Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay! School's been crazy, especially since I declared my second major. Let me know if you catch the (BBC) "Sherlock" reference! Not Rowling.

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A HUGE THANKS to everyone who voted for my story "New Year's Resolutions" for the Twin Exchange's January Challenge! I'll be posting up my story for the February Valentine's Day challenge and I'd really appreciate if you vote for that one too (if you like it, of course!). Thanks again, guys!

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DAY THIRTY-THREE

Hermione hummed happily as she closed her bedroom door and pulled her shirt off with one arm. She shook her hair out, brushing the static hair clinging to her cheeks as she shimmied out of the skirt she wore under her robes for work, which were thrown across her neatly made bed. This was going to be a nice night, she had decided. She had gotten out of work early, stopped off at her favorite used bookstore, and had a new recipe to try out that her mum had sent her, the index card covered with oil splatters that slightly smeared her mother's neat handwriting. She moved about her room, putting her robes away as she pulled on some yoga pants and a t-shirt before tying her hair up and heading towards the bathroom to wash her face. She was never a huge fan of makeup but she wore a smidge, just to make sure she looked awake and presentable, but always took it off as soon as she got home. She heard the front door open and close as heavy footfalls moved around the house. Apparently George had just called it a day as well. Not thinking much of it, as it was Friday and thus her night to have the house to herself, she blindly grabbed a towel, her eyes squeezed shut and her face dripping, and patted her face dry.

"Hello George," she called as she passed his room, whose door was cracked open.

"'Lo!" he called back.

She nipped into her room, grabbing her new book and her recipe card and headed to the kitchen, a bright smile on her face as she rummaged through the icebox to find all the necessary ingredients. She was in the middle of peeling carrots when she heard footsteps behind her and felt warm breath on the back of her bare neck.

"So, what are we having for dinner?"

She turned and grinned at her flatmate, rather confused. "We?"

"Yes, you and I makes 'we'," George said with a grin.

"But it's Friday."

"It is!" replied George in a doting tone used when talking to a precocious toddler. "Good job, Hermione!"

She rolled her eyes and swatted him, making him laugh. "My point is that you go out on Fridays."

"Generally, yes, but I promised you last week that if you came with me to the bar, I would stay at home this Friday and do whatever you wanted."

"Oh," she breathed, recalling the conversation. "Well, then apparently we are having carrot soup."

"Excellent! How can I help?"

Hermione blinked, completely unaccustomed to George not only being here, but offering to help in what they had agreed was most certainly her domain. "Uhh…you can help peel carrots. That's relatively safe." She picked up her wand from the table behind her and duplicated her vegetable peeler, handing the copy to George and demonstrating how to use it. About five minutes in to peeling the huge pile of carrots, having already ignored George's multiple comments on how she could peel them by magic in a few seconds, she heard a hiss of pain from next to her and saw a few drops of dark red mingling with the bright stripes of orange that were filling the sink's basin. "George, are you okay?" she asked quickly as she put down her peeler and turned to see him holding his right index finger tightly between his left thumb and index finger.

He grimaced slightly. "I'm fine, Hermione," he said quickly, moving his hands as if to hide them.

"Come here," she said, grabbing her wand with one hand and his bicep with the other as she walked out of the room, bringing him to the bathroom, where there was better light. "Now show me what happened." He did not move, still holding his finger tightly, a few drops of blood slipping from between his fingers and splashing on the tile floor. "George," she said in her best imitation of Molly. He sighed and released his hold. Hermione's eyebrows shot up as she saw he had missed the carrot and sliced a huge stripe of his skin off, the end holding on by no more than a millimeter. "Let me clean it first and then I'll heal it." She muttered a few words, holding her wand over the cut that was now bleeding freely and George hissed in pain.

"Bugger," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

"I'm sorry!" she said apologetically. "I swear it'll be over in a second!" She quickly waved her wand and watched as the skin seemed to sew itself back, turning red for a moment before going back to normal.

George flexed his finger, watching it carefully. "Thanks, Hermione," he said. "Let me repay the favor." Before she had time to ponder what that odd comment had meant, he had walked out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. By the time she had joined him there, all the carrots had peeled and chopped themselves and were sitting neatly in a blue glass bowl. She shot him a look, her eyebrow raising as she pursed her lips at him, and he grinned. "What? I was saving you from the possibility of more injuries!" She shook her head and bumped him with her hip as she moved to the next step of the recipe.

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"That, Hermione, was some excellent soup. I should help in the kitchen more often," George said as he licked his spoon happily.

"Oh, and have more accidents? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Hermione replied sarcastically as she finished her last spoonful.

"Oh come on! It was fun! Admit it, Hermione!"

"Oh fine, it was fun, even though you nearly gave me a heart attack when you almost spilled all the soup."

"What's life without a bit of risk, eh?" She smiled as she set her bowl in the sink, where it began to wash itself before setting itself on the towel on the counter to dry. "So, what are we going to do next?"

She watched him for a moment, rather surprised. "You're honestly not bored with me yet?"

"Hermione," he said as he stood up and gently took her hand in his, his voice soft, "I could never get bored of you."

She watched him for a moment, not sure how to feel about such a tender moment, until she saw a smile tugging on the corner of his lips despite his monumental efforts to continue looking as sincere as possible. "You jerk!" she cried, a shocked look lighting up her face, followed by a bright smile as she swatted him. He cackled gleefully and blocked her attacks with his arms. He quickly moved behind her and picked her up by the waist, pulling her feet up from the ground and laughing at her shriek of shock and attempts to get back down.

"You are so easy to mess with, Hermione!" he laughed, his mouth right next to her cheek as he held his struggling flatmate . She finally gave up her attempts at prying his arms from around her waist, laughing too hard to be taken seriously. He put her down and walked to the sofa, where she dropped down next to him, her face flushed from laughing so much. "So, what's next?"

She picked up the worn book from the coffee table and showed it to him. "I have a new book I bought. It's a muggle book, a murder mystery."

"Well, that sounds interesting enough," he said with a smile, resting his feet on the table and the back of his head in his palms, his arms now folded behind him.

Hermione put her palm to his forehead, brushing away some of the stray hairs as she did so. "Are you feeling alright, George?"

It was now his turn to roll his eyes and push her hand away. "Oh shush! Start reading," he commanded.

Surprised, Hermione opened the book and began to read aloud.

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Three hours later had found Hermione sitting on the sofa, her feet resting on the coffee table in front of her, her left hand holding the book open, her right hand playing with George's hair as she read. George's legs were hooked over the arm of the sofa, his back against the seat of the sofa and his head in Hermione's lap. His eyes were closed, but not in a restful way, but as if he was thinking something through, his teeth biting on his full bottom lip in an aggravated manner.

"…and that's the end!" finished Hermione, flipping the book closed with her thumb.

"WHAT?" shouted George, sitting up quickly and knocking the book from her hand.

"Hey!"

"But that's wrong!"

"What's wrong?"

"The businessman did it!"

"The butler did it, George."

"But the businessman did it!"

"George, the businessman was the victim. It wasn't a suicide. And if he was dead, he couldn't have killed his wife."

"But he did it!"

"That's not how the author wrote it!"

"WELL THE AUTHOR IS WRONG!"

Hermione smiled as she surveyed George's look of indignation, his cheeks flushed and his dark blue eyes alight with emotion. "George, it's only a book," she said soothingly. He crossed his arms and pouted in frustration. Hermione laughed, seeing for a moment a glimpse of what a young George must have looked like, pouting when his mother yelled at him for playing yet another prank on his baby brother. She cupped his cheek with her palm, his hair just tickling her fingertips. "George," she said slowly, "It's okay. It was a book, not real life."

He gave her an angry look that she laughed off, knowing he was just being petulant. He frowned when he saw she was ignoring his anger, but soon smiled, giving over to her laughter. "Besides the fact that the author was wrong about who was the murderer and I was right, that was a great book," he said. He checked his watch and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Half past ten! The time went by quickly, eh? This has been great fun. We should do this every weekend. Not Friday, though. I do have to make an appearance at the bar occasionally." He winked roguishly.

"What would the brainless women of the bar do without you?" she replied sarcastically as she stretched. She had been sitting in one position for far too long, although she hadn't noticed the time passing.

George stood up and stretched his arms above his head, his shirt rising and showing a good seven and a half centimeters of toned midriff. Hermione's eyes lingered on it for a moment before George began to talk, lowering his hands and thus his shirt. "One of these days, Hermione, you'll fall victim to my charm. You just wait." He winked at her as he shot her a handsome smile.

Hermione snorted. "I'd like to see that day."

"You just wait."

"Uh huh. Oh, and speaking of the bar, I'll be out tomorrow night," she said as she picked up her book and stood up.

His eyebrow raised as he surveyed her curiously. "Oh yeah? Who you meeting?"

"I never said I was meeting anyone."

"It's that bloke from the bar, isn't it? The one with the glasses."

"That's so specific, George. You really have a knack for description." He gave her a knowing look and she shook her head. "Yes, I'm meeting Malcom, that bloke with the glasses."

"Look at you, Hermione! Going to bars, going on dates with random blokes…"

"Malcolm is not a random bloke!" Hermione cut in.

"Next you'll be taking them home!" His mouth dropped open, a look of pleased shock passed over his face. "Merlin, you're turning into me!" He laughed before assuming a look of mock-horror. "Merlin! I just stayed in and read a book. Oh god, I'm turning into you! Check my forehead! Do I have a fever?" He grabbed her wrist and slapped her palm to his forehead.

"Oh shuttup!" said Hermione, who was trying desperately to keep an offended look on her face, but she couldn't help smiling at his antics.

He grinned and ruffled her hair, messing up her neat bun. "Goodnight, Mione. Thanks for the fun night." He gave her shoulder a little squeeze, his thumb gently brushing up and down the curve of her neck, before he shot her a wink and walked away, towards his bedroom. Hermione smiled despite herself. That was the first time he had ever called her "'Mione."