Author's Note: I'm sorry for this month-long delay, guys! School has been ridiculous and I'm on my first day of break now! Thank goodness! Hope you like this chapter! Not Rowling.

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DAY FORTY-EIGHT

George wasn't sure how he felt about Hermione and her new boyfriend. Because that's what he was now. They had been dating for a fortnight and George was more than a little taken aback. Was this how Hermione had felt at the beginning of them living together? That uncomfortable feeling that you're always in the way, always nervous that you might interrupt something or make a comment that could be taken the wrong way?

Not that Hermione ever brought him over. She was usually out with him, whether it be at a bar, restaurant, or his place, so there wasn't any real worry that he would walk in on anything indecent, but he had just barely missed a few moments that would have been decidedly awkward. Once he had been just about to leave the apartment to meet Lee down at the café a couple doors down for a quick bite while they discussed new plans regarding a new business venture only to hear Hermione's familiar laugh on the other side of the door. He had ignored this and had been about to open the door, his hand already on the door handle, when he had heard the sound of someone's back gently colliding with the door followed by what was unmistakably kissing. Another time, he had been at a restaurant with a new girl he had been seeing casually when he had looked over a couple tables to see Hermione and Malcolm eating dinner. He had tried to ignore this and stay focused on Hannah, but this proved difficult as his eyes strayed over every few minutes, watching as Hermione animatedly told a story, her hands emphasizing her points as Malcolm listened, his eyes never leaving her face.

"This is really throwing you off, isn't it?"

"Huh?" George's attention snapped back to the present and his eyes once again focused on Lee's face.

"This whole Hermione-dating-now thing. It's throwing you off."

"It's just so weird!" he exclaimed, knowing Lee would understand exactly how he felt. "It made a hell of a lot more sense when she was berating me for my behavior and being judgmental. But her dating? It's weird. It's like-, I can't picture her dating anyone. She was always so uptight that I can't imagine her ever shagging someone. Ever."

Lee laughed. "She's relaxed a bit since school but I know what you mean. She's always so stressed. I dunno, maybe this will be good for her."

"It's odd. It's like living with another version of her." Lee gave him a questioning look, so he continued. "She's oddly happy, which is not a bad thing. I like having a happy Hermione around – it makes my life a whole lot easier – but she's so much more girly. I can't explain it, but she doesn't always seem one hundred percent present, like she's always halfway gone, daydreaming or something."

Lee smiled. "Whatever makes your cohabitation more peaceful is for the best, in my opinion. Take me and Angelina, for example. She has some weird habits. Everything has to be in color order. She has to do certain things on certain days. But I let it go and do what I can to stick with what she's used to because then she doesn't want to rip my head off and everything goes by smoothly."

George smiled to himself as he looked back at the glass in his hands. "You're right, mate. It's just taking some getting used to."

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DAY FIFTY-FOUR

George, for once, was not here to pick up a girl. He hadn't been doing that in a while, actually. He had seen a couple girls on and off, but after being embarrassed by Hermione calling him on his antics, his love life (or, more aptly, his sex life) had, more or less, come to a grinding halt. He was here just because it had been a difficult day and he wanted a drink. Another unusual thing for him considering he usually stayed sober while out at night. Ron and Percy had gotten into another stupid spat today and he had been called in to try and fix it. He suspected his mother used the fact that he was Fred's twin in order to guilt Percy when he slipped back into his old ways that had separated him from the family for years. In the back of his mind, he knew that using the fact that Percy felt partly responsible for Fred's death was not the kindest way to keep him in check when he became less than tolerable, but, blood relative or not, they all wanted to beat Percy's face in quite regularly.

He was just starting to sip his glass of Firewhiskey when he heard a high pitched "George!" from behind him. He turned his head and his stomach seemed to turn to lead. It was Zandra, a girl he had gone out with once or twice almost six months ago who would not leave him alone. She was one small step away from becoming a legitimate stalker. He had been doing everything to avoid her, including placing a memory charm on her that came into effect any time she tried to figure out where his house was. It was very much like the ones felt by muggles if they tried to get to close to Hogwarts or the Quidditch World Cup. He had originally felt bad for having taken such extreme measures, but that feeling evaporated after she started sending him daily letters and food packages that he knew were laced with the love potions he sold downstairs at the store. Even if she couldn't find him, she knew her owls could.

As if he was in slow motion and his body could not react properly, he felt her loop her arms around his right arm possessively. "George! It's so great to see you!"

"Hi Zandra," he said weakly. Great. Cos' his day needed to get worse. His mind immediately set to finding an excuse. "I'd love to chat, but I'm actually waiting for someone. But it was nice seeing you." That was a proper send-off, right? That clearly said, in the politest terms possible, Please leave now. Bye bye.

"Oh, well I'll keep you company until he gets here," she said cheerily.

George felt like slamming his forehead on the bar's polished cherry-wood surface. Honestly? Was this what he needed right now? What, in the name of Merlin, was he supposed to do now? Suddenly, it came to him. He surreptitiously pointed his wand under the bar so no one could see it and nonverbally summoned a patronus, which nudged his hand before soaring away to send his message.

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Hermione was just giving herself a once-over in the mirror before heading out to see Malcolm. She knew she was a little early, but that couldn't hurt anyone. She was just fidgeting with her hair when something silver shot in through the closed window behind her. She turned quickly and was met with George's voice.

Hermione. I need your help. Zandra's back and I can't shake her. I'm at the usual pub. Please, Hermione.

The patronus gazed at her imploringly for a moment before disappearing into thin air. Zandra. Hermione remembered her, all right. She was horrible. And that was coming from someone who had had to shake off a ridiculous amount of George's one night stands. She was completely deranged. Hermione hadn't been here for when he had originally dated her, but she had been here for the spiked packages, the late night owls, the invitation to George's and Zandra's engagement party, and the angry notes saying that George needed to come to her, as she was having his baby. After listening to George rant about how psychotic the woman was, especially because he had not slept with her or even brought her home, Hermione knew what trouble this girl was.

Hermione glanced at her watch. Thank goodness she was ready early. She grabbed her bright red blazer and her small beaded bag and walked over to the floo.

…

'Where was she?' George thought desperately. The thought that maybe she had forsaken him and left him to deal with Zandra on his own started wriggling to the forefront of his mind, but he brushed that idea away impatiently. Hermione wouldn't do that. He knew how completely mad this woman was. He was just taking another sip of his Firewhiskey and trying desperately to tune out Zandra's inane rambling when he heard the click of heels behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"George."

He turned and beamed as he saw his savior. There, in front of him, stood Hermione, wearing some bright red shoes, the heels of which were not ridiculously high like those of most women he knew, but shorter, more modest. His eyes traveled up from those red heels to a black dress. The black dress, the one he had pulled out of her closet almost a month ago. And damn, if he had thought it looked good on the hanger, it was nothing to how it looked on her. It hugged every curve perfectly, suited her without looking as though she was forced into it. It wasn't tight, but flattered her shape well, and was topped with her favorite bright red blazer, which turned the outfit from surprisingly sexy to so perfectly Hermione, unexpected and slightly tongue-in-cheek.

"Hi, honey," he said, flashing her a lazy grin.

"Sorry I kept you," she replied easily, playing along. "You ready to go? We have reservations in ten minutes."

"I'm quite ready." He stood, slipped his arm out of Zandra's clutches, and wrapped it around Hermione's waist, smiling as he saw Zandra's smile slide right off her face. "It was nice catching up, Zandra," he said politely, receiving a dumbfounded nod in reply.

They walked out quickly, keeping up their act until they were a street away and out of viewing range of the bar. He stopped and turned Hermione, hugging her tightly. She laughed and hugged him back.

"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you so much," he said quickly, the words tripping over each other on their way out of his mouth.

"Don't worry about it," she replied as they broke apart and she immediately ran her fingers through his hair, fixing where it had fallen oddly after their hug.

"I owe you. Honestly, I do." She smiled and made a gesture as if waving away this comment. "But, Hermione," he said, his tone swiftly shifting to teasing, "I thought that was an emergency dress."

Hermione ducked her head, not meeting his eyes. "Well, Malcolm and I are going somewhere special tonight. It's not too much, is it?" she added worriedly, her head snapping up to check his reaction.

He smiled warmly. "You look beautiful, Mione." She smiled shyly, a pink blush staining her cheeks. "Who knew you had a body under all those billowing robes, eh?" She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Well, I better go," she said as she checked her watch.

"Thanks again, Mione," he said, pulling her forwards into another hug. He felt her smile against his chest.

"You're welcome, George," she said softly. They broke apart and he ruffled her hair, earning him a squawk of indignation and a slap on the hand. He laughed and pulled back his hand. "And George?" He looked over, noticing a worried expression on her face. "It'll all work out with Percy." She smiled at him once more before turning on the spot and disappearing with a quiet pop. He stood for a moment, smiling at the place where she had just been. How did she always know?