Author's Note: Here's another chapter! It's shorter than usual, but it's action packed, just in time for my best friend Emily's and my friend Sam's birthdays! Not Rowline!

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She laughed in spite of her and swatted him lightly. There were footsteps heard near, obviously coming into the hallway they were in. Her eyes widened and darted up to his face, surveying him for a moment.

"I apologize ahead of time for this," she said quickly.

"Apologize for wha-"

Suddenly, Hermione's hands were on either side of his face and her lips were on his. And not just in a light peck. Hermione was kissing him, real, honest to Merlin, kissing him. Not just kissing; snogging. The sound of loud footsteps approaching knocked him out of that second of stunned disbelief and inaction. He wrapped one arm around her waist as he slid his other hand up her back, her dress smooth and cool against his palm, before it came to rest on the back of her neck, his fingers winding themselves among her curls. As he returned the passionate kiss, neither of them breaking for air, both of Hermione's hands slipped behind his head, her fingers playing with his hair as she stood on her tiptoes, leaning into the kiss. Just as he heard someone enter the room, obviously male by the weight of the footsteps, George pulled her closer to his chest, lifting her slightly off the ground as he put everything he had into the kiss, very surprised that Hermione was doing just the same.

"Hermione?" came Rockwell's voice.

They broke apart suddenly and Hermione looked over her shoulder at a very stunned Thomas Rockwell, her fingers still in George's hair. She smiled composedly, as if she had just been having a simple conversation with George, and spoke up in as normal a tone as possible, although George could feel her chest heaving against his with the effort of trying to bring her breathing back to normal.

"Oh, hello Mr. Rockwell. Having a nice night?"

"Yes," he replied hesitantly, obviously still very shocked. "And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm having a marvelous time," she said with a bright smile before looking lovingly up at George. "Should we rejoin everyone?"

"Certainly, darling. They're probably wondering where we've gone off to," replied George, leaning down and giving Hermione a soft kiss on the lips before unwinding his arms from around her. He looked over at Rockwell and said, in a voice that he hoped did not convey how amused he was at Rockwell's shock and obvious displeasure, "Hope you're having a good night."

Rockwell stuttered for a moment, but before he could say or do anything else, Hermione intertwined her fingers with George's and pulled him down the hallway and back into the ballroom. They walked calmly around the edge of the dance floor and sat down at their table, which was, thankfully, empty. They looked at each other for a moment, both noticing the other's mussed hair, bright eyes, and swollen lips, and then burst into laughter.

"Thank you for going along with that," said Hermione, finally calming down.

"Oh trust me," replied George with a naughty grin, "it was my pleasure." Their eyes met and they burst into laughter again. "But honestly, where did you learn to kiss like that, Hermione? Because damn!"

Hermione blushed furiously.

"Doesn't matter," she said quickly, not meeting his eye. "But honestly, thank you George. For coming with me tonight and putting up with…this whole situation."

"Don't even bother, 'Mione. I'm glad I came. And I probably would have asked you to come with me if you hadn't asked first."

"Really?"

"Really. You're my closest female friend, and plus, I couldn't ask Lee to come with me. That'd be awkward." He winked, making Hermione giggle. "Plus, that look on Rockwell's face was priceless."

"It was!" Hermione cried happily. "It was so hard for me to not laugh!"

"You played it off very well. I think we had him convinced. I doubt he'll come to bother you anymore, and if he does-"

George cracked his knuckles threateningly. Hermione smiled widely and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around George's neck and hugging him tightly.

"My protector," Hermione teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. George smiled and hugged her back.

"So, you think we've been here long enough?"

Hermione turned George's arm and looked at his watch.

"We've been here for three hours. I'd say so."

"Brilliant!" George stood up and held out his arm. "I'd like to get a bite to eat, maybe at the Leaky Cauldron. What say you?"

Hermione smiled and looped her arm through his.

"That sounds lovely."

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George was fast asleep. A scream ripped through the apartment, waking him immediately and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He jumped out of bed and flew down the hallway.

"HERMIONE!"

He wrenched the bedroom door open and ran in. Hermione was tangled in the sheets, a look of terror and agony screwing up her face, her eyes still closed. He rushed forward, quickly untangling her from the sheets, and collected her in his arms.

"Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"

She fought against his hold, struggling to free herself from whoever she thought he was in her dream.

"Hermione! Wake up! It's George. It's me, Hermione, wake up!"

He held her tightly, desperate for her to wake up from her nightmare. Finally, her eyes flew open and she looked at George, a look of sheer fear on her face.

"Shh! Hermione! It's me; it's George. Don't worry, I've got you."

She looked at him and finally seemed to recognize him. She gave one shuddering breath before bursting into tears. George held her close, stroking her hair and muttering soothing words as she buried her face in his bare chest. She shuddered against him, her sobs heart-wrenching. What could have upset her like this? They sat there for a good fifteen minutes, Hermione's tears running down his chest as his fingers untangled her curls and he held her tightly. Finally, it seemed she had cried herself out. He could feel the hot air against him as she took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm herself down.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded and looked up at him. Her face was red and streaked with tears but somehow she still looked beautiful to him. He rested his forehead against hers and smiled softly.

"Thank you, George," she whispered.

"I'll always be here for you, Hermione," he whispered back.

She moved her head slightly and kissed him lightly on the lips. There was a moment where they just looked at each other silently before Hermione leaned forward and kissed him again, her lips lingering on his this time. Before she could pull away, he leaned forward and kissed her back, his arms tightening around her. He felt her arms slide up and around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Her fingers were once again in his hair and his free hand was entwined in her bushy curls. He leaned forward and she leaned back in response, his hand secure on her back as she lay down without breaking the kiss. He moved forward, his knees on either side of her, straddling her. The hand that had originally been in her hair now rested on her waist, where the oversize shirt she wore to bed had slid up. The kisses became passionate, frantic.

"George," she moaned.

"AAAHHH!"

George awoke with a start and sat up, his breathing quick and his chest heaving. What the hell? Suddenly hot, he pushed the sheets off of him. He looked down at his pants and groaned. No. NO. This was not happening. He was not having dreams about Hermione. He was not getting off on dreams about Hermione. He looked down at his pants again and grimaced. According to what he saw, he was indeed. He flopped back onto his pillow and stared up at the ceiling, his emotions shooting this way and that between shock, embarrassment, disbelief, and reluctant arousal. When the hell did this happen? This had never been an issue before tonight. And then it hit him.

Tonight. The Minister's Ball. Hermione in her dress. That kiss.

That damn kiss. It had been a good one, actually, a pretty amazing one, he had to admit. Especially because it came out of nowhere. And the fact that she had looked gorgeous had probably helped. He hadn't had a kiss like than in longer than he liked to admit, even to himself. And that kiss had been damn good.

But he did not fancy Hermione. Definitely not. She was Hermione, for Merlin's sake! Hermione Granger, the bushy bucktoothed little girl he had spent holidays with since he was thirteen; the bossy know-it-all girl who had become the bossy know-it-all prefect that had constantly tried to get him in trouble at school; the anal-retentive woman with whom he had been forced to room, who had embarrassed him, drove away the women he was seeing, told his mother about his sex life, and screamed at him for the smallest things; the woman who he had seen at her most broken, her most upset, looking as unattractive as possible; the woman he had shouted at, threatened, fought with, teased, befriended, protected, laughed with, kissed.

He groaned again, pulled the pillow out from under his head, and pressed it on his face, as if to smother himself. She was Hermione Granger, and he had absolutely no idea how to feel anymore.