As George's terrible luck would have it, he arrived home minutes after Hermione had stepped from the shower to discover that her hair had turned the brightest, most opaque shade of cerulean blue she had even seen. As the sound of him kicking the front door shut behind him, Hermione wrapped her towel more securely about her damp skin and took a deep breath.
"George Weasley!" she raged, feeling the slight release that came after raising one's voice when they were roused. When she heard no response, Hermione stalked out of the bedroom to find George frozen in the middle of toeing off his shoes by the front door.
"Oh, shite," he breathed, and this incensed her more.
"Do you think, perhaps, that you could explain to my why my hair is blue and then proceed to change it back?" Hermione snapped, grabbing a handful of her locks in one hand and shaking the damp curls at him.
"Erm, well," George straightened, knowing that the second part of her request would likely not please her in the slightest. "Fred and I were testing something new for the shop and we were trying out different methods and the shampoo bottle in the shower..."
"Just change it back!" Hermione growled, deciding she didn't much care for the explanation as much as she thought she would.
"Well, darling," George tried to placate her and reached out, hoping the gesture would calm her and realizing all too late that it did the exact opposite, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Don't darling me," Hermione stepped back and raised a finger in warning. "Change. It. Back."
George swallowed slowly and Hermione noted the nervous bobbing of his Adam's apple.
"I can't," he sighed, resigned to whatever punishment she was about to dole out. Hermione was not usually one for harbouring ill will towards George at all, but she felt her anger bubble startlingly close to the surface.
"You what?" she whispered.
"I can't change it back. I'm sorry," George grimaced. "It's a time-fade potion, love, it'll be gone in -"
"You have got to be joking me," Hermione voiced seriously.
"Er, well, I suppose I am, but I still can't change it back. It just has to fade on it's own. 24 hours and it should be gone, but don't wash it again until it's faded or it'll just reset the time-fade. The more you wash it, the longer it sticks around," George explained.
"24 hours!? George, tomorrow is your birthday party! I don't want blue hair for your party!" Hermione groaned angrily.
"I'm sorry, love, if I'd have known you were going to shower straight off, I'd have told warned you about that bottle, I swear it," George said. "It wasn't meant for you."
"Urgh!"
Hermione had no more words to express her unhappiness and so she spun on her heel and stalked back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind herself. The echoing jolt startled through the flat and Hermione paced around the bedroom, flush with frustration.
How was she going to do anything tomorrow with blue hair?
She heard no movement from the sitting room and so eventually she dressed in her lounge clothes and tucked herself into bed with her book.
At some point he must have dosed off and when she opened her eyes, the side table lamp was still on and the book was laying on the floorboards, upside down with a few pages bent oddly as if she had dropped it in her sleep. Blinking slowly, Hermione listened and was again greeted with silence.
Slipping out of bed, Hermione cracked the bedroom door and discovered it was much later than she had anticipated. The apartment was dark; George must have turned out the lights. Tip-toeing to the bathroom, Hermione flicked the light on. Gathering her long curls in her hand, she observed herself in the stark bathroom light.
It wasn't so bad.
Hermione immediately regretted her outburst at George. It would be gone completely in 24 hours. As it was, the few hours since her shower had faded the ends a bit and the overall colour wasn't as dark.
Thinking back to the height of her obsession with mermaids around about the age of seven, Hermione cracked a small smile. Seven-year-old Hermione would be quite pleased with her cerulean hair. Looking back at her reflection, Hermione threw it all back over her shoulder and turned sideways to survey its length and demanding brilliance.
Perhaps she should apologize to George. He hadn't meant for her to be an unsuspecting target. And of all the tests and pranks to fall victim to, this had to be fairly safe and docile, considering the results the twins had had in the past with their trials and experiments.
Hermione flicked off the light and shuffled down the hall towards the sitting room. The flat was dark, with a bit of moonlight filtering in through the window at the front, casting long shadows over the hardwood floor. Silvery outlines of familiar shapes danced at the edge of her vision as she squinted her eyes and made her way over to the couch where George was sprawled. His legs were tangled in a throw blanket, his chest bare for her leisurely perusal as she sunk down onto her haunches and lightly brushed some hair out of his face.
"George?" she whispered and his eyes barely fluttered while remaining closed.
"Mhm?" came his gravelly sigh.
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, "for yelling at you and being upset over such a small thing."
"Mhm." The response was stronger, more attentive as George was roused from slumber.
"Come to bed," Hermione pressed quietly and stood, stretching as she did so.
"Mm-mm," he answered vaguely, reaching up with barely an eye cracked and hooking Hermione around the waist. George pulled her down over his chest and tucked her body between his own and the back of the sofa. She laughed a bit as he pulled the blanket up over them and draped half of himself over her comfortably.
Hermione fell back to sleep long after George had dozed off, his head resting in the crook of her neck and his gentle breath puffing against her skin.
"Mmmmmm."
Hermione was moved slightly by the mass of George under her as he stretched and curled around her again. During their shared sleep, they had managed to manoeuvre themselves around and switch places, leaving Hermione spread out over George's side, barely balancing on the edge of the couch with her hip as she did so. Sunlight streamed in the wide bay windows that faced Diagon Alley and the first April morning of the year looked to be quite promising.
"Good morning," Hermione whispered, brushing some still-blue hair out of her face and blinking groggily at George. Her husband still had his eyes closed but he had the hint of a smile on his face. "Do you want some breakfast?"
"I am hungry," he replied, his voice gravelly from sleep. "But it's my birthday."
"Yes, happy birthday, love," Hermione chuckled and shifted. "Does that mean you want bacon and eggs then?"
"No, it means I don't want you to leave," he answered, his grin widening as he hugged her closer, Hermione's heart melting.
"I suppose we can kip on the couch a bit longer," she murmured into his chest as he ran his fingers through her curls softly, admiring the blue hue.
"You're not still mad about me about this then?" he asked softly after a silence.
"No," Hermione answered simply, and offered no other explanation.
"Let's see it then," George prompted, his large hands pulling her hips up and settling her on top of him. Hermione used his chest as leverage and pushed herself upright, one bent leg wedged between George and the couch and the other stretched down towards the floor. "How does it feel?"
"What?" Hermione laughed, confused.
"Well, you were an unintended victim of a trial, but since you're the first person to test it out who has long hair, you can give a little more insight into any problems we might fix before it goes on the market," George reasoned rather eloquently for first thing in the morning.
"Oh," Hermione nodded and gathered it in her hands. "It feels... normal? Nothing really different aside from the colour."
"It's fading nicely," George nodded. "The first try was patchy so it's nice to see we fixed that in one go." He reached up and twirled a piece around his finger.
"I look like a mermaid," Hermione grinned. "A fairytale mermaid," she clarified at the look on George's face. He had clearly conjured a picture of the Merpeople that lived in the Black Lake, seeing no resemblance between Hermione's state and theirs.
"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Don't those mermaids usually swim around with coconuts for tops? Or better yet, naked?" he gave her an expectant look and she laughed. "Why are you laughing? I can't get the full effect if you're not naked, love. This is for science."
"Oh, well, if you're for science," Hermione nodded graciously. "You liar."
"It's my birthday," George pouted, a slight whine edging into his voice.
"So I should just walk around naked all day?" Hermione asked sarcastically.
"And be available for every whim I may have," George confirmed with a happy nod.
"And what sort of whim are you having now?" Hermione eyeballed him under her but hardly needed to ask. She'd felt his 'whim' pressing into her since she had sat up.
"Just take it off for me?" George gave her a pleading look and ran his palms up from her hips where he had been grasping her. Goosebumps popped up on her sides as he settled his thumbs just under her breasts and Hermione's breath hitched momentarily. Nodding in acquiescence, Hermione grasped the hem of her shirt and stretched up to remove it. George, ever the opportunist, used that brief moment to hook her pyjama shorts to one side and press his thumb against her lightly, splaying his palm and fingers up over her pelvis and lower abdomen.
Hermione settled back down, tossing her shirt to the floor and relishing in the look in George's eyes. It was a look of complete reverence crossed with the intense need to devour her; he looked as if he was about to gobble her whole. Confidence boosted, Hermione's hands fumbled between them briefly before tugging his boxers just enough to free him from confinement and settling her hips over his. George's eyes rolled towards the ceiling at her hasty actions as he slid inside Hermione.
"Happy birthday to me," he groaned. "Whew."
Later after George and Hermione had showered, during which George had received a few more 'happy birthday' moments, they both dressed and breakfast. George needed to go down to the shop for a bit to make sure their April Fool's Day release of a few new products was going well before they would head over to the Burrow in the afternoon for the twins' birthday celebration.
No one even questioned her about her blue hair that night, for strange things kept happening to everyone at the table; in the middle of dinner, Arthur squeaked like a rubber duck, Ginny's hair was experiencing unparalleled levels of static electricity, Fleur's large belly was glowing with a strange light that kept changing colours, and Percy kept finding that the words he wanted to use in conversation were escaping him in the middle of a thought. Through all the accusatory glances their way, the twins remained fairly innocent looks of surprised disbelief and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Happy birthday to you..." Molly began, coming around the corner with a large magenta cake hovering along in front of her, and the family perked up from their cups of tea happily at the sight of it. Catching on, they joined in on the festive song, grinning and clapping the birthday boys on the back. "Happy birthday Fred and Geoooorge, happy birthday to youuuuuu!" the group finished loudly and with no regard to key whatsoever.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped as everyone gave a round of applause and urged the twins to blow out the many candles decorating the baked tower. She looked down at the small swell of her belly and froze. She had had a jumpy stomach all day, and had attributed it to nerves about showing her face with blue hair, but...
"Cake, love?" George appeared out of no where, holding out a plate and fork for her and she felt it again, a strong flutter, and she looked back down. "Hermione? Are you alright?"
"I - I think so," she mused, looking back up at him. "I think the baby just moved."
"What?" he set down her plate on the coffee table and crouched down to her level.
"When we were singing," she elaborated. "Maybe the noise shocked him."
"Her," George corrected. "Is she still moving?"
Hermione shook her head and pressed her palm to her side, but a moment after George had spoken she felt the new sensation again, and nodded.
"Say something else, I think he likes your voice," Hermione laughed.
"Of course she does," George scoffed and looked over his shoulder. "Oi! Quiet down, my baby is kicking!"
All heads turned to Hermione and George as silence fell, and they observed Hermione pull the hem of her shirt up a few inches and press George's palm to her belly firmly.
"I don't know what to say," George laughed, and it obviously didn't matter because Hermione felt him move again.
"Just there, did you feel it?"
George shook his head but his smile remained large and captivating.
"You weel not be able to feel ze baby keek for anuzzer month at least," Fleur nodded knowingly and voices started up again as the moment broke.
"Soon, dear. You feel it soon," Molly patted her son's back and Fred nodded.
"And by the time he can feel it, you'll be praying for it to let you get some sleep at night," Ange laughed and adjusted in her seat, her own midsection not much smaller than Fleur's.
April flew by in a whirlwind of rainstorms, shop launches and business trips, chapter editing and Healer appointments, with a heavy sprinkling of wedding duties thrown in. The more Hermione tried to slow down the days to make more time for everything, the faster they seemed to slip through her fingers. George was busy with a new project that kept him occupied more often than not and Hermione was left with time to focus on her book, trying desperately to concentrate on the one she was writing now and not get too side-tracked with the new guide to the wizarding world for muggleborns. Even though that wasn't official yet, Hermione and her editor Amelia corresponded regularly about the new project.
In the last month, Hermione's belly had grown quite considerably. She was quite obviously pregnant to stranger's glances and she had waited until the last minute to pick out a dress for Ginny's wedding. The flutters were now less of a flutter and more of a distinctive movement and the baby was pushing Hermione's internal organs out of the way to make room for itself. Just climbing the stairs to her rooms now had her pausing to catch her breath at regular intervals. On top of that, her belly button was threatening to pop out and George thought it was the most adorable thing; he was on constant 'button watch', as he had dubbed it.
"You know I could have sworn I was a lot more sure of all this last night," Ginny wrung her hands on the morning of her wedding, pacing around Hermione's rooms at a furious speed.
"Oh, Ginny," Hermione soothed. "Everything will turn out all right! You love Harry, Harry loves you, nothing else really matters, does it?"
"Why did we have to invite so many people?" the redhead fretted.
"Potter wedding," Hermione answered simply, which just about encompassed everything to do with the large ceremony and reception that was going to take place that afternoon on the school grounds. As it turned out, a lot of people wanted to attend Harry Potter's wedding, and Ginny had had no problem with that fact until first thing that morning.
"Everyone will see me fall arse over teakettle down the aisle, I know it."
Ginny continued to ramble nonsensical worries while Hermione forced her into the seat before the vanity and laid out everything they would need to get her dressed and next to Harry.
It was a Sunday, and out the window of her room Hermione could see a gathering of students observing the set-up of the large champagne marquee under which Ginny would become Mrs. Harry Potter. Minerva had been most obliging with Harry and Ginny, considering it was the middle of term and the students were, of course, a top priority. She reasoned that since the actual celebration was taking place on the grounds as opposed to in the castle, it was perfectly acceptable. Measures would be taken to keep the students and wedding party separate, as well as keeping the media in their place.
"Ginny just take a nice deep breath. Your dad won't let you fall; he didn't let me fall, did he?" Hermione reasoned and Ginny sighed.
"I suppose not. But what if -"
"What if, at the end of the night, you find yourself smiling and happy and with a different last name? Hmmm, I wonder," Hermione joked. "Everything will be fine, Gin."
"Oh, I'm being silly," Ginny hissed to herself and Hermione laughed.
"You are, but it's understandable."
After distracting Ginny with the task of doing her own makeup, Hermione followed her instructions for her long red hair. Hermione had practiced and practiced what Ginny had wanted so that come today, she would be able to do the style in her sleep. She rather thought Ginny had been mad to ask her to do the witch's own hair on such a day, But Ginny had insisted, even knowing Hermione's usual ability with her own hair.
In the middle of the preparations, Molly Weasley breezed into the room, tears in her eyes, and pulled her daughter in for a tight hug.
"Oh my darling girl, I can't believe the day is here already," Molly hiccupped. "I just think back to the first time you met on the platform! You were so young - and who could have known?"
"Mum, you're going to make me cry -"
"Oh no, don't ruin all your hard work -"
Hermione laughed at the Weasley women and handed Molly a tissue from the vanity.
"How's everything downstairs?" Ginny needled her mother and Molly beamed.
"Looking fantastic, dear, don't you worry. The only thing you need to concentrate on is getting yourself ready," the matriarch pressed.
The girls and Molly got back to the tasks of preparing for the ceremony that was creeping up quickly; when Hermione had finished and donned her dress, she excused herself to look in on Harry, the pleading eyes of Ginny begging for her to bring back news of her future husband. Hermione set off down the empty corridor to where McGonagall had set aside chambers for the men, picking at her dress along the way.
Ginny had made the unconventional choice to have Hermione wear a white dress; Hermione had initially refused, but Ginny had claimed that since her wedding dress was a lovely champagne colour, she wished for the guests to don black and white instead, and insisted that Hermione wear the latter.
"You'll look beautiful in this," she had pressed a hanger into Hermione's hands. "Really, try it on, you'll see!"
Of course, Ginny had been right.
The crisp white dress was sleeveless and draped lightly from shoulder to shoulder, just skimming under her collarbones. It cinched at her natural waist which was quickly disappearing due to the convexity of her midsection these days. The top draped in gentle swags and then fell from her waist in ripples of fabric, over her bump and ended high on her knee. Ginny had concurred that flats were the way forward for Hermione considering her aching back, and the simple shoes had been charmed the same shade as Ginny's dress. They had a scalloped edge which kept them from being too boring, and Hermione quite liked the subtly pointed toe.
"Knock knock!" Hermione called as she pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the room beyond. "How's the groom doing?"
"Fine now that's had a few shots of firewhiskey," Ron laughed and let her peck his cheek in greeting. "You look nice."
"I look pregnant," Hermione countered, smoothing her dress down for emphasis.
"Wait until you see Fleur," Ron's eyebrows flew into his hairline and he mimed an even larger belly. "I can't believe she's insisting on being here when she's literally about to pop."
"She doesn't want to miss the wedding! Ginny's her sister, and she's always liked Harry," Hermione laughed after realizing that Ron was probably right. The blonde woman's due date had been creeping closer, and in two more days she would be considered overdue. "She must been terribly uncomfortable."
"You know, I think Bill's more uncomfortable than she is, to be honest," Ron shrugged, and Hermione reached up to fix his tie.
"Where's Harry?"
"Pacing the toilet reciting his vows like a madman. Where else would he be?" Ron joked.
"I'll just pop my head in," Hermione grinned and approached the bathroom door. "Harry?" she called, knocking a knuckle lightly on the wood.
"Come in!" the distant sound of her best friend's voice could be heard. "Hi Hermione," Harry turned and smoothed his suit coat down nervously as she pushed open the door.
"Oh Harry, don't you look handsome," Hermione stepped into the room and grinned at him fully. "Ginny's going to swoon," she nodded.
"Ha," Harry breathed. "How is she? How's Ginny?"
"Nervous, but excited," Hermione glossed, watching Harry try to tamp his hair down into submission. "How are you?"
"About the same," he laughed shakily. "You look very nice - but - isn't the bride supposed to be the only one in white?"
"Ah, well, you'll find about that soon," Hermione winked and Harry narrowed his eyes at her with a friendly gleam.
"You've been spending too much time with George," he commented jokingly.
"Which I expect has only done me some good," Hermione grinned. "It's not bad, I promise. You'll see; she was the one who picked white for me, so don't worry. I'll get back to her though, I just came to see how you were doing before we got her dressed."
"Right - tell her - tell her I'm fine," Harry sucked in a breath anxiously and held it as he gazed at Hermione, who just laughed and stood on her toes to peck his cheek as well before returning to her rooms.
Both women were ready now, minus Ginny's dress. As per the bride's instructions, Hermione had given her vintage finger waves and Ginny had arranged her long red hair into a knot behind one ear and pinned an antique brooch in beside it. Molly and Hermione helped lower the dress over Ginny's form and before long, the garment had been buttoned into place snuggly.
The under layer, much like a slip, covered her from the sleeveless round neck down to mid-thigh, but the interest lived in the top layer; made of fine light topaz organza, it too skimmed her curves in a flatteringly basic way, falling lightly to the floor despite the girl's heels. The detail that had caught Ginny's eye in the shop window was the fine champagne sequins that adorned the shift in repeating patterns of scalloped edges and radiating lines, calling heavily on an art deco inspiration. Being so close to gold, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when the witch had first tried it on that it did not clash with her colouring considering, but as usual Ginny looked quite stunning.
"Very Gatsby," Hermione nodded in approval and Ginny grinned happily. After Ginny had purchased her dress, Hermione had insisted that she watch the 1974 film and redhead had thoroughly enjoyed the tale. "Time to get this show on the road."
Clutching her bouquet of white flowers tightly, Ginny made her way down to the Entrance Hall and out the front doors with Hermione and Molly at her side. A few students were out and encountered them on their way down, staring in awe as Ginny passed by and Hermione couldn't blame them. The young woman was a vision. The short trip down seemed to galvanize her convictions, and as they met Arthur outside the large marquee, Ginny seemed much more sure-footed.
"Oh Gin, you look fantastic," her father had held her at arms length, savouring the image of his youngest and only daughter on her wedding day. Molly squeezed his arm lightly before letting herself into the tent to find her seat after giving Ginny one more kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks dad," Ginny smiled happily. "Ready Hermione?"
"Whenever you are."
Before another minute was up, Hermione had stepped through the fabric blocking prying eyes from the affair and was immediately overcome with the number of guests waiting for the ceremony to begin. The music started and she watched everyone stand and turn to observe her and she started her steps up to the front of the congregation. Many many faces she recognized, some she did not, camera clicks. The green grass was lush under the champagne metal chairs but a white runner lined the walkway. The tent was lit with an enormous silver chandelier, sending glittering sparkles of light reflecting around in the peaked fabric.
Ginny was right, there was a lot of people here.
As she neared Harry in his dapper suit with Ron right behind him, she spotted George in the front row and smiled wider for him. George raised an eyebrow and gave her a cheeky wink.
It wasn't the words that Ginny and Harry spoke through the ceremony before the shower of sparks from McGonagall's wand had rained down on the crowd that she remembered after. It was the look in their eyes as they had sworn loyalty to one another, love and happiness to one another. It was a remarkable sight to see some of her closest friends so happy, a sight that wavered in and out of focus as tears gathered in her eyes, only to be blinked away a moment later so as to better observe the scene before her.
"You look beautiful, love," George whispered a time later as they joined the dance floor for the more formal dance at the beginning. Though her was not holding her exceptionally close, Hermione's belly filled the space between them and pressed against him softly.
"Thank you," she accepted the compliment. "I feel very large right now."
"Don't let Fleur or Angelina hear you say that," he chuckled and pressed his lips to her hairline. The two swayed quietly for a few minutes, until the music started to pick up and George motioned for a nearby table and Hermione nodded, thankful that George could tell she needed a break after the morning getting Ginny ready. He led her over and sat her down, and then went to fetch her a drink.
"Bonjour, Fleur," Hermione leaned back in her seat and stretched her tight muscles. The blonde woman looked to be quite uncomfortable and Hermione was about to ask if she could do anything for the woman. A glance back at the dance floor found Ginny having the time of her life, her wedding dress runched up in her hands on her thighs and Harry looking too happy to be embarrassed that she was shaking her behind at him in front of all of their friends, family and possibly media.
"Bonjour, 'Ermione," the French lady replied. "It is so 'ot, no? I am so warm," she fanned herself. "Beel, 'e went to get me a dreenk."
"How are you feeling? You're awfully close to your due date," Hermione inquired curiously.
"Eet weel not be so long now," Fleur took a slow deep breath. "J'ai perdu les eaux."
"Your water broke?" Hermione gasped quietly. "Why are you still here?"
"Ze contractions, zey are not so close togezzer."
Hermione gaped at the woman's calm exterior wondering how on earth she could remain so casual while painful contractions brought her closer and closer to the moment of birth.
"Does Bill know?" Hermione asked urgently.
"Oh yes, and he is urging me to go to see ze nurse in ze castle," she nodded in response, waving a hand towards the stone entrance in the distance. "But I weel not go until I feel like eet iz time."
"Aren't you in pain?" Hermione pressed with an incredulous look on her face.
"Seulement un peu," Fleur said with a slow exhale and a smile, holding up her thumb and index finger to show a very small amount.
"What did I miss ladies?" George sat back down, placing a fruity drink and a plain water in front of his wife's aghast face.
"Fleur's in labour and hasn't gone to the Hospital Wing!" Hermione hissed.
"I do not want to bozzer anyone, it is not time," she insisted firmly.
An eventful hour later, they celebrated the marriage of two very loved people and the birth of one Victoire Apolline Weasley.
A/N: Beware! Long author's note below.
Sorry for the wait, but I really wanted to get this chapter right for reasons I won't go in to.
On another note:
YOU GUYS.
You guys are the best and you really blow me over sometimes. I asked for feedback last chapter to let me know what your enjoyment level of this story is at and I am still speechless.
You guys bowled over the record for most reviews per chapter (previously chapter 26 - 17 reviews - we find out Hermione is indeed pregnant) and set the new record at 25 for chapter 33.
TWENTY FIVE.
That may not sound like a lot to some of you but for me, I couldn't be happier. That's 1/4 of 100!
THANK YOU. Every single one of you.
Also, I posted a small one-shot for this couple titled Inclement Weather, go check it out if you haven't read it already. (It's completely unrelated to this story.)
I can also confirm that I will be picking up Quarantine after this is done; I got a lot of good feedback from you guys on that, more than I had expected and so it's happening!
Okay, songs for this wedding: In my mind, all of these suit the party that follows Ginny and Harry getting hitched, so...
I Got Rhythm (Take the Lead Remix) - Lena Horne ft. Q-tip (I can just see the reception starting with a beautiful formal dance and falling quickly into a free-for-all. For reference, in my mind, the line 'I can't take it when that young thang like to shake it shake it shake it' is when Ginny has her dress hitched up and is dancing her ass off.)
Mercy - Duffy ft. Game
I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Both Whitney Houston and These Kids Wear Crowns versions
Footloose - Kenny Loggins (or the newer Blake Shelton version)
One Night - Matthew Koma
Again, another large thank you to everyone who reads, everyone who reviews, just everyone in general. You guys are the reason that I'm still writing this!
Until next time.
Leave me a review!
P.S. - There's a link to the dress I used for inspiration for Ginny's dress in my profile, as well as the one I used for Hermione's wedding dress from chapter 25.