(A/N: Real quick thanks to my beta Alicia. Also I wanted to apologize for the terribly long time between updates. I am sorry and I promise to try harder to get updates more quickly. No matter what I do intend to finish this story. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and added to your alert and/or favorite lists.)

Chapter 14

"And?" George asked nervously taking her hand pulling her further away from Dennis.

"We're coming clean." George merely shook his head in sadness or disappointment, Hermione was unsure of which. "Honestly, George, you didn't really expect me to change my mind," she admonished huffily fighting her own feelings of doubt.

"Course not," George replied halfheartedly. Giving himself a mental shake a bright smile lit his features. "Shall we, Miss Granger?" he questioned offering his arm to steer her to what could be an even bigger disaster.

Hermione allowed a tiny grin to grace her lips before steeling herself to what was to come. Taking a deep breath she took his arm as they turned to face an oblivious Dennis.

"Let's get started," Dennis suggested pointedly looking at his watch. A throat being cleared drew his attention to Harry who gave him a stern gaze. Sighing heavily Dennis turned back to his subjects. Deadline or no he apparently could not do a rush job of this interview, or at least not with Harry Potter being a witness to it. Why oh why did he get this particular assignment? One more glance in Harry's direction answered the inquiry. Because he'd been chosen, and you just cannot say no to the boy who saved us all. Was that ever going to get old?

Dennis had nothing but the utmost respect for Harry and his friends, but this kind of story was not his cup of tea and he did not relish the idea of a media war with Rita Skeeter. The woman had claws, sharp claws. Enough he thought, he had a job to do and he'd do it and consider the consequences later.

To ease the pair into the interview he began with the basic facts of the night before delving too deeply.

"It was a birthday celebration?" he asked politely.

"Yes," Hermione answered quickly her hand maintaining a grip on George's arm.

Dennis waited patiently for a more detailed response especially from Hermione. But when she remained silent he turned to George who had his attention focused on Hermione.

George tore his gaze away from the brunette beside him to offer a few more particulars. "Yes well seeing as Hermione works so hard. We all thought she deserved a night off and it being her birthday was an added bonus." He went on to describe the beginning of the night in a general sense leaving out most of the personal information.

Dennis led them through a series of simple questions trying to bring Hermione into the conversation. Most of the talking was being done by George who helped turn the situation into more of friends catching up than an actual press interview.

Hermione listened intently to George's answers while trying to think of something to say. All her well thought out rehearsed replies flew from her mind leaving it a blank slate. Impossible as it seemed Hermione was at a loss for the right answer. And these were the easy ones; she was getting more and more panicked when she thought about the harder ones. Unconsciously her hand tightened on George's arm. Absently he gently patted it neither gesture escaping the keen eyes of Dennis or Harry.

Laughing along with the joke George had just shared Dennis decided it was time to dig into the heart of the issue, "Did the two of you get married?"

"Yes, we did," confessed Hermione honestly.

"That's a well-known fact by now," offered George teasingly.

"Of course, but the reasoning behind such a decision is what keeps eluding the public," Dennis left the statement open to hopefully draw out an answer from the couple.

"And that's what we're here to explain," Hermione admitted strongly seeming to come back into her know it all-ness. "You see," she began then paused trying to remember the exact wording she'd rehearsed last night. Now is not the time to freeze up, she reprimanded herself.

"Yes," encouraged Dennis.

"We got married because..." once again syllables and sounds escaped Hermione's grasp. Her knuckles were turning white from gripping the red head. A moment of complete alarm stole over her and she turned helplessly to the man beside her.

Reading the blatant fear George jumped into the fray, "We're in love," he blurted.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWM

Oh no! No! No! No! Hermione thought now ensconced safely in her own flat. The interview was over and the article was being written as she paced frantically. Completely frazzled Hermione continued the circuit around her neatly organized belongings ringing her hands in a helpless gesture.

Horrible, no ghastly was the only way to describe that sham of an interview. She'd botched the entire thing. Thinking back on it she wasn't even sure if her responses were coherent when she actually managed to speak at all. This was supposed to have been her chance to explain exactly what had happened in a way to ensure the public's trust as well as their sympathy for the attack on her reputation by that dreadful Skeeter.

Or at least she'd told herself that over and over again last night as she'd practiced exactly what she'd been going to say.

"I should have written it down," she growled. "Then maybe just maybe I'd have been able to do something besides mumble."

Shaking her head in a dejected manner she desperately wanted her calm and cool demeanor to return.

"You know what this means don't you?" the voice asked in an ingratiatingly teasing manner.

"Not now, no I'm not up to matching wits with you today."

"Yes well you should have thought before you allowed..."

"Stop right there. I've made a total mess of things, I get it and no I didn't purposely sabotage the interview." Somehow Hermione knew exactly what the voice was going to say. It couldn't possibly be because it represented the small part that consisted of wanting.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWM

The fire crackled merrily lapping at the logs as well as occasional papers being thrown into it. Hermione watched absently as another piece of parchment curled in on itself then became ash.

"Hermione," a voice called softly drifting from the front door. An unsure step continued into her home. "Hermione," louder this time as the body belonging to the voice stepped up behind her.

Shaking his head Harry joined Hermione on the floor. "Thought you'd want to see this," he said handing over an advanced copy of The Daily Prophet.

"You thought wrong," Hermione disagreed pulling her knees into her chest so she could drop her head onto them.

"Well I think you've made the right decision," Harry offered enthusiastically.

A snort of disbelief escaped muffled by her position. "I didn't make any decision," she retorted. "All I did was make a mess of things."

"That's not true," declared Harry trying for a soothing tone. The dull glare he received startled him.

"Whatever you say," she said glumly.

Harry took another look around to gather exactly what kind of situation he had wondered in. Post was scattered around Hermione. A half-empty bottle of fire whiskey was resting within reach.

"Are you all right?" he asked stupidly.

"Of course," she replied half-heartedly too discouraged to even attempt a credible semblance of all right.

"Come off it."

"Seriously, I'm fine." She smiled weakly grabbing the bottle of fire whiskey to take a gulp.

"What are you doing?" the words thrown shrewdly at her.

"Gee, boy wonder, what does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped. "I'm having a drink," the last part she explained slowly as if speaking to a toddler.

"Maybe you've had enough," Harry said trying to make a grab for the bottle.

"Nope," admitted Hermione pulling it out of his reach, "not nearly enough. You see I can still remember."

"Remember what?" Harry asked hesitantly as Hermione's demeanor was starting to make him worry.

"That farce of an interview. I mean when have I never had an answer to a question?" She got up to stumble around her living room. "I'm bloody Hermione Granger, Head Girl, perfect Prefect, the know it all, and let's not forget the girl who helped bring down Voldemort. Voldemort for cripes sake," she ranted throwing her arms out managing to slosh out some of the fire whiskey. She didn't seem to notice. "I dueled with Bellatrix, rode a dragon, bloody hell, Harry, I fought in the final battle. I destroyed a Horcrux and you know what brings me down? A stupid interview for the effing gossip column of the Daily Prophet!" By the end her voice had risen to shouting. She looked helplessly at her best friend before collapsing onto the floor. The angry outburst drained her energy.

"Hermione..."

"Don't say it isn't that bad. Don't you dare," she gazed vehemently at him. "It's that bad if I say so, and I do say so."

"But..."

"No," she yelled. "There is no positive spin on this. Don't even bother trying to say there is. I mean it, Harry," she said shrilly. "If you even try I'll hex you into oblivion."

Harry sat silently watching as Hermione turned her gaze back toward the fire. Another few seconds and he made his move. His hand shot out quickly to wrench the bottle out of her grasp. What he hadn't factored were her sharp reflexes. Her hand tightened immediately on the bottle, his fingers barely managed to hold on as she pulled. They both fell over in a tangle of limbs.

After some scrabbling, and fumbling Harry let out a triumphed sigh as he held the bottle aloft. Hurriedly he untangled their arms and legs moving a safe distance away.

"Are you done with your pity party now?" he questioned bluntly.

"Ugh," she huffed her defeat. "I'll have to be."

"Look I know it's been a rough few days but enough is enough. Yes you are in an awkward situation but you've been in worse. Now where is your rallying spirit? This is so unlike you. I don't understand at all."

Hermione sat up appearing to listen intently. Harry wasn't sure exactly how much was penetrating the fog of fire whiskey but he continued, "I've brought more than the article. I did some research today."

An incredulous expression graced her features; a witty remark poised on her tongue was subdued by Harry's stern glower. "I've found some interesting information." He leaned over to grab the papers he'd laid down earlier. "It seems there are laws regarding wizarding marriage."

"What are you on about?" curiosity breaking through her drunken haze.

"A few years ago new laws were passed into effect concerning wizarding marriages. Apparently after Voldemort's fall a lot of wizards and witches were finding themselves in situations similar to yours. All the celebrating causing people to act spontaneously spurred the Ministry into action."

"You mean there are actual laws about drunken marriages?"

"Not exactly, the law I believe was passed to try and hamper the urge for such actions. You see in the wizarding world when one becomes married they must wait a year to annul the marriage."

"You've got to be joking."

"No I'm not. There's nothing to be done for a whole year. And if you did apply for an annulment you'd have to go through a series of interviews stating why you got married and so on. Your case would automatically be turned down. Inebriated people are always turned down. The law proved to be an effective deterrent. Marriage rates plummeted after its inception."

"So George and I are stuck being married to one another for a year? That's not possible; there must be some kind of loophole or something."

"You can always apply but they'll want to ensure you've tried making the marriage work."

"What do you mean?"

"They'll conduct interviews with each of you, your friends and family, and observe your interactions to ascertain whether or not you put effort into making the marriage a success."

"So if we were to try to get an annulment it would get the ministry even further involved?"

"Yes, so when I say you made the right decision, I mean it. If Skeeter found out you'd tried to get the marriage dissolved she'd have even more fodder for her ridiculous writing."

"So one of the key factors to pulling off this charade is to make sure we don't go to the ministry?"

"Yep, you're stuck in this situation for a year. You might as well make the most of it. At least this way your reputation is saved, Mrs. Weasley's heart isn't broken, and most importantly Rita Skeeter fails at her revenge."

"Yes, well thank you Harry. I do appreciate it," her sincere appreciation evident in her dejected tone.

"Perk up," Harry encouraged. "It's George; at least it isn't someone truly vile. You're friends you can get through this."

She nodded despondently. Picking up the closest thing she perused the letter before throwing it into the flames.

"What are you doing?" Harry once again glancing at the mess surrounding Hermione.

"It's my post. It's fourth year all over again. I can only imagine how it's going to get worse after tomorrow's edition of the Prophet," sighed Hermione.

"Want some help. Reading all of these can't be good for your health."

She laughed, "I haven't had any pus so far of course I've been discarding the heavier ones right away. I'd hate to have boils again."

"Why not just toss all of them?"

"Morbid curiosity I suppose. I mean I need to know what the public thinks. So far it isn't too pretty. Although the really entertaining ones are from all George's fans, who knew he had such a following. Young witches with their hearts broken because of my," she paused trying to remember the exact wording, "man stealing ways. You wouldn't believe how many ask for the love potion I used."

"As if you'd need one," admitted Harry absently. The complete honesty of the comment caused a huge grin to spread on Hermione's face. Harry continued reading oblivious to the effect his statement had.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWM

George read slowly through the papers Harry had owled him earlier. Not only did he receive another advanced copy of their interview, he also got some useful information. No matter what he was tied to Hermione for a year, a whole year such a long time. What should have seemed daunting didn't seem so scary. A lot could change in a year.

"Do we have to do this?" whined Hermione breaking into his thoughts.

"Yes. You don't know my mum like I do. We need to explain things to her before she reads it in the Prophet."

"But isn't it too late to disturb her?"

"No, now is the opportune time. It's right after dinner meaning she's cleaned up and ready to relax a bit before bed. She'll be tired out. A perfect excuse for us not having to stay long."

"How many of these conversations have you had with your mum exactly?"

"None particularly like this, but I've discovered over the years the best times to approach her. Plus us coming to her like this is the best option. We've already left her out of so much."

"Right of course," Hermione sighed hopelessly. It had been another long day. The effects of her earlier binge with fire whiskey were slowly dissipating. Harry had helped calm her down as well as drastically reduce the amount of letters she needed to read.

"One of the hardest things we have to do is convince our family and friends. My mum is one of the biggest hurdles. Once we have her on our side it'll be much easier."

"And it doesn't bother you at all to lie to your mum?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

He faced her abruptly. "I have my doubts about this whole thing but if we are committed to pulling this off then I'll put 100% effort into it. And as for lying to my mum it isn't the first time, and sometimes a lie is better than the truth."

"I'm sorry," she said distractedly. "I'm still having problems reconciling myself to this ridiculousness."

"Get over it. Either you're in or you're out," he stated firmly exasperated.

"I'm in," she rushed.

"Good now get ready to convince my mum and dad that you are hopelessly in love with their favorite son."

"I didn't know I'd married Bill too. Whatever will I tell Fleur?"

"Cheeky little thing," he chuckled earning a grin from Hermione. Taking her hand he asked, "Ready?"

"No, but let's go."

Thank you so much for reading. I hoped you enjoyed it!