Chapter Thirteen
Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the super kind reviews. This chapter was done early than expected, so here it is!, lucky number thirteen!
With a loud cracking sound, Hermione rematerialized in the centre of George's living room. She was still grasping onto George's arm with both hands when they came to a gentle thud, resting right beside the largest of George's couches.
"Oh, it's good to see that you've finished moving in," She joked sarcastically once her surroundings came clearly into vision. He hadn't; George's flat still lacked any personal touches other than the massive Puddlemore United banner. The bare walls were still a stark white and the spacious room was sparsely filled. He had, however, arranged his comfy, leather couches around his fireplace and added several end tables. Also, the boxes had been cleared out, making the room slightly more livable. Immediately, Hermione sank into the couch nearest her, enjoying its plush luxuriousness.
"If I knew I was going to have a guest I would have made my place a bit more presentable," George grinned good-naturedly, clearly not concerned by the absence of homey aspects in his flat. Once again, Hermione had to marvel at the grandeur of George's home. She had forgotten about the impressiveness of its size and the magnificence of the large chandelier that hung in the centre of the ceiling. "Do you want to see about putting together a meal or something?" George asked, pointing towards his kitchen.
"I thought that when you invited me over, you already had dinner planned," Hermione giggled.
"No, not at all" – George echoed her laughter – "If anything, I was hoping you'd cook up something for me,"
"That's unlikely, Weasley….but lead the way, we'll see what we can do," Hermione replied pleasantly. Taking off her hat and mittens, she stowed her winter accessories in her beaded bag. Feeling suddenly self-conscious about her haphazard appearance, she removed the elastic from her hair and ran her fingers through the tangled curls, doing her best to brush her bushy locks smoothly over her shoulders. It wasn't particularly flattering, she knew, but she hoped that George didn't notice how messy her hair looked. Fortunately, he was no more presentable. Parts of his shaggy hair stood up at the back of his head and others hung lackadaisically over his forehead. George's face was as red as his hair, but his eyes shone brilliantly and he looked invigorated from their afternoon of skating. Eventually, Hermione rose and followed George out of the living room.
"Erm, what do you have that we could throw together for food, George?" Hermione asked once they entered the kitchen.
"Eh, not much…I haven't gotten groceries in some time," George admitted sheepishly. "Feel free to have a look around,"
The large, stainless steel fridge and the many cupboards were mostly empty, but Hermione was able to locate the requisite ingredients for pancakes. She quickly mixed together the ingredients and turned on one of the oven's burners. Soon the kitchen was filed with warmth from the heat of the oven.
"You're place is ridiculously heated," She said, hoping that her envy wasn't obvious; her flat never felt so toasty. Glancing at George, Hermione noted that he had some time ago ditched his hooded sweatshirt. He leaned forward with his elbows on the high counter in the middle of the kitchen in only his snug white tee-shirt over his worn jeans. The sleeves of his top were tight enough to reveal the impressive muscles of his upper arms and the fabric was flimsy enough that Hermione was sure that she could see his well-built chest beneath the taut material. The sight only added to Hermione's warmth. Instinctively, she pulled her thick, knitted jumper over her head, hoping that George wasn't as aware as she was of the way her pale blue camisole rode up, revealing much of her back and torso when she removed her sweater.
"Hey, George, do you have a frying pan?" Hermione asked, smoothing her top and trying not to feel too self-conscious about being clad in only the flimsy camisole. The temperature was much more comfortable without the bulky sweater.
"Oi, down there" – George pointed at one of the bottom shelves – "I must say it's so lovely of you to come over to make me dinner," He continued with a cheeky grin.
"Don't be so pleased with yourself, Weasley," Hermione jokingly reprimanded. She greased the frying pan and poured several dollops of the batter into it. "You're just lucky that I'm hungry too, otherwise, I wouldn't be so willing to cook for you," She knew that she was making a bigger deal out of her contribution than necessary; after all, the pancakes were easy for her to mix together.
"Mione, I consider myself lucky whenever I get to hang out with you," Even though George chuckled as he spoke, there was a tangible sincerity in his eyes and in his tone. Hermione wasn't sure how to respond.
"Ah, well….do you have any syrup, or anything?" She intentionally changed the subject, feeling a resulting awkwardness from George's kind words.
"Yup, top shelf…" George said, gesturing at the appropriate cupboard with a fork.
"Brilliant," Hermione located the syrup and dug plates and cutlery from the relevant drawers and cupboard. "Here you go, George," She added, flipping most of the pancakes onto his plate. The pair ate, standing next to the island counter in George's kitchen. Hermione happily poured syrup over her pancakes. Even though it was nothing special, the meal was the perfect way to follow the day of skating in the cold.
"Hmm…these are actually really fantastic, Mione," George commented appreciatively between bites.
"Very funny…it's the most basic recipe there is…I would have been able to come up with something much better if you actually had food in your kitchen," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I know…but what with Quidditch, I don't really have a lot of time for shopping. Besides, if I want a decent meal, I'll just go to mum's." George smiled roguishly, his mouth full of pancake.
"Oh George," Hermione sighed. However, she couldn't find fault with her companion's tactic; no one prepared meals more delicious than Molly's.
-o-O-o-
"Here, I got that," George offered, taking Hermione's plate from the counter once they were both finished.
"Thanks George,"
"Considering you did all the cooking, it's the least I can do," He joked in return, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and briefly running water from the tap over them.
"Fair enough" – Hermione chuckled – "Hey do you have tea? I could make a pot if you'd like,"
"Sure…That would be brilliant, tea's just above you,"
Hermione opened the overhead cupboard and easily found George's extensive selection of teas. "Hmmm, for a bloke who has next to nothing in his kitchen, you sure have an impression collection of teas," She laughed, leafing through a carton stocked with earl grays, herbal teas, and green teas.
"What can I say, I like my tea," George chuckled as he dried his hands with a checkered dishtowel.
"And where are your mugs, George?" Hermione asked once she had selected an appetizing sounding herbal tea.
"One cupboard over,"
Hermione opened the cupboard he had indicated and immediately noticed several mismatched mugs on the very top shelf. However, the cupboards were higher in George's flat than in most. Even on her tip toes, Hermione's hand fell well short of the mugs' lofty perch.
"Hey, can you give me a hand?" She asked with a smile to the much-taller George.
"Of course," George shuffled over from the sink so that he was standing almost directly behind her. He idly lifted his hand as if was going to grab a mug, but then seemed to change his mind mid-reach. Abruptly, Hermione was aware of his hand on her hip. At first, his caress was so soft that she could barely feel it over the thick denim of her jeans, but then he rested his hand on her hip and his heavy touch was much more noticeable. Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected, but not unwelcomed, contact. George was standing so close behind her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. "You're amazing," He murmured softly, directly into Hermione's ear as he gently massaged her hip through her jeans.
"Wh-what," Hermione stammered. George's sudden action had taken her aback. She pivoted sharply, coming to face him. George was staring at her intently, his brilliant blue eyes glittering with desire. He was breathing heavily. Acting more on impulse than intention, Hermione reached her hands to George's waist. She rested them barely above the waist band of his jeans and put her fingers through his belt loops. She felt lightheaded as George moved his other hand to the other side of her hip, pulling her closer him. When the fronts of their thighs came into contact, the skin on the back of Hermione's neck bristled and she was suddenly aware of a prevailing dryness in her mouth. Her hands trembled slightly with anticipation as they rested on George's protruding hip bones, but she kept them firmly in place.
"Hermione," George rasped. "I-ah," He didn't complete his sentence. Instead, his hands left Hermione's hips. He moved one to her back, grapping a fistful of the flimsy fabric of her camisole. The other traced a line along her forehead. George gently pushed her curls off her face and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear. He ran his knuckles along her cheek before tenderly cupping her chin.
Hermione wasn't sure if she made the initial move, if George did, or if they moved in unison. Either way, when their lips met, neither tried to restrain the passion. Immediately their tongues found each other, clamoring for position as their mouths came into contact. Unlike the moment on his roof at New Year's, this time, there was nothing chaste or hesitant about their kiss. The feel of his rough and yet still tender lips sent all common sense from Hermione's mind. Both moved frantically: desperate to experience more of the other, needing to explore all of the other's mouth. His kiss had the flavour of sugar. Hermione wasn't sure if it was his normal taste or lingering syrup from their dinner. She decided not to question it and to just enjoy the feel of his mouth on her lips and the sensation of his tongue as it pressed assertively against hers. Questions of what she was supposed to be doing or how she should be behaving faded; she only wanted to lose herself in the moment and in his kiss.
Hermione's heart beat rapidly and she realized that she was breathing heavily and sensed that George was doing the same. George's presence was strong against her as he leaned into her body, pushing her back against the sharp edge of the counter. Needing to get closer to him, Hermione stood on the tips of her toes and strained her neck to better reach up to his mouth. She moved her hands to his head, burying them in the shaggy locks, pulling him down nearer to her. Running her hands through his hair, she felt the jagged scar surrounding his wounded ear. Gently she fingered the ragged flesh, shocked that she found that injury only made him more desirable. The testament to George's bravery and his willingness to sacrifice himself caused Hermione's heart to race even faster and prompted her to kiss him even more furiously. She felt George's arms wrap tightly around her waist, as he aggressively lifted her up snuggly against his chest, deepening their kiss in the same movement. For a moment, her feet were lifted off the ground and only George's grasp and the edge of the counter supported her weight.
"Here," George said in a low, raspy voice. Hermione gasped the moment their lips lost contact, filling her lungs with much needed air. In one swift, easy movement he picked her up and placed her on the countertop. Once she was secure, he leaned into the counter and reconnected their kiss. His hands ran the length of her thighs, occasionally moving to massage her back. Hermione bent forward and wrapped her arms around George's neck, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. She crossed her legs behind his torso, leveraging him tightly against her. Even so, she found she almost had to double forward to kiss him. The height of the counter had brought her too far off the ground.
"The couch?" She asked simply but forcefully, knowing that they'd be more comfortable if they were seated.
"The bed?" He whispered directly into her ear with anticipation and hope in his husky voice. Hermione's skin tingled where his lips brushed softly against it.
"The couch," Hermione forced herself to clearly reiterate, unsure of how far they should let their passions take them that night.
"Ok," George nodded. He looped one arm underneath the crook of Hermione's knees and wrapped the other snugly around her back. Effortlessly, he lifted her off the counter and cradled her in his arms. Hermione curled her arm over his neck while he carried her to the living room. She giggled as he brought her to the couch and sat down with her still in his lap.
"Now, where were we," He laughed rakishly, grabbing her camisole with one hand and caressing the length of her thigh with the other.
Hermione didn't respond with words. Instead she capably located George's lips with hers, hungrily engulfing his mouth as he did the same with hers. She'd experienced other kissed before, but never one so fervent, vigorous, intense, and desperate. George pressed his lips against hers so soundly and filled so much of her mouth with his tongue that Hermione had to struggle to continue breathing. Her mind was clouded and her hands trembled, but she was certain that it was from the passion of the kiss, not the need for air.
"Mmm…George," Hermione muttered, stopping momentarily to catch her breath. Impulsively, she shifted her weight, hoisting one leg over George's so that she was on her knees, straddling his lap. George emitted a soft, delirious chuckle as he eagerly wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist. Once again, Hermione found George's lips. They were rougher than they had been earlier, likely a result of their lengthy and aggressive kissing session. She could feel George's hands roaming up her torso. He easily pushed aside the thin fabric of her camisole, finding access to her bare skin, but respectfully never trying to remove her top. His hands ran along her exposed back, sending a pleasurable current along the surface. Hermione sucked in her breath as his thumbs traced precariously close to her breasts. Pulling his head closer to hers, she pushed back against his lips, kissing him just as fervently as he was kissing her. She moved her hands from his hair to his broad shoulders. Gently, yet firmly, she caressed the length between his shoulders and forearms, enjoying the well-built hardness of his Quidditch muscles that protruded from the sleeves of his tight, white shirt.
Hermione recalled a warning note she had left in her notepad not that long ago – "Don't snog blokes you're not actually involved with" – but hastily disregarded her own heed. As it so often does, the temptation of behaving rakishly easily beat the suggestion of behaving rationally. Instead of pulling away and putting an end to their exchange of passion, Hermione allowed herself to become enveloped by desire and acted upon it in the way she had longed to ever since she had seen George's bare torso at the Burrow. She continued to pursue George's lips, loving every second that they were on hers. His touch grew exceedingly pleasurable and she shivered with delight as his hands explored the entirety of her uncovered back. His calloused hands were rough, but the friction only added to Hermione's enjoyment.
"Hey George," Hermione eventually broke their kiss. Her lips had been rubbed raw by the kiss and the skin of her face was chapped from George's coarse stubble of a beard. "Do you think maybe you'd want some of that tea now?" She was out of breath from the kiss. Also, she knew that she had to put a stop to the physicality; otherwise, she wasn't sure where it would end.
"I can think of something I want more," George grinned roguishly and replied in a husky voice. His eyes centred on her greedily as he tenderly rubbed the exposed skin on the back of her shoulder.
"I, ah, think it's time for tea," Hermione responded reluctantly but definitively.
"Sounds good," George's smile was good-natured as he secured a grasp on Hermione's waist to pick her up off of his lap. Covered with beads of sweat, her clothes and hair fully disheveled, Hermione slowly rose from the couch and ambled clumsily into the kitchen. Her coordination suffered as her head was still swirling with pleasure, giddiness, and confusion. There was no question, she realized, that George was just as attracted to her as she was to him. That fact was undeniable in his kiss, in his touch, and the way he had been so keen to hold her against him. As Hermione waited for the tea to finish steeping, she leaned against the counter to catch her breath and combat the dizziness that George's kiss had induced. She sighed, unsure of how she ought to proceed from that moment forth.
Author's note: Please let me know if you think I've violated the T rating and I'll edit accordingly! The last thing I want to do is offend anyone. Also, if anyone has a good breakdown about what is suitable for a T rating that would be very appreciated for later chapters. I don't want to change the rating mid-way through because I worry that be unfair to some readers and I also don't want to violate the T rating.