Author's Note: Thanks for the input everyone! Happy reading!
Chapter 12
If George hadn't seen the results himself, he would have sworn Hermione was mad. Over the last few weeks Hermione had made outlandish demands, asking for ridiculous changes that his employees fought tooth and nail. He could tell Hermione hadn't yet learned the sensitive balance he and his employees had developed over the past years. She came in like a tornado shaking up the place, expecting changes, telling everyone it was under his authority.
He tried to push back, but she wasn't having it, and within weeks she had completely revitalized the stocking system. Everyone had gotten in line with military precision, himself included.
He had more time than ever. Hermione installed a muggle computer and taught him about digital inventory systems and how to organize and pay vendors in a timely manner. Everything was running smoothly.
As easy as it was to reap the rewards of a new and efficient system at the office, it was equally as difficult to teach Hermione how to fly and play Quidditch.
It was like there was a literal gap between her mind and her body when it came to heights. The first week was literally forcing her into the air and not hanging on for dear life. He quickly realized that this wasn't going to be easy.
Most of their time was spent bickering at the Weasley Quidditch Pitch, George complaining that if she'd been on raids harder than this, why couldn't she fly in a straight line.
Though she always left dirty and complaining, Hermione returned each afternoon to go through it again.
George wouldn't say she had become skilled on the broom, far from it, but she could eventually stay up and could cross the pitch without wobbling. He even had her starting on drills throwing the Quaffle at the goals.
The entire month, they were either on the Quidditch Pitch or at the shop. Hermione barely spent any time at the house.
One afternoon as Hermione was walking around the shop with parchment and quill confirming inventory numbers to the system when she heard the front door chime.
"Hermione!" A woman's voice called, trotting over to her.
"Evangeline." Hermione smiled. "It's good to see you."
They gave each other a quick hug.
"I just stopped by to chat with George." She said, more shyly that Hermione could make sense of.
"I think he's upstairs. George!" She called to the upper landing.
George looked below and broke out in a big smile. "Evangeline!" He called back, taking the stairs two at a time as he joined the ladies.
"I've been thinking about a new toy for your joke shop." She said animatedly. Apparently, they had talked in great detail about the screamer child toy that had almost killed Hermione, and were on to the next item. "This time, I get to name it." She looked at George sternly.
Hermione looked between the two suspiciously.
"How's Ron?" Hermione asked, not liking one bit the way the two of them were smiling at one another.
Evangeline looked over in surprise. "Umm, I don't know." She said.
"Oh, didn't I mention it." George jumped in. "They broke up a few weeks ago."
Hermione looked to Evangeline who confirmed it with a solemn nod.
"Oh." Hermione squeaked, then quickly went back to counting the rest of her inventory, ignoring the conversation being had nearby.
After Evangeline left, Hermione stomped over to George.
"George." She scolded. "You better be very careful."
"What?" He asked innocently. "You can't just go around dating your brother's ex-girlfriend."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He feigned.
She gave him another reproachful glare.
"I know" George raised his hands in defeat and covered his face. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
Hermione stared at him for a moment, shocked. "You've got it bad, don't you?"
"I know. It's been how many weeks. I can't stop thinking about her. Promise you won't say anything?" He begged.
Hermione crossed her arms. "Fine. But you are going to have to tell him...and soon. I'm not going to be stuck in the middle of this."
George nodded, appreciatively and they got back to work.
Hermione was eating breakfast one morning, ready to depart for Weasley Wizard Wheezes, when Mrs. Weasley stopped her.
"Hermione, could you come with me for a moment?" She asked politely.
"Of course!" Hermione agreed, as she followed Mrs. Weasley up the stairs.
They climbed up and stopped at Ginny's bedroom (currently filled to the brim with books and Hermione's living essentials).
"We're going to have to kick you out of Ginny's bedroom, Hermione." She said solemnly.
"What?" Hermione squeaked. "I...uhm..okay." She wasn't sure what was going on, and she was terrified. Kicking her out?
Mrs. Weasley began climbing the stairs again. Hermione followed, feeling smaller and smaller as she climbed. Worry setting in again.
"I've been thinking…" They passed Ron's room, George's, Percy's, and Bill's, "you know, we were able to expand enough to get Harry his own room at the Burrow."
Hermione remained silent as they passed Charlie's room and Harry's.
"But we've expanded as much as our magic will allow." She said sorrowfully.
"Molly, I can stay in Ginny's room. Please. Or, a tent in the yard." She piped. Mrs. Weasley gave her a smile. Whenever it came to change at the Burrow, Hermione always managed to jump to conclusions.
"You'll not be sleeping in the yard, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley laughed.
They reached as far as the stairs would go. Up ahead there was a door.
"While you've been helping George at the shop, Arthur and I have been talking." She turned to open the door. They both walked in.
"We've cleared out the attic, and thought it would be a perfect spot for you." She smiled.
Hermione walked in awe-struck.
"See there" Mrs. Weasley pointed, "a reading nook by the window."
Hermione couldn't speak. She just stood in the musty old room, eyes filling with tears.
"It needs a little cleaning, and a good coat of paint, but Arthur and I figured you'd have that well in hand."
"I...I've got no words." Hermione choked as she jumped into Mrs. Weasley's arms.
"I love you...and I love it." She said to Mrs. Weasley.
"We love you too, Hermione." She said patting down Hermione's frizzy hair as Hermione held her tight.
Another few days passed, and she had been invited to an interview for the Assistant Director role. She had spent most of her mornings skipping out on George to stay with Mr. Weasley and practice her interview questions. She prepared for every scenario, in particular, around those regarding her previous departure.
That Friday morning came and went. Director Adwell was unrelenting, holding Hermione to the fire with hard-hitting questions. More than an hour was spent grilling her on her behavior as an Auror. How she was lucky enough to avoid more serious consequences due to the fact that she literally saved the Wizarding World and the Daily Prophet would have had a fiasco with imprisoning one of the beloved Golden Trio. Hermione took it all in, acknowledging the difficult situation she was putting them in. She had prepared for this scenario and went into detail about how she would avoid such a disaster in the future if she were considered. Adwell didn't give her much hope, but she did acquiesce that the department needed someone that could hold the Aurors in their place (Like herding cats, she said.) and was well versed in the protection of muggles and magical creatures.
She came home with the news that the office would reach out if Hermione was selected to return for the second round of interviews.
It was time for another family dinner, but Hermione had again opted to skip it, devoted entirely to moving into her room as quickly as possible. She'd spent the last few days fixing broken slats, installing a new light fixture and deep cleaning the floors, and building extra shelving for her books.
Today was the day for paint. She picked a sky blue. It reminded her of her old room with her parents and knew it would give her an equally special feeling here.
The day wore on and she engrossed herself in the painting, honoring her parents by doing it the muggle way. She had pulled out a discman with headphones and bounced around to music as she painted losing herself in another mindless activity. The wind from the open circular window floated in causing her hair to frizz and fly as she moved.
Unbeknownst to Hermione, the family had arrived, and one particular Weasley climbed the stairs all the way up to the attic.
As he reached the top, Ron leaned up against the door frame and watched Hermione.
She continued painting, whilst also pumping her fists and humming in and out to an upbeat tune. Hermione was good at almost everything, Ron mused, but she had no rhythm.
He couldn't help but smile. It had been years since he felt anything but anger and resentment towards Hermione. But even now, he felt the flutter in his chest and knew something old was beginning to resurface...or was it something new? Ron couldn't be sure. All he could do was continue to watch her, absorbing every free-spirited move. He hadn't seen her this free since...since as long as he could remember.
She bounced around, then doubled back for more paint, half of it having dribbled onto the floor. Turning, she did a double take when she spotted Ron at the door.
"Oh, gods" She said, smacking her hand against her forehead. "How long have you been standing there."
"Long enough." He said with a lopsided grin, still resting against the door frame.
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Well, you could have said something." She admonished, in a light tone.
"Nah." He sighed, looking around. "Geez, Hermione, I don't think you added enough bookshelves."
"Shut it." She smiled pointing the paintbrush in his direction.
"And what are you going to do with that?" He asked, challenging.
Was he flirting with her? Her heart jumped in surprise and joy.
Hermione looked at him with her most devious sneer, "Don't test me."
"Or what?" He questioned, goading her on.
She flicked the paint in his direction. Droplets splattered across his face and he gave an evil glint, and without warning sent paint flying her way with his wand.
"Nooo" she screeched as she tried to move out of its way. All hell broke loose as they screamed and darted across the room.
As if no time had passed, as if the past four years had never happened, they chased each other around the room. Paint spurted across the walls in splotches. Hermione slinked away as another gob of paint headed for the ceiling. She took the opportunity to stab him playfully with the paintbrush.
He grabbed her wrist and then wrapped his other arm around her waist, her back pressed snugly against his firm chest as he swung her around in the air. She didn't fight it, she was living a dream. Her heart raced at the feeling of his strong arm pressing up against her stomach, her legs flung outstretched in the air.
Hermione had always been such a dainty thing to Ron - that's how he remembered their closeness, but he could tell she was strong now. Her muscles built up, her body toned. It sent a chill down his spine.
As her feet landed back on the ground, the plastic floor covering (now dripping in wet paint) slid underneath him and he lost his balance. Both fell backward, they landed with an oompf on the dusty hardwood. Both chuckled painfully, but their voices quickly tapered off into stillness.
They lay side-by-side facing the ceiling and catching their breath. Neither knew what to say. For the briefest time, they were transported out of their lives of heartbreak into an alternate world where both could just be themselves, together. It was perfect. Their arms were still touching and neither moved. Neither wanted to leave this moment. It was something they had been yearning for, for years. A closeness, a peace that they had never had a chance to experience after the war.
After a time, Hermione broke the silence.
"Now look what you've done." She scolded softly, as they both stared up at the ceiling.
"Terrible." He feigned, pointing his wand upwards and flicking. The blue paint splotches instantly vanished.
After another moment, Ron changed the subject, looking sincerely over at her. "You know you can come back to the family dinners, right?"
Though Hermione was not intentionally avoiding the family dinner's, she wasn't sure when she would have been ready to return. Her heart expanded at his words.
She held his gaze, noting how deep blue they had become.
"I know." She said softly after another moment. It was strange how Ron's sincerity always brought out the shy vulnerable side of her. She thought it had been beaten out of her over the years. Now it dawned on her that maybe her vulnerable side was just hiding. Maybe it had been so long since she let herself feel that way...
"I promise, I'll be on my best behavior." He re-iterated giving a mock salute. She gave a shy, but skeptical look.
"Since when do we not row?" She asked, nudging his shoulder.
"Maybe...we try something different this time?" He said quietly.
Their eyes were locked, Hermione feeling the redness creep up her neck. "I'd...I'd like that." She finally responded.
The room was silent, but some of the banter from downstairs was drifting up.
After another long moment, Ron pulled himself up, then offered his hand. She grabbed for it, and he pulled her up to face him. They were so close she could feel his breath.
"You coming then?" He asked. Although every bone in her body wanted to lift up and press her lips to his, she knew she couldn't. She knew it wasn't up to her.
"I'd like to finish up here. I'll join next time though." She smiled, stepping back and waving her wand to clean the paint off of his face and clothes.
"Alright...so, I'll see you later then?" He asked, glancing sideways at her.
"Not if I see you first." she cheeked, rolling her eyes at her own awkwardness.
Ron didn't notice as he disappeared down the stairs grinning from ear to ear.