Author's Notes: I really would like to thank all the reviewers! In response to a review by GiGiFanFic – I have changed the line about Mrs. Weasley helping George with the bills, you're right that is ridiculous! And, no fears, I will be finishing this story!

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or Hermione or George though I wouldn't mind owning Malfoy…heh! Sorry…


Chapter Three
Hogwarts?

George came in from his morning expedition feeling slightly refreshed and very hungry! So when he walked into the smell of bangers and mash and pancakes floating from the kitchen. When he entered it, however, he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight his eyes befell. Ginny was attempting to feed a very hyperactive Lily only succeeding in having porridge all over the kitchen. It was splattered across Lily's crib, the neighboring chairs and table area and some had even managed to be dripping from the walls. Mrs. Weasley was still up at the stove, kitchen utensils going a mile a minute stopping every few seconds to throw casting charms around the kitchen to clean up Lily's mess. She hadn't noticed the back of Mr. Weasley's Daily Prophet which had bits of porridge dripping down the headlines. Mr. Weasley was obliviously drinking his coffee and occasionally looking up to smile and coo at the culprit of the porridge sloshing. No one noticed his presence.

Mr. Weasley looked up in time to get a face full of porridge. "Lily!" he grumbled though it quickly turned into a laugh as he folded the Daily Prophet, discovering the painting of porridge that covered it and shook his head. "First time ever in a Weasley household where the women outnumber the men!"

"There'd be one less Weasley man here if -" George made his presence known, walking into the 'porridge zone' and taking a seat at the table.

"Still moping, I see," Ginny cut him off with a roll of her eyes.

"Good morning George," Mrs. Weasley smiled as she set his plate in front of him and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head before hurrying over to help clean up her husband before he headed off to work.

"Morning Mum," George smiled at her and then down at his plate contentedly before stuffing in a large bite. "Ginny, you really are the supportive sister, aren't you?" he said between chews.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, "Don't speak with your mouth full! I've taught you better than that!" George looked at her sheepishly as Ginny concealed a grin.

"Look George, I'm sorry," though Ginny sounded more annoyed than apologetic. "I'm just sick of you feeling sorry for yourself. Moping around, constantly complaining. 'A twenty-five year old man living with his parents,'" Ginny mocked in an alarming imitation of George. "You live with your parents and I know that it must be awkward having lived away from home for so many years, but you really have to come to terms with it and give it a rest! I'm a grown woman living here and I don't constantly feel sorry for myself!"

"Come on Gin! You just stay here because Mum helps you with the baby!"

"And right now she's helping you get over yourself!" Ginny shot back before she paused, took a deep breath and continued, "Why don't you try to make yourself useful? Try helping Mum around the house or helping with Lily some. I'm sure the garden could use some de-gnoming," she joked, but at George's grim expression, she sighed. "If you're so unhappy here, you could just move out, get your own place." George looked quite put-out by this comment. Ginny tried to sympathize, "Look, George, just because Fred's fallen in love doesn't mean it's the end of the world," she finished as she tried feeding Lily another bite of porridge only to have it launched at George's head who just barely dodged it.

"Good aim Lily!" George laughed. "Looks like we got us another Quidditch player! And a Chaser at that, we've been needing a good Chaser," he winked at the baby who giggled sweetly. "And Fred didn't fall in love," he added quickly before returning to his pancakes.

Ginny sighed. Just when she thought she'd made her point he proved more thickheaded than ever. "All I'm saying George is that it could be worse."

George looked up with a mouthful of sausage, "Yeah! How?" he questioned innocently.

Ginny shot him a hurt but deadly glare but she knew he hadn't meant it that way. "Oh…I, I'm sorry Ginny. I really am. I didn't…" And he really was sorry, though he stayed focused on the food in front of him and didn't return her gaze.

"Well," Mr. Weasley was standing at the head of the table with the Daily Prophet under his arm and porridge nowhere to be seen. "Before I leave for work or you two kill one another, this came for you George. An owl brought it by while you were out this morning, I didn't recognize the owl though." He handed George a very familiar envelope, grabbed his briefcase and with a loud 'POP!' he was gone. George looked down at the envelope and then back up at his Mum with a very confused expression.

"What is it dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, finally sitting to breakfast herself.

"It…it's…" George looked back to the envelope in his hands then back up, "It's a Hogwarts letter." With that, porridge went flying across the table hitting George directly between the eyes. For a second, everyone froze and then the women in the room erupted into fits of giggles. George just shook his head and smiled.


Hermione stood on the landing in front of her thought and cleared her head before she stepped inside. She deposited her jacket and keys by the door before she set her purse on the table and headed into her bedroom to slip into something more comfortable. She opted for a comfy pair of gray sweats and a simple navy blue tank top. She trotted back to the kitchen pulling her hair into a messy bun. It had darkened over the years and her frizz had tamed thanks to the length, half way down her back. It was still curly and she wouldn't exactly call it sleek, but it was tame and suited her face shape nicely.

She plopped into a seat at the kitchen table and pulled her night's tips out of her purse to begin counting. It had become a nightly ritual for her, though she was very frugal and rarely ever spent the money she made, other than bills and food. She just tucked the rest away in the bank to gain interest. Someday she'd find a use for it all.

THUD! BANG! "Ow!"

Hermione froze. The noise came from the living room which was just behind her line of sight.She slowly grasped her wand from her bag and crept slowly across the room to a more defensive position. She rested with her back against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen; a single turn would put her in the opening between the two rooms to face her intruder.

"Bugger that hurt! Hermione? Hello!" The voice that called sounded so familiar but she didn't quite recognize it. Obviously it was someone who knew her, though whether they were here to pay a visit or do her harm was yet to be determined. "I bet she's off shagging that pretty-boy bartender," the intruder sighed. "After seeing them flirt all evening, I should have figured."

She gasped haughtily, despite herself. Shit! She thought, Maybe he hadn't hurt her. No such luck as the intruder's footsteps came closer to her position. Damn it! All those years as an auror and I give away my position! She sighed, the footsteps moved even closer. Oh, shit! "Hermione? Is that you? Are you alone?"

"What? Think I need a man to protect me?" she retorted, not moving though, if he hadn't figured it out already, he would be quite aware of her position now.

"Aha! So it is you!" Before she knew it her arms with above her head pinned against the wall, disabling her from using her wand. On instinct her knee raised fiercely into the groin of her opponent.

"Oh," he groaned and fell to his knees clutching himself.

Hermione directed her wand at him, "Explain yourself!" He looked up, unable to speak, and she gasped, "Merlin! Oliver Wood!"

There, lying in a fetal position on Hermione's kitchen floor was the Oliver Wood, still looking as handsome as he had in his years at Hogwarts though aged from the long years of war, as they all were. He smiled weakly and finally seemed to find his voice, "Good to see you too," he joked groggily as he struggled into a chair. He held up his hands in mock surrender, "Please don't curse me, I come in peace."

"Hi…oh, I am so sorry! I thought, well I…wait, what are you doing here?" she paused and took a deep breath, pulling herself together. Oliver was smirking slightly though he still looked quite pained. "Why are you breaking into my house?"

"I'm not," he assured her with his confidence creeping back into his voice. He had cast an anesthetic charm to ease the pain in his, err…well, to ease the pain. He smiled, "I broke nothing, I am simply the messenger. If you'd like, you can imagine it a midnight rendezvous…"

She chuckled with a smirk creeping across her lips. "Last I heard you were teaching at Hogwarts. Your current occupation is as an owl escort service? Well, you always did love flying," she laughed, "Guess that's not all you love." She grinned evilly.

"Hah. Hah," sarcasm dripping from his voice. "At least you didn't disappoint me, you're right, I do love those things," he grinned and she rolled her eyes. "I am also still teaching at Hogwarts. Flying instructor, you know. I ref the Quidditch games."

"Right, you took over for Madame Hooch, I heard," she paused trying to remember just where she'd heard that but looked up abruptly when she realized that he still hadn't explained what he was doing in her flat uninvited, so late in the evening. "So, why are you here again?"

"A message, remember?" he laughed. "You have obviously been out of school far too long Hermione. This Muggle world must be affecting your memory capabilities." His smile twinkled. Hermione felt herself subconsciously melt a bit. She'd had a bit of a crush on him in her schooling years, though she was pretty school he never even knew she existed. "Albus wants to meet with you tomorrow for lunch, in his office at Hogwarts."

Hermione felt a bit dazed. "Dumbledore? Why does he want to meet with me?" Secretly she thought it would be lovely to see him again. It had been a very long time since she'd seen him.

"I can't tell you," Oliver responded, looking slightly disappointed. "I don't quite know everything, but I know enough to urge you to meet him. Not that you'd ever stand anyone up," he winked.

"I guess I should get to bed then," she stood.

"Aww, come on! No midnight rendezvous?" he stood and moved a bit closer to her.

She laughed, though a large part of her was begging her to just jump him here on the kitchen floor. "No, hate to disappoint you," though her hormones were probably as disappointed as anyone.

He smiled and shrugged. "Some other time," he winked as he turned to leave. "And don't forget, noon tomorrow at Hogwarts." With a POP! He was gone.

Hermione sighed happily to herself. She missed her old schoolmates. Then a thought hit her, she was going back to "Hogwarts?"


Author's Notes: Again, another rewritten chapter that I am quite more pleased with than its predecessor. I like the flirtatious banter between Oliver and Hermione, maybe I'll use that…grins evilly at the readers