My god. This chapter has taken me soooo long to get up, mostly because I spent the week-end at a ski resort, but also because it's freaking 11 pages long! So yeah, might take you a while, but read and review! Love you guys for doing it already. Many thanks. Far out, I'm so tired. Don't worry, I'll be starting on chap 12 tomorrow so maybe it'll be up by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. Enjoy the chapter, though it's not really a chapter to be enjoyed… :P.

11 – Numb

'You know, there's this story, that I heard once – a muggle one I think – about this girl…'

Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the familiar drawl coming from behind.

'Mmhmm, she was a bit of a weird one, that girl. Very… ethical. A bit like you, actually.'

Her heart stopped jumping erratically as Hermione recognized the voice to be only Fred's, not his, not the new nameless him that haunted her mind these days. Not him.

All the same, Hermione forced a smile on her lips, and turned to meet Fred's carefree, mischievously rugged grin.

'Oh yeah? I bet she had an interesting story though, huh?'

Fred grimaced with mock sadness. 'Nah, not really. It sounded more like one of Binns' speeches. Full of lectures, and studying and more lectures… and books. Lots and lots of books. All remarkably similar to the one you hold on your lap, actually!'

Hermione glared at Fred, offended.

'Fred!' she gasped. 'That was just plain mean! I'm not that boring!'

Fred doubled back, faking surprise. 'I wasn't talking about you!' he objected hostilely. 'I was talking about the girl's story!'

'Girl shmirl! My life – or my 'story", she curled her two fingers in the air as air quotes, 'is not like a lecture!'

Fred shook his head pityingly as he came to perch on the arm of Hermione's arm chair. 'I wasn't saying it was!' He paused, looking lost, as if reconsidering whether he actually was. 'Are you as confused as I am?' he asked, concerned. 'I shouldn't have used so many metaphors.'

Hermione laughed. 'Why do I have a feeling your so called story doesn't even exist, let alone have a point?'

Fred grinned too. 'Because it doesn't,' he admitted, sounding the least bit regretful. 'Well, actually, I was trying to somehow get to the point that you're always bent over a book, studying, or lecturing some poor kid, namely me or George,' Hermione fought to keep her breathing level with the mention of him, 'and I think it's about high time you took a break.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'We have N.E.W.T.S coming up, Fred. Technically, every seventh yearshould be bent over a book!' she paused, eying Fred suspiciously as a new thought floated into her mind. 'Have you been talking to Ginny?'

Fred looked at Hermione with exaggerated defensiveness. 'No!' he scowled, still exaggerated. 'Of course not.'

Hermione didn't buy it, and his overstated tone obviously meant she wasn't meant to, so she turned back to the book leaning against her legs, which she'd propped up onto the chair.

'Oh come on!' Fred protested, beginning to get annoying. 'Have some fun!'

Hermione glared at the book, not seeing it, suddenly offended. 'I do have fun!' she snapped, 'I just don't feel like it right now.'

'Oh yeah?'

Suddenly, Hermione was on full alert as Fred's voice became challenging and full of waywardness.

'Yes,' she said stubbornly and feeling apprehensive, made the mistake of looking up to scrutinize his face. As soon as her attention left it, Hermione felt the heavy weight be lifted off her knees, and her head snapped back to the book on her lap that was no longer there. She looked back to Fred, furious, only to see him standing beside the portrait hole, her book held smugly in his hands.

'If you were fun, you'd be chasing me by now,' he called out teasingly. But it wasn't teasing for Hermione, it was downright bullying, and she was angry.

'Frederick Weasley, give me my book or Merlin be damned, I will hex you!' She shrieked as she hurtled around the armchair and charged at Fred, whose expression went from smug to horrified all in a matter of nanoseconds.

The Gryffindor's scattered as Fred jumped through the portrait hole and Hermione sprinted after him. They'd seen the murderous look on the Head Girl's face, and didn't want to agitate it further for fear of being mercilessly trampled.

Hermione's eyes narrowed with impatience and pure rage and her mouth was pressed together in a hard line, her curls flying about her face as she bounded through the portrait hole herself. If looks could kill.

She spotted Fred running recklessly down the corridor – finally a legal reason to take points off – his laughter ringing through the halls annoyingly. She tailed him confidently, though her sensible school shoes definitely weren't sparing her sensitive feet, and as a result, she glared malevolently at any student who dared giggle at her predicament.

She was going to hurt Fred Weasley. As soon as she caught him.

--

'George!'

George turned to see Harry jogging to meet him, Ron trailing somewhat sulkily behind.

'Yeah?' George paused to wait for the younger boys.

'Could I – we – talk to you about something?' Harry looked oddly uncomfortable as he and Ron came to a halt in front of George. His eyes narrowed at his younger brother's tattle-tale pink ears and the way Harry couldn't seem to meet George's eyes.

'Uh – sure,' he mumbled, confused as he led the two to the wall of the corridor so that they weren't in anyone's way. And plus, he wanted something to lean against if the need arose.

He leant a shoulder against the cool wall and watched his strangely fidgety friend. And his brother, though George couldn't be sure if Ron wanted to be part of the conversation or not, the way he moodily hung back and aimed annoyed, uncomfortable scowls in George's direction.

'Fire away,' he told them curiously.

There was a pause as Harry beckoned Ron forward and they had a hasty argument consisting of facial expressions only. It was actually quite impressive. Eventually, Harry sighed.

'Fine,' he mumbled before turning back to George, who watched the two interestingly.

Now Harry looked extremely uncomfortable as he avoided George's waiting gaze, as if he'd much rather be sitting back watching a game of Quidditch. Which was probably true.

'Alright,' Harry began reluctantly, 'first things first. I – we,' he put a great deal of emphasis on that word as he turned around to glare at Ron, 'just wanted you to know that, well… we weren't really asleep this morning.'

George frowned, disappointed. 'You snuck out?' he whined, 'Without tell me? Guys!'

Harry chuckled, knowing full well that George was only playing with them.

'Shut up,' he mumbled, embarrassed.

'Well if you'd just get to the point…'

'We know you love Hermione!'

George looked past Harry, horrified, at Ron, who looked equally aghast at the words that had toppled out of his lips. The two stared at each other, the same shock mirrored in their eyes, until Harry cut through the eerie silence.

'It's true,' he said softly. 'We heard you this morning with Ginny,' he grinned lopsided; 'you have to give us more credit than you do, mate. Not even a sloth could sleep through all the noise you two were making.'

George couldn't believe it. Did the whole campus need to know that he was in love with a girl he couldn't have? He groaned, his hand rubbing his cheek tiredly as he took it in.

'Alright. Okay,' he took a deep breath and the let the air out with his next words, 'so you know. That's cool. Now, whaddaya want?'

He was trying to make it sound casual, trying to lighten the mood that had been established by his appalled staring.

'We want you to… steal… her.'

George's face twisted with surprise. 'What?' he asked flatly.

Harry sighed, just as Ron muttered darkly, 'I told you it was a bad idea.'

'Look, George,' said Harry wearily, 'Hermione's our best friend, and, believe it or not, we can actually tell that she's not happy. Not with Blaise. She doesn't get that look in her eye, the one she used to get when she was with… Tyler.'

And George knew exactly why the look of hatred flickered across Harry's eyes when he said his name.

'And we know Ginny gave you the huge lecture and all, and, seriously mate, I don't want to have to give a long speech or anything so really, we just wanted to say that, well, we know you'll be much better for Hermione than anyone else, because we know she loves you too. She's weird that way.' Harry looked honestly lost for words to describe what he wanted to say. Finally, he seemed to decide with, 'Just trust us.'



George was caught between being angry because they acknowledged that they'd been eavesdropping – maybe even using his own creation of Extendable Ears – and that they'd even had the nerve to talk to him about it, being happy that they were fine that he loved her, even encouraged him to tell her that, and between running into a corner to hide his face, embarrassed. George was most astounded by the last one. He was a Weasley twin, he didn't get embarrassed!

He opened his mouth to keep it simple with an unconcerned 'thanks', when suddenly Fred skidded around the corner with a huge, absolutely ancient book grasped in his hand and the most suspiciously mischievous crossed with terrified expression he'd ever seen. It was kind of unnerving.

'George, oh thank god, George ol' buddy ol pal, take this book and run,' his twin heaved, his breath coming out as wild gasps as he threw the book into George's chest, where he caught it and instantaneously, without thinking, bounded in the opposite direction, simply because he was Fred's twin and he had asked him too. And because he'd been in an awkward position.

His adrenalin pumping with the unknown challenge, the unknown danger, George sprinted down the seemingly endless corridor and around a tight corner, not knowing where he was going and not caring the slightest. His hand clenched around the large book in his hand as he hurtled down the hall, feeling as free and brilliant as a flying hippogriff, the light, scurrying footsteps of someone a long way behind him blending with his own to make the jubilant music of mischief. It had been a while since he'd been up to some good tomfoolery, and it suddenly made no sense why. Laughing in a carefree manner, George flew around a corner –

'Fred, I'm going to get you now! I happen to know from my rounds that that is a dead end – so ha!'

– and skidded to an immediate halt.

--

'Fred, I'm going to get you now! I happen to know from my rounds that that is a dead end – so ha!' Hermione yelled triumphantly, unable to keep the large grin from spreading over her face. They'd definitely run across the whole castle now, and over the time, somewhere between thinking up ominous threats and concentrating on not tripping as she chased Fred through the endless corridors, Hermione had realized she was actually enjoying herself. No, really, she was having fun. Who would have thought that Fred's teasing would have a good outcome?

Still beaming like a loony, Hermione belted around the corner after the red-headed form of Fred and barreled right into something hard and warm.

'Oof!'

Two strong arms held her in place as Hermione fell, and she heard Fred's breath whoosh out of his mouth and wash over her cheeks when his back hit the floor painfully, her thudding down on top of him, earning herself another gust of breath on her face.

After a few seconds recovering from her dizzy daze, Hermione smiled and happily grumbled, 'Jeez, Fred, the whole point of me chasing you is that you don't let me catch you! Now look who's ruining the fun!'

She looked up and felt her lungs, heart, and every other internal organ freeze as her chocolate eyes met the sea blue – not sea green – eyes of George Weasley. Definitely no Fred here.

'Oh,' she eventually managed to breathe. 'It's you.'

George stared back, and Hermione wondered if she'd accidently somehow managed to hex him because he was staring at her face with the blank, yet somehow wondrous look of someone who'd just been wiped of their immediate memory. Then, quite suddenly that Hermione had to stop herself from gasping at the immediate reactions that flowed through her body, George smiled.

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' he teased, and Hermione became acutely aware of his hands on her waist as she stared down at his body crushed beneath hers.

'Yes, well, it could be,' she whispered, not quite sure what that was meant to mean. George's eyes lost their cheerful look for a brief second before it was back, somehow brighter than before. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

'Merlin, Hermione, I thought we'd already been through this. Never have you ever thought my presence to be unfortunate,' he told her, his mocking voice low.

'What, are you a mind reader now?' she asked him casually, though she was really just trying to be mean without being rude, if it was possible. She wasn't meant to be talking to him. It was against the rules now. She had to get over him before interaction could be tolerated. It was the rules.

George grinned a crooked grin, making Hermione's heart claw at her throat. 'Nah,' he replied with equal airiness, 'but I'm working on an invention that will be able to. Why are you interested?' he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. She wondered why it didn't bother her that his hands were gently stroking her sides or that his sweet breath was warming her cheeks in a way that made them overheat a bit too much. Wasn't that against the rules? Then, to her further astonishment, Hermione laughed warily.

'Thanks, but no thanks,' she told him. 'Who knows what embarrassing things people would discover about me!'

Suddenly, George's smile changed to the one she'd seen on his lips only once – the time he'd been playing the perverted joke; the seductive smile. His hands were suddenly burning her skin as she stared down at him, thinking maybe she should have kept her mouth shut, the mouth that suddenly became a big mouth around George. In her mind, she began reciting the rules, or more one of the rules, in her head. She wasn't allowed to be here. She had to find a way out.

'What kind of things do you think I would find?' George asked Hermione huskily and she felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards in an unsure smile as she tried too only think of the question in its most innocent sense, the rules suddenly leaving her mind as she watched him watch her, his sea-blue eyes enchanting.

'Lots of things,' she whispered, truly a bit frightened.

George smirked.

'What kind of things?' he prompted, still in a low voice that dripped with seductive mockery. Hermione thought about what to say, suddenly feeling as if her fear had been swapped for George's cheekiness. Well, that's Gryffindor courage for you. She fought not to smile as the prospect of turning the tables on George flashed in front of her eyes, and she looked down at the waiting boy beneath her. He teased her mercilessly, so it was only a matter of time, really. She'd broken the rules before so it wasn't a new concept to her, and she'd promised to be fully obedient tomorrow, and he deserved it! Stuff the rules for now.

'Oh, this and that,' Hermione whispered more confidently, eying George in a way that felt so foreign to her as she cheekily bit her lip, also part of the charade. She bent her head down, narrowly passing George's lips (which took more self-control than she was proud of and Blaise's face flashed annoyingly behind her eyes), to gently brush the shell of his ear. She felt his warm, shallow breath against her throat as she let her eyes flutter close against his cheek.

'Things like, say…' she trailed off dramatically, her adoring whisper low in his ear, 'how I think you are absolutely, so incredibly,' she smirked, her next words coming out harshly in her normal, rather amused voice, 'idiotic, and stupid, and unappealing and – oh!'



George growled in Hermione's ear, sending a exhilaratingly shiver racing down her spine as he swiftly flipped the pair, rolling on top of her body and his hands coming up to support him on either side of her shoulders.

'Alright, alright, that's enough!' George snapped and, unable to contain her laugher anymore despite her surprise and protesting thoughts about their new position, Hermione let it bubble out peal after peal at George's disgruntled expression.

'I told you,' she teased, 'imagine how embarrassed I would have felt if you'd have discovered how I really felt about you!'

'Hermione, it's bad to lie,' George told her, ignoring her mockery. Hermione sighed.

'You're right,' she told him helplessly, really enjoying herself now, 'there was one more thing I should probably add to that list. It might be a bit offensive, but since it's really bad to lie, I'm going to tell you anyway that I think you're –'

'This is not good for my pride,' George's mumble interrupted. Hermione laughed.

'It's not meant to be!' But her laughter started to die down as she watched George's suddenly calculating expression. His eyes searched deep into hers, the rest of his face blank. There was no more air left to breathe. Either that, or there were no lungs to breathe it.

George shook his head unbelievingly.

'You are surprisingly diabolical,' he told her, and Hermione realized with a strange satisfaction that he meant it. She smiled, but it quickly slipped off her features as George continued to stare. She became acutely aware of his lips, centimetres from her own, and his soft ginger red hair hanging from his forehead to gently tickle hers. Hermione wondered if George could feel her heart beating erratically under his, and if he did, whether or not he was going to make a joke about it. She fought not to breathe, knowing if she did, she'd most definitely be breathing in his delicious smell, and that would be against the rules.

'D'you still believe we've no connection?' George whispered, his breath crashing against Hermione's face. Not breathing. Hermione considering nodding her head, but to nod, the motion is up and then down, and to go up would be to go closer to George and his tantalizing lips, maybe even to touch them.

'Yes,' she barely whispered, her own ears straining to hear the words that escaped her frozen lips. George smirked, though Hermione thought his eyes looked colder, more vulnerable; maybe even hurt.

'You mean to say you can't feel the connection between my hands, and your waist?' George asked, and the intensity in his voice was suddenly vanished as his hands applied more pressure to Hermione's middle. George's smirk grew more precise. 'Not even my breath on your cheeks? Your foot against my shin? My chest against your – chest?'Despite the whirl of thoughts in her mind, Hermione found that she was fighting a smile as she noticed that the word 'chest' very nearly didn't manage to substitute the more exact and by far more sexual part of Hermione's body that was pressed up against George's chest. George noticed and smiled, making Hermione's lungs deflate in what seemed like a deafening whoosh.

Blaise's caring, friendly face suddenly evaded Hermione's thoughts and a wave of guilt immersed her. He was such a good friend to her, such a good boyfriend to her and now all because of George, she was very nearly close to cheating on him with her best friend's brother. She didn't need to be the smartest witch in her year level to know that everything about that sentence sounded wrong. Suddenly, she was fighting to keep her temper under control. Hermione shook her head.

'No,' she told him, more firmly, in her Head Girl voice. 'Fortunately, I can't feel any of that and do you want to know why? I'll tell you why; because as I'm sure you've already realized, your body is very nearly crushing me and as an inevitable result, I've gone numb.' It was a stupid comeback, but Hermione felt justified, more in control as the words tumbled out of her mouth. She wasn't playing his game anymore.

George's face was unfairly blank, but Hermione didn't let her thoughts dwell on him.

'So that's what they call it these days,' he muttered, and Hermione had the hugest urge to interrogate him 'til dusk if it meant she'd understand what that meant. Ignoring him, Hermione glared.

'Get off me, George,' she muttered, her hands pushing at his chest as he rolled of and stood up, offering a hand to her but she ignored it, getting up with a firmly decided face. George noticed and watched her regretfully.

'Aw, did I offend you Hermione?' he asked with cautious apology.

Hermione frowned, pouting, her arms crossing over her chest huffily as she stalked away from him.

'Yes,' she grumbled stiffly, her arms dropping from their hostile position. Suddenly, his fingers were wound between hers, and he was pulling her back.

'I'm sorry,' George said sincerely when she finally let herself look back at him. 'Let me make it up to you with a game. I promise it will be fun,' his eyes danced merrily as his lips tugged into an inviting smile.

Hermione ignored her thumping heart, focusing on Blaise's face in her mind.

'No.' She whirled around and George let her unexpectedly lonely hand fall back to her side as she reluctantly began to walk away.

'Fine,' he called after her, his voice bouncing off the high walls. 'But I think you might be needing this…'

Hermione paused, wondering what he could possibly have of hers and half-heartedly turned to see George proudly holding up her wand. Gah, she would be needing that. But Hermione smirked, because although she'd almost forgotten, she was fortunately one step ahead of him.

Hermione laughed humourlessly. 'You underestimate me, George,' she taunted as she pulled George's wand from inside her robes, where she'd stashed it after feeling him pull hers from her waistband.

George's eyes widened to the size of golf balls and Hermione stifled a snort.

'You really are diabolical!' he said, sounding more as if he was talking to himself. Hermione smirked

'I learnt from the best,' she shrugged, still holding up the thin wand in two fingers.

George smiled gratefully as he advanced forward. 'That's got to be the biggest compliment you've ever given me,' he told her appreciatively.

Hermione blinked innocently.

'Oh, I wasn't talking about you!'

George's expression snapped to one of someone who'd just been 'Punked' and was trying to be cool about it. It was funny to watch. Then, it slowly shifted into an expression that seemed so dangerous that Hermione felt a shiver race down her spine to her feet.

'Oh, you're in for it now!'

George's still, wary frame snapped to pieces as he swiftly bolted towards Hermione, closing the space between them so quickly that he was only an arms width away before she had time to react. She squealed, unwillingly delighted, and spun around, her feet desperately sprinting away from George as he growled 

menacingly. She threw several wild glances over her shoulder as she sped away, around numerous corners, at the playful boy chasing her with the most thrilling expression on his face. But, naturally, since he was a much longer legged being, George eventually caught up with Hermione, his hands grabbing around her middle as she shrieked and writhed about in his tight hold. He was laughing so light-heartedly that it was hard not feel so light-hearted herself and Hermione knew that she was enjoying herself, despite the rules that she'd managed to chase to the furthest corner of her mind. George tickled her ribs and Hermione laughed breathlessly, begging him to stop as he easily lifted her into the air and whirled her in a dizzy circle. She squealed and hunched her shoulders in defence of George's tickling fingers but it was no use.

'No – no, stop – George –' she gasped, her face flushed and her wide smile beginning to hurt almost as much as her cramping stomach.

'Give it to me,' he replied in a low, merciless tone right in her ear, his hands continuing to jab and wriggle around in her most sensitive tickling spots. She laughed the pathetically agonized laugh his fingers were provoking and shook her head in defeat. This torture had gone on for long enough.

'Alright, alright – you can have it!' She squealed, but noticed that George's fingers had already ceased their torture and that he was standing stock still, his arms limp around her. She fought to catch her breath as she stared at his distant, alert face. 'George?'

'Shhh,' he whispered, still vigilantly watching the corridor that met theirs only a few metres away, as if expecting a parade of Death Eaters to march around it. She frowned, twisting around to stare into his face.

'What is it?' she pressed, but suddenly, he was half carrying, half pushing her back towards the wall. 'George!' she snapped in a harsh whisper as she stumbled backwards, her feet barely touching the floor with George's arms lifting her from the waist, 'what is it?'

'Just keep quiet,' he muttered, so quietly Hermione wasn't even sure he'd spoken at all.

'But George –' George glared at Hermione and she was cut off as his hand slapped over her mouth. She glared back, surprised and offended as he manoeuvred her behind a set of armour that stood in a square cut out of the wall and pressed her against the wall with his still body, his hand still over her lips. He wasn't watching her, instead peering warily out from behind the armour at the junction of both hallways. His eyes were anxious and his expression blank, his motionless body pressing firmly against Hermione's. She nudged him with his knee and he frowned, still not looking at her, but pushed her roughly against the wall. Her surprised whimper was muffled by his hand, and she continued to glare at George because she realized that because off the unnecessary pressure he was applying on her body, she couldn't move. At all. Which was probably his aim. Smug little bastard.

'Is it past curfew?'

Again, Hermione wasn't sure if she'd mistaken George's breathing for words or if he really did ask her the question. She shrugged, since George didn't seem to think she was responsible enough to talk. It was possible that it was past curfew, but last time she'd checked, there had been a full forty-five minutes to go.

'Do you know where we are?'

Hermione shook her head, a feeling of dread beginning to spread through her body. Was it possible that because of her childish ignorance, and George's stupidity, her spotless record was at stake?

'So we don't know if we're in an out-of-bounds area.' George swore, and Hermione's heart thumped with anxiety. Well, she hoped it was from anxiety.

She heard it then. The soft, suspicious shuffling of Filch's old footsteps as he rounded the corner. He was muttering, his low, scraggly voice just managing to reach Hermione ears.



'I heard it Mrs Norris,' he saying, in a most Kreacher-like fashion. 'I may be old, but I can hear a little girl's happy squeal from corridors away. There's a student out here. A reckless one. Best teach her a lesson…'

Hermione heard Mrs Norris's replying meow, and her eyes widened as she watched the strange couple nearing them. She felt George's body lean into her a bit more and she looked up to see George smiling reassuringly at her. Relax, his eyes seemed to say. His hand slipped from her mouth and he hunched his shoulders and towered over her, as if he was trying to melt them both into the walls. She tried to peer past him, to see if Filch had spotted them, though she could still hear his absurd mutterings so she doubted it, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from George's, watching the twinkle slowly creep back into them. He obviously thought this was fun, and Hermione couldn't muster up a glare to set him straight. She couldn't feel her own body, only George's warm one enveloping hers. She felt her already shallow breathing become staggered as the intensity of George's stare began to burn through her very being. Feeling the rules start to bully their way back to the centre of her mind, pulling Blaise's face along with them, Hermione shut her eyes, trying hard not to squeeze them tight like a small child because that would have been embarrassing. She forced herself to focus on Filch's shuffling feet, his low string of complaints and threats and the occasional meow of Mrs Norris, mentally mapping their whereabouts. At one point, it seemed they were in only a metre away from the frozen pair, and Hermione stopped breathing altogether, but eventually, the soft, almost inaudible noises melted away. Her record was safe after all. She wouldn't get expelled and she wouldn't become a hobo. Everything was alright. Relieved beyond belief, Hermione kept her eyes closed, focussing on getting oxygen to her lungs without smelling George's scent in it. Satisfied with the functioning of her lungs, Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and for some unexplained reason, she wasn't surprised to see the endless whirlpools that George called eyes staring right back at her. She realized she'd left her lungs unattended for too long and they'd panicked and deflated themselves again, but she didn't have the time – or the thoughts – to coax them back to work again as the blood rushed through her body so fast it made her dizzy, and George's face – his gorgeous, out-of-bounds face – was so close that even the rules fled for cover.

--

Corner her, and snog her senseless…damn it George, if you love her, let her know it… let her know…she loves you…

Ginny's passionate words resounded in George's head as he stared down at Hermione, took in her flushed face and wide eyes, felt her chest pushing against his with every one of her irregular breaths, and then he leaned forward. He felt her chin tilt up, her breath gently washing over his face, like a fresh breeze that rolled off the ocean, and the blood coursed through his body with renewed speed, making him feel alive and reckless , yet cautious and alert all at once. His body was pressed so completely against every part of Hermione's and he marvelled at how well they seemed to fit. He continued to watch her watch him, her brown chocolate eyes large with fear, anticipation and something else.

Conflict in her eyes….conflict….

Suddenly, George wondered if this was how Blaise felt, right before he kissed Hermione. Did he think they fit so well too? Did he feel so many emotions move through his body?

Wave after wave of guilt knocked against George's thoughts, and he thought he might stagger at the force of them. He looked down at Hermione, out-of-bounds Hermione, and how she was looking up at him, as flushed and innocent as a newborn baby.

That's when the anger hit him. What the hell was he thinking? Why wasn't she pushing him away? She was taken, for Merlin's sake! God, why was she leading him on, or was she just too scared to do anything? George felt like a rapist. His heart thudding wildly and guiltily in his chest, he pushed himself off the wall and away from Hermione, failing not to notice the confusion that clouded her eyes, then the anger, and then the neutral coldness. He turned and walked back into the corridor, running his hand through his hair. How could he be so stupid? Hadn't he agreed that going after Hermione was stealing? Hadn't he convinced himself that she was happy with Blaise? Yes, he had! So what the hell was he doing, asking her to play a game with him? Teasing her, playing with her just to get close to her, just to talk to her when he knew there was no use? He was pathetic.

George heard Hermione follow him into the corridor and turned, forcing his lips to upturn, though he knew the smile only came out as a grimace.

'All clear,' he told her in a low mutter and she nodded, avoiding his eye and crossing her arms over her chest just like before. The hostility in the air was almost painful, but he knew it wasn't that that was hurting him; it wasn't the fact that he'd been cheated of a sweet once again. It was the fact that it was an illegal sweet that would cause him internal damage. Like a drug, but much, much worse because it wasn't a drug at all. It was a sweet. George sighed silently and gestured forwards. 'Shall we?'

Hermione pursed her lips and, still not meeting his eyes, which suited him just fine, nodded. He nodded too, not really knowing why, and began walking down the corridor.

The silence was eerie and cold, not at all the companionable, thoughtful silence he'd endured with Ginny this morning. It made George shiver and he hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets. He stopped when he realized he could no longer hear the sound of Hermione footsteps behind him and turned to see her staring at him from the entrance of the other corridor that he'd passed. She didn't say anything but George knew she was wondering why they weren't taking the only route back to the common room. So she thought. But George had finally figured out where they were and knew that it wasn't the only way.

'There's a secret passage behind that tapestry,' he explained quietly, letting no emotion leak into his steady voice. 'It will lead us right into the boy's dorm. If you don't mind the smell.'

It was a joke, but it didn't lighten the mood. Hermione nodded and followed George.

--

George pushed open the trap door above their heads and, forcing one more dreadfully fake smile upon Hermione, he heaved himself up into the large gaping hole of light and out of her sight. Hermione sighed, glad that for the first time in the silent, ten minuted walk through the dark passageway, she could relax her muscles. She rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath, but kept the wall that barricaded her web of incoherent thoughts up high and solid. She wasn't free of him yet. She couldn't relax yet.

George's large hand suddenly appeared in front of her face and Hermione sighed and carefully placed her hand in his. George's hand tightened around hers and suddenly, she was being hauled up. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing smack-bang in the middle of the seventh year boy's dorm and George's hand was no longer in hers. In fact, he was standing a good metre or so away from her. But she barely had time to register that before the string of shocked and sarcastic comments and even a few immature hoots started up from the unsuspecting boys, who were sitting up in bed, all staring at Hermione and George.

'Hermione,' Harry and Ron stated simultaneously, as if telling everyone that yes, they saw her too.

'There's a hole in the floor!' exclaimed someone who sounded suspiciously like Neville.

'It's a trap door, Neville, nothing to wet your pants over.' That was Fred.

'But they appeared out of nowhere!'

'Noo, they appeared out of the trap door.'

Some one hooted.

'Hey, Seamus, chuck me that shirt. I feel exposed.'

'No way, I'm wearing that one.'

'Not fair!'

'She's purty.'

'Shut up, Fou, she's right there. Beside's she's taken.'

'No, you shut up Dean. Why do you have to be so mean to me? Just because I'm American…'

'Get back to sleep you loons.' That was George. He looked at Hermione, really looked at Hermione, for the first time since 'the event' and she immediately looked down, struggling to keep her wall up. 'You should get to bed too,' George told her softly and she nodded.

'Goodnight,' she bid him and he nodded back. Strictly professional. Hermione waved at the rest of the boys. ''Night, guys.'

''Night Hermione!' they all chorused. Hermione shook her head, smiling for the first time in what felt like years as she waded through the mess of male stuff and towards the door. She pushed it open, still refusing to let the wall down and distracting herself by thinking about her warm bed as she slipped out onto the cold, drafty staircase, when suddenly someone called her name from inside the dorm.

She turned and her heart sank as George squeezed through the door behind her. He didn't bother smiling at her as he held out her wand and her book. Hermione bit her tongue to stop herself from glaring at the stupid book that was the cause of everything.

'Here. I believe these are yours,' he told her humourlessly.

She took them, managing a grateful smile.

'Thanks,' she said and felt about her robes for George's wand.

'Don't bother,' he said, surprising Hermione, 'I already took it… before.'

Hermione nodded, slightly dumbstruck. There was an awkward silence.

'Well, goodnight,' George sighed, lifting a hand feebly before turning and disappearing back into the dorm room.

'Goodnight, George,' Hermione whispered, a minute too late.

Later, when she was bed and she finally had let her wall crumble, letting her thoughts cascade into her mind, Hermione wondered if this was how it would be between them from now on. But why did it have to be? She wasn't even sure if he been about to kiss her, or if hewas just waiting till it was safe again, and was passing the time by staring intensely at her? But just thinking it Hermione felt silly. George had been about to kiss her. But she would have stopped him, anyway. It was inevitable. Blaise's face had been burning in her mind constantly, and had kept burning there all the way back to the boys dorm and until she was safe in her own bed. He was such a good friend to her. Such a loyal boyfriend. And she nearly cheated on him – twice! She needed to get over George, and fast, because Blaise didn't deserve that kind of hurt. It didn't matter that he'd nearly kissed her, whatever the reason, though Hermione's sister theory definitely didn't apply anymore, because she'd royally screwed that relationship. She was with Blaise now, and she was happy.