Chapter Eight

Author's note: Thanks for reading!

As Hermione and Holly entered the living room, Hermione couldn't help but notice that the rest of the guests at George's New Year's party seemed significantly more rambunctious than the small group that had been occupying the kitchen. Most were talking quite loudly and all had drinks – in whatever sort of containers they had been able to procure from George's kitchen – in their hands. Hermione noticed many conspicuous red-faces in the crowd as well as several party guests who were swaying in spot.

"Mione! Let's sit here," Holly grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her down onto an empty couch that had been pushed beside a wall. Hermione fell into the couch, nimbly managing to steady her wine glass, preventing any of her drink from spilling. Hermione sighed as she sunk into the soft, leather couch; she hadn't been aware of how much she wanted to get off her lofty shoes until she had sat down. "Mione, I have a problem," Holly whined once they were seated.

"What's that Hol?" Hermione asked with concern in her voice.

"I can't decide who I like more, Matty or Oliver?" She said contemplatively in reference to George's two Quidditch teammates.

"What? Why does that matter? Do you have to decide right now?" Hermione asked, tucking her legs underneath herself, smoothing out her skirt to ensure that she was still covered.

"Well…I have to decide so I know who to have my New Year's kiss with," Holly informed her matter-of-factly.

"What?" Hermione uttered. Holly's statement confused her on many levels.

"New Year's kiss…You have to kiss someone at midnight on New Year's" Holly explained, alleviating none of Hermione's confusion. "And that's going to be soon."

"Hmm…ok…" Hermione replied, unconvinced. "Well, who did you enjoy talking to more?"

"Well I was pretty pissed when I talked to Matty…but I like how tall he is…but I've been in love with Oliver for a long time…" Holly speculated aloud.

"Is Matty even here?" Hermione asked, hoping to find an easy solution to Holly's odd problem.

"Yah, he's over there," Holly pointed to a group of young men who had entered the living room, including Oliver and Matty. All the young men, Hermione assumed, were from George's Quidditch team. She easily spotted George standing in the middle of the group, drinking a large amount of Butterbeer out of the Erlenmeyer flask. His ivory tie was loosened and it hung lackadaisically around his neck and his hair was even messier than earlier, as if he had been running his hand through it most of the evening. Also, since she had last seen him, he had ditched his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his toned forearms. Hermione wasn't surprised; George's flat was exceptionally warm, being filled with so many people.

"Wow…You sure you don't fancy that one, Mione?" Holly asked with a smile, nodding towards George. "He certainly is fit." Hermione self-consciously wondered if her friend had been privy to the way she had been checking him out.

"Hmmm…" Hermione murmured absentmindedly, not providing her friend with a substantial answer. "He's just an old friend," She reiterated.

"Ok," Holly replied. "So…any solutions for me on this Matty and Oliver situation?"

"Ah…just follow your heart…" Hermione contributed lamely. Fortunately, Holly didn't want to pursue the conversation any further. Someone had evidently found George's sound system, as upbeat music had suddenly filled the living room. Hermione glanced to the centre of the room, smiling when she noticed that some of the guests had decided to take advantage of the music, the smoothness of the hardwood floor, and the lack of clutter in George's flat. They were up swaying and moving to the music, all still holding a drink in one hand.

"Come on, let's dance Mione," Holly exclaimed, taking hold of Hermione's free hand and pulling her to standing.

"Er…ok," Dancing was never something that came easy to Hermione, but none on the makeshift dance floor looked particularly talented so she had no reason to feel intimidated. Following Holly's lead, Hermione bounced gently in place to the music, occasionally adding a hand flourish or half-twirl. She was sure she looked ridiculous, but the music was infectious, Holly's joy was palpable, and the champagne was starting to go to her head. Occasionally, Holly would take hold of Hermione's free hand to send Hermione into a spin, inducing laughter from both girls. Hermione tried to do the same with her friend, but the other woman was too tall. Her inhibitions fading, Hermione started moving more vigorously, smiling joyously as she did, finding enjoyment in moving around rhythmically with her friend as the upbeat music continued.

"Ah, may I have this dance?" Oliver Wood interrupted the girls' dance, offering his hand to Holly. Holly looked to Hermione for assent and Hermione nodded for her friend to go with the Quidditch player.

"See you around, Mione," Holly called out while Oliver whisked her into a spin. Hermione stood alone on the dance floor momentarily, unsure of her next move. Deciding not to continue standing idly amongst the spinning bodies, she ambled into the kitchen, hoping to locate Harry, Ginny, and Ron. The kitchen was filled with people Hermione didn't know. It seemed as if the number of guests had grown exponentially while she had been on the dance floor. It was fortunate that George's flat was so spacious, as he seemed to know many people. Seeing none of her friends, Hermione continued through George's flat. There were people in George's den and dining room, but none of them were Harry, Ginny, or Ron. Hermione wondered if her pals had already left. It struck her as odd that they would go without saying goodbye, but they didn't seem to be anywhere in George's. She retraced her steps to the living room, wondering if she had merely overlooked their presence earlier. The improvised dance floor was more crowded than it had been before. Hermione scoured the sea of dancers, searching for Ginny's hot pink dress, but not finding it.

She contemplated just leaving as none of her friends seemed to be available. Celebrating the stroke of midnight had never struck Hermione as being particularly important, and even if it was, she wouldn't want to celebrate it alone. Wandering down George's hall, one last time, in case her friends happened to show up, she saw George waving at her from the base of his steep steps.

"Hey Mione, how's it going?" He asked jovially, taking a large drink of Butterbeer out of his Erlenmeyer flask.

"Er, yah…It's alright. I can't find anyone though…do you think they've all left?" Hermione held out her arms and shrugged her shoulders in confusion.

"Maybe…Oh well…their loss" George laughed. "I'm going up on the roof for midnight. Come with me!" He said eagerly, holding out his free hand as if he expected Hermione to take hold of it. Hermione eyed the steep stairs ruefully. She knew that trying to climb them in her short dress and lofty shoes might not be the most prudent decision, but decided to follow George regardless. The prospect of the roof intrigued her. Motioning for George to ascend the steps, Hermione followed behind him. Opting to hold her free hand – the one not encumbered with her wineglass – behind her legs to prevent her skirt from flying up rather than grabbing onto the stair's railing, Hermione walked very delicately to avoid tumbling over on her towering heels. The moment they emerged onto the roof and into the fresh crisp air, Hermione took several deep, satisfied breaths. She hadn't been aware of how stuffy the flat had been or how sweaty she had gotten from dancing.

"Are you having a good time, Mione?" George asked as they found room on the roof's surface. "It's brilliant that you made it," he added before she could respond to his question.

"Yah…it was so lovely for you to have us all over, George." She smiled in return. A number of other guests had claimed spots on the roof, including a group of George's teammates who were off to the side, smoking cigars. Several couples were lining the edges, all in affectionate embraces. Hermione glanced over the railing they were standing next to, the sight shocking her with its beauty. Coming directly into his flat through the fireplace, Hermione hadn't been aware that they were so high off the ground. From their vantage point, she could see the familiar lights of London and beyond. She thought she could make out the miniscule image of Big Ben. The hands of the clock both appeared to be approaching a vertical positing, indicating that midnight was nigh. Glancing up, she noticed that the stars were in full force on the clear night. There was something perfect, Hermione thought, about being outside in the middle of the night in the midst of winter.

"I honestly did very little work to get ready for this," George grinned rakishly, pulling Hermione's attention away from their surroundings. "But don't tell anyone that. I figure throwing this party will earn me goodwill for some time."

"You're secret is safe with me," Hermione chuckled and tapped her half-filled wineglass against George's Erlenmeyer flask.

"Good to know. You always were a reliable one, Mione" He said fondly.

"Hey, did Fred ever show up?" Hermione asked and George shook his head regretfully.

"No, he sent me a quick note. They were having trouble getting the twin's down to bed, so he and Ang thought it best they stay with them."

"Oh, I'm sorry, George,"

"Meh, it's not a big problem. I get it," George shrugged. "Ethan and Soph are pretty important. I don't mind coming in second place to those two." He smiled lovingly at his own mention of his newborn niece and nephew.

"They're pretty bril-" Hermione's comment was interrupted by muffled shouts.

"Ten – nine – eight," A barely audible chorus of chants echoed from inside George's flat through the entrance leading onto the roof.

"Oh it's the countdown!" Hermione exclaimed while the crowd atop the roof erupted into cheers.

"Seven – six," The guests on the rooftop managed to fall into pace with the yells from the inside. Hermione joined in, her voice drowned out by the noise of the others. "Five – four." She glanced at George and saw that he was yelling as well, raising his flask into the air in celebration. His smile was wide and his face was slightly red, either from the cold or the beverages.

"Three – two," Hermione smiled and looked out over London, finding herself surprisingly excited to usher in the New Year.

"One," The countdown finished and noise exploded around Hermione. She couldn't distinguish between what was created by the rooftop guests, what came from the flat, and what was rising up from the streets of London.

"Happy New Year's, George," Hermione turned and reached up with her free arm to give her companion a quick hug.

"Happy New Year's to you too, Mione," He whispered, his voice oddly husky. George bent down and returned Hermione's hug. When his arms encircled her waist, his beverage rested against her back and Hermione shivered as the cold of the drink reached her skin through her dress's fabric. "Thanks for coming," His voice was definitely raspy and his lips tickled Hermione's neck when he spoke. He turned his head and slowly brought it up, gently brushing Hermione's cheek with his. Hermione felt a tingle radiate through her skin where it had been touched by George's. She released her grasp of the back of George's neck, assuming that he was breaking their hug. It seemed, momentarily, as if he was, but he paused, his nose hovering just above Hermione's. "I'm so glad you're here," He said, even quieter than before.

With his free hand, George reached up and tenderly stroked Hermione's chin before cupping it in his hand. She noticed a peculiar gleam in the intense blue of his eyes. While she was still searching his deep eyes, George gently pressed his lips against hers. Hermione's eyelids flew open and her eyebrows almost skimmed her hairline. His mouth lingered briefly on her slightly-parted lips. The moment only lasted several seconds, but to Hermione it felt much longer. She lost awareness of the others on the balcony and of the night surrounding them. His lips were chapped yet still tender. Hermione resisted the urge to close her eyes, reciprocate the kiss, or burry her free hand in his shaggy hair: not wanting to treat the moment as more romantic than warranted. Her arm merely continued to float above George's neck while she tightly clasped her wineglass in her other hand, concerned that her shaking hand might not be able to maintain its grip. Slowly, George lifted his head, breaking their contact.

"I'm glad I came too, George," Hermione spoke hastily. The night or the champagne was clouding her judgment and she couldn't tell if he had intended a quick, friendly peck or something more. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was reading unnecessarily into his gesture. Over the edge of the railing she saw fireworks going off from the Thames River. She focused on the flashing blues, reds, greens, yellows, and purples alighting above George's shoulder, worried about what would happen to her legs if she stared into George's brilliant, blue eyes.

"You're welcome here whenever, Mione," George said softly with a crooked smile.

"Weasley!" A chorus of hollers from George's teammates rushed Hermione back into reality. "Get over here, mate,"

"Er," George hesitated, looking at Hermione apologetically. "Do you mind?" He asked with a shrug towards his teammates. Hermione nodded and watched George stride towards the group of young men to accept their drunken hugs and high fives. Hermione rested her elbows on the railing and tried to admire the view. The fireworks were still exploding. They were nothing spectacular when compared to the magical nature of wizard-created fireworks, but the bright colours were mesmerizing and many of the patterns were pretty. She sighed and sipped the last of her champagne, unsure of what to make of the night.

Author's note: I have a very limited understanding of London. I apologize if I muddled its geography…