Dancing In the Rain
Chapter 2
Now George wasn't normally one to go about snogging girls in empty rooms—Even though he was four minutes older than his twin, he didn't possess the same nonchalance around girls as Fred. In fact, George was really much more like Ginny when it came to escapades with the opposite sex.
Oh God. It finally dawned on him that he was actually kissing a girl. A possibly delirious girl—his kid brother's best friend, no less. And they were both quite wet; a puddle of water was accumulating on the sofa beneath them.
Hermione shivered, breaking off the kiss by murmuring, "You're mother is a hamster, and your father smells of elderberries…"
"Ok 'Mione, let's get you upstairs," George said with resolution, scooping her up and mounting the girls' stairway. After tucking her in, he sank onto the couch, lying prostate and pondering that classic teenage question, "What the hell do I do now?"
***
Hermione woke at a very un-Hermione hour, her head throbbing.
"Why does my throat hurt," she thought, coughing lightly, "And why am I still in bed? I should be in the library…"
Oh God. She had the strangest feeling that she had been snogging George Weasley the night before, and what's worse—she had enjoyed it. Then it all came back—the rain, the dancing, the kissing, and one pair of very brown eyes.
Then she began hyperventilating, which Hermione was accustomed to doing, as it dawned on her—She fancied George Weasley! There was only one way to get out of this pickled, and that was the most comforting thing in the world to Hermione—making a list. She quickly pulled out parchment and a quill, scribbling furiously.
Why I shouldn't fancy George Weasley:
-He doesn't know the meaning of the word 'comb.'
-He's my best friend's brother!
-He's played more cruel jokes than he has freckles.
-He dances in the rain and makes chocolate soup.
Why I should:
-His messy hair is so cute! ("Oh God," thought Hermione, "I'm turning into Lavender and Parvati.")
-His child-like spontaneity is adorable.
-He makes me laugh.
-He looks totally hot in wet clothes (hehe)
And, finally, what scared her most: "He's just what I need."
A knock at the door startled her; she had thought that because it was Saturday, no one would come back to the dorm until late. She quickly hid the parchment under the bed as a familiar freckled face popped in, both delighting and frightening her. What should she do? Quickly, she made up her mind to pretend that nothing had happened between them.
"Hullo Hermione," he said with a cheerful grin.
She half-croaked, "George? What are you doing in here?"
He blushed, suddenly realizing that he was in the room that he had fantasized about for seven long years, "You, er, got pretty sick yesterday, went to bed right after lunch. I think you called my mum a hamster or something…Anyway, I, er, brought you this."
He handed her a lime-green aluminum can.
She smiled, "Weasley Wizard Wheezes Wizzer? You want to play a trick on your poor, dear, very sick friend?"
"No tricks, I promise. Just soda. I thought we might expand ye olde joke shoppe to beverages, too."
"And you think soda is going to make me feel better?"
"Well, maybe… It's great. All those bubbles, the noise it makes when you open it up, the way your straw floats on it…I tried it for the first time this summer at a muggle restaurant, and I knew we had to add it to our inventory…It just makes me feel happy, you know? Besides, of the soda doesn't help you, Ginny tells me that you are quite ticklish."
"No. Oh no," Hermione backed up against the head board of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, "Don't you dare, George Weasley."
"Ah, what's that I hear? I dare you, George Weasley?" an evil grin spread across his face, making his freckles dance, and he pounced on top of her, "Very well then."
***
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