A/N: Hope you guys like the new chapter. Thank you, as always, for the wonderful reviews. I read every single one of them and you can't imagine how happy they make me. I'm sorry I can't reply to them all anymore, but I truly appreciate them. Not Rowling.
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A flash of brown eyes. A brush of lips against the shell of his ear. Dark curls tickling his bare skin. Teeth biting onto his clavicle. Whispers and moans.
"George!"
George slowly blinked and looked around his bedroom, frustrated. This should have stopped. This should have been gone and done with by now. He groans and flipped over onto his stomach. Lee had said the dreams were only because he was in the middle of a dry spell, and George thought he had been right. The dreams hadn't completely stopped while he was dating Evangeline, but they had been far less frequent, only happening maybe once every week or so. Since the breakup, they had slowly been making more of an appearance in his nighttime wanderings. Worse yet, they seemed to always interrupt his usual dreamlike dreams, the ones where everyone was green, and dogs flew, and cats swam, and people talked backwards; the dreams that were clearly dreams. His dreams about Hermione were shockingly realistic. Well, except that the dirty, unspeakable, and absolutely wonderful things that happened in them would never happen in real life. This was Hermione, after all, and she had been saying unequivocally from the beginning that she was not attracted to him.
It wasn't like he wanted her to be attracted to him. Yes, it was odd that she seemed to be the one woman on the planet that always turned down his (fake) proposals for a relationship, never ceasing to laugh in his face at the (joking) possibility of them somehow being involved. He had made the jokes from the moment they started living together and she had always rebutted with a snarky comment. He knew that dagger of a tongue could slice him to pieces in an instant, but it was far more fun sparring with her than any playful flirting he usually did with other women.
But these dreams? These never ceasing, ridiculously realistic dreams plagued him every night, making him painfully aware of their presence in the morning? They needed to stop.
He shook himself and got up out of bed, glancing at his clock as he did so. 6:30am. It was earlier than he usually got up, but he really needed to go relieve himself. He opened the door quietly and was about to poke his head out to see if the hallway was clear, when he heard another door open. He pulled his head back into the darkness of his room, his door still cracked open. Light poured into the hallway for just a moment before going out, and soft, padding footsteps started approaching. He wasn't sure why, but he held his breath, not wanting to alert Hermione that he was accidentally cutting into her private morning time. She tiptoed down the hall, one hand holding the towel wrapped around her, the other running through her long, wet hair that looked almost black. As she walked past his room, the towel moved, and the two ends seemed to separate, giving George a full view of one of her pale, sylphlike legs that seemed to glow with the faint morning light that was slowly seeping in through the high windows. She quickly adjusted the towel more tightly around her and continued to her room, her door closing quietly behind her, completely oblivious to the audience of one that was now restraining from banging his head against his wall.
This was really not helping his situation.
George made sure Hermione was definitely in her room before he silently rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, desperately and fruitlessly wishing that he could wash away the inappropriate thoughts and feelings his flatmate and friend seemed to be inspiring in him.
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"Bugger."
"And same to you," said Lee with a grin as he looked over at his business partner.
"Oh I can't believe this!" George muttered under his breath as he rifled through his papers on his desk in the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"What is it?"
George looked up at Lee and frowned.
"You don't have the invoice files, do you?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
"Yes, it's here in my back pocket," said Lee sarcastically. "No, of course not. You always have those. What, you lost it?"
"I didn't lose it," said George as he continued to search around the small room.
"You lost it! How could you have lost it?"
"I didn't lose it, Lee!"
Lee frowned and paced the room.
"Alright, well, when did you work with them last?" he asked George.
George thought for a moment and then groaned. He sunk down into his mahogany chair and rubbed his face with his palms.
"What?" asked Lee.
"It's upstairs," groaned George.
"So? Go get it."
"I can't."
"You can't go into your flat and get it?" Lee asked quizzically.
"I promised Hermione I'd stay out tonight."
"Why?"
George sighed.
"She's having some big night with Oliver or something, I dunno. She's making him dinner and such," said George wearily.
"Oh, she's making him dinner," said Lee with a naughty grin and a wink.
"No, it's not like that," said George quickly.
"She kicked you out of the house, mate. So she and her boyfriend can have special alone time. It's totally like that."
"This is Hermione we're talking about. That's not happening. And that's not how she'd do it, either," said George with a roll of his eyes.
Lee's grin widened, his teeth glinting in the light.
"Don't. Don't, I—"
"Oh really, George. So you've given some thought as to how she would bring about the big event. Please. Share with the class," said Lee, a falsely-innocent tone to his voice.
"I have not been thinking about—"
"Been having more of those naughty dreams lately, Georgie-boy?" asked Lee, practically bouncing up and down with amusement.
"No, it's just—, that's—, SOD YOU, JORDAN!" George shouted feeling flustered and defensive.
"You're blushing. Does our wee Georgie-boy fancy a Miss Hermione?" teased Lee in a babying tone.
"I'm leaving," said George, the back of his neck and his ears burning.
"Where the hell are you going to go?"
"Upstairs. I'll just grab the papers and then head back down and do the paperwork."
"You're going to interrupt?"
George looked at his watch.
"It's hardly six. If he's coming for dinner, I hardly doubt I'm going to be interrupting anything just yet," said George.
"Unless they're quick about it," said Lee with a grin.
George grimaced.
"Don't. Just don't. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"
"Tomorrow then," said Lee as he pulled his coat off the hooks on the wall. "Try not to be too much of a nuisance to our little lovebirds upstairs."
George gave him a rude hand gesture as they parted, one to the front of the store and one to the back stairwell.
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George knocked lightly on the door before opening it, covering his eyes with his hand as he did so.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm interrupting," he said quickly as he walked through the sitting room towards what he hoped was his bedroom. "I forgot one of my papers up here. I'm sorry! I'll be out in one—" He paused as he heard a sad little sniffle and no sound of Oliver's Scottish brogue. He turned towards the source of the noise and peeked through his fingers. Hermione was sitting on the couch, dressed in the loose clothing she always threw on for lazy weekends or when she was sick, hugging a pillow to her chest and looking at him with very surprised and rather red eyes.
"Hermione? What happened? Where's Oliver?" he asked worriedly.
"Something came up with the team and he had to cancel," she said with a little smile that was convincing no one.
"Oh," George breathed as he walked towards her. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione," he said softly as he sat down on the couch next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"It's silly," she sniffled, "getting this upset about it. I mean, he did say his Quidditch takes up a lot of his time. And it's not like tonight was incredibly important, or anything." George's eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing, continuing to rub her shoulder soothingly with his hand. "We've only been dating two months, so I shouldn't be so upset about it. It's stupid," she said, still mumbling between dabs to her eyes and nose.
"It's not stupid," said George quietly.
"It just hurts, you know?" said Hermione, definitely half-crying now as her voice ratcheted up at least an octave. "I mean, I went to all this trouble. I even left work early to make this nice dinner, and I put all this work into it, and then he lets me know an hour before he's supposed to be here? Couldn't he have given me more warning? I went to all this work! I was having such a bloody awful day and I just wanted to see him and have a nice evening and it's just not fair." Hermione dissolved into tears and George hugged her close, her body curled up against his as he rubbed his back and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
"It's just stupid," Hermione said, though the words were muffled against his chest, which was progressively getting damper as the moments passed.
"It's not stupid," said George quietly as he rubbed slow circles on the back of her neck with his thumb. "It was too much to deal with and all you wanted was some nice time together after a hard day. And he should have let you know earlier. I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you. It's all going to be okay, alright, 'Mione?"
"I must be a terrible girlfriend, getting all upset over such a silly thing," Hermione said in a sad little voice as she finally looked up at him.
"Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life, Hermione, especially as a girlfriend," said George resolutely as he looked down at her red and tear-streaked face. "And trust me, you're not a terrible girlfriend until you turn into a psycho and demand to move in after three months."
Hermione gave a watery laugh.
"Three and a half," she amended.
George looked at her oddly, but she didn't seem to think that she had said anything odd. He frowned for a second, trying to think about what would make her feel better.
"Hermione," he asked carefully, "I know I'm no Oliver, but would you like to have dinner with me?"
She smiled up at him and hugged him, even though they were still holding each other.
"I'd love that, George."