Author's Note: Okay, I changed the name of the title because it was more hassle than it was worth. I spaced that a lot of my readers are not from the U.S. and probably aren't familiar with the Sesame Street characters. No worries, though. This was always my backup title anyways. Oh, and not Rowling.

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George heard a soft clanging coming from somewhere near his room, and took in a deep breath as he rolled over and slowly opened his eyes. 'What the bloody hell is that?' he thought, more confused than troubled at the fact that it had roused him from his dreams. He threw the covers off and quietly opened the door as he headed out to inspect the source of the noise. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it and yawning widely as he padded out to the kitchen.

"Lee, what the hell are you doing up this early in the-" He had been in the middle of talking, but halted as delicious scents wafted around him, the sounds of snapping bacon filled the air, and a backside clad in plaid pajama trousers greeted him. "Well," he said with a chuckle. "You are certainly not Lee."

Hermione stood up as she pulled out a sheet tray covered with perfectly crispy bacon and setting it on a free space on his very small counters before turning around and smiling at him. "I am not Lee, but I did make you breakfast as a bit of thanks for letting me move in."

George walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder at all the food. "If this is what you plan on doing all the time, you can stay forever." He reached for a piece of bacon that was sitting in the still bubbling fat and, before he even saw her move, she slapped the top of his hand with a pair of tongs. "Oi!"

"Hands off! You can wait five minutes for me to put things on plates. And you should probably spend a few of those minutes brushing your teeth. You have terrible morning breath." She looked over her shoulder at him, a little grin on her face.

"Who are you – my mum?" he asked, torn between being amused and being affronted.

"I'll take that as a compliment. But seriously, go brush your teeth," she ordered as she started transferring roasted cubes of potatoes into a small bowl.

"Yes, mother," George muttered as he walked back towards the bedrooms. Merlin, was this an odd experience already.

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"So," said George between large bites of breakfast, "I know it's Monday, but I figured I'd take part of the day off to help you move in and such. Because, you know – My god, this is good!" He continued to shovel food into his mouth while Hermione watched him while she sipped her tea.

"It's almost disgusting how quickly you Weasleys eat." He shot her a closed-lipped grin as he ate some of the eggs she had prepared. "So, how about another amendment to our list of rules – I will make all the food, but you have to clean up as repayment."

George glanced over at the rather small kitchen, which was covered in used cutting boards, sharp knives, and spatulas, and the entire sink was filled with at least three pans soaking in soapy water. "You're kidding, right?" He glanced over to see her giving him the oh-so-familiar prefect eyebrow raise that he had gotten at school, and sighed. There was no way in hell she was going to let him back out of this one. "Deal." Her face immediately rearranged into a smile and she continued to finish her food. He shot her a squinty-eyed look, but she missed it. How in the world could she switch so quickly from being so intimidating to being sweet, innocently moving her food around her plate so every bite had a taste of everything together? Apparently, he had a lot to learn about how Hermione worked.

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As George stood up to start cleaning, Hermione's eyes roved over him quickly. He was wearing nothing but a pair of forest green shorts that hung rather lower than expected on his hips. Hermione had to admit that he had a very nice body – toned and muscular without being too much so. She had always wondered what had made the twins and Charlie look so different from their brothers, except for the obvious few inches of height, and now she understood. For one, she knew Ron and Harry had never had a back or arms like that.

As she stood up from the table, she glanced over at George. "Mind if I go take a shower?" He shook his head, focusing on trying to get the pans to wash themselves while he put away the extra potatoes and bacon. "You weren't kidding when you said you just walk around in your shorts, I see."

He looked over, a cheeky grin on his face. "Get used to it, Hermione."

She chuckled and shook her head as she walked back to Lee's…well, now her room to find some clothes for the day in her old school trunk.

...

"Alright," said George, his arms crossed as he looked around the room. "What shall we tackle first?"

"Well, I suppose we can move his furniture out, since I brought my own. Is there a place we can store them?"

"Up in the attic, I suppose," he replied as he began help her strip the bed and pile the sheets on the floor. Together they shrunk the furniture until it was only about a square meter or so and he began carrying them up as she started cleaning the room. When he came down a few minutes later, he saw the room was spotless and the mahogany wood floors shined as if they had just been waxed and polished. Currently, Hermione was staring at the walls with a frown on her face. He was completely baffled as to what she was doing.

"Hermione?"

"Shhh," she said as she waved her hand vaguely in his direction.

Raising his eyebrows, completely lost, he took a minute to look her over, as she was apparently much too busy to notice anyways. She had definitely changed since their days at Hogwarts, but she was still quite recognizably the Hermione everyone knew. She still had her bushy brown curls that were currently fighting to escape her plait, and she still was (seemingly) still as bossy, but there was something different about her and it was nagging him. She was dressed in a pair of jeans that were obviously worn and well-loved, as they were covered with paint flecks and little grease spots, and a black t-shirt that hung rather loosely, just skimming her curves. And there were curves to skim, George was surprised to see. She was not like most of the girls he knew or dated, who were the tall, slender athlete or model types. She had hips, a waist, and a good-size chest, but everything suited her. He supposed the only proper way to explain it was that she had curves, honest to Merlin curves, and he was rather impressed she had hidden them under school robes and loose-fitting sweaters for so long. He heard a sniff and it pulled him back to the present. He realized he had been staring at her, and more precisely at her figure, which thus made it look like he was staring at her bum. Which he was not doing. Shaking himself, he was thankful she hadn't noticed a thing.

"I'm thinking yellow. Or maybe green."

"Pardon?"

She continued to stare at the wall. "Painting."

"Ah, well, you can always change it easily."

"That's true," she mumbled, clearly not paying attention.

"Well, you two are obviously busy, so I'll give you some time alone together."

"Uh huh."

He smiled slightly at her lack of focus and headed towards the bathroom to shower.

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Ron looked up from his Quidditch magazine as the floo sounded and his sister and Harry stepped out from beneath the hearth.

"Is that Ginny?" called Mrs. Weasley from the other room, where she was folding laundry.

"Yes, Mum," said Ginny walking towards her mother's voice, her brother and boyfriend following close behind. She immediately set to folding clothes with her mother as Ron and Harry stood at the doorway, not able to fit into the rather small room.

"So, any word from George or Hermione?"

"It's only been one day, Mum," said Ron with a grin, "But I haven't heard anything."

"And the Daily Prophet hasn't reported any murder yet, so I think we're safe for now," said Harry with a chuckle.

"Well, I hope everything works out with them. I thought this was a really good idea, and I still do! They just need to get used to each other. That's all," said Mrs. Weasley, assuredly.

"Who do you think will crack first?" said Ron with an evil grin.

"Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, smacking his arm with the folded shirt that was in her hands. The three of them laughed, and a small smile tugged at Mrs. Weasley's lips, though she was fighting valiantly to hide it.

"George," said Ginny, matter-of-factly, just as Harry and Ron said, in tandem, "Hermione." They all looked at each other and grinned.

Mrs. Weasley, obviously against her better judgment, turned as she was folding one of Mr. Weasley's robes, asked, "Why would you say that?"

"Well," said Ginny quickly, "George is used to people with a high tolerance for the jokes he pulls and the way he acts. Lee was always his sidekick. Take that away and replace it with Hermione? He might as well be living at home, having you watch his every move. Having someone there who is just as clever as he is, who is completely opposite of him, will drive him nuts. Plus, he's a bit scared of her. They both were, to some extent."

Ron chuckled as Harry spoke up. "Yeah, that all might be true, but Hermione's still a prefect at heart. She's not going to be able to handle all his tricks and pranks without flying off the handle. She's used to living with a girl, first of all, so living with a guy will be enough of a change-up, but living with George will just up the ante. And secondly, she's very precise on how everything in her world has to be, and George is going to mess it all up, probably on purpose."

"Plus," added Ron, "she's used to being the smartest one and the one in control of every situation. She's definitely not used to being around someone that's always a step ahead of her, which Fred and George always were. And that temper!" Ginny and Harry chuckled, fully aware of how scary Hermione got when she was upset. "Merlin, I'd love to see them go head to head for their first fight. They are going to murder each other. They'll never be able to handle this."

Ginny, after a quick look at her mother, who had been listening raptly while she silently folded laundry, crossed her arms, a sneaky smile on her face. "Anyone care to make a bet?"

"What are we betting on, exactly?" asked Ron with a grin that was so reminiscent of the twins when they were pulling pranks.

"Okay, how about this. You have to pick who will lose it first, and how long into their living together will it happen. I'll say 'George' and 'one month in.' And I'll put five galleons down on it."

"Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley, finally breaking her silence, "I don't know if you should be-"

"I'll say 'Hermione, a fortnight in,' and I'll put ten galleons down," Ron said quickly over his mother's mild disapproval.

Harry sighed, but was still smiling. "You know she'll kill us if she finds out we're betting on her sanity." Ron chuckled in response. "Okay, fine. Err…I'll say, 'Hermione, and a month in,' and I'll put that same five galleons in."

"Mum?" asked Ginny expectantly, turning to her mother.

"I'm not going to choose who-"

"Mum," said Ginny reproachfully.

Mrs. Weasley sighed as she picked up the laundry basket that was now full of folded clothes and balanced it on her hip. " 'George, and a fortnight in,' and if you tell them I bet, you will be in more trouble than you can imagine," she said hurriedly as she walked quickly from the room.

"Mum, you forgot to say how much you're betting," Ron called after her.

Ginny chuckled evily. "Let the games begin."