally growing tired of the silence that had filled the Development Room of our shop all day.

"Yeah?"

"Would you slide that quill and bottle of ink over here? I need to jot down some notes about this potion."

George swiveled in his seat, his hand grabbing the inkwell and quill before sliding them down the tabletop towards me. And then he turned back to his work.

He didn't even look at me.

I frowned, staring at his profile. "Thanks," I mumbled.

George was angry with me. He wouldn't admit it, he hadn't made so much as a word of complaint in fact, but it was there all the same, hovering over us like a little black cloud.

Ever since the night, just a few evenings prior, when I'd turned down his offer to go to The Burrow in my place, he'd withdrawn himself from me. It was a very slight change; someone on the outside looking in might not have noticed it at all, but for me the shift was painfully obvious.

George was polite, but distant. He didn't smile as often and he joked even less, and I could see that look on his face again - the same one I'd seen right after the disaster that was Bill and Fleur's wedding reception, when I'd insisted that I be the one to check on the family, making him stay behind, and then sitting at the table later that night, George watching me as I pleaded with Hermione to stay.

He knew I was hiding something.

The only difference was that he hadn't asked me about it this time. And I think that was what worried me most, because it told me that he was afraid of finding out the truth.

"George," I said again, my voice quiet and careful now, reflecting the nervousness I felt. I didn't want to call attention to his frustration and anger because I wasn't sure what I would do if he actually did demand an honest answer from me. Still, his being cool and distant was proving to be a bit more than I could take. "Is something wrong?"

His shoulders tensed slightly at my words and my own body mirrored the action on instinct, bracing myself for his response. He slowly turned to face me and then regarded me in silence for a moment, taking in the sight of my worried expression and clearly contemplating how to answer.

But then he shook his head. "Just the stress of everything going on, I reckon. Us being at war and all." And then he gave me a smile. I think it was meant to be kind and reassuring, but it was small and didn't reach his eyes and only made me feel worse. "Well," he went on with an overly-casual tone, suddenly standing up, "I'm going to call it a day."

I nodded and let the ledger I was going to record my notes in fall shut. "Yeah. I think I'll call it quits too."

xx

Back upstairs in the flat, Hermione was just settling herself down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, fresh cup of tea in her hands.

"Right," George said, same polite tone and forced smile as he glanced back and forth between Hermione and me. "I'm just going to have a quick shower and then I think I'm going to turn in early."

My head dropped, chin resting against my chest as I stared at the floor.

George didn't even want to be near me.

"You're going to bed?" Hermione asked him. "It's barely seven o'clock."

"Yeah," he said, drawing the word out in an attempt to stall. "Long day."

At this, my gaze snapped back up to meet George's. It was the very same excuse I'd used on him at Bill and Fleur's wedding, when I'd been worried over the impending attack on The Ministry and George had asked me what was wrong. I'd played it off as a "long day" so that I wouldn't have to tell him what was actually going through my head.

And now here he was, doing the exact same thing to me. And it stung.

The small, apologetic frown on his face told me that he saw the pain his response had inflicted, he knew that we both knew there was more going on, more that we weren't saying, but once again, he didn't question it. He simply dropped his gaze from mine and, after giving Hermione a parting nod, he turned around and walked away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hermione turn her head towards me, watching me as I watched George's disappearing form.

"Fred?" she said, her tone suddenly concerned. "Is everything alright?"

I shifted my gaze to her and forced a smile onto my face. "Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

But the tight, straight line of her mouth told me that she wasn't buying it. "Are you and George fighting?"

I sighed and crossed the room to join her on the sofa. "He's not very happy with me at the moment."

Hermione shifted in her seat to face me. "Why?"

I couldn't answer with "I don't know." Because I did know. George realized I was still keeping something from him and he felt hurt. "He won't tell me," I said instead, because at least that was true.

"It's not–" she began, glancing awkwardly down at the mug in her hands and frowning, "–it's not because of me, is it?"

The suggestion was so far from the truth of the situation that I actually laughed. "You? How could any of this be your fault?"

"It's just, you two are so close. I know he was pushing us together at first but, what if he's starting to feel left out now, or afraid that I'm coming between you?" She was still frowning when she finally looked back up at me. "I would hate to think that the two of you were at odds because of me."

"Granger," I said, flashing her an easy, gentle smile as I reached out to put a hand on her knee, squeezing it affectionately. "Don't worry about that. This has nothing to do with you."

But she still looked a bit worried. "How can you be certain if he won't tell you what's going on?"

I gave a shrug. "I know George. I can't read his mind, per se, but close enough. And we're not so insecure in ourselves and our relationship to get jealous quite that easily. That and–" I paused, ducking my head to better look into Hermione's eyes, "–I think he's become a bit too fond of having you around. Him being upset has nothing to do with you." I leaned forward, placing a playful kiss to the tip of her nose. "I promise."

My confident reassurance, sealed with a kiss, finally seemed to satisfy her.
"Well," she said, "maybe you should talk to him about it. I know it can be difficult for some boys to open up but–"

I gave a soft snort of laughter through my nose, the sound interrupting her. "George and I are plenty open," I assured her because, really, there wasn't much of anything that was off the table for discussion as far as George and I were concerned.

So his refusal to talk to me now just proved how upset with me he really was.

The small smile I'd been wearing slipped from my face.

"Fred," she said a little sadly, turning away just long enough to set her cup on the coffee table before turning back to me. "I'm sorry." She leaned forward then, wrapping her arms around my lower back, letting her cheek rest against my collarbone as she leaned into me. "Is there anything I can do? I could try talking to him, if you like. Because this isn't you. Either of you." She sighed and it sounded so disheartened. "You're not supposed to be sad."

I chuckled. "Believe it or not, I actually am a human being with feelings."

"I didn't mean that," she said, now shaking her head against my chest. "I just meant, you're Fred and George Weasley. You're funny and witty and shiny and–"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Shiny?"

"–and you cheer people up and make them laugh. You make us forget that the world is falling apart all around us. That's what you do. That's who you are. And we need that, now more than ever." She tightened her grip on me, her thin fingers digging into the fabric of my t-shirt. "I need that."

I swallowed.

Somewhere around her declaration that I made her forget that the world was falling apart around her, I developed a distinct lump in my throat. "Yeah?" I said, and it came out more than a little croaky. I cleared my throat. "You really think that?"

She gently disentangled herself from me, leaning back just enough to allow us to look each other in the eyes. And then she nodded.

It occurred to me at that moment: Hermione Granger was really something.

Something amazing. Something beautiful. Something I wanted in my life.

I reached up, cupping her face in both of my hands and some small place in the back of my brain vaguely registered that they were trembling slightly. Funny thing, that. My hands had never trembled around a girl. Ever.

I kissed her.

I had kissed her numerous times in the few weeks since she'd admitted to fancying me, but this time, I really kissed her. There was no over-thinking. No second-guessing. No pretending. No guilt.

Just us.

When we pulled back, the only sound in the room was from the cackle of the fire burning in the fireplace just a few feet away as we reveled in the silence, the sensations and emotions of the kiss still hanging in the air between us.

"Wow," Hermione said at last, the word leaving her mouth as little more than an exhaled breath. "That felt different."

I pushed a stray curl back behind her ear and smiled. "Good different or bad different?"

Immediately she answered, "Good different."

"Good," I said, already leaning in, hoping for another kiss.

But we were interrupted by a loud crack followed immediately by a knock on the front door.

Hermione looked almost as disappointed as I felt.

"Who could that be?" she asked and I shook my head.

"No idea." We had special barriers in place to make it so that George and I were the only ones who could apparate directly into our flat, though there was a short list of people who were allowed to apparate into the shop below us.

I pushed myself to my feet and crossed the room to the door and peered out through the tiny peephole. I saw an untidy mess of bright red hair and the boy to whom it belonged seemed to be doing some sort of anxious dance, fidgeting on the other side of the door as he waited to be let in.

"Fred? George?" he half-called, half-whispered through the door. "C'mon, open up."

Behind me, Hermione gasped. "Is that–"

"Ron," I confirmed with a nod. I unlocked the door and, as soon as I twisted the knob and gave it a tug to pull it open, Ron was rushing inside.

I was partly concealed by the now-open door, so it was Granger he saw first.

"Hermione." He said her name in a relieved sigh and she gave a little squeal as she jumped up from the sofa and rushed to him for a hug.

"Ron," she breathed. "Are you okay? Where's Harry?" And then her momentary joy and relief gave way to panic. "What's happened? Ron–"

"It's alright," Ron said, his voice insistent. "Harry's okay."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes still wide.

"Yeah," he said, but he licked his lips nervously.

Hermione appeared too relieved to notice. "Oh, thank goodness."

"It's just," Ron began slowly, watching Hermione very carefully, "we had a fight. And I sort of left him."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "What? Ronald!"

"I know!" he yelped. "Trust me, I've been beating myself up from the second I walked out of that tent. And I tried to go back, but I couldn't get back through the wards."

"Ronald," Hermione said again, her face now cradled in her hands. "How could you just leave him?"

"I want to go back," he insisted, and he sounded genuinely sorry. "But I need your help to find him again and to get through the wards." He grabbed her gently by the shoulders then, forcing her to look at him. "Harry needs your help too. He might've said he'd rather have you safer and out of harm's way but, really, we have no bloody idea what to do next."

Hermione gave him a small, proud smile. "Well I think I might have an idea. I worked something out; I just didn't know how to get in touch with you."

Ron beamed back. "See? I knew you'd know what to do!"

"How did you find me anyway? How did you know I'd be here?"

"I've been hiding out for a few days," he said, and the darkness that clouded his eyes suggested it had been a tough few days. "But I managed to sneak home for a few minutes. And mum said you were staying here." And then he frowned at her, looking suddenly confused. "Why are you here, anyway?"

A slight blush colored Hermione's cheeks as she glanced nervously away. "We have a lot to talk about," she said, trying to laugh it off. "Long story short, Fred and George came to my rescue at the wedding and offered to let me stay here while I did my research for Harry."

"Speaking of Fred and George," I said, speaking up at last and finally earning a first glance from Ron. "Do I not even get a hello, little brother?"

"I was getting to that, you git," he said, but he was wearing a smile that suggested he actually really was glad to see me alive and well.

"Fred," Hermione said, now crossing the room to me and wrapping both of her hands around one of my wrists. Judging by her sad eyes and reluctant tone, I knew what she was going to say.

"It's alright, Granger," I told her.

"Harry is my best friend," she said, apparently still needing to justify the decision we both knew she'd already made. "I can't let him do this alone."

"I know," I said. "We already made this deal, remember? You would stay here only until you found Harry and Ron."

She nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I remember. But that was before."

Ron was staring at us, at the place where our hands were joined in particular, and both of his eyebrows were raised. "Before what?"

"I know," I said again to Hermione in a soft voice, ignoring Ron completely. "But you need to do what you need to do."

She looked up at me then. She opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but she shut it again without a word, choosing to simply nod once instead.

She accioed her purse which came zooming through the living room and into her hand, fully packed and ready to go, much to the surprise of no one.

"Granger," I said, and when she glanced at me again, I saw that her eyes were now red and starting to glisten; she was torn about leaving.

And I didn't want her to go either. I wanted her there, with me, where I could see her and know that she was safe. I wanted more time to explore and enjoy this new thing between us. I wanted the chance to tell her all these new thoughts racing in my head, how brilliant I think she is and how much I love having her around, how I love getting under her skin and annoying her and making her laugh. All these thoughts and more hung from the tip of my tongue, aching to spill over, but now we had an audience and there was no time for any of it.

"Just be safe, alright?" I said at last.

She swallowed, hard, and bounded forward, wrapping herself around me. She hid herself there for a moment, my arms encircling her, my chest muffling the sound of her sniffles, before she finally pulled back.

"You too, Fred," she said, and then she rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed a sweet and scared and lingering kiss to my mouth.

The beautiful moment was spoiled by Ron's spluttering.

"What!?" he blurted out. "You just–you just–you kissed!"

Hermione sighed. "Well-spotted, Ronald," she said, swiftly making her way over to him.

"But. But!" he floundered, pointing an accusing finger at her before directing it at me as he looked back and forth between us both, trying desperately to understand what he'd just seen. He didn't look angry or jealous. Just severely confused. "But why!?" he finally roared.

"Like I said," Hermione said as she reached his side, "we have a lot to talk about."

And then she took his hand in hers and, with one last look of farewell to me, there was a loud pop and the two disappeared.

XxX


Author's Note: Thanks as always for the favs and follows and for all the kind reviews. Y'all are the absolute greatest and I'm so happy to have such lovely people reading along :) xx