A/N: Ok all, welcome to your second serving of All I Really Want. I'm glad to see people reviewing and showing interest, you don't know how great it is for an author to see appreciation of his or her work. For those of you who want to keep track of how far along the next chapter is or just general information on my work, check out my livejournal. It's and I will be making ff related updates in addition to my random personal blogs. I may make a website just dedicated to all this, but not now. Ok, enough babble! More FW/HG action!
Disclaimer: Don't you know by now that I own nothing? The characters I use belong entirely to JKR and Co.
"That looks like all of it," Hermione said as she placed the last piece of tape over the cardboard box's opening. She had spent the weekend boxing up all her belongings and preparing to move in with Ron, Fred, and George.
"I'm going to miss you," Ginny sighed, "It was so nice to have you back around. But I have training anyway."
Hermione was going to miss them too, of course. The Weasleys were more than just her friends' family, they seemed to be a part of her family too. Their kindness wouldn't be forgotten.
Boxes were piled high all over the living room. Hermione decided that it would be easiest to send her things over to the flat by floo powder. She hadn't even seen the apartment yet, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to explain to any muggle movers why they couldn't see the door.
Slowly, they emptied the living room of the boxes. They even began to see parts of the carpet by the time half the boxes were sent over to 658 Kensington Court, her new address.
As the last box was disappearing, Mrs. Weasley came shuffling into the room, her eyes glistening with tears.
"I know that you've only been here for a few weeks, but I feel like you're the daughter I nev—"
"MOM!" Ginny cried indignantly.
"The daughter I, um, always wanted… second," she finished awkwardly, cheeks flushing. "As I was saying, I will really miss you and hope that you always come for Sunday dinner with Ron."
The twins didn't even bother inputting the fact that they lived there too.
"I certainly will, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said proudly. She was feeling particularly warm and fuzzy at that moment.
Hermione took a last deep breath of the burrow. Although she would be coming back quite frequently, she wouldn't be living there. She may not notice the smells and sounds. Although she had grown up with a loving family, this was more of a home to her than anyplace else she'd ever known. In the hard times, this had been her refuge. It was time to move on with a new chapter of her life, however, and it's best not to look back when moving forward.
"Oh boys, it's beautiful!" Hermione breathed softly as she looked at the room. In the two weeks since she had decided she was moving in, they had transformed it from a Chudley Cannons memorabilia room. Ron hadn't even wanted to, but somehow the twins didn't think Hermione would like to sleep on a Cannons' bedspread over a Cannons' throw rug surrounded by walls covered with Cannons' posters. After some deliberation (and the odd noogie), Ron caved and they set out to make it into a feminine paradise.
Hermione flopped onto the bed and gazed at the ceiling. All the posters were removed from the world and a fresh coat of peach paint seemed to reflect the light and set everything aglow. The windows were dressed in foam green. A vase of daiseys sat on the night table and they had even installed a rack and some shelves into the closet. She had half-expected to be moving in to a desolate room with nothing but mattress on the floor and a hamper. It was a fantastic surprise.
"D'you really like it?" Asked Fred intently. He was the only one of the three (now four) inhabitants to be home while Hermione was moving in. He had thought about her a lot while he made the moderations. Was she more of a peach or pink girl? Did she want glitter on her walls or was that more of a fourth-grade-witch thing? Would a queen or king size be better?
"It's absolutely fabulous," she said, giving Fred a hug. As she pressed her body into his, she couldn't help but notice how well their bodies fit together. He was so muscular and she was perfectly petite and she couldn't help but think "safety". She noticed that neither of them were keen to let go of each other, even while this train of thought passed by in her brain.
Fred chose to break the kiss when he felt himself getting "warmed up" as he discovered the way she was pressing her dainty hips into his. He felt himself blushing and pulled away. Glancing down at his feet, he mumbled something to himself.
"The colors are all right and everything, aren't they?" he asked, as hopeful as a boy on Christmas morning.
"Of course they're all right! I half expected… well, I don't even know what I expected…" she returned sheepishly.
Hermione suddenly felt very aware of her surroundings. She was living with three guys, none of whom had any experience living with a single non-male relative, and one of which she may or may not be developing a tiny crush on. She began folding t-shirts up and putting them in drawers to distract herself. She was just overreacting.
"Well, I have some accounting to go over," Fred said, "That ought to take me a few hours. Damn books…" He shuffled out of the room shaking his head.
Hermione felt very charged all of a sudden. She wanted to recreate that little moment they'd just had. Instant chemistry like that was a new experience for her, and she wanted to try it again.
All they'd done was hug, for Merlin's sake, nothing more. It's not like they… she smiled in spite of herself. Oh her dirty, dirty mind.
"So what's for dinner 'Mione?" Ron asked, half-jokingly. Despite the fact that her S.P.E.W. days were over (as far as he knew), he doubted she had stopped being a feminist.
"As a matter of fact, jackass, I am making dinner. Homemade mac and cheese," she said, "Used to be one of your favorites, if I remember correctly."
"The three cheese kind? Like mum makes on my birthday?" George shouted from the bathroom.
"OUR BIRTHDAY," Fred called back from inside his room, "Georgie boy seems to be forgetting that he shares his birthday with, I don't know… HIS TWIN?"
Hermione giggled and stirred the macaroni in the pot. She certainly wouldn't be cooking dinner every night, they had agreed on that before she moved in, but it was nice to do something kind for them, especially when they opened their home to her so selflessly. She wouldn't start working at St. Mungo's for another week or so, so making dinner until then wasn't a big deal.
Ron loosened his tie and got out paper plates. They didn't even have a table, let alone any fine china. In the beginning, the three were strapped for cash and had to economize. A table and plates just seemed unnecessary. They usually just ate on their beat up couch while watching a nice game of Quidditch. After all, it was all thanks to Ron that there was even a wizarding channel to watch at all. He had thought of the idea as a great way to increase players' measly salaries.
"How was work?" Hermione asked Ron.
"Oh, you know. We're starting work on the Quidditch World Cup soon. That ought to be fun, with that little weasel breathing down my neck."
That little weasel was Jeremiah Scope, Ron's new assistant. He was very, er, high strung and stuck to Ron like glue.
"Oh stop, it won't be that bad. Any word on Ginny going onto the nation team?" She asked. Ron shook his head.
Hermione scooped out the food into the plates and the assumed their dinnertime positions. Previously, it was Ron on the floor, George on the recliner, and Fred on the couch (he liked his space). Hermione seemed to fit perfectly onto the couch. It was a very successful arrangement.
"Who's playing tonight?" Fred asked with a mouthful of macaroni and cheese.
"Harpies and Cannons," Ron said, "Gin's not playing though. She's on reserve tonight because of that wrist injury the other night."
"Oh dear, I hope she's alright" Hermione said, "Well if they aren't playing, why don't we watch something on the muggle History Channel? I hear their running a great miniseries on—"
George dropped his plate on the floor, getting pasta all over the hardwood floor.
"Not watch Quidditch?" he spuddered incredulously.
"Yeah, 'Mione, really! What's dinner without quidditch?" Ron said. His face had gone white as though she had suggested ritually sacrificing a goat.
"Oh sorry," she said awkwardly, "I really didn't… I mean, it's not as though…"
Fred noticed her shifting uncomfortable in her spot. He put his foot on hers gently.
"It's no big deal, really. Let's just take a vote, huh? No harm in the History Channel, really, it's just been our routine for nearly a year and a half," he said comfortingly. Ron and George looked at him oddly. What was he talking about? Fred was the biggest Cannons-head they knew.
Needless to say, Hermione lost the vote, but she never forgot how he stood up for her like that.
"Speaking of history," George said, "Have you told Lavender about Hermione living here?"
Ron looked suddenly in his shoes.
"Um, Ron… why not?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, you know how Lav can be," was all he said.
Hermione took her plate over to the garbage.
"Actually, no. Why don't you fill me in?"
"Well, you know… she's the jealous type and—"
"US? HAHAHAHA," Hermione dropped the plate into the can.
Ron looked suddenly hurt.
"Oh stop, Ron, you know I didn't mean…" Hermione trailed off. Maybe Ron really didn't know what she meant. He knew there was no chance, right? That there never had been?
"Er, yeah, I know," Ron said. He chucked his dinner in the garbage and went into his room, where Alanis Morissette was soon heard under the door.
"He can be such a girl sometimes," George said shaking his head.
