AN: Thank you all for your sweet reviews. I kind of hate this chapter, but it is what it is. Please review! :)

I don't own anything.

My time at the Burrow seems to fly by. I'm really amazed at how well Molly and I get along—if she'd been my age when she came to Hogwarts we probably would have been really good friends. As it is we have a really great relationship. And of course Arthur and I have always hit it off really well. I know they're both being so nice to me because they know I don't have parents of my own anymore, and that really touches me.

By the end of my fourth week I have a pretty good schedule going. Sunday mornings are relaxing, and the evenings are spent with the whole clan. Mondays and Tuesdays I usually visit Vector at Hogwarts and spend Monday night there in my new quarters, trying to glean everything I can from my old professor. She's really a much nicer woman than I ever thought while I was in school—I think she's just misunderstood.

George just laughed when I expressed this opinion to him at a Sunday supper at the Burrow. I knocked my glass of water over into his lap.

It depends on the week, but sometimes I'll spend Tuesday night at Hogwarts too and spend a couple hours on Wednesday fixing up my new place. I have a bedroom and adjoining bathroom, a sitting room, and a small kitchen that doubles as a dining room. This part of the castle was destroyed in the final battle and rebuilt so all the staff have new living quarters. My room is pretty bare—just basic furniture so far—so I'm trying to fix it up with some little plants, a couple of paintings on the walls, and other pretty things that will make it feel more like a home once I live here full time.

Thursdays I go to Hogsmeade with Molly for the weekly shopping. We buy food for the week and whatever supplies we need for the projects we're working on. Often we spend the whole day just window shopping and discussing various tasks, such as what I'll need for my new quarters at Hogwarts or what color to repaint the living room at the Burrow.

Thursday nights, after I help Molly back to the Burrow with all our purchases, I often go to dinner at Fred and Angelina's flat. Sometimes Ron and Mary Beth join us, or Harry and Ginny, but more often it's just the four of us—Fred, Angelina, George, and I. It can get a bit couple-ish, but Thursdays are fun. I'm helping Angie decorate the nursery for the baby who'll be here in just a few weeks.

Fridays and Saturdays are often a bit random. Fridays I don't normally plan anything, and Saturdays Fleur usually brings Victoire over so Molly and I can take care of her while her mum gets some errands done. Fred, Angie, and George often come spend the day and we swim or just hang out. Usually Fred and George will spend some time on their brooms while Angie and I discuss plans for the nursery.

On my fifth Saturday of the summer we have a day just like that. Fred, Angie, and George arrive around noon, just in time for lunch. Victoire makes us all laugh with her obvious disdain for the cucumbers of which Molly wants her to "just take one bite, love".

After lunch Angie and I take Victoire to walk around the pond for a little while. The little girl has no fear of the water and I get myself pretty well soaked trying to keep her from just diving in completely. Angie laughs and waddles after us. She's really such a cute pregnant woman, like she's hiding a basketball under her shirt.

"So what's the plan, Hermione?" Angie asks as I finally just give up and let Victoire sit in the shallows and splash around. We have extra clothes in the house.

"The plan?" I ask, glancing at her quizzically.

She shrugs and gives me a sly grin. "I really hope you're not planning to be like McGonagall and just work at Hogwarts until you're old and wrinkly and alone. Any prospects?"

I blush and shake my head. She's the last person in the entire world I would tell…she'll tell Fred, who'll tell George, who'll run the other way. "Not right now, no."

Her soft, low laugh tells me she doesn't believe me for a moment. "You know, it sure is a good thing you never had to bluff to the Dark Lord in order to save all our lives, or we wouldn't be here today."

I roll my eyes and focus intently on Victoire. "Yeah, probably so…" I let my voice trail off, hoping desperately that she'll just let it go.

"George isn't seeing anyone, you know."

I glance at her quickly and see she's dead serious.

And, of course this is what I suspected. But I've been dying to find out for certain, not wanting to get my hopes up and then have them dashed when he brings someone to Sunday dinner.

I go for nonchalance. "Oh. Yeah, he hadn't mentioned anyone."

She seems to read much more into this than is necessary. "Oh, so you two have talked about it?"

I look at her skeptically, wondering if perhaps those pregnancy hormones have affected her brain in ways other than emotion. "Yes ," I deadpan, "we hashed out our past relationships and declared our undying love for each other."

She doesn't appear to be dissuaded, and in fact appears encouraged by my statement. "Well, I didn't think so, but I think you at least want him to declare his undying love for you."

She catches me completely off guard and I blush scarlet. "What? I do not…I never said…"

Angelina just smirks at me and raises her hand to shade her eyes as she glances at something over my left shoulder. "Here come the boys."

I turn to look at "the boys" just as Fred calls out, "Angelina, my dear, my darling wife! How fares our young offspring?" He drops to his knees in front of her and presses an ear to her belly while George comes to stand next to me with a grin.

"Your young offspring is bouncing about on my bladder, dear husband," Angie quips in reply, playing off his humor. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to the house of your forefathers?"

Fred leaps to his feet with a grin and snogs his wife rather passionately for such an innocent statement. "It would be an honor, my dear one." He looks over his shoulder to wave at George and I as he clasps Angie's hand and they make their way toward the Burrow. "Take care of the maiden Hermione, brother!" he calls out dramatically. "And do take care that the offspring of the eldest Weasley son does not submerge herself in the pond water." He waggles his eyebrows at me. "Leeches, you know."

"Leeches!" I shriek, rushing over to Victoire and hauling her out of the water. "I didn't know there were—"

I look up to see George doubled over laughing at me as I frantically check Victoire's chubby legs for blood-sucking creatures. She starts to fuss and squirm as I glare at him, and at last I put her down. She quickly resumes splashing about in the shallows.

"He's just joking, Hermione," George assures, coming over to stand next to me. "Only creatures I've ever seen in these waters are fish."

I scowl at him, but he just chuckles and gestures for me to sit next to him on the dry sand a few paces back from the water. I plop down next to him and smooth my skirt over my knees. We're quiet for a good while, just enjoying the sun and watching Victoire, and I allow my mind to wander.

I never really even considered George while we were at school together. He was just Ron's older brother, Fred's twin, a first class prankster. After he and Fred left school I hardly saw him, just occasionally when I went to WWW—assuming I was even in the country, considering the amount of time Harry, Ron, and I were gallivanting about—and maybe at Christmas.

And then one day about a year and a half into my time at uni, when I was visiting the Burrow for my summer holiday, he was just…there. Maybe it was that Harry and Ron were off in London and it was just Ginny and I there for the summer, so I spent more time talking with him when he was over, maybe I was just finally at a place where I could care for him. But one day I just glanced up at him from my bowl of morning porridge and realized that I cared about him, quite a lot more than I cared about Fred and even more than Ron, or maybe just in a different way than Ron.

The point is, I was basically hit over the head with a theoretical baseball bat to discover that I cared for George Weasley, or all people.

And of course, the more I analyzed it, the more I realized that it wasn't necessarily an illogical infatuation. George is a really good man. He's funny and sweet and very friendly. Took me long enough to realize it, but at least I finally did.

I'm torn from my intense study of George's hand—and musings of what exactly his fingers would feel like intertwined with mine—by him calling out to Victoire to try not to get mud in her hair. That beautiful Granger blush comes to my face and I clear my throat awkwardly, realizing the silence had gone on for quite a while. "How was flying?"

For some reason George's face begins to redden rather alarmingly by this statement. I had thought it a very innocent query, but the more I study him the redder he becomes. "Are you alright?" I inquire, concerned.

He clears his throat harshly and nods. "Just fine. Flying was fine, everything's fine."

I snicker and turn back towards Victoire. "Well, fine then."

His eyes are all twinkly with humor when I finally look at him again, and his face seems to have returned to its normal pallor. "How are your lesson plans coming?" he inquires.

I let out such a loud groan, I apparently startle both him and Victoire, who stares at me for a moment before picking up a handful of sand and smearing it across her knee. "I'm so far behind," I moan, dropping my face into my hands dramatically. "When I was at uni I figured I'd have so much more time to actually figure out how to teach. I mean, the seventh years will only be four or five years younger than me! I knew some of them!"

"Well, you'll just have to act as an authority figure," George suggests logically. "I can even instruct you on it. After all, I spent most of my time at Hogwarts stirring up the lives of those so called 'authority figures', so I'm a bit of an expert."

I raise my eyebrows at his lofty tone. "Oh, you are, are you?" I sigh and decide to just take his advice anyway. "Well, how do I command the respect of the students then? I'm still so young, I fear they'll just walk all over me."

"Well," he begins, "I think you just have to make it clear that you mean business. Take Vector for instance. She had no problem taking dozens of points away for sass or ill humor. She knew how to take a joke, but sometimes she was almost as bad as Snape, being so strict I mean."

I frown. "Wait, so you mean I should be like Snape?"

"Please, no," he answers quickly, giving me a gentle smile. " 'Sides, you're far too pretty to pull off the whole Snape-like appearance, and I think that was half his act."

He says something else, but I miss it completely—he just said I was pretty! I just hope whatever he said wasn't too important.

"Nah," he continues, "I just mean you can't be afraid to take points away, even if it's your own house. That's one thing Fred and I always admired about McGonagall—sure, she was our Head of House, but she wasn't afraid to show us she meant business. And don't accept late work or sloppy work or anything like that. I think I might have tried a lot harder in school if the professors had just seen what I was capable of and asked me to rise to that, rather than the class standard."

I wish I had some way to take notes. "Okay, but what about jokes? I really don't think there's such a harm in all of them, unless they're meant to hurt or embarrass someone." I feel the back of my neck heat up as I recall a time in my second year when a Slytherin girl slipped a potion into my soup that made all my hair go so staticky, I had a two foot afro surrounding me like a brown aura. It was so humiliating. I still blush to think about it.

George grins wryly at me. "Well, you know I agree with you there." He seems to ponder this for a moment. "I think you should just make sure your students know that, yes, you have a sense of humor and can appreciate a prank, but you won't tolerate anything that'll do harm or cause injury or anything like that." He squints his eyes and smiles as Victoire stands up, spins in a circle, and plops down again with a splash. "Does that help at all?"

I nod quickly. "It really does. I understand what you mean—there's a balance to be had." I turn back toward Victoire and sigh heavily. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see how I do."

He grins at me. "You'll do great, Hermione. S'what you were meant to do. I'll take you out before you go and get you so wasted, you won't be able to worry about it anymore."

I smirk. "Gee, thanks. It's always been my goal to meet my future colleagues while suffering from a hangover."

"Well then, I'm just trying to help you fulfill a dream," he quips, holding out his hands to Victoire as she comes and sits on his lap, wet and cold as she snuggles into his shirt and gets him thoroughly messy.

My heart stutters as he rubs her chubby arms to try and warm her up, and I decide he shouldn't be allowed around small children. I'm having a hard enough time trying not to fall for him completely.

George scoops Victoire up in a little bundle and we walk back to the Burrow.