"It was a mistake, George." Hermione's arms wrapped around her petite form carefully as she was once more pulling on her clothes, shaking her head at how barbaric she had been just minutes before. Why was it that she kept sleeping with George Weasley? No matter what happened between the two of them, Hermione was always so willing to jump into bed with him. Even with their son just down the hall from them. This wasn't the kind of person she was anymore, no, she had grown up so much. What was it about him that kept her coming around for more? It surely couldn't have been the fact that she still loved him. It took her nearly a year and a half before she'd agreed to share a bed with Fred Weasley. Then again, she had been a whole lot more than innocent back then. Now, well, she wasn't all that innocent with an eleven year old son running around.

"What are you going on about?" George looked rather put out, as if this observation had severely pained him. Was it really that much of a surprise?

"It was an in the moment thing, okay? It can't happen again." Skin on skin, lips on lips, teeth pressing in all the right places.. God, George Weasley had always had such an effect on her. She couldn't let this go on.

"Are you fucking serious, Hermione? You're kidding me right now, right? I-You said you loved me!" She glanced back at him for a moment, unable to keep the sad smile off of her face.

"I do love you. That doesn't mean I want to be with you, George. You missed that chance about twelve years ago." She had made it so unbelievably obvious that she'd loved him back in the day – back when they'd turned to one another for comfort in the best way that they knew how. It physically hurt her to see the look on his face. Jesus, he looked so much like Fred – just like the man who had never once hurt her before. Well, up until he was killed. That had hurt her more than child birth, and let me tell you, that isn't exactly a cake walk.

"I was engaged twelve years ago!" It was pretty unbelievable, the young woman realized, that George didn't seem to see this coming. How could he not?

"And I was in love with you. Goodnight, George." By now, Hermione was dressed and walking out of the door, leaving a flabbergasted Weasley man behind her.

There was no helping the tears that poured down Hermione's face as she watched her baby boy load up his trunk into her car, one of the few muggle things she had actually forced herself to learn how to operate. There was nothing she could have done about it, really, when you're living in a place filled with regular people, well, it was needed. "Have you got everything?" Fred glanced up at his mother, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as he did so.

"Mom, are you okay?" Hermione wiped at her eyes automatically before nodding her head, scooping up her little boy into her arms and holding him to her chest tightly.

"Yes. I'm just going to miss you, baby." It was a rare occasion that the thirty year old woman called her son 'baby'. That was a pet name saved for when she was feeling especially affectionate towards her only child.

"I'm going to miss you too." Hermione nodded her head softly and pressed her lips to his fiery hair, forcing herself to take him out of her arms.

"Okay, into the car with you. You've got a train to catch. The Hogwarts Express waits for no one."

"Not even a Weasley." A third voice chimed out, the voice of a very cheery George Weasley. Hermione knew better than to think he was happy today, though. She'd rejected him the day before, and now Fred was leaving – along with Allison and Rebecca. He was going to be anything but happy this evening.

"You're coming with us?" George scoffed at his youngest child, giving a playful roll of his bright eyes.

"You can't think I'd let your mother drive, now can you?" Fred was laughing automatically as Hermione swatted at her ex-lover, rolling her dark colored eyes with obvious annoyance.

"Yes George, because you so obviously know how to drive." Without hesitation, the young woman slipped into the driver's seat and allowed her son to climb into the back, George climbing in next to her. That was going to be distracting.

It turned out, however, that not much could distract Hermione from driving when her little boy was in the car. His safety came first – even though she could practically feel the body heat radiating from George just inches away from her.

"You be good, do you understand me? Neville will tell me if you're misbehaving." Hermione was lecturing Fred effortlessly, Allison and Rebecca being forced to listen to the words as well. George decided that whatever Hermione was telling Fred had to be good enough for the girls as well.

"Who's Neville?" Allison giggled at her younger brother.

"Professor Longbottom. He's friends with all our parents, I think. Don't call him Neville – he doesn't like it." Hermione giggled at this. Apparently, the girls had tried it out. That was something that this young girl believed entirely – they were, after all, Weasley twins.

"Yes. He's the Herbology teacher. I'm sure he'll love you. Now you've got to get going before you miss the train." The young woman was once again pulling her son in for a hug, kissing his head automatically. "I love you. Write me at least once a week. Don't get into trouble – study hard. If you need anything, write home and I'll try to get it to you, okay? I'll be sending you money, don't worry about that." And then he was out of her grip and by some unknown force, she was pulling his sisters in for a short hug as well. "You all be good. Look after him." The twins agreed whole heartedly, kissing the older woman's cheek before running for their parents. George was watching on with obvious admiration. He loved Hermione. There was no doubt about it – Hermione knew that he loved her. He had always loved her.

Fred glanced back at his mother. "I love you mom. I'll see you for Christmas." He was hugging her once more before sprinting towards his father. Hermione watched with interest as George had literally swept him off of his feet, holding him tightly to his chest and murmuring words into his ear. There was no doubt in the witch's mind that he was telling him to help his sister's with as many pranks as humanly possible. She'd slap him for it later. Right now, she was watching the people she loved most in the world embrace one another. It reminded her of the brotherly bond that George had shared with his twin – except now, he was a father. It was so much different. The longing for things to go back to normal would never go away now.

"Ginny, she's beautiful." Elizabeth Molly Potter had officially joined the Weasley / Potter family. Ginny had finally popped – and after ten hours of labor, she and Harry had a beautiful baby girl. It was odd for Hermione to be here for things like this. She'd missed so much in the past eleven years, and now she was finally making up for it.

"She looks like her mummy, that's for sure." Harry was grinning at his wife and newborn daughter. Apparently, red hair was something that only the women of that household inherited. Both boys had their father's strikingly dark hair while both of the girls embraced their mothers natural red locks. Elizabeth had been born with nearly a full head of hair. Molly Weasley was pleased.

Hermione giggled at her best mate. It had been nearly fifteen years now that these lovebirds had been together and they were still just as in love. It was refreshing, to be honest. She and George weren't nearly that in love. Were they? It didn't matter. She wasn't going to give into the temptation that came with thinking about him. That man was honestly just one big temptation. "Are you insinuating that you're not beautiful, Harry?" George's voice rang out. Speak of the devil.

"I'm strikingly handsome, not beautiful."

"I think you've got yourself confused with Ron." Hermione piped up, making Ginny burst out laughing despite the pain that was surely spreading through her lower body. Child birth was no mean feat – most pain killing potions couldn't get rid of the discomfort that it caused. George made a face at his ex-lover. Had she a thing for Ron now? Surely not. Would she go for her only son's uncle? Hermione just rolled her eyes at him. She'd gotten over her slight crush on the second youngest Weasley in her third year at Hogwarts. Fred had made sure of that.

Harry just laughed at his best mate, shaking his head in her direction. Not even a jab at his manliness could take away how happy he was right now – another daughter, it was wonderful. Hermione was happy for him. Then again, she suddenly had a longing for her own baby – the one who had been taken away to Hogwarts just days before. Things just weren't the same without him.

"Miss. Granger, there is someone here to see you." Hermione found herself cringing at the sound of a perky voice interrupting her. Didn't people understand that she was busy at work? At the moment, she was finalizing a speech that Kingsley was to be making in just two days time.

"Send them in, Darla." The spunky brunette nodded her head effortlessly, smacking on a piece of gum. It was kind of necessary that Hermione had her own assistant – she had to do just as much as the minister of magic himself in order insure that he looked good in all of his public appearances. Plus, Hermione was the one doing most of the work. She wanted to take Kingsley's place one of these days.

Once the bushy haired witch forced herself to look up, she was staring at George Weasley's lanky form in front of her. He was watching her curiously, obviously inquiring just how hard she was working. He wasn't used to the paper work part of things down at the joke shop. He had people to do that sort of thing for him. "Did you need something, George?" The ginger nodded his head automatically, glancing at her for a second more before shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes. I'm not going to be home until late – I've got a date tonight." Hermione froze automatically. He stopped by in order to tell her that he has a date. A date with a woman. A date with someone who was probably very pretty and much more fun that Hermione. A date with someone who wouldn't deny him in every which way that he turned.

"Who are you going out with?" George raised an eyebrow with her, already half way to the door. He had apparently liked her reaction.

"What are you, my mother?" And then he was gone, walking through the door and not bothering to look back at the broken girl he'd left behind him.