Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.
Chapter 3: Catching Up"George" It was more of a croak than a word really, but she was barely aware of having said it.
"Hermione?" Hearing her name escape from his lips made her heart pound wildly. There was no avoiding this now. It really was George Weasley standing there in front of her. Grace looked at Hermione and then back to the tall, good-looking red head. They obviously knew each other and Grace was beginning to think she knew how.
"Are you? I mean, is Ron?" Grace said, trying to make some sort of sense of the situation. Hermione looked at her and nodded weakly. Grace could not believe this was happening. What was Ron's brother doing here? Grace glared angrily at Max, somehow this had all become his fault. She grabbed her fiancée by the elbow and shoved him roughly into the living room where the rest of their guests were mingling.
"H-how are you?" Hermione broke the silence, trying to create some semblance of normalcy between the two. He looked at her with sadness in his eyes.
"Oh Hermione," he signed, running a hand through his dark red hair. She hung her head in shame, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for what had transpired six years ago.
"I'm so sorry George, I have to go," she said, eyes remaining glued to the floor as she tried to sidle past him to the door, she was in no mood for apparating. Without any warning, George swept her up into a bone-crushing hug, a Weasley trademark.
"Thank God you're ok," he whispered into her hair. She looked up in surprise. It never occurred to her that they would be worried about her. She assumed they'd just forgotten about her, written her off because of her rejection of Ron. Suddenly Hermione felt very weak in the knees, everything about the last six years seemed to just melt into thin air, and that made her very scared.
"Why don't we go somewhere? We can get some coffee or something and just talk," George suggested. Hermione nodded, she looked towards the living room where Grace was playing hostess. She considered going to tell Grace that she was leaving but decided that she would figure it out on her own. "Are you up to apparating?" George asked sounding concerned.
"I'd actually rather walk if that's alright with you. I think I could use the fresh air," Hermione said nervously. George smiled down at her and guided her through the front door and out into the cool night air.
"I know a little coffee shop not far from here, ok?" Hermione nodded in response. They walked in silence for a bit. She didn't quite know what to say. Suddenly she blurted out,
"You look different." It was such a dumb thing to say, but she really couldn't help it. Luckily it was already quite dark so he couldn't see her blushing furiously. He looked at her curiously before answering.
"Well you could tell it was me and not Fred, I can't have changed too much then. Or was that just a lucky guess?" He said lightly, with a hint of amusement in his voice. She knew what he was doing, trying to make her smile, laugh, anything to lighten the mood. And it was working.
"Harry wasn't the only one with a tell-tale scar," she said, smiling despite the tightening in her chest at mentioning Harry.
"I never knew that you knew about that!" George said with astonishment as he unconsciously ran a finger down his jaw line below his ear where his identifying scar was.
"Well I don't know the whole story, but I know it's the only way to tell you two apart," Hermione said.
"Well, at least the only way that doesn't involve something completely indecent," George joked. Hermione laughed in spite of herself. As they came into the light of the coffee house, Hermione looked up at George almost in wonder, as if she could not believe he was really there with her, in the middle of London. They took a seat at one of the booths and looked over the menu. After ordering coffees and slices of cherry pie, George and Hermione looked at each other expectantly, not really knowing what to say.
"So do you want to hear the whole story?" George broke the silence. Hermione looked up with a confused expression in her eyes. "Of the scar?" He clarified. She breathed a sigh of relief. She much preferred talking about old childhood scars to anything real and pertinent to their present situation. Hermione nodded eagerly.
"Well I remember it as if it was yesterday," George began dramatically, leaning back in his chair and staring off into space dreamily. Hermione chuckled a little. "It was, if you can believe it, the very first prank Fred and I ever played. Six years old we were. Precious little monsters, really. The victim was Percy, for obvious reasons, and the weapon of choice was a dung bomb. Ahh, my very first dung bomb. The prank was going swimmingly until the bomb exploded. Being amateurs we failed to realize the repercussions of being in the proximity when the bomb went off. All of a sudden the bomb, placed just a tad bit too close to the window, exploded, taking the window out with it, and shrapnel rained down upon us, well me mostly. Next thing I know, I'm nearly on my death bed from loss of blood," as the story continued, George took on a more and more serious tone of voice, like he was a war veteran reliving his battle days. Hermione just rolled her eyes as his exaggerations grew. "Luckily my mum ran up and patched me up right quick. But if it hadn't been some quick thinking on her part, I probably wouldn't be sitting here across from you right now Hermione." He concluded the story somberly. She laughed at him, amazed at herself for feeling so calm in the present situation. But then again, she was with a Weasley twin, this was their expertise.
Hermione sighed. Now that he'd finished his story, she knew it was her turn to say something. He watched as her eyes clouded over. He knew how hard this probably was on her. He reached out across the formica tabletop and patted her hand.
"It's alright, we don't have to talk about…well anything, if you don't want to," he said genuinely. Her eyes filled with tears and gratitude.
"No it's alright. There's no use in putting it off. The more out in the open, the better. Go ahead and ask away," she said with a brave smile.
"Erm, well, what are you doing these days?" Hermione was grateful that he'd asked such a simple question.
"I write for the Daily Prophet now. I've been there for six years, though I started as a lowly copy editor. It was only about two years ago that I started really writing articles," Hermione said, sipping her coffee. George nodded along.
"Wait! We get the Prophet! We've never seen your name in it," he exclaimed. Hermione blushed.
"I write under a pseudonym," she explained. "I mostly write political commentary. Who's running for what, who's backing whom, the basics. Some find it a little dull, but it's exciting for me. You know Grace, Max's fiancée? She's our gossip columnist."
"Ah, fitting," George said with a smile. Hermione nodded with a small smile.
"So you're working with Max's marketing firm? I take it the joke shop is doing well then?"
"Oh Hermione it's mind-boggling. You should come down and see it sometime. You wouldn't even believe your eyes. Who would have imagined Fred and I running the most successful joke shop since Zonko himself! We've gotten so popular that we now have 7 stores around England, including the primary one in Diagon Alley, a special shop for Hogwarts students in Hogsmeade, and one here in London." Hermione's eyes widened at this last bit.
"One in London? Are you here often then?" Hermione asked, trying not to look too hopeful.
"Fred and I keep an apartment here. We do a lot of our major networking and corporate work from London. Actually we're trying to push through a deal right now with the American market. That's what Max has been helping us with," George explained, obviously quite proud of the businessman he'd become.
"How is Fred?" She asked, and after a pause she added, "and the others?" A lump rose to her throat. George looked at her tenderly, realizing how painful it must have been for her to ask.
"He's good, real good. We're happy running the joke shop. Leaving Hogwarts to start it was probably the best decision we ever made. The rest…they're good too. It was rough for a while at home, what with Charlie gone, and then you. Mum just about had a nervous breakdown. She's doing all right though. She's a strong woman. And now that she's a grandmum, she couldn't be happier." Hermione's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Percy and Penelope," he answered her unasked questioned. Hermione smiled knowingly. "You remember her don't you? Well they've got 2 children now. Beautiful little dears, but lacking all spunk you know? They're too much Percy and not enough Fred and George," he said with a grin. Hermione smiled as her eyes welled up with tears again. She had not even known they'd been married. "Bill and Fleur have been trying to have a child. What with Bill's condition, no one's quite sure if it's safe to have a child, or whether it'd even be possible. It's heartbreaking really, but they've been working closely with the St. Mungo's staff, so we hope they'll figure out a way." George looked up at Hermione, wondering if he should go on. He knew he was getting to the family members most important to Hermione. She looked at him seriously, and he knew he ought to go on. "Ginny and Harry act like a married couple already, though they're not even engaged. Reckon it will be any time now though. They've been dating for so long." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. At least she hadn't missed that wedding.
"And Ron?" She asked quietly, "is he? I mean, has he?"
"Has he moved on, you mean?" He questioned her. "Well he's not still sitting around at home crying over you, if that's what you're wondering." He realized that he sounded a little harsh, but knew this was important; he had to let her know everything was all right. "He's dated a little, here and there. But nothing really serious, you know?" She nodded, expecting to feel relief again, but her feelings were tangled up at the moment. She stared into her empty coffee cup awkwardly. Suddenly George grabbed her hands.
"Hermione, please, come home with me," he begged of her. Hermione's shocked eyes met George's pleading ones as he added, "to the Burrow." Hermione looked away in embarrassment at what she had thought he'd meant at first. When she was in control of her emotions once more, she looked back into his eyes.
"The Burrow isn't my home anymore George." With that, Hermione slipped her hands out from under George's, dropped a galleon on the table, and left the coffee shop in a state of shock.
A/N: Ok, so this chapter is quite a bit longer than the others, but I had sooo much to say! Did you enjoy it? Please let me know in a review! Oh! And thank you so much to my first reviewer amrawo!