Meaning of Love

Gryffindor Princess


WInds of Autumn

AN: Sorry for the super long delay, you guys. My brother fried our old computer, and its been hell getting a new one. Money problems, work, being 17, and desperate for time away from the family has made writing super... well, hard. I do hope to start writing more again, and I even have another plot idea. This idea, however, centers around Fred and Hermione. Grins Enjoy.

Ginny considered herself a prideful, confident girl. She had no reason to doubt her attractiveness, in her own mind or in reality, for she'd had her fare share of flings before becoming serious with Harry. But as the summer progressed, she was starting to do just that. Harry was spending more time with Hermione, even if it was on redecorating that blasted house of his. He had the money, why couldn't he just buy a new house? There was no doubt that anything he bought would be better than the ragged, run-down old Black House, Grimmauld Place. She shuddered just thinking about it.

If it made her a bad girlfriend, then it did. Not everyone could deal with things such as Grimmaul Place as easilly as Gryffindor Princess Hermione Granger could. The thought made her seethe, and from that point on, Ginny had made it a point to always be involved. She didn't care that Hermione looked more and more dragged down. She didn't care that Harry too seemed more put out by her constant involvement. She didn't care that even Ron, as dense as her darling brother could be at times, had asked her quietly if she was becoming a little too obsessive. She wasn't. Refused to accept it.

Refused to accept that Harry was slowly slipping away from her.

Just a year ago, when she had still been stung over his chivalrous action of breaking up with her to protect her, she'd know that eventually they would get back together and be together always. She wasn't too sure what had changed since then, though it was right in front of her. Granger. Yes, Granger. It was no longer Hermione, or even Mione. Now the curly haired genious was her worst enemy, though Ginny continued the charade of their semi-friendship. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Sitting outside on a glorious sunny day, Ginny turned her head to see George escorting Hermione back from her most recent appointment at St. Mungos. The evil beast that she was coming to recognize reared its head, a half snarl coming to her pretty lips before she could stop herself. She immediately shoved it away, watching curiously as the two drifted closely together, a soft smile on Hermione's features and a mischievious grin on George's. Perhaps there would be a way to keep Harry and Hermione away from each other, after all.

Harry sat in his room at the Burrow, staring at the wall unseeingly. The redecoration on Grimmauld had started out as a good idea, but lately, he wasn't so sure. Hermione and Ginny stuck in the house with him, intruding on the alone time that he and Hermoine had come to enjoy. They were both driving him mad. He couldn't stand much more of it, and had told both of them that for the remainder of the summer, redecorating the house was off limits. Mrs. Weasley could pick it up during the school year for something to do, since she had none of her babies at home to worry over. But he simply could not be put through another tense day of them together in the same room with him.

He shuddered lightly, remembering the slightly disappointed look in Hermione's eyes, quickly hidden but not quickly enough, when Ginny had joined him the first time. She had been wonderful, though, welcoming Ginny warmly and explaining her vision for Grimmauld Place. Ginny had seemed polite enough, doing what Hermione wanted and sticking close to Harry at the same time. It was insane.

So he had taken to avoiding Hermione, leaving her in George's capable hands. It was the only thing he saw that he could do without driving himself up a wall and hurting Ginny. It hurt, but he saw no other way. He couldn't salvage the relationship with his best friend without severing the one with his girlfriend.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door before it was pushed open. He looked up to see his red haired girlfriend enter, watching him curiously. "Harry, love? Are you all right? You've been awfully quiet today," she said softly, perching gently on the edge of the bed, leaving a bit of space between them.

He nodded, giving her a grin. "I'm fine. Just needed some time alone, you know?" Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Good. I was worried. Feel up to a game of Quidditch?" she asked, a teasing challenge in her voice. Harry brightened instantly, grabbing his broom and racing her to the field.

Cold eyes bored into the quaking form in front of him. Interesting. So his father's closest acquaintences hadn't been lying after all. The question now was what to do about it. His mother would be interested in the news. Waving a hand, Draco dismissed the quaking nurse from St. Mungos, watching in mild amusement as the young man quickly apparated away, almost splinching himself in the process. Had it been another time, Draco surely would have taken glee from the man's obvious nervousness. His mind was on other things at the moment, though. His mind worked with cold precision, so starkly conniving in his brilliance that even Granger would have been jealous of him.

He continued to sit for a few more minutes before lurching into motion, Apparating to his family mansion almost as soon as he'd been in a verticle position to do so. He landed in Narcissa's living room, surprising his mother and earning a gasp from her before she realized who it was.

"Draco, must you do that?" she scolded, her dark delicate brow furrowed in annoyance with him.

"I have news, Mother. She is pregnant." He smirked at the reaction his mother gave. She had loved Lucius, no matter how horridly he had treated her. But, she had fallen into the role of Malfoy long ago, and was no longer the innocent, glowing girl of her youth from before Lucius Malfoy had corrupted her. She had done her best to instill strict morals and values into her son, but in the end, the only thing that had remained was his devotion and love to his mother, the only person to ever love him in return.

"That Mudblood bitch!" she screached, standing up immediately and falling into pacing. "And damn that man for being a pig!" Draco crossed his arms, leaning against the fireplace, and watching her in mild amusement as she continued on her rant. It took nearly ten minutes before she had calmed and retook her seat, looking at him expectantly.

"Well, Draco? What do you propose we do?" she asked, her dark eyes watching her son.

"We're going to wait, Mother." He smirked. "We're going to wait until that filthy Mudblood thinks that she is safe. And when they get careless, that bastard child is ours."

A malicious smirk spread across his mothers features, and she nodded. "Wonderful. Now, go clean up. Pansy and her mother are joining us for dinner."

Brilliant.

Hermione beamed at George as they sat across from each other, laboring over baby books and highlighting anything that would be helpful in the upcoming months. Of course, being George Weasley, he simply had to crack jokes. For his part, George couldn't help himself. He simply hated seeing Hermione so serious and dejected, as she had been for the past few days. He'd seen it, the way she lit up when she was with Harry. Of course, he wasn't hoping that Harry saw it and broke his little sister's heart, but he didn't want Hermione to be miserable, either. It was quite the situation, and George Weasley wished once more that his twin brother was there. To share in the complexity and somehow get Hermione to smile just a bit more often.

Shaking her head, pushing her curls behind her ears, Hermione ducked her head and returned to persuing the written words in front of her. Her wand passed as a muggle highlighter, making the words she wanted to study more stand out brightly so they would be easilly found again. George was following the same example, commenting now and again just to stir conversation in the room.

Once, George looked up to comment on something he'd read, and stopped. Hermione was reading, her lip pulled between her teeth, a glowing look in her eyes as she read about the development of the child that grew inside her body. While she wasn't thrilled that it was Malfoy's child, it was a child, innocent and shaped by the world around them as they grew older. And that had to be what George respected the most about her.

Until this summer, they hadn't spent much time together. Until the Final Battle, they'd never been seperated from those closest to them. They'd never needed each other. But now they did. And George honestly couldn't say if he was sad about it. Well, except for the loss of Fred, he knew now that there was no way he could possibly loose Hermione too. It would absolutely destroy him. He stayed quiet, struggling internally, not entirely sure how he would react if he and Fred had been in reverse positions. To him, Hermione had taken a place in his heart that was as identical to Fred's as anyone would ever get. Would he be angry if the situation was reversed, and Hermione had taken his place in Fred's heart?

No. He wouldn't. He would be relieved that his twin had found someone.

He smiled in relief, slowly lowering his eyes back to the book in front of him and continuing on with his reading.