Standard disclaimers apply!
I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.
END
"Hermione!" George threw down his quill and quickly jumped up to meet her as she and Ron walked though kitchen door, engulfing her in quick – but every warm – hug. "You made it! I thought Ron might have run away with you!"
"Honestly George, they're here in plenty of time," Mrs Weasley admonished, wiping her hands thoroughly on an old tea-towel before crossing the room. "How are you dear?" She asked, embracing Hermione and kissing her cheek, "Happy Birthday, did have a good day?"
"Yes, thank you," Hermione blushed slightly, "it was lovely."
"Good," Mrs Weasley's eyes flicked from Hermione's blushing face to Ron's, then back again, and she seemed to be suppressing a smile. "I'm right in the middle of things here, I'm afraid, so I'll just put on a pot of tea and you lot can sort yourselves out."
"I'll help!" Hermione said immediately.
"Don't be silly, dear," Mrs Weasley shook her head firmly, "I'm sure you've had a busy day." She turned to address her sons. "Ron, be a dear and fetch the red box from my dressing table, would you? George, you can pour the tea."
"Anything you say Mum," George wrinkled his nose at her back, "Ron, while you're there ... in the front room ..."
"You did well," Harry chuckled as they sat relaxing in the front room after dinner had been cleared up.
"I did, didn't I?" Hermione was snuggled into Ron's side; reading her newest book, a centuries old English translation of The Black Book of Carmarthen. "Where on earth did you find this, Harry?"
"It's a secret," Harry grinned, and opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the entrance of Mr Weasley and Percy.
"Hello everyone," Mr Weasley yawned, "Sorry we're so late, mad day at work, you know." He spotted Hermione and beamed. "Hermione! Happy Birthday! I see Molly didn't wait for me to give you our present," he nodded at the rug covering her and Ron's knees.
"It's lovely," Hermione told him, automatically stroking the thick soft wool. "So warm."
"Molly thought you might need something for those cold nights in Gryffindor Tower," Mr Weasley chuckled, "she's convince you stay up all night doing your homework and will catch a chill."
"She's probably right," Percy chuckled, reaching into his travelling cloak and pulling out a wrapped silver package, which he handed to Hermione. "Happy Birthday," he grinned suddenly, "it's not a great deal, but I think you'll like it."
Curiosity piqued, Hermione carefully unwrapped the package. "My favourite kind of ink! Enough for the year, too. This is fabulous, thank you, Percy." She laughed happily. "This will go very nicely with George's ever-sharp quills and Charlie's endless roll of parchment."
"We may well have colluded," Percy nodded.
"So practical," Fleur wrinkled her nose and handed Percy his dinner tray. "So appropriate, zese Weasley men. Even Beell was looking to present you with stationery, until I put my foot down and reminded 'im that you now have enough from 'is bruzzers and should also 'ave somezing beautiful!"
"If I didn't know you better," George chortled, "I'd be insulted by that."
"Oh, you," Fleur waved her hand dismissively. "You know I do not mean it in zat way."
"Of course you don't," Hermione agreed, "and the pashmina is lovely, Fleur. I'll definitely enjoy wearing it."
"I know you will," Fleur looked pleased with herself, and Hermione noticed that she looked even more beautiful than usual. "The colour is very good on you, as I knew it would be," she winked at Hermione, "just be sure to 'ave Ron on your arm at all times, as he co-ordinates so well with it."
"Nice," Ron sniggered, looking up from his chess game. "I'm an accessory now?"
"The best kind," Hermione told him, and kissed his cheek.
"Well," he gave her a soft look, "that's OK then."
"Gonna be sick," Harry muttered while George mimed retching behind the settee.
Sighing happily, Hermione went back to her book
"Time for me to be off, I think," George stretched and yawned, "it's nearly half eleven."
"Why don't you stay, mate?" Ron stretched too. "Just for the weekend?"
"Naaah, I've got stuff I want to go over before I turn in, but it's all at the flat."
"You're be here for breakfast tomorrow though, yeah?" Ron frowned slightly.
"'Course I will," George half-grinned, "Merlin, you're like an old mother hen, aren't you ... no, don't wake her up, let her sleep."
"Are you joking?" Ron scoffed quietly as he shook Hermione's shoulder gently. "She'd never forgive me. 'Mione, wake up."
"Wha?" Hermione eyes popped open. "What? Oh ... I fell asleep, sorry." She, too, stretched and yawned. "What time is it?"
"Almost half eleven," Ron told her, "George is heading off."
"Oh. Why don't you stay for the weekend?" Hermione asked, sitting straighter.
George shook his head ruefully, while Ron looked faintly smug. "Things to do, Sweetpea, but I'll see you tomorrow."
She studied him through narrowed eyes, and then shook an admonishing finger at him. "Breakfast, OK? You'll see us at breakfast."
"Absolutely," George agreed, standing slowly and groaning elaborately. "Stay where you are," he laughed, "I do know the way out."
"Don't be silly," Hermione scrambled up quickly.
"Yeah," said Ron, "I think we can manage to walk you to the fireplace."
"I'm honoured," George quipped as they made their way into the kitchen.
"As you should be," Hermione giggled as they hugged goodnight and kissed each other on the cheek.
"Don't stay up too late talking," George waggled his eyebrows at them both.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Ron embraced his bother and they slapped each other's backs.
"See you tomorrow then." George grabbed a handful of floo powder, threw it into the dying embers, stepped into the green flames and disappeared from view.
Ron and Hermione stood for a few moments, watching the flames return to normal, and then Ron put the old fire-screen back in place.
"Do you think he's alright?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Dunno," Ron sighed, putting his arm around her shoulders. "He says he is."
"He worries me," Hermione leaned against him, sliding her arm around his waist.
"Me too." Ron shrugged, "I 'spose he knows what he's doing."
"Do you think he'd come back if he wasn't alright?" She wondered as they made their way slowly back into the front room.
"I do, yeah." His tone lightened. "He actually has, twice ... so yeah, he's not going to ... you know, suffer on his own or whatever."
"I'm glad to hear it," Hermione murmured, and then added, "I'm so tired. Shall we go up?"
"Yeah," Ron gave a jaw cracking yawn, "I'm knackered." He picked up her new rug, folded it carefully and draped it over his arm.
"Are you ...?" Hermione motioned at her bedroom door with her free hand.
"If you don't mind," Ron nodded slightly.
She widened her eyes and tilted her head to one side. "Would I have asked?"
"Fair point," he chuckled quietly, followed her through the door and then shut it quietly behind them.
"Exactly." Hermione pointed her wand at the door and muttered something under her breath, and then crossed the room to draw the curtain open. "Come and look," she said, "the fairies are out tonight."
"The gits," Ron snorted, coming to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. "They never learn, do they?"
"You never know," she said, "one of these days your Dad might leave the shed window open."
"Hasn't happened yet," he said.
"They're pretty though," she murmured.
"That they are," he agreed. "Speaking of pretty ... I haven't given you your birthday present yet."
"Oh," she half twisted in his arms to stare up at him, surprised. "I thought I told you not to go and spend any money on me."
"You really thought I'd not get you a birthday present?" He mocked gently. "Anyway, I'd already bought it." He held a narrow purple leather box in front of her.
"I ..." she took the box from him and slid open the small ornate clasp; gasping when the box popped open to reveal a bracelet of delicate sparkling flowers. "Ron ..." she held it up to the light, "when did you get this?"
"The day after you went to Hogwarts," he chuckled, "I saw you admiring it in Diagon Alley when we went for you books and stuff. I hope you like it."
"Like it?" She blinked up at him. "It's absolutely beautiful."
"I'm glad you think so," he grinned, "and before you say it! No, it's not too much, and it didn't cost a fortune."
She opened her mouth to protest, but promptly shut it again.
"Success!" He dipped his head and kissed her gently. "I love it when that happens."
"When what happens?" She looked slightly suspicious.
"When I bamboozle you with logic," he told her, wincing exaggeratedly.
"I suppose it has been known to happen," she raised her brows in challenge.
"Ouch," he grinned. "You got me there."
"And don't you forget it," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and drawing him down for another kiss.
"I think it's time I took you to bed, Miss Granger."
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