Chapter 19

The day following her release from the hospital, was spent lazing in bed until George had to get up to open the shop. Lee had really pulled through and taken the lead while George had been taking care of her at St. Mongus, and now George had to make up for it. Lee, after all, also had a life to attend to while her world was at a stand-still.

After quickly rummaging through the cupboards and finding them mostly empty of food and dry goods, she decided to do some grocery shopping while shopping for clothes. She flooed to Ginny and was met by the redhead and a glass of bubbling polyjuice potion.

"Today you will be my distant cousin, Cindy, who's visiting from Ireland." She had told her with a bright smile. "Bottoms up!" The vomit inducing slug tasted as vile as the first time. But at least she didn't turn into a cat this time.

"I did as you said I should. I spent your hard-earned money." She huffed when she arrived back at the apartment in the evening - a single bag at her arm, extended almost into oblivion and filled with groceries, clothes, hair products and books in all shapes and sizes, among other things.

"Good girl," He cooed, kissing her forehead and completely ignoring her tone as he grabbed the bags of groceries one after the other, as she handed them out to him. "And thank you for shopping while you were out. Recently, I've spent all my time either at the hospital, in the shop or at mum and dads, so I haven't really bothered to have anything edible around."

"I know, I'm just glad we made the shopping list this morning, otherwise I would have no idea about what to buy." Hermione said while she emptied her bag onto the table. "Have you improved your cooking?" She asked, the fact that she knew next to nothing about what had been going on for the last couple of years, was hanging unspoken in the air. Yet, ever overachiever, Hermione needed to know everything.

"Ehh, some. Not much, I think." He said, shrugging. "They say that cooking is sort of like potioneering - but I'd rather spend the rest of my life doing potions than making food." He laughed.

"But you're already doing that," She retaliated, laughing. "You used to talk about taking cooking classes. Helping your mum make Sunday roast? What happened?"

"You." He sighed, stopping short as he put the canned tomatoes back on the table that he had been lifting into the cabinet. "You happened. I wanted someone to come home to a home smelling of the greatest spices, someone complimenting my food, someone complimenting me for cooking pancakes while being stark naked." He said, and turned around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He wore a pained look, and all Hermione wanted in that moment was to kiss every last centimeter of his gorgeous face. Take every bit of hurt that she had inflicted, away. "I wanted a home. I wanted a-" He halted, seeming to stop himself before he said too much.

It was as if time stood still, as they both stared at the ground between them, one looking hurt - the other confused.

As the seconds, minutes, hours? passed between them, she watched as he used his thumb to fidget and twirl the too-small ring that he was wearing around his too-large middle-finger. Once upon a time, they had joked about how her hands were so tiny compared to his - but how they fit so perfectly together anyway. Unconsciously, her own hand wrapped around the ring that was hanging on its chain.

She felt the cold metal pulse rapidly against her hand. Thung-thung. Thung-thung. Thung-thung. Had it always done that?

"What did you want?" She whispered, as the suspense and tension became too much for her. He sucked in a gulp of air and looked up, locking his eyes with hers. He quickly looked away again, when the obvious shock disappeared. Perhaps he had been lost in thought.

"George?" She whispered and took a small contemplative step in his direction. He grabbed the kitchen counter with both hands and she watched, as his knuckles turned white, from gripping it too hard. from holding on to too much for too long. "What did you want, Georg-"

"A family. I wanted a family. My own family." The words were tumbling out of him when he was unable to stop it, as all of his loss and once lost dreams came rushing out of him, like a pipe that had burst from too much built up pressure. He turned around to face her and she saw his eyes shining with tears. "But most of all, I wanted my own family - with you. Only you. And there was never anyone who came near the standard you set for my world. That damned mountain high standard that made sure that no one could ever compare to the greatness and perfection that was you. That is you." He took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself, before continuing; "You ask what I want, but there's too many answers to that question, yet they all equals you. I want you; a future and a life - a real one this time. But I can't wait, and I'm really sorry if this is too forthcoming for you, but I can't wait to have a family with you. To see our lives and family grow with children and all of the love and care in the world that we can muster up. I have had this vision in my head for so many years, of a child with curly red hair and freckles. Beautiful golden-brown eyes. A laugh that could light up the entire room, yet mischievous and rebellious like none other." Silence. When had she stopped breathing? His hands went quickly into his hands, where he was tugging at his while he started pacing furiously in front of her. "Oh Merlin, I'm getting ahead of myself here, I'm so sorry."

"I'm really sorry to break it to you, love. But we both know that's not going to happen." She smiled at him, with tears in her own eyes and a few finding their way down her red, warm cheeks.

"What?!" He yelled and looked up at her in shock. She realized at that point that she had worded her sentence so terribly, that it could be understood and misunderstood in a number of ways. She might as well have hit him.

She quickly corrected herself: "What I meant is that we both know that there could never be just one child. You are a Weasley after all." She smiled warmly at him through her tears.

"No, don't you dar-" He started, looking angry, but then stopped suddenly, a very confused look on his face. "Wait, what?" He looked at her like she had just tried to teach him about Einstein's theory of relativity. Or worse.

Hermione stood taller with her hand behind her back, channeling her inner Professor McGonagall. "I am telling you, that we will definitely not have just one baby, seeing as the Weasley's have a history of extreme fertility, while also having a tendency for twins - identical twins even. Therefore, it is highly unlikely that we will be having anything less than two children. With that being said, I would love to have four or five." She finished off handedly, having let go of the stern professor-look halfway through cutting her sentences into smaller pieces that were easier to chew through. She was now looking at George expectantly, while he continued to look at her like she was a fish out of the water. He looked so uncomfortably confused, it might have been funny, had he not just misunderstood the entire meaning of what she was saying.

"I… what?" He asked again, completely taken aback.

"Do you need me to repeat what I just said?" She asked him sweetly. She could almost see the pink suit in front of her eyes, as she finished her point. Yuck.

"Do you mean it?" He asked, finally coming back to his senses.

"That I'll repeat myself? Sure. Once. but only because it's you" She answered sweetly again. Eww, this better not become a thing. What was wrong with her?

"No, no not that." He wrinkled his nose in distaste, making her smile, "Did you mean what you said about, about the- " He was stumbling over the words. She realized that they had never spoken much about what would happen once she finished Hogwarts, and they had surely never talked about having children.

"Yes." She stated firmly, smiling warmly up at him. His eyes twinkled in response.

"Four or five?" He inquired with a hesitant smile.

"Well, yeah." She began, frowning, "I mean, I would settle for less if you didn't agree with me… But, I'd really rather not." She shrugged, suddenly feeling very insecure about herself and what she wanted. Well, she knew what she wanted and with whom, there was no doubt about that. But what if he wanted something entirely different?

She was brought out of her destructive thought when she felt his lips crash against hers. They were a flurry of jeans, flannel-shirt and magenta robes as his hands went from the sides of her head, to her shoulders, to her back, her arse and then to her thigh where he grabbed her and hoisted her up against her. Her hands were tangled in his hair, her chest pushed against his while she used her legs to hold onto him for dear life. Everything about them had been a whirlwind of sweet, chaste emotions until this point. Since she came back, they had kissed, cuddled, embraced and then they had talked, and talked, and talked.

But nothing had happened between them. Nothing sexual at least. They had been at an emotional standstill, trying to figure out what was going on. Trying to find out how they were supposed to continue on from what had happened, and what was sure to happen in the future. They had been controlled. Composed. Analyzing.

This was anything but that. This was an explosion.

She suddenly found herself pushed against a wall and gasped in shock, opening her mouth to him as he grasped the unintended invitation. Somehow, she managed to do the impossible, and pulled herself closer to him. She felt his hardened length as he ground himself into her and she could do nothing but gasp out his name.

In response to his name tumbling from her lips, he removed his lips from hers with an audible pop and mowed to her neck. She dug her nails into his back and neck, as he started sucking, kissing and nibbling all the way from just below her ear to her collarbone.

How had she ever lived without this man?

…..

It was still dark when she awoke in their shared bed. She didn't know what had woken her in the first place, but in her groggy state she noticed George sitting at the foot of the bed, wide awake and fully clothed.

"Come back to bed." She mumbled, and hugged the sheets closer. "Come back to me." She continued, but she didn't remember him coming back to her.

….

"Morning darling." He kissed the top of her head, before nicking her cup of tea. "For me? You shouldn't have."

"Well it wasn't, but sure, be my guest." She gestured for the cup that he was not drinking whole-heartedly from. "Or you could just, you know, maybe pour your own cup from the fresh pot on the table?" She gestured for the mug and pot that she had, indeed, made not five minutes ago. When he made no move to fix one, she took the mug she had put out for him, and made herself a fresh cuppa.

"But it's just that you're so good at making them!" He pouted at her, "I can do many things, but making a perfect cup of tea just isn't my cup of tea. Pun intended." He winked at her and she looked to the heavens for support. Goodness, gracious.

"Do you have anything planned for me today? You said that I could help make products for the shop." She said, praying and hoping that he could put his dad-humor to rest, if only temporarily.

"Yes!" He said quickly, like he just remembered something. I have a meeting with Zonko's at 11, so if you could help Lee with finishing up the bruise-healing paste, Fever Fudges, Canary Creams, Edible Dark marks and Ton-Tongue Toffees. Also, I'd like your thoughts on the Daydream Charms if you end up having some time to spare. Lee has the paperwork for that one, but we both feel that something is missing - they're not nearly as realistic as we'd like them to be." She nodded along as he used his fingers to count out the things that needed to be taken care of. "Also, don't eat anything Lee puts in front of you unless you see a receipt. That dude was something akin to the third half of me and Fred, and I still can't comprehend who was the worst influence on him. Me, or Fred? It's an everlasting mystery at this point." He grinned at her. She knew that no one could ever take Fred's place, or fill out the hole that his death had created in George's heart, but Lee seemed to be as close to a best friend as could be.

Hermione spent her day in the lab hidden behind the shop. They had agreed that she would not be in the shop while it was open to customers, but just stay hidden. That meant that she either spent the entire day down there, or in the apartment. She was fine by that arrangement, more than fine really - she could spend the day being useful, brewing potions, learning about their products, while spending time with Lee or George. Or, she could spend it reading, relaxing and researching her "case" to see what could be done, how she could help and so on. All of this was mapped out by her - although this was only her second day back "home", so she hadn't really gotten around to much research yet.

When the clock struck 2 in the evening, George barreled into the lab.

"It's ours! Zonko's is fucking ours!" He yelled in contagious excitement. His smile was big and bright, cheeks red and the tie that had sat perfectly when he left was now hanging haphazardly from his pocket. He looked ever the mischievous teenager who made firsties sign up for testing his first products.

"George, that's amazing! When? How?" She asked, while Lee came running in with butterbeers in congratulations.

"Does that mean I get a raise?" He laughed jokingly. Handing out butterbeers to Hermione and George. "I'm just kidding." Lee grinned and toasted with the couple.

"No, you're not wrong. Now, there'll be two shops to manage, and I was actually thinking that it would be quite natural that one of us would manage the one in Hogsmeade. We'll have to figure out the details, though." He shrugged with a smile.

Lee's jaw dropped, and he looked completely gobsmacked at his partner in crime, "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm George. Nice to meet you, partner," George responded with a mischievous grin and a spark in his eye, while putting forth his hand like he was ready to strike the bargain of his life.

"You bloody arsehole," Lee smacked his offending hand away, and mowed in to hug the man. Moments later he mowed away but put his hands on each of the redheads' shoulders: " It will be my uttermost pleasure, to compare sales numbers with you each month, and absolutely wreck you every single time." He clapped each shoulder simultaneously and mowed away again.

…

A week later, George and Hermione found themselves lounging on the roof terrace, watching the sun go down. They had spent the evening after closing the shop, eating dinner while sharing a bottle of wine. Everything was as it should be. Yet, nothing was as it was supposed to be anyway.

The days had passed in much the same way as she had expected; she used the days in either the backroom of the shop or in the apartment. She was making potions, analyzing spells or products, perfecting spells or products. She was looking through case files that Harry sent over, mapping movements of known (and unknown) still-living Voldemort-sympathizers. Basically, she was doing everything in her power to occupy herself from feeling trapped. Because that was what he was.

She knew damn well that until Dario and Greyback were caught, she could never be free - either physically or mentally. she could quite possibly be spending the rest of her life, looking over her shoulder every time she went outside a door. Well, anytime that she wasn't polyjuiced to look like yet another distant Weasley-cousin.

If she thought that her days were starting to form a pattern, the nights very much followed the same line. She spent them locked in her love's arms doing whatever they wanted, and then eventually falling asleep there.

Every night though, she had woken up to George sitting at the bottom of the bed, staring at her. It was becoming unsettling. Every morning, he would sleep in while she woke up and prepared tea and breakfast, and every morning he would pretend like he hadn't just spent half - or more? - of his night, staring at her. He had also made it a point to not answer her when she asked him about it.

"I can't wait until I can move freely again." Hermione said quietly. "I know it's for my own safety, but I'm really not a fan of being locked up behind spells that I helped perfect myself."

"I know, I'd hate it myself. But it's for the best. Here, I can keep you safe and I know where you are. I can't do that if-"

"-If I go where I want." She finished. In their intertwined fingers, she felt George's hands stiffen.

"I'm sorry, but it was what we agreed on, love."

"No," She snapped. "We agreed that it would be temporary. We agreed that it would only be for exactly as long as necessary and not a second longer. We agreed that I shouldn't be hurting anymore. We agreed to that -." She stopped herself, let go of his hand with a huff and stood up.

"We agreed that I shouldn't be held captive again, damnit!" She hissed, both hands clenching her hair as she paced. "Yet here I am, In a home that I love, but can't leave, with the man that I love spending who knows how many hours every night, staring at me while I fucking sleep! That very same man, who has decided that I don't need the knowledge or consent, to give up the very same damned freedom that I spent years searching for after someone else forced it from my hands." She was breathing hard, "The same man, who refuses to tell me anything, and instead goes behind my back because he thinks it keeps me safe." She whispered, tears of frustration rolling down her blushed cheeks.

"I just want to keep you safe. Why can't you see that?" He asked, confusion written all over his face. Had he even heard a word of what she had just said?

"I love you, I really do," She whispered, angrily swiping at the tears that were running freely. "But I can't be around you right now. This is too much right now. You're too much. I'm going to visit Harry and Ginny and I would really appreciate it if you didn't follow me." And she turned around, leaving him standing alone with his arms hanging limply by his sides.