Chapter Sixteen

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading!

After climbing down the nine flights of stairs, avoiding the fans loitering on the stairwells, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Lavender finally reached the ground level of the Quidditch stadium.

"Ok, follow me," Harry directed, leading them through the labyrinth of tunnels surrounding the pitch. "Ginny told me to meet her just down this hall…I guess the visitor's team room is down this way," He added as they walked through one of the cement-lined corridors.

"Are we allowed down here, Harry?" Hermione questioned. Unlike the rest of the stadium, the corridor Harry was leading them down was not filled with fans.

"Oh yah, it's fine…Ginny said I could bring you all down here." Harry nodded. Hermione wondered if Ginny expressly had permission to let them into the restricted section of the stadium, or if their presence was allowed simply because it was Harry who was involved. Hermione knew that many in the wizard community were still willing to give concessions to the Boy-Who-Lived. She didn't ask for clarification, however, as she knew Harry didn't appreciate having his celebrity status referenced.

Pushing open a double, red door at the end of the hall, Harry let them into a stark, well-lit room. The room was mostly empty; Hermione figured that lots of Ginny's teammates had been eager to leave the stadium following their loss.

"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" Ginny shrieked as they entered the room. "Oh, hi Lavender," she tacked on as an afterthought. Regardless of the defeat, Ginny still seemed her typical buoyant self: her smile was still bright, and her eyes still gleamed with delight.

"You played great, Gin," Hermione said fervently, scooping her friend into a secure hug.

"Thanks, Mione. It wasn't fun to lose, but we're feeling pretty good about our performance." Ginny replied flippantly, giving Hermione an extra squeeze around her torso.

"Should we find George…congratulate him on the win?" Ron suggested looking apologetically at Ginny after all had exchanged greetings and hugs.

"Alright," Hermione replied far too quickly. Fortunately, Ginny and Harry spoke their agreement at the same time and Hermione's over eagerness went undetected.

"Puddlemore's room is just across the hall," Ginny commented. The five young witches and wizards returned to the corridor. Harry was ably lugging Ginny's large, burgundy bag of Quidditch gear over his shoulder: something that struck Hermione as irrefutably sweet. When they knocked on the door to Puddlemore United's room, Matty – George's teammate who Hermione had met at the Leaky Cauldron – opened the door.

"Hey, Weasley's friend!" He exclaimed, grinning down at Hermione from his impressive height. As seemed to be his habit, the large man immediately pulled Hermione underneath his heavy arm, holding her close to him.

"Er, hello Matty," Hermione said, her voice muffled by Matty's grip. The looks of puzzlement on her friends' faces were easily apparent, but Hermione didn't offer an explanation for why she already knew George's teammate.

"Have you come for me, Weasley's friend?" – Matty joked loudly to Hermione – "I'm still pretty beaten up over loosing that blonde friend of yours to Wood."

"Erm, no," Hermione replied succinctly. "We've come to see George,"

"Oi, I should have known…all these gingers…gotta be Weasleys," Matty shouted with a guffaw of laughter. While the large, young man was loud and often crass, Hermione liked him regardless. He was friendly and she was sure he only meant well with his overt flirtation.

As Hermione and her friends walked into the team room, Matty yelled out to George: "Hey Weasley…you have visitors!"

"Eh, what's that, Matty?" George called from one corner of the room. He was seated on a faded, brown couch with Fred and Angelina. Hermione noticed that the Puddlemore United team room was much fancier than the room Ginny's team had been using; a fact she attributed to the stadium being the Puddlemore United's home stadium. A billiards table stood in one corner and several couches were set up around the room. Plenty of team posters and massive banners liberally adorned the otherwise stark, white walls. George, Fred, and Angelina had claimed one of the couches in the corner while the rest of George's teammates were spaced around the room. "Oh, hey guys," George approached his siblings and friends while Fred and Angelina followed close behind him, hand in hand.

"Good game, George," Ginny grinned good-naturedly, greeting her older brother with a warm hug.

"Thanks, Gin…you too…I was struggling to keep up with you all game," George jovially returned his little sister's smile and hug. As the Weasleys and their friends exchanged greetings and hugs, Hermione thought perhaps that George let his hands linger on her lower back longer than necessary, but wasn't positive. Angelina whisked her into a quick embrace before Hermione was able to assess if there were extra sparks between her and George in their hug.

"Well…we have to get back to the twins," Angelina commented before she and Fred left. Ron and Lavender soon followed.

"We should go too…Teddy's going to be waiting for us…Gin and I promised we'd spend the evening with him," Harry said hesitantly.

"Did you want to come with us, Mione?" Ginny added kindly.

"Ah, I don't think so, Gin. I might just stay in, get some work done," Hermione shrugged apologetically. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Harry and Ginny, she sensed they wanted some family time with the young boy, who they both viewed as something of a son. Also, playing house with two of her best friends didn't strike her as the best way to pass the evening. After a quick exchange of hugs and goodbyes, Ginny and Harry exited the room, leaving Hermione alone with only Quidditch players.

"So, how have you been Hermione?" George asked pleasantly in a quiet voice after all his siblings had left.

"Er…I've been-" Hermione started to answer before she was interrupted by a yell from the other side of the room.

"Hey Weasley, we're all thinking of going for drinks…you coming with?" Matty shouted from next to one of the billiards tables. He was in the midst of a game with several other players.

"Ah, I don't know," George said with a laugh. "Are you up for hanging out, Mione? I'd rather hang out with you than the blokes," He turned to Hermione, asking her quietly with a wide smile. His bright blue eyes were impossible to resist. Even though Hermione had been disappointed with his lack of contact throughout the week, she knew she wanted to go with George.

"Erm, sure…that sounds good," Hermione muttered, aware that a flush had arisen on her cheeks.

"So no drinks then, Weasley?" Matty asked.

"No, I think Hermione and I are going to do something together," George grinned.

"Yah…that sounds smart…you should probably go with that one, Weasley," Matty said appreciatively in a boisterous voice, glancing all along Hermione's body in a way that made her admittedly uncomfortable. She was sure that all the Puddlemore United players, intrigued by Matty's loud comments, had turned to look at her and George.

"Ok, want to head out, Mione?" George said. Hermione nodded silently and they started to leave the room. Near the doorway of the room, George stooped to pick up his large, bright red duffle from the stack of identical bags and swung it over his shoulder. Hermione thought he might have winced while he was hoisting it. If it did bother him, he didn't let it affect him. George seemed capable of carrying his large bag as the pair silently wandered out of the room and into the cement corridor.

-o-O-o-

"Well…you remember my flat, right?" George asked with a playful laugh as he and Hermione entered his home. "Make yourself comfortable." He remarked gesturing towards the living room. Wandering into the impressive living room, Hermione sighed happily before sinking into his comfortable, leather couch.

"You should join me, George," She instructed with a giggle, knowing that she was being more flirtatious than necessary.

"Will do, one sec," George followed her into the living room, still carrying his large, red duffle bag. He pulled the strap off his shoulder and bent over to set the duffle on the floor behind the couch, grimacing as he did. "Oh damn…Godric that smarts," He muttered, his hand immediately going to his side.

"What is it George?" Hermione asked caringly, peering over the back of the couch to look at George.

"Ugh" – He groaned, stumbling to join Hermione on the couch – "I took a good one in the side…possibly cracked a rib, but our trainer thought he fixed it," Wincing noticeably, George tentatively leaned back into the couch, holding a cushion to his chest. From his pained expression and the way he was sitting uncomfortably, Hermione was certain that he was still suffering from the injury. She recalled that during the game George had gotten hit exceptionally hard by a speeding Bludger and assumed that was the moment when George had been hurt. "I'm guessing he didn't completely fix it…or perhaps I just reinjured it," George added with a strained laugh.

"Can I do anything to help?" Hermione asked. "Maybe get you a hot beverage or something," She continued feebly, knowing that wouldn't be of any benefit to George.

"Hmm…how are you with healing breaks, Mione? Do you think you could fix my rib?" George asked hopefully, his brilliant blue eyes centring squarely on her.

"Ahh…I don't know…I probably could," Hermione hesitated.

"Probably?"

"Well…I theoretically know how to set a bone," Hermione expanded with a wavering laugh.

"Hey, that works for me," George grinned widely. Moving falteringly, obviously favouring his left side, he pulled his pale blue, tee shirt over his head, leaving his entire torso exposed.

"Er, ah," Hermione stuttered. She could have tended to George's wound through his thin top, but refrained from suggesting that he put his shirt back on. Locating her wand from her beaded bag, Hermione shuffled along the couch so that she was right next to George. She rested on her knees and stared intently at George's naked chest. His upper body was speckled with an impressive collection of bruises, all of various shades of purples, blues and blacks. The one he had suffered that day was a particularly vibrant red, having not yet started to bruise. "Oh sweet Merlin, George...what has happened to you," She muttered quietly at the sight of his marred skin.

"Oi, just an expected byproduct of playing Beater…not really a problem…and the girls love it," He grinned rakishly. Hermione gulped and felt her cheeks flush and the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

"And that makes it all worth it, I suppose?" She tried to echo his laidback tone.

"You tell me." The flirtation in George's voice was undeniable.

"Ok, just sit still, Weasley," Hermione directed, not wanting to address George's comment. She paused before placing a hand on the spot on the side of George's upper body where he had been hit that day. His skin radiated heat. She could easily feel the remarkable muscle definition of his torso and bit her lip as she gently rubbed the section of his skin that had turned red from the hit. "Hmm…where's it bothering you?" She asked her voice husky as she pushed a bit harder against his flesh.

"Ah…right there," George winced.

"Ok…here goes," Hermione said determinatively. Directing her wand at the point he had indicated, she muttered the necessarily healing charm. Slowly exhaling, she hoped fervently that her spell had worked.

"Oh Merlin, Mione…you are so brilliant," George's smile was one of relief. "That feels so much better."

"You better not just be saying that…Let me know if I messed it up entirely," Hermione commanded with a chuckle, glad that her charm had apparently been a success.

"No, this is perfect…you're a miracle worker," George laughed, rotating from one side to the other, testing out Hermione's healing capabilities. "I can't feel it at all, thank you,"

"Hopefully that means it worked," Hermione chuckled self-consciously. Now that she no longer had a task to complete, Hermione was suddenly very aware that she was sitting incredibly close to the still-shirtless George and that he had made no motion whatsoever to grab his pale blue top that was still lying in a crumbled heap on his coffee table. She gulped, knowing that she should remove her eyes from George's exposed torso, but not quite willing to: his shoulders were so impressively broad, his chest muscles so defined, and his arms so obviously strong. The bright blue waistband of his boxer shorts peeked suggestively over the top of his jeans in a way that made Hermione's mouth feel dry and her heart pulsate furiously. He lounged casually against the back of his couch, seemingly without an iota of reservation regarding his half-naked state.

"Well…get over here," George uttered roguishly. He wrapped an assured arm around Hermione and pulled her into his lap. Despite her better judgment, Hermione readily complied with his direction, twisting so that she was seated across his legs. Before she was fully cognitive of the moment, his lips were on hers, kissing her eagerly. Even as she leaned in to reciprocate his kiss, Hermione knew that she should behave better. She knew she should put a stop to such silliness and discuss her feelings with George. However, George's taste was intoxicating and questions of should began to melt away as Hermione returned his kisses, willingly allowing the intensity between them to increase. She shivered with pleasure as his tongue sought hers. Entwining both his arms around her, he held her securely against his exposed chest, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his bare skin through her flimsy, grey tee shirt. His hands were on her back, gently caressing her skin through his top. Hermione placed her own hands behind his neck, nervous about what would happen if she let herself explore his bare skin.

As Hermione started to become lost in the movement, her head grew mired with desire and her inhibitions were rapidly dissolving, pushed away by the pleasure of George's touch. George's kiss was maddening and his touch was intoxicating; Hermione wanted to forget everything and only focus on enjoying their moment. However, her notepad warning – "Don't snog blokes you're not actually involved with" – worked its way back into her conscious. Before she could hastily disregard the pestering voice of reason, she recalled her frustration from the days following her and George's most recent kiss. She remembered how much it had hurt to consider the possibility that George had only interested in her because he wanted someone with whom to fool around. She thought of the way she had wrestled with herself over his potential motivations for his actions.

Hermione could feel George's free hand exploring her body. She shivered as he easily pushed aside her tee shirt and ran his fingers along the uncovered, delicate skin of her stomach. Her sensitive skin tingled at his unexpected touch. His hand covered the entirety of her stomach and trailed up her side, onto her back, before returning to her stomach. Hermione trembled as he neared the waistband of her jeans. She sucked her breath in as he slowly let the tips of his fingers drift just below the band. The gesture was slight, but it caused something within Hermione to snap her back into reality. It was such a blatant attempt to increase their intimacy and it only served to confirm Hermione's suspicions that George was only acting on purely physical motivations. Breaking their kiss she glanced into George's face, immediately perceiving the overwhelming desire and need in his expression.

"Ahh…George," Hermione spoke hesitantly, pausing their interaction. "What are we doing here?" She asked expectantly with a hint of exasperation in her tone.

"Ah, Mione…we're snogging and it's pretty fantastic, if I do say myself," He laughed and leaned in to reconnect their kiss.

"No, George…" Hermione interjected, halting his movement by lifting two fingers to his lips. She propped herself into a seated position, shaking George off of her and quickly adjusting the hem of her shirt so that it covered the skin that George had exposed. He perched on the edge of the couch, a confused look clouding his angular features. "That's not what I mean…I mean…what are we doing?" She tried to emphasize the sentence in such a way as to convey her true meaning. "Me and you…what's going on here between us?"

"Ah well…" – George sat up a bit straighter – "I guess we're enjoying each other's company…having fun."

"Having fun," Hermione frowned and repeated his comment. It wasn't what she had been hoping to hear. She felt a pang of discomfort echo through her chest. His laissez faire response only confirmed her disconcerting suspicion that he was only interested in her for physical reasons. She sighed disappointedly, certain that the reason he hadn't contacted her all week was because he simply figured that she wasn't worth the effort.

"Yah…I'm having fun. Aren't you?" George asked in his typically laidback way.

"Well yes" – that fact was undeniable – "But-but, I-I…ah," She wasn't sure how to voice her dissatisfaction with the simplistic nature of his response.

"What is it Mione?" George reached over and gently stroked her shoulder while adopting a concerned expression.

"Well, what do you mean by that," She hoped the pleading in her voice wasn't palpable.

"We're enjoying each other's company…having fun," George replied, grinning in his aggravatingly attractive crooked fashion. "Is that not ok? I don't understand why this is a conversation we need to be having,"

"You don't?"

"No, why can't we just carry on as we have been? I've been having a great time and I thought you were too…I always thought that's what matters," His smile revealed his teeth and he continued to rub Hermione's shoulder seductively.

Hermione paused, uncertain about what she ought to say next. "Think of how eager he was to take you to his bedroom," Her more rational side mentally advised. "He likes to flirt. He likes pulling lots of girls. He's most likely just looking for an easy shag?"

"George, did you just invite me back because you want to shag me?" She asked nervously.

"Well, of course I want to shag you…I'm a bloke and look at you, you're gorgeous," George grinned a little too casually for Hermione's liking given the weight of their conversation.

"Really…I don't know, George…" – Hermione eventually voiced – "I don't know…I wonder if I should just leave...Maybe that would be best," She frowned, knowing it wasn't the most coherent answer and reaction to the situation, but feeling that it was what was necessary. She wanted time to be alone, to be able to reflect on everything on her own. Staying at George's, she was certain, would only result in an argument or a scenario that would leave her feeling hurt and used.

"Mione, you don't have to leave…" His tone was sincere but not desperate.

"George, I think it's best if I just go," Hermione tried to force a smile, but knew that she failed. She glanced at George and saw him looking back at her with doubt flooding his brilliant blue eyes. Hermione hurriedly jumped up off his lap and snatched her beaded bag off the coffee table. Without giving him a chance to prevent her from leaving, she grabbed a fistful of bright green, Floo powder from the ceramic bowl he kept atop his mantel and leaped into his fireplace. In a flash, she disappeared.

Author's Note: Don't hate me for having there be a fight. It was tough for me to write, but it felt necessary. Leave me a quick comment or follow the story if you'd like to make my day awesome! Sorry I haven't been responding to each individual comment. For some reason I get a computer error when I try to, but know that I appreciate all of them!