Author's Note: This is a shorter chapter because I haven't been feeling well, but I wanted to make sure to get the ball back rolling. Also, please please please vote for my story (The Numbers Game) for the Twin Exchange Monthly Challenge. It won't let me post the link, but just do a google search for "Twin Exchange Forum" and select the chat on their page called "Monthly Challenge."

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Not Rowling.

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She smiled as she walked slowly up the stairs to the flat, rereading the letter from Oliver in her mind.

Hermione,

I know you're terribly busy being terribly busy with your job, but it must get you stressed every once and a while. If that stress comes soon, I'd be happy to take you out for a drink and be your sounding board. Not that I'm hoping you will have a stressful day or anything…but I am.

Send me an owl.

Cheers,

Oliver

She grinned to herself. She had never really gotten to know Oliver when they were at school. She had only ever known him as Harry's manic and fiercely competitive quidditch coach. Yes, she had always thought he was handsome, but so had every other girl in her year. And her house. And her school, even if the other houses didn't want to admit it. So she had never paid him much attention. Sure, they had shared a few sharp words here and there when it came to Harry's priorities, but she had had many more arguments with Ron or the twins, so their conversations had never stood out. But now, this was different; they'd both changed so much, both from the effects of the war and the simple passing of many years. Maybe it was time to see where this would go. She couldn't let her bad experience with Malcolm ruin any further ones.

She finally made it up to the door and stepped inside.

"Hello," she called.

Her eyes immediately fell on the sofa, where she could see the back of Evangeline's head, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Hermione stepped forward and saw George was lying on the couch, his head in her lap, her fingers carding through his hair as they each read a magazine, his about quidditch and hers about fashion. Her mind immediately jumped back to a similar scene that took place about eight months ago.

Hermione was 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 a muggle mystery novel. 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, his teeth biting on his full bottom lip in an aggravated manner.

"…and that's the end!"

She immediately felt her eyes well up with tears. She shook her head slightly, forcing herself to move, and walked quickly to her bedroom.

"'lo, 'Mione," George called, but she ignored it.

She closed the door and quickly put a silencing charm on her bedroom door. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to do this, but two rogue tears slipped through her lashes, raced down her cheeks, and splashed onto her blouse. Why was she even crying about this? It was ridiculous. She wiped her eyes forcefully with the back of her hands, and started changing out of her word robes and into her pajamas, but the crying continued, unbidden and unwanted. She had gotten used to George being single. She had hounded him for so long for having a long string of one- or two-night stands, telling him it was disrespectful and all parties involved deserved better. 'Well,' she thought bitterly, 'you got what you asked for.' Now there was Evangeline, and she seemed to be George's perfect girl. Hermione knew she should be happy for him, but she couldn't help but dislike this 'new George,' the one who talked about Evangeline constantly as if he was a lovesick teenager; the one who was always over at her place on Fridays and Saturdays, which had been when George and Hermione would spend time together; the one who always had a date to things, including family dinner every Sunday. She supposed all of these things were fine, but seeing them sitting like that physically hurt her.

Had she been replaced?

To be fair, she and George had never been 'together.' They had always denied that vehemently when they were teased by Harry and the Weasley family for always doing things together. But now, all of that, that silly and comfortable and ridiculous relationship, was gone. They only saw each other in passing, it seemed, and Evangeline always felt like a constant presence in the flat, even if she was not there. Now, when Hermione slipped on her favorite shirt, George's Team Ireland shirt from the Quidditch World Cup, it felt as if she was doing wrong by wearing it, because it belonged to his girlfriend now.

She looked into the mirror that hung next to her armoire. There was her hair, a mass of crazy curls that seemed to have a mind of their own once let out from her professional updo; there was her bright red face, her eyes slightly puffy, her nose running, and her cheeks still wet from tears she wished she wouldn't cry; there was George's faded green shirt, almost covering her bum because it was two sizes too big. She looked at the shirt and smiled slightly. This was George's favorite shirt. He had been going mad trying to find it until he barged into her room and saw her wearing it when she had her awful cold. His frustration had melted away and was replaced with a smile.

"I'm sorry, George. But it's so comfortable and mine is in-"

"You can have it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Take good care of it for me."

Hermione nodded at her reflection. Evangeline may have George, but she would never have George's favorite shirt.

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George loved the feel of her lips on his. She was an amazing kisser. So many people had something wrong with how they kissed. Some bit too much (Claudia and Lillian), some used too much tongue (Zara, Gabrielle, and Hannah), and some kept their eyes open. He mentally shuddered every time he thought of Julie. That night had ended as soon as he had opened his eyes and saw she was watching him. But Evangeline did everything perfectly. He smiled as she moved, straddling his hips and leaning forward to continue the kiss, his back and head propped up by his bed's pillows. Not waiting for her to get there, he sat up slightly and wrapped his arms around her, one around her waist, the other in her hair.

"George," she said into the kiss.

"Her-"

He might have frozen internally at that moment. It certainly felt like his brain had just been dropped into the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean.

"What?" she said quietly as she pulled away slightly, a questioning smile in her voice.

"Hair. Got in my mouth," he said quickly, giving her one of his winning smiles.

She giggled and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"There. All better."

"You know I'm just going to pull out the elastic, right?" he said with a smirk.

"Of course." She smiled at him before moving forward again.

A part of him knew he should be taking a moment to figure out why the hell Hermione's name had almost came out of his mouth during his snogging session with his girlfriend, but the part of him that had Evangeline's lips on his neck and her hands on his bare chest told him to forget about it until a less enticing moment was upon him.

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Oliver,

I'm having a hell of a day today. I could use a drink. How about you?

Best,

Hermione

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Hermione,

Funny you should mention that. I could do with a pint myself. When do you get off work? Practice ends at four today.

Cheers,

Oliver

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Oliver,

I'll be leaving around five.

Best,

Hermione

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Hermione,

How about we meet at The Crooked Wand around 5? Maybe get a bite to eat as well.

Oliver

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Oliver,

That sounds lovely. I'll see you then.

Hermione

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Post Script: Please please please vote for my story (The Numbers Game) for the Twin Exchange Monthly Challenge. It won't let me post the link, but just do a google search for "Twin Exchange Forum" and select the chat on their page called "Monthly Challenge."