A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed, I read them all and they made me smile :) If you'd like me to respond to reviews, ask me questions, anything like that, let me know in your review and I'll post responses at the end of each chapter.

I'm aiming to post a chapter a week, don't think this is going to be an incredibly long fic but we'll see where this goes. In saying that, I understand this is a little early but I'm going to try and post every Monday (I live in Australia... It's monday here).

There's not much Fremione happening yet (bar a little flashback), I promise that I will get there, but for now, bear with me through this drabble. I need to set some background up, especially regarding George as he obviously plays a large part in this story.

Disclaimer: JKR has created these beautiful characters and plot lines and I can only hope to take what is hers and do them justice.

Chapter Two – Repairing the Shop

The next week, Hermione and George spent every day together. They got into a routine that suited them both nicely. George would floo to Hermione's apartment – she couldn't go to George's, not when it was directly above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, not with so many memories there. The two would alternate cooking breakfast for each other, then they would sit down with a cup of tea at exactly 10:30am, where Hermione would tell George about her experiences in the past and they would start to brainstorm what they could do together.

About a week and a half later, Hermione and George were sitting down to breakfast together when a thought occurred to Hermione, "George," she asked, "why aren't you working? At the joke shop?"

George stilled in his movements, "It's still almost in ruins. I can't bring myself to go there and start repairs."

"Don't you live there?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, just after the Battle, I moved into Ron's old room at mum's. It was too painful for me to be around any of Fred's things. Just last week, since I've been meeting up with you, I felt strong enough to move back into our room at mum's. It was still hard, and I know it's only the first step, but I knew I needed to face it." George spoke quietly, almost ashamedly of himself.

"And Angelina? Where's she at the moment?" Hermione asked, praying the couple had stayed together.

"She's staying with her parents at the moment, her dad took a turn after the war and she's been spending all her time with him just in case…" he trailed off. "I still go and visit her, but she knows that I'm healing, and I understand how hard it is for her and her dad at the moment."

Hermione nodded. Angelina's dad had been sick prior to the war, finding out that he'd only gotten worse made Hermione's heart pang for the poor girl.

"George, if you'd like, I could help you with the shop? Maybe with another person there it'll be easier to be there." Hermione offered. It was unspoken, 'maybe with another person who knows what you're going through' she thought to herself.

"That would be really nice 'Mione. If you feel up to it, that is." George drained his teacup. "Why don't we go there now?"

"Now!?" Hermione managed to squeak out, "I… I mean, sure. Of course. Let's go."

They both placed their teacups back on the small coffee table in her lounge. They stood almost as if in a trance, grasped hands, and George apparated them to his flat above the store.

Hermione gasped. It was exactly as she had remembered the last time they'd been there, just covered in dust.

Flashback

Hermione turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror in their bedroom. "Fred, what do you think of this dress?" It was black with a sweetheart neckline and halter neck, flaring out from her waist and falling to her knees. Simple.

"Mia, you look radiant in everything you wear." Fred appeared in the mirror behind her, arms circling around her waist, "And if I may be so bold, you look even more radiant in nothing." He whispered into her ear cheekily.

Hermione turned in his arms and swatted him lightly on the chest. She laughed at his look of fake shock and he bent down to kiss her. It was soft and sweet, full of comfort and warmth, like their kisses always were. Fred's hands trailed up her back and then down her sides, resting on her hips with fingertips brushing the curve of her arse.

"Fred," Hermione teased, warningly, "if those hands move another inch, we're going to be late to dinner."

"I won't move them, I promise, we can just stay like this all night." He said with a wink.

Hermione sighed over-the-top exasperatedly, "Let's get to George's and see if you behave yourself there. You never know, you might get a treat when we get home." It was her turn to wink at him now, twisting out of his embrace to fix her hair into an intricate bun.

"Do I look okay?" Hermione fussed once more before their fireplace.

"Mia, they're going to be happy for us. Stop fussing, this is just a regular dinner with my brother and his girlfriend." Fred grasped her hands and kissed her fingertips before turning her towards the fireplace.

The couple flooed to George's flat, stepping out and brushing soot off of their clothing. George and Angelina were relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine each, laughing softly at something George had said, evidently. When they caught sight of the other couple, they placed the wine glasses down and came to greet them each with hugs.

"Fred! Looking just as handsome as… well, me!" George clapped his brother on the back in their embrace. The two of them laughed at the joke that was almost always told when they met up after not seeing each other for more than a couple hours.

"Angie, dinner smells amazing!" Hermione said as they rolled their eyes at their boys' antics.

"Thanks 'Mione, chicken parmigiana tonight, George discovered it when we went to a muggle pub last weekend and has been obsessed ever since. Would either of you like a glass of wine or another drink?" Angelina asked as she motioned for them to move to the dining table.

"Wine please, for Fred too." Hermione accepted graciously for the both of them.

The two couples sat at the dining table in their assigned seats. Dinner together was weekly and alternated between their flats. They talked about everything and nothing, catching each other up on their lives. The first few dinners, Hermione felt awkward, like an outsider looking in, realising that this must be what it feels like when people try and socialise with her, Harry and Ron. Fred was the perfect gentleman, however, and pulled her into almost every discussion – even the ones about quidditch, which she had learnt to enjoy with Fred's tutelage.

After chicken parmigiana, Angelina brought out bowls of ice cream and hot chocolate. The two couples curled up on two couches, pulling blankets up over them and enjoying their simple dessert.

Midway through the next discussion, Hermione looked as if she were going to burst. George noticed her pained expression and asked, "Are you okay Hermione? You look as if you're about to have an accident on my rug. If that is the case, I strongly advise the bathroom, down the hall, to the left, you know the one."

Everyone laughed at that. Hermione huffed a little but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Fred and I had an announcement to make tonight, but I've been psyching myself out all day." Hermione pulled out her wand and waved it over her left hand, removing the glamour charm she'd placed there before.

"We're engaged!" Fred said gleefully, grabbing his fiancée's hand and thrusting it towards his brother's face.

Angelina squealed and grasped Hermione's hand, turning to George as she smirked, "You owe me ten galleons."

Hermione was shocked for a moment, before recovering her features into a radiant smile, "What exactly was the bet?"

"George said Fred had been acting off at work all week and Fred had bought that ring months ago for you. I bet that he was proposing today and that you'd announce your engagement to us tonight. He said that you wouldn't be engaged yet but you'd announce it next week."

The four of them laughed together and stayed snug on the couch until the early morning, when Fred and Hermione decided it was time to get back to their flat to do some celebrating on their own.

Hermione was pulled from her reverie as she looked around. The flat itself must have had incredibly strong protection spells placed upon it, remaining completely unscathed bar a large black scorch mark on the wooden floor in the living room.

"I don't think that'll come out," Hermione pointed to the scorch mark, "dark magic and all."

"That's okay. Let's check out the extent of the damage in the shop." George grasped Hermione's hand and clung on like it was a lifeline. They both descended the stairs slowly, holding their breaths in anticipation of both the destruction and the memories.

The pair reached the bottom of the stairs and there was the first sign of the damage to ensue; the door to the staircase had been blasted off its hinges and lay splintered in a metre radius around the originating site. As their eyes roamed around the room, they took stock of the damage. The scorch mark that they'd seen upstairs covered most of the ceiling and the back wall. All the windows had been blasted inwards and there wasn't even place to step without crunching on glass. It appeared as if the place had been looted as well, where rows of shelves stocked to overflowing of product normally stood, all were either bare or littered the floor in varying states of disarray.

"George," Hermione whispered, "I'm so sorry."

George said nothing, just turned to Hermione and pulled her into a tight hug, emotions washing over them both. Hermione could feel slow tears falling onto her shoulder, soaking her t-shirt. She stepped back and held George at the shoulders firmly.

"Hermione, I don't know how I'm going to do it without him." George sniffed.

"I know I'm not much of a replacement, but you've still got me." Hermione said. She'd made him promise not to get his hopes up regarding their quest to bring Fred back to them. 'Act as though he's going to be dead forever' she remembered her exact words. 'How hypocritical,' she thought, 'I'm doing the exact opposite.'

"Thanks 'Mione. Let's get started then, shall we?" he said with a renewed mindset.

George pulled his wand out and paced towards the front of the shop. He waved his wand in intricate patterns, casting the biggest reparo that Hermione had seen. The windows slowly started reforming, George moving slowly enough to ensure that neither he, nor Hermione, were cut by the flying shards of glass. Hermione stood still for a moment longer and then she got to work charming a broom to sweep the debris and dust away, then a mop and bucket to follow behind it.

By three o'clock, the shop was looking like new again, needing a full stock.

"Just like the first time Fred and I stood here" George smiled wistfully.

"Except with a giant black scorch mark across half the shop." Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "What are we going to do about that?"

"Paint?" George suggested and flicked his wand to a storage cupboard.

"Will it work?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"Hey 'Mione, do you think we could do it the… muggle way?" George surveyed the extent of the scorch mark.

"Of course we can! The summer after my first year at Hogwarts, I asked dad if we could paint my room red – for all the Gryffindor spirit I had, of course. It used to be a pastel green and it reminded me of Slytherin. We spent the next week moving all my things out of the room and putting tarps down everywhere." Hermione beamed at the memory, "If I remember correctly, we had half a tin of paint left at the end and dad tipped it over my head. Mum was scrubbing paint out of my hair for three hours!" The pair laughed until George noticed Hermione's laughter had turned into hysterical sobs.

"Hermione! What's wrong?" George soothed as he came to rub circles on her back.

"I'm so selfish. I sent my parents away – obliviated them and sent them to Australia before the war to keep them safe. Ever since the Battle, all I've been trying to do is get Fred back. I haven't even started researching counter spells to see if I can recover my own parents' memories." Hermione breathed deeply, trying to calm down, when she suddenly leapt back from George.

"You smell like him." She said almost inaudibly.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, I didn't know about your parents. As soon as we've got Fred back, I'll dive head-first into research with you." George paused for a moment, "I wear his cologne sometimes, it comforts me."

Hermione nodded, "I was just shocked is all. Shall we start painting? What colour did you get?"

George hesitated before grinning the most radiant smile he'd given since Fred's death, "I have orange and purple."

"Of course you do." Hermione laughed.

They got to work painting the wall a coat of orange and the ceiling was plain purple. They decided to repaint the other walls as well, noticing how dull they looked in comparison to the vibrant orange. When they were done, they stood back and looked at the back wall.

"Not a scorch mark in sight!" Hermione smiled.

"Something's missing." George stated.

"How much purple paint do we have left?" Hermione asked, a plan forming in her mind.

"One tin, but I could order some more if you need it. What's scheming in that brain of yours?" George asked.

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she plunged a wide paintbrush into the purple paint and flung the paint at the wall. She repeated this several times before grabbing the whole tin and splashing the remnants across the orange. The purple paint dripped down the wall slowly and with a flick of Hermione's wand, it was dry. She looked at her handiwork and beamed, then slowly turned to George, noticing that he'd been almost drenched in the purple paint, and with a quick glance down at herself, she discovered she was too.

George grinned at her, "That looks bloody brilliant! Exactly what it needed."

"Almost done." Hermione drew her wand, and again pointing at the wall, made quick flicks with her wrist. As her wand worked, golden letters that sparkled like diamonds in the sun appeared on the wall through the mess of purple.

WEASLEYS' WIZARD WHEEZES

It stated, and around it, a halo of the silhouette of the two twins.

George smiled fondly at the new signage, "'Mione, it's perfect." He walked towards her and pulled her into a one-armed hug, both of them looking at the new wall.

"You can't even tell there's dark curse marks underneath it." She smiled.

George only nodded. His smile faded a little and he said quietly, "He'd be really proud of us today, I think."

"Yeah. I know he would."

A/N: As always, please review :) I love to know what you think.

Adieu xx