Chapter Eleven
Author's Note: Thanks for reading!
Less than fifteen minutes after Hermione and Ginny sat down with Harry, Ron, and Lavender, the party was almost entirely in full swing. It was amusing, Hermione thought, that all of Ginny and Harry's guests seemed to know to arrive fashionably late at the exact same time. Once the tent started to fill up, it didn't take long for the twin's old friend, Lee Jordan, to claim the roll of DJ and for several willing guests to take over serving drinks. The dance floor was still sparse, but there were a number of couples occupying the space, intent on initiating the revelry.
"Ah, we should probably mingle," Harry suggested to Ginny, gesturing to the tables that were crowded with their guests. Ginny nodded and accepted his hand and the pair disappeared into the sea of partiers. Hermione was disappointed to see her friends leave, but understood; they were, after all, the couple of honour and others wanted a chance to see them as well. At the same time, Ron and Lavender had left to join the dancers: a fact Hermione only discovered when she turned to talk to the apparent couple.
"Well…it's just me I guess…" Hermione mentally sighed. She clasped her hands on the empty table, tucked her feet under her chair, and leaned forward to watch the dancers. It hadn't occurred to her until that moment that, if Ron was indeed seeing Lavender as it now appeared, she had become the fifth wheel in her closest group of friends. It wasn't a situation she necessarily welcomed. Scouring the guests for a familiar face to join, she saw Neville and Luna sitting together. Ginny had speculated during their Christmastime gossip-fest that the pair was soon to become an official couple, so Hermione thought better than to interrupt two of her other dearest friends. Another look around the tent, and she noticed most of the other Weasleys, but didn't necessarily want to go include herself with any of them.
"Looks like it's just going to be you and me, Mione," A voice sounded from behind her. Hermione realized she didn't need to go locate a new companion when George pulled one of the several unoccupied chairs out from under the table and lounged in it casually. "Here…this is for you," He laughed and set two tumblers on the table, both filled with the bright pink liquid that George had mixed for Hermione and Ginny earlier.
"Hey George," Hermione said, perhaps a little too brightly, happy to have someone there to keep her company. "What's this?"
"Nothing much, just thought we could share a little drink" George said, smiling nonchalantly and leaning further back in his chair.
"You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?" Hermione asked, looking at George with a teasing expression playing across her face.
"Never…That certainly does not sound like something I'd do," George's roguish grin said otherwise. "You should share a drink with me though…I don't consider it to be a good night unless I have a drink with the prettiest girl at the party." His blue eyes glittered with a sparkle that left Hermione feeling flustered.
Hermione bit her lower lip and blushed slightly at George's compliment; she still wasn't accustomed to be on the receiving end of his renowned flirtation. She hastily changed the topic, hoping that he hadn't perceived the deepening pink on her cheeks: "Where are Fred and Ang?" She asked, curious as to why George was no longer with the couple.
"Out on the dance floor," George pointed out Angelina's vibrant, canary yellow dress. Fred was enthusiastically spinning his wife around in an energetic dance. Hermione figured that the couple was excited to have a night to their own where they didn't have to take care of their twins. "They're probably going to have to leave a bit early." George added. Hermione swore she caught a trace of disappointment in George's voice.
"Awe, I'm sorry George," Hermione spoke sincerely, reaching over to rub George's shoulder.
"It's understandable," George shrugged. "In the meantime, you get to be my partner in crime tonight." He grinned impishly, nudging Hermione's arm with his elbow.
"Do I want to know what that means?" Hermione asked. "Will it be something that I'm capable of?" She giggled, trying to sound laidback.
"Oh, I have faith in you, Granger…just take your cues from me…here," George replied, sliding the small glass in front of Hermione. "You remember what to do with this?"
"Hmmm" – Hermione picked up the pink liquid – "Cheers, mate" She said, gently bumping her glass against George's.
"Perfect," George smiled. "And drink," The pair smiled and clinked their glasses together before swiftly drinking the contents of their tumblers. George soundly banged his glass on the table and immediately started to bob his head along with the lively song echoing through the tented area. "And now we go dance," He laughed and rose from his chair, holding out both his hands to Hermione. Without hesitation, Hermione accepted his offer. After all, dancing with an attractive bloke generally won out easily over sitting alone.
-o-O-o-
Taking a firm grasp of Hermione's hand, George boosted her up from her chair and led her towards the dance floor and through the spinning couples, stopping just once to affectionately pat Fred on the shoulder.
"You go easy on our dear, Mione," Fred laughed as the pair passed him and Angelina.
"She's in good hands, Freddie," George responded impishly.
"Have fun you two," Angelina grinned at Hermione before Fred whisked her into a twirl. Hermione laughed; Fred and Angelina's palpable joy at being able to spend the evening together on the dance floor was contagious. As George eagerly guided her along the smooth surface, Hermione felt less and less uneasy about the prospect of dancing. All the couples seemed to be having an enjoyable time, even those who obviously had no aptitude for fluid movement. In what must have been the very centre of the dance floor, George halted and immediately spun Hermione into an energetic twirl.
"Ready to go Mione?" He asked playfully with a confident grin after Hermione's spin ended. Although she wasn't positive – dancing was never something for which she had much talent – Hermione nodded regardless:
"Let's see what you've got, Weasley," She returned his teasing tone. Whatever qualms Hermione had about dancing, George clearly shared none of them. He moved enthusiastically and with precision. With one hand continuing to hold Hermione's and the other placed at her waist, he led her around the dance floor, carefully dodging the other dancers, easily keeping time with the upbeat melody. Hermione found herself grinning joyously. Dancing with George was not a challenge, as all Hermione had to do was respond to his lead. He expertly steered her through a modified waltz-like dance, occasionally stopping to push Hermione into a quick spin. Hermione's cheeks started to hurt from smiling so widely and her heart beat rapidly due to the vigorous movement. Her body felt more lively and capable in George's skilled arms than it did normally. Whenever George assertively coaxed her into a twirl – which was often – she would laugh gleefully as her skirt elevated slightly off her thighs, pushed up by the momentum of the tight, quick spins. Hermione was aware that her animated giggles were uncharacteristic for her, but she couldn't chide herself over the reaction; she was having too much fun to care. Her surroundings faded into a mess of the colours of the other revelers' outfits and her vision grew blurrier from the spinning and the escalating effects of the pink drinks. All that mattered, though, were the music, the movement, and George's hand in hers.
Too soon, the song finished and Hermione and George ceased their movements. They stood in place momentarily: Hermione's hand still lingered on George's shoulder and his remained at her side. George leaned down to speak quietly into Hermione's ear.
"Hey, Mione…do you mind just waiting here for a moment?" George asked, his cheek gently grazing Hermione's. Without awaiting a reply, he released Hermione's hand and vanished through the throng of dancing bodies. Hermione let her arms fall awkwardly to her side, unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. Another song started and the dancers moved energetically around Hermione, keeping pace with the upbeat music. Hermione continued to stand self-consciously on the spot, wondering if she should just return to her table.
In the moment that she had decided that George lost interest in dancing, figuring that she might as well find an empty chair and sit on her lonesome, the music changed mid-song and a slow, melodic tune reverberated from the sound system. Turning around, Hermione saw George pushing his way through the crowd of swaying couples. Unintentionally her breath quickened and her heartbeat hastened. George's once-crisp, white shirt had gained some wrinkles and his slacken, black tie hung in a loose knot around his mostly exposed neck, but the added dishevel didn't lessen his attractiveness in the least. Striding across the dance floor, looking tall and imposing compared to the other dancers, George cut a striking figure. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his shaggy red hair hung casually over his forehead and his smile was bright: all of which only served to make him look more appealing. As he reached Hermione, he smiled at her with his crooked but confident smile and Hermione though her knees might buckle. She clasped her hands together behind her back and willed herself to remain standing. How she had never appreciated the full extent of George's handsomeness was a mystery.
"I managed to convince Lee to give us something a wee bit slower," George said softly with a hint of a laugh while he pushed his bright red hair off his forehead.
"That's nice," Hermione murmured; her constricted throat was only capable of forming the simple sentence.
"I hope you don't mind," George added in a husky voice with a slight grin. Without awaiting her cue, he eagerly engulfed Hermione's waist with his hands. All Hermione could do was nod her assent and lift her own hands to George's shoulders. Initially, she merely rested her palms on his shoulders, but as George continued to hold her tightly, she allowed herself to entwine her hands around his neck. Without thinking, she placed her head against George's chest. The sound of his heart filled her ear, almost drowning out the soft melody resonating over the dance floor. She sighed with pleasure as his muscular arms surrounded her even tighter, his grasp becoming increasingly snug. It was fortunate, she knew: without his support, she wouldn't have trusted her legs to prevent her from toppling over.
Hermione was aware that her hold was closer than necessary for the dance, but she had no desire to relax it. The fact that their nearness would invoke curiosity from any interested bystanders, likewise, didn't persuade Hermione to weaken her grasp of George's neck. She could feel his hands exploring her exposed back. From his years of playing Quidditch, his fingers and palms had developed an impressive layer of calluses, but his touch was gentle. As his fingers roamed up and down her exposed spin, Hermione felt shivers spreading through her body, increasing in intensity with every one of his strokes.
Slowly, the pair swayed in spot, in something that resembled an embrace more than it did a dance. George's arms were strong and his touch was welcomed; Hermione liked the way she felt in his grasp. Her mouth quivered into a smile as George let his chin rest on the top of her head, bringing as much of their bodies into contact as the very public environment would allow. Hermione sighed: everything about the moment was magical. The hair on her arms stood up in excitement, her face had grown flush, and she was aware that heat was radiating from her cheeks. Dryness had overtaken her throat, making breathing difficult, but it didn't bother Hermione. Gently, she wrapped her fingers though the longest strands of hair on the back of George's head. George stopped stepping in place and so did Hermione. All pretense of a dance drifted away as the pair stood entwined in each other's arms. Neither moved; other than the gentle pattern that George traced with his fingers across Hermione's revealed back, they were perfectly still.
"Hey mate, we're going to leave," An unwelcomed voice broke into the tranquility that had enveloped the pair.
Hermione lifted her head off of George's chest. Fred had spoken the interjection. He and Angelina had come to stand right beside Hermione and George.
"Yah, sure thing mate," George muttered. Hermione released her grasp of George's torso, suddenly self-conscious that the other Weasley twin had interrupted them while they had been dancing so intimately. "How 'bout a trip to the bar before you're off?" George asked with a wide grin.
"That sounds like a plan," Fred's smile was identical to his twin's. Hermione and Angelina fell into step behind the twins as Fred and George excitedly pushed their way through the gently swaying guests. Hermione and Angelina were a little more respectful. In their attempt to carefully dodge the others on the dance surface, they ended up reaching the bar some time after their two companions.
"For you, Mione," George laughed, handing her a glass of the pink mixture that she had enjoyed several times already. He and Fred were holding identical containers of a pale gold liquid.
"And none for you Ang," Fred added with the same laugh.
"Motherhood," Angelina shrugged good-naturedly. Hermione smiled at her nonchalant attitude. She remembered why she had always liked the older girl. Angelina had an easygoing spirit and a natural friendliness that Hermione had found appealing from the moment she had started to get to know her. "Well…you guys have your fun," Angelina added with an encouraging wave of her hand.
"Cheers Georgie?"
"Cheers Freddie,"
The twins elatedly drank their beverages and Hermione chuckled before doing the same with hers. She knew the extra alcohol was more than she needed and she could feel the cloudiness of intoxication overcome her mind. The room spun a little quicker than it had before, the colours of her surrounding melted together a little more completely, and her giggles came a little more effortlessly.
"It was lovely seeing you again, Mione," Angelina said sweetly, bending down from her lofty height to secure Hermione into an affectionate hug.
"You too, Ang," Hermione said, returning the embrace.
"I'll walk you guys back to the Burrow. Want to come too Mione?" George asked, turning from the couple to Hermione. Hermione glanced across the snow-covered path to the Burrow. The terrain would be difficult to cover in her teetering pumps, but the covered area had become uncomfortably stuffy and she had to admit that she wasn't ready to leave George. Nodding in agreement, Hermione followed the trio out of the tent and into the snow.
-o-O-o-
The frostiness of the air outside of the canopy was striking. A fine layer of snow covered the Burrow's back yard, but the pink drinks that Hermione had been consuming helped her ignore the snow that was filling her shoes. Occasional snowflakes still fell and some adhered to Hermione's hair. Her flush cheeks, vibrant green dress, and snow-sprinkled curls gave her appearance an otherworldly etherealness. She glanced at Fred and Angelina walking hand-in-hand in front of her and felt a surge of joy for the couple; Fred and Angelina always warmed her heart.
"Thanks for joining us, Mione." George's rich voice echoed behind her. She halted and saw that he had approached her and was offering her his arm.
"Of course," Hermione replied with a charming grin, gratefully slipping her hand through the crook of George's arm. The combination of the snowy ground, the pink beverages, and her unpractical shoes had made walking a challenge. At a leisurely pace, the group ambled across the yard towards the Burrow. Once they reached the backdoor of the old house, Hermione and George wished their goodbyes to Fred and Angelina and the couple disappeared into the house. Hermione and George turned to wander back to the tent.
Quickening his pace slightly, George stuffed his hand into his pockets. As Hermione faltered slowly across the uneven ground, she wished that he would, once again, volunteer his assistance. She considered asking for his support, but didn't, sensing that something was weighing on George's mind. He hadn't said much as they had wandered across the yard, his shoulders were more hunched than normal and a quiet contemplation lay in his eyes.
"Are you having a good time tonight, George," Hermione didn't pry, but she questioned George with thoughtfulness in her voice.
"Yah…I am….You know, I know it sounds weird…but I miss Fred sometimes…like the old Fred." George spoke speculatively, his walk coming to a halt.
"What do you mean?" Hermione ceased walking as well and stood next to George. Her heels sank into the snow and she crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the cold nip of the nighttime air.
"Well…I guess…I guess I just didn't appreciate how much he changed. When I was in Egypt, I was just playing Quidditch…hanging out with the lads…having a good time. But Fred…he was being a grownup…becoming a dad…it just seems so different. I mean, not long ago, we would have been the last at that party" George pointed ahead of them at the canopy that was still surrounded with music and laughed with a fond reminiscence. "We would have been at the very centre…owning the party…Now he's going in to take care of his kids…It's just so bizarre," George took a deep breath and looked off, past the tent, towards something unseen in the distance. "I know I shouldn't complain…I mean…" He paused.
Hermione didn't press him on the matter, but she knew why he was so unwilling to complete the thought. After the final battle at Hogwarts, Fred had spent a tense week in St. Mungo's critical unit. There had been moments where it had been uncertain whether he would recover from the injuries he'd sustained during the fight. Hermione knew that George was imagining what his life would have been like had Fred not survived. It was a period of time that had been so difficult that the Weasley family scarcely mentioned it.
"George…I…" Hermione faltered.
"It's alright, Mione" – George quickly interjected – "You were great tonight. You made an excellent partner in crime," A soft twinkle had returned to his brilliant blue eyes. "One of the best."
"Really?" Hermione replied. "I haven't really done anything special."
"I wouldn't say that…I've think you've been pretty special all night." George lowered his intense gaze directly into Hermione's eyes. He gulped and opened his mouth and Hermione wondered if he was going to say something. However, George hesitated rather than speaking, licking his upper lip instead of saying anything. Clearing his throat, he eventually continued:
"Hey, are you cold, Mione? You look like your freezing." The way George hastily rushed his words made Hermione wonder if the comment was different than that which he had originally planned on saying.
"No, I'm fine," Hermione shook her head, but she knew that her bright, red earlobes, her chattering teeth, and quick vibrations of shivers gave away the truth. She had long since mislaid her shawl, her dress didn't offer much cover, the fabric was flimsy, and the night's temperature had dropped: she was cold.
"Come here, Mione," George's voice was husky as he pulled his hands from his pockets and held out his arms invitingly. Hermione pitched forward into his embrace, welcoming the warmth of his hold. One of his hands gently massaged the length of her back while the other idly caressed her curls. Hermione gladly wrapped her arms around George's broad torso, grabbing fistfuls of his white shirt to pull him closer to her. His body radiated heat and suddenly the cold of the air was not so penetrable. With her cheek pressed against George's chest, Hermione appreciated his scent, which was musty from dancing, but not at all unappealing. His hand moved to her bare shoulders. She sighed as he rubbed them warm. Hermione was aware that the night surrounding them was near perfection – the stars were vivid, the snow was peaceful, and the quiet twinkling of music could still be heard from the tent – but such superfluous details couldn't rival George's embrace.
"Have I told you yet that you look terribly gorgeous tonight?" George murmured, interrupting Hermione's blissful stupor. His voice was raspy, as if spoken from the back of his throat. Hermione pulled her head from George's chest and strained her neck to peer up into his eyes. The blues of his irises were disarmingly intense. His angular features were partially obscured by the shadows of the night, but his smile was still bright.
"No, I'm afraid you haven't." The inflections of her reply were so flirtatious that Hermione could hardly believe that it was she who had spoken. The peaceful beauty of the night, the lingering excitement of the dance and the glasses of the pink concoction had evidently worked to lessen her inhibitions. She gazed intently back at George: struggling to reconcile the handsome, young man in her line of sight with the mischievous prankster she once knew, trying to fathom how she had come to find so much enjoyment from the arms of her old friend. His black tie continued to hang rakishly in a slacken knot around his neck. Hermione longed to grab hold of it and leverage George closer to her so that she could take his lips with hers, but refrained, knowing that such behaviour was well outside the normal bounds of friendship.
"Well, you do. Terribly, terribly gorgeous," He muttered. His tone and his words were so tender that they caused Hermione's heart to start beating furiously and a more vivid flush to creep into her face. His gaze had grown more penetrating and Hermione's desire to lose herself in an all-encompassing kiss only increased as she stared into his stunning eyes and listened to his gently spoken compliments.
"Er well…I'm sure that's largely accredited to these amazing earrings." Hermione's dry mouth barely managed to form the words. As alluring as George's eyes were, there was also something intimidating about them. Hermione had heard the rumors that George had a tendency to be an unrelenting flirt and she was worried that he had merely decided to target her as the one on whom to work his charm. Also, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if his undeniable sweetness and flattering comments were motivated more by the drinks he had consumed than by actual feelings.
"Those earrings are nothing Hermione….nothing compared to that dress and the way that you're wearing it." He countered quietly, but fervently. "You're kind-of the best, you know,"
"Ah, thanks George," Hermione replied. His complements were welcomed, but also startling. After all, he'd never spoken to her that way before. She pictured her own neat writing on a page of her notepad – "Don't unnecessarily read into situations" – and told herself not to make a bigger deal out of George's potentially alcohol-induced ramblings than needed.
"George? Hermione? Is that you two?" A loud yell echoed from near the tent. Hermione shook her head, only able to find amusement in the fact that she and George had, yet again, been interrupted mid-embrace. Glancing towards the canopy, through the darkness of the night, she could see a small, waving figure that resembled Ginny.
"Damn…my little sister has always had the worst timing," George groaned and released his hold of Hermione. The moment he removed his arms, Hermione's skin was open to the cold and she shivered once free from George's warm embrace. "Well, let's go see what she wants." George laughed wryly, casually looping an arm around Hermione's shoulder. Shyly, Hermione hooked her arm around George's torso as they wandered back across the yard to the tent.
"I haven't seen you two all night," Ginny sighed happily when the pair neared her. Hermione didn't detect any accusation in the younger girl's tone. Ginny didn't seem intent on interrogating the pair as to their whereabouts.
"We were just walking Fred and Angelina back to the Burrow," Hermione disclosed regardless.
"Oh, the party seems to be winding down," Ginny replied. "Come join the rest of us." While Hermione trailed after Ginny, she tried not to pay too much attention to George who was keeping pace beside her. Their interaction throughout the night left her confused. She couldn't decipher what his intentions had been in his hug, dance, gift, and flattering remarks and was worried that if she allowed herself to believe that they had meant something, she would wind up hurt. "Don't unnecessarily read into situations," She mentally reiterated as she continuing to follow Ginny into the tented area.
Ginny, George, and Hermione entered the canopy and were greeted by the remaining guests. Hermione glanced around at the familiar faces. The tent was primarily populated by Weasleys and some of her closest friends. A few keen revelers continued to take advantage of the dance floor, trying to prolong what was left of the party, but for the most part, the tent was scarcely populated. Ginny claimed a spot beside Harry on one of the benches and pulled Hermione down next to her.
"I'm sorry I didn't see you much tonight," Hermione murmured to her friend as the red head leaned against her shoulder.
"No worries, Mione." Ginny replied good-naturedly. "As long as you were having fun…Were you? Having fun?"
Hermione paused before answering to ponder her friend's question. She thought of the way she had spent much of the night in George's arms and was not sure how she should respond. "You know, I did have fun…" Hermione countered eventually, knowing that she spoke the truth.
"That's good," Ginny returned absentmindedly.
"Did you have fun, Gin?"
"I did…It was a great night. The dance floor was the best…everyone was so great for coming…it was lovely…" Ginny finished with a yawn. It was obvious that the bride-to-be was exhausted. Her head slumped heavily against Hermione's shoulder. Hermione idly ran a hand through her companion's long, red hair and looked around the tent. She saw George standing with Ron, Lavender, Neville, and Luna. He had his back turned to her and Hermione stared intently at the white shirt across his broad back. She wished she could somehow see through his back and gain access to his motivations. Otherwise, she had no way of understanding his intentions throughout the night. Biting her bottom lip and pausing her hand mid-stroke though Ginny's hair, Hermione begrudgingly acknowledged that she hoped that George had not been acting on mere drunkenness or flirtation. Her attraction to the fun-loving, handsome Weasley twin was undeniable and she wanted the feeling to be reciprocated. With a frustrated sigh, she realized that, while the night had been enjoyable, it had mainly been perplexing.
