Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and characters, places, people living or dead. I am merely using them for entertainment purposes only. Plot based loosely on Sabrina.

By: Kneazle

A True Love Story

Chapter Two:

            The next morning, I arrived at Roses are Red, Violets are Blue earlier than I ever had in the four years I had owned my estranged Great-God-Aunt's boutique. I left the "CLOSED" sign, however, on the door until it was a quarter to seven. We weren't supposed to open our shop's until eight, but I felt that maybe if I opened the shop earlier I'd be able to leave earlier and sneak away to one of the bars and get smashed.

            When the bell above my door jingled, signaling a very early customer, I walked towards them from behind a gold and scarlet curtain separating my office at the side of the store by the counter. I shouted out, "I'm not open yet!"

            "Hermione?"

            My eyes widened, I peaked around the curtain and saw George Weasley standing off to the side of the counter, leaning slightly to the left to try to get a look into my office, thinking that was where I was hiding. He was more than a little right.

            "George!" I said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

            He shuffled his foot and placed his hands behind his back, looking down on the tiled floor. "Well, you left so suddenly last night, I just wanted to check in and see how you were…"

            "I'm fine," I lied, frowning. He glanced up and frowned himself, his eyes raking over my face.

            "No you're not," he said softly. I sighed, exasperated. I had known the Weasley family for twenty years. In that time, I had been introduced to the Weasley twins at the age of five – when they were seven and in their "mischievous" stage – when I first went to Carver. My earliest memories of George and Fred were not always the best, but they had always been there for me, even when Harry and Ron were busy at rugby practice.

            My first memory of George that had been was when one of Draco Malfoy's friends, Gregory Goyle, was harassing a fourteen year old me outside of the school doors. Ron was sick with the flu and Harry was at a late night practice his captain, Oliver Wood, had set up. Gregory had quite the reputation of being a bully and he thought of me to be the best target, as I was alone and scared of walking back to my dorm through the old building. He had cornered me and pressed his arms up over my shoulders, preventing escape.

            He threatened me to give him what money I had on me, and some other flavours that I try hard to forget even to this day. Fortunately, George and Fred had gone on a little excursion that same night, and had heard my frightened shouts.

            George had come running around the corner while Fred had run back into the school to find a Professor. I hadn't known anything of that until later when my dorm mates, Lavender and Parvati, told me. I do, however, remember George tackling Gregory and landing more than a few solid punches on his nose before Gregory stood and made an advancement again for me – only by then, George had stepped between us and had wrapped his arms around me, keeping me shielded from my attacker.

            I never told Ginny or the other girls in my dorm how safe and secure I had felt in George's arms. I was only fourteen and told myself that he was just saving and protecting me because I was his little brother's best friend – nothing more. However, I couldn't help but notice my heart beat had sped up to a painful thud-thud-thud; I was so sure he could hear it.

            Finally, when a couple Professors came with Fred leading them, did I realize what had happened that night. I had a schoolgirl crush on George Weasley. Of course, I couldn't let anyone know, and over time it faded away. We had always been close friends, but I knew that I couldn't ask for anything else is a relationship. I had only had two in my whole twenty-five years. One was with a rugby player that came to Carver in my fourth year who went by the playing name of Viktor Krum; the other was Ron. However, the latter didn't last long, as we argued far too much and he happened to have a wandering eye.

            Blinking, I looked warily at George. "I assure you, I'm fine."

            "Stop lying, Hermione," he chided. "I know when you're lying and you're damn well lying now to me."

            He stepped around the edge of the counter and continued walking closer, purposely invading my personal space. He gripped my chin in between his index and forefinger, tilting my head up so I could look into his eyes. However, they skirted off to the side.

            "You didn't sleep well last night," he finally said.

            "No," I agreed. I didn't offer any other information. I didn't particularly wish to talk about last night. I had slept horribly, only getting a few hours of rest. I had spent most of the night thinking of what Ginny had said – or not said – and wondered why. I knew I was blowing it out of proportion, but it did hurt. I doubt she'd like to be called a shocking redheaded freak, like she had back in her second year. I stood up for her then, didn't I? And what did she do for me last night, nothing.

            I felt the anger boiling, and wrenched my chin out of George's grip. What was he doing here, anyways? He owned his own store with Fred down in London, a highly well known corporation. He was a partner with Fred in their joke line, which they titled Weasley's Wheezes – or 2W. He should be there, and not worrying over frizzball Hermione Granger.

            "Why are you here, George?" I murmured, turning and heading back into my office, shuffling paper and organizing them. I had about four orders to fill today and call the shipping company to send them out. I had no time to talk.

            "I was worried," he answered, following me into my office. He stood behind me, and I could feel his eyes on my back. If he thought he would get an answer out of me, he was severely disappointed.

            "For God's sake, Hermione!" he finally huffed, letting his Weasley temper get the better of him for once. He stepped up close behind me and reached around with his left hand to slam it down on the papers I was reading. Startled, I tried to back away, only to collide with him.

            His hands grabbed my shoulders, and I stared up at him, with wide eyes. He had never, in all my years of knowing him, acted like this.

            His grip tightened, and he nearly growled out, "Why won't you tell me what's bothering you? Can't you see I'm worried? You left in a rush yesterday and everyone wondered why you had left!"

            I managed a small squeak of fear. His freckled face was near mine, and his angry crystal blue eyes were stormy, turning into a deep cobalt blue. Six feet of pure Weasley male stood in front of me, and let me tell you – when one of the stockier Weasleys get angry, get the hell outta there… and that included Charlie, Fred or George.

            Apparently, he immediately understood what had happened and realized he had frightened me because his grip on my shoulders disappeared and he took four gigantic steps backwards.

            I stared at him, like he was stranger, and raised a hand to rub at my sore shoulder. He noticed and took a slight step forward with a hand outstretched, but stumbled to a stop when I took a step back to his step forward.

            Hurt, he glanced away before looking at me and said quietly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

            I nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. "Just… just go, George. I have work to do."

            He nodded too, turning and parting the curtain, glancing once over his shoulder, before disappearing completely. I waited until I heard the jingle to indicate that he was gone before slumping down in my desk chair.

            I glanced at the paperwork and realized that they would have to wait. There was no way I could do that right now, anyways. My mind was wandering and taking George for the ride. How could he have done that to me? He had never ever turned his anger on me since I had met him. That night when I was fourteen, he hadn't yelled at me for being alone outside, like Professor Snape had; no, George had wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me his handkerchief and blow my nose on and had led me to the kitchens for some food. He was only comforting.

            Perhaps something happened last night, after I had left? Was that why he was angry with me? He had seen me walk home, so he knew where I was, and could have told everyone… shaking my head, I decided that wondering would get me no where. I swept out of the office and twisted the "CLOSED" sign to "OPEN", before grabbing a water canister and filling it with water. Tending to my flowers always calmed me down and brought me joy.

            While I was moving through the orchards, a jingle told me someone was in the store. I sincerely hoped it wasn't George, or any one else I knew.

            I stepped around the shelf and came face to face with an elderly man who wore the black business suit and bowtie. He was slightly taller than me, by two inches, and had a fluffy white moustache and twinkling gray eyes.

            "Ms. Granger?" he asked, his voice rumbling and accented. He was certainly not from London, or the Yorkshire countryside. Why, he looked like a foreigner.

            "Yes?" I asked, shaking the outstretched hand he was offering. "How may I help you, sir?"

            "Please, my name is Richard Gourieau," he said in his accented voice. "I am from a town in the French countryside. We have many festivals and celebrations there, and we order many of our flowers from your store. Perhaps you remember your shipment's name, Monsieur Jean-Luc Verte?"

            "Jean-Luc Verte… Jean-Luc Verte… oh yes! Now I remember. There was the shipment of twenty Lily of the Valleys, and forty violets arranged together in twenty baskets with fern moss," I replied, my face lighting up. I quite liked the fellow who ordered the flowers – they had a humble voice and jolly laugh.

            "Oui. We know that you have a store here, however, as the town's major I wish to offer you a job offer," he continued on.

            "A job offer?" I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth.

            He nodded. "There is a perfect little boutique where you can have your store, and we – the townsmen – would quite like you to be there. Your flowers and their arrangements are wonderful."

            "Oh my," I whispered, wrapping what Mr. Gourieau had said around my brain. A job offer! No more of this stinky in-the-hole-corner-shop, no more worries about Ginny and Draco the jerk, no more worries about money, anymore, if what he was saying about people loving my flower arrangements.

            "Why don't we go to my office in the back, and discuss it?" I offered, waving towards the curtain, and leading Mr. Gourieau there. I turned the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED" as I passed by, with a slight, wry smile on my lips.

            That night, when I returned home after closing up the shop, I felt better than I had in years. The last time I had felt this good was when Harry and Ron took me out to a bar in London for the twentieth birthday.

            I whistled and merry tune and greeted my mother and father both with a kiss on the cheek, telling them the wonderful news. No longer would I have to pay laborious do-dishes-for-old-bedroom rent for them, but I would be moving to another country, where anything was possible!

            Both my parents were ecstatic for me, though a little sad that I would be leaving by the end of the week to check out the boutique in Petit Perriou, and would be transferring all my flowers during the week. Mr. Gourieau had offered to pay for the transportation and to see whether or not I liked the small town. I assured him that I would.

            Bouncing about, I could hardly contain my excitement and ran across the street and down a bit to the Weasley's, where I knocked on their door. Though only November, they already had their Christmas wreath on their door.

            The door opened, and Bill was looking down on me in surprise. "Hermione! What a pleasure, come on in."

            "Thanks Bill," I said, smiling at him. He had gotten a new earring, I noticed. This one seemed to be a fang of some sort, compared to the "dragon tooth" one he had before. "Where is Ron?"

            "He and Harry are in his room, talking about football and comparing it to American soccer, apparently. They went to a library, for the first time," answered Bill, with a cheeky grin. I laughed and started to head up the stairs when someone stood at the top of the landing, starting down.

            As they got closer, I was it was George. We certainly seemed to seeing each other a lot lately.

            "Hullo," I greeted him, moving to pass by. He didn't move.

            "Hermione, I am sorry for this morning," he said, looking down at me from two steps above.

            "It's quite alright, I told you that," I answered, trying to move past again. This time he let me, and I bounced up into Ron's room without knocking.

            "Ron! Harry! Guess what!" I squealed, flying in and landing on Ron's bed, where Ron had spread himself out. I grabbed onto his legs, bouncing on my knees, causing the bed's mattress to roll.

            "Ooh, stop it Herm, before I get seasick," moaned Ron, sitting up and pushing me off the bed so I landed on the floor in front of Harry. He snickered and I swatted him.

            "Fine, be mean," I huffed, glaring at him. I ran a hand through my tangled mass of curls, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't you want to hear my good news?"

            "Hermione has good news! Yay!" cheered sarcastically Ron, before sitting up and being attentive. "Well, what is it?"

            "Yes, what is it, Mione?" asked Harry, wriggling his eyebrows. "Date? Big sale? Won the lottery?"

            "None of those! Something better!"

            "What's better than winning the lottery?" asked Ron to Harry. Harry shrugged and turned back to me.

            "Well, what?" he asked.

            I took a deep breath, and pulled them into a standing position. "Come on, I want to tell everyone at once!"

            Groaning, Harry and Ron allowed me to drag them through the house, yelling, "I'VE GOT GREAT NEWS EVERYONE!!"

            Soon, the whole Weasley clan was standing in the kitchen, minus Draco Malfoy and Percy Weasley, who was working at Scotland Yard late.

            I took another deep breath and said with a wide grin, "I got a job offer… and I took it. I'm moving to France later this week."

            There was a collective intake of breath, before Molly stepped forward and gave me a big bear hug. "That's wonderful dear!"

            Harry and Ron joined in, swinging me in their arms and offering their congratulations. Bill, Charlie and Arthur all shook my hand and Ginny gave me a quick hug and peck on the cheek. Fred told me to call him up when he was in Paris for business meetings, and I told him I would.

            I turned to see where George went, but he was nowhere to be found. Hurt, I frowned and turned to Harry.

            "Where's George?" I asked, confused as to why my favorite Weasley would be missing.

            Harry shrugged, but there was something in his eyes that told me otherwise. "I'm sure he'll show up before you leave, though."

            I nodded and turned, saying I had to go. As I left, however, I heard Harry mutter to Ron, "He'd better, anyways."

AN: Right, well, I wanted to wait to get this one out for a bit, but it's out. The next chapter only has about two sentences written, which is more than I can say for EDN at the moment. Real life calls – I need to go out and socialize myself again with friends and I need to worry about the dreaded V-Day coming up. Yes, I hate Valentines. I think it goes back to some deep, psychological rooted fear that I never had a boyfriend over February. I always dumped them before, except this year – meaning this Feb. will be quite the show. Until then, stay tuned for updates for next chapters. Any criticism is appreciated (*My God, that's the first time I've ever written that*), and reviews are greatly appreciated. ~ Kneazle