Chapter Twenty-Four
Author's note: Yikes guys! So sorry to take so long to update. This writer's block is soooo frustrating and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere. Thanks so much for reading anyways! Not mine. Sorry about any double updates - I had to make a couple corrections.
"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!"
As the anxious repetition of her own name filled her awareness, Hermione's heavy eyelids flickered and she finally opened her eyes, attempting to take in her surroundings.
"Oh sweet Merlin….y-you're ok…y-you-you…I-I," George breathed fervently. Hermione struggled to sit up, trying to figure out in what sort of situation she had found herself.
"Wh-what," She faltered, desperately trying to remember how she had ended up lying on the grass with George cradling her head in his lap. Once again, she attempted to push herself up to a seating position, but George wrapped his arms tighter around her, maintaining her position of lying partially on the grass and partially in his lap.
"Stay down, Mione…that's probably the best," He advised, gently stoking her disheveled hair.
"What's happening, George?" Hermione asked with a dazed smile, raking the excesses of her mind, hoping to recall the events that had culminated with her lying prone on the grass with her head cradled in George's lap.
"You don't remember?" George's voice was steeped with concern.
"I fell…I think," Hermione murmured. The longer she was awake, the more her memories returned. Slowly, she remembered the cloud, the accident, and the sensation of falling. Anything after that, however, remained a mystery.
"It was awful…you fell" – George's words flowed quickly and feverously – "It was awful, I was so worried." Hermione glanced up at his face and thought she saw tears forming in his eyes. His hair was haphazardly falling over his face, his skin was paler than natural, and his eyes glowed with concern. "I got to you in time…I had my wand and reached you in time and used Wingardium Leviosa and you stopped falling…but you were already out cold…you-you hit your head on my broom…when you fell…we hit a bird…I couldn't see it…it was awful," He reiterated, reaching up to wipe sweat off his brow and something else out of his eyes.
"George," Hermione gasped, again attempting to sit up. Her head still gently throbbed, but her mind was significantly less muddied.
"Just stay down, Mione," George instructed kindly yet firmly. "I need to take you to the Healer's." Hermione had never seen him so distraught and frazzled before. He was completely unlike his normal cool and composed self. Had she been able to look at the situation objectively, she would have found it very odd how he was the one who was so frantic and upset while she seemed serene and tranquil, even though she had been the one to suffer the worst from the accident.
"My bag! My wand!" Hermione exclaimed with a startling concern. Her hands shot to her sides as she felt for her beaded bag, not knowing if it had survived the fall or been lost in the process.
"I got that too," George commented, producing her essential beaded bag from his side. "But it's you I'm worried about."
"I'm fine, George," Hermione asserted. Her mind was starting to clear and the pain that had affected her head was beginning to subside. "I can't believe I passed out like that…I should have been ready…I should have been able to stop myself mid-fall…if I had my wand handy…" She quietly reprimanded her own inaction, knowing that she shouldn't have had to rely on George to save her like that.
"No, Mione…don't dwell on that," George comforted, continuing to cradle Hermione on the soft grass, holding her head snugly next to his chest. "I was there…it's not your fault that you lost consciousness there…you really hit your head hard…and that's why I have to get you to a Healers."
"Ugh, really? I'm sure I'm fine," Hermione sighed.
"No…that's not a risk I'm willing to take," George forced a grin. "I'm a beater, remember. I know the importance of dealing with a blow to the head. I'm taking you to a Healer's…nothing you say will prevent that."
"Fine," Hermione murmured, realizing it was an argument that she had already lost. "Where are we anyways?"
"Several kilometers outside of London. I'm so sorry, Hermione…we were so close…I really…I'm a better flying…I-I feel like rubbish," George stammered.
"No George. It was unforeseeable. You couldn't have known that we'd hit a bird," Hermione reassured him.
"I still feel awful," George whispered. "I thought it was- I thought I lo-" He faltered, clearly unwilling to complete the thought. "We should get you to a Healer," He said instead in an overly bright tone. "Do you think you could apparate alright? I don't know if your head will be able to take it."
"I'm sure it will be alright," Hermione replied after some speculation. Her head was feeling much better: it no longer spun and her memories of the event had solidified. The queasiness that had been prevailing in her stomach when she had come to was already subsiding.
"Ok…we'll let's go," George replied, pulling Hermione even closer to his torso, gently kissing her on the forehead before instantaneously traveling to the intended destination.
-o-O-o-
"We should be in to see a Healer shortly," George said, returning from the receptionist's desk in the waiting room at Saint Mugno's emergency ward. Hermione lounged dozily in one of the plastic waiting room chairs.
"Alight," She muttered absentmindedly while George sat into the chair beside her.
"How are you feeling, Mione," He asked caringly as Hermione rested her head against his shoulder.
"Hmm…" Hermione sighed, letting the full weight of her head sink into George. The throbbing was gone but the back of her head that had struck the broom handle was still tender to the touch.
"No, Mione…no…don't fall asleep," George cautioned, coaxing Hermione to sit upright. "The Healer will see you soon and we can find out if you can sleep…but right now stay up and talk with me."
"Ok," Hermione stifled a yawn. "So I think I'll be able to write my speech soon…for the Ministry," She commented on the first topic that sprung to her mind.
"That's great, Mione," George grinned. "When do I get to hear it?"
"When it's finished, I suppose," Hermione shrugged.
"What if I'd like to hear it now?" George questioned teasingly, leaning down to kiss Hermione's nose.
"It's not finished George…it's not even started."
"Why don't you just give me the gist of it?"
"Well…When I saw that picture of Dobby I got to thinking–" Hermione started before she was interrupted by a petite nurse in a white smock entering the waiting area.
"Miss Granger," The nurse announced, scanning the waiting patience. "Is there a Miss Granger here?"
"Oh, that's me," Hermione stated. She started to stand up on her own, but George quickly hopped up and bent over to lift Hermione out of her chair. "I can manage, George."
"Could you let me help? For my sake?" George asked, volunteering his hand.
"Alright," Hermione commented idly, accepting George's offering. Cautiously, she rose from her chair while George looped his arm around her waist. Leaning against him for support – her legs still slightly wobbly from the shock of the fall – she slowly made her way across the waiting room, following the nurse through a pair of swinging double doors and down the hall to a small room. "Is it alright if George waits for the Healer with me?" Hermione asked as the nurse lead them into the room and instructed Hermione to sit upon a paper-covered bench.
"Of course…as long as you're fine with it, he can stay here…Healer Roe should be in to see you shortly," The petite nurse responded affably before leaving the room.
"How are you feeling?" George asked anxiously for the umpteenth time once he and Hermione were alone.
"I'm sure I'm fine, George," Hermione assertively reiterated. "I don't think I hit my head that hard…yah, it was a bit scary, but I'll be ok," She spoke clearly and her smile was natural.
"I'm still going to worry about you," George grinned leaning in to give Hermione a snug embrace as she continued to perch on the Healer's bench. "You have to understand, it was incredibly frightening for me to see you fall like that," He added, gently ruffling the back of Hermione's hair.
"Oh hello,"
George withdrew his hug as the pair was interrupted by a voice at the door. Hermione looked up and saw the Healer standing in the doorway. She was a spindly middle aged witch with a severe brunette bob and a kindly face.
"Ah…hello," Hermione volunteered, nodding at the Healer.
"Hello…I'm Healer Eugenia Roe," The woman stated in a clipped tone. "I understand you suffered a blow to the head,"
"Yes," Hermione shyly admitted, embarrassed by the circumstances.
"It was more than that," George added in a caring voice. "She also fell…didn't hit the ground or anything…but could have suffered shock from that."
"I don't think I did," Hermione murmured.
"Well…let's have a look, then, shall we," Healer Roe said matter-of-factly, placing her file folder on a counter. "Here…look at me," She instructed, shinning a piercing white light from the tip of her wand into Hermione's eyes. "Hmm…" She muttered, continuing to deftly run a series of tests on Hermione. "Can you list words that begin with the letter R for me, Miss Granger?"
"Ahh…" – Hermione paused – "Reconnaissance…retribution…rehabilitation…repugnance…"
"Very good, Miss Granger," Healer Roe stopped Hermione before she could continue her list.
"Hmm…I probably would have gone with rooster, rain, or raft," George's chuckle was palpably filled with relief. "So, does she look ok, Healer?"
"Oh, yes," Healer Roe replied with a brief nod. "She'll be fine. No concession signs. Sounds like you got quite lucky, Miss Granger."
"Yup, I would hate to think what would have happened without George's fast thinking," Hermione smiled widely in George's direction. George, however, was watching the Healer carefully and missed Hermione's grin.
"So what's the protocol moving forward, Healer?" He asked concernedly.
"Hmmm…" Healer Roe hummed absentmindedly. "Just keep an eye on her…make sure she doesn't show any worrisome signs…pain…dizziness…forgetfulness…headaches. Miss Granger, you'll probably want to be woken up every few hours tonight…just as a precaution….do you have someone you could stay with?"
"Ah, I think so," Hermione speculated, assuming that either Ginny or Holly would willingly welcome her to stay the night.
"Of course she does," George hurriedly answered the Healer's question.
"Alright, well just take it easy Miss Granger and come back for a follow-up sometime this week,"
"Ok," Hermione replied glad to be done at the Healer's office. "Thanks for your time."
"Thanks" – George repeated – "Alright, let's get you out of here," George turned to Hermione and handed her the beaded bag that he had been holding on to. "You can stay with me," He offered as they left the Healer's room. "I'll even take the couch so that you can sleep in my bed."
"Thanks George," Hermione appreciatively slipped her hand into George's outstretched one.
"It's not a problem," George laughed. "Obviously I'd love to have you over. We should write Mum when we're at my place…let her know what happened and that you're ok,"
"Ugh, really?" Hermione asked. "Is that necessary? Wouldn't it just cause her to worry needlessly even though I'm alright?"
"I suppose" George replied opening Saint Mungo's main door to let Hermione out into the pervading evening air. "It's your call." He shrugged, looping his arm over Hermione's shoulders to pull her closer to his torso. Hermione hadn't expected to be out so late and only had her flimsy sweater on. She gratefully leaned into George, appreciating the heat that radiated from his chest.
"Alight…I'll tell them the next time I see them in person if need be," Hermione decided resolutely.
"Want to walk to my place? Pick up some curry or something on the way home?" George asked, diverting the subject away from Hermione's accident.
"Alight," She smiled broadly at him, glad to have the opportunity to spend another evening with him.
-o-O-o-
"Thanks for supper," Hermione commented, cleaning off the dishes that she and George had eaten off of in his large, metallic sink.
"Well…I worked very hard on it," George chuckled, playfully nudging Hermione aside so that he could toss the empty food containers into the trash can below the sink.
"That doesn't mean it wasn't delicious," Hermione grinned, washing her hands and drying them with a checked towel that lay on the counter beside George's sink.
"You're delicious," George replied with a sly smile, placing both his hands on Hermione's hips.
"Are you serious, that was so corny," Hermione giggled reproachfully, entwining her hands behind George's neck nevertheless.
"Yah, I'm aware…I realized it as soon as I said it," George laughed, leaning down to find Hermione's lips with his mouth.
"Hmm…" She sighed, happily returning his kiss.
"Come on, Mione, let's go to the living room for a bit," George hastily suggested, gently running his thumb across Hermione's cheek.
"Let's do that," She quickly concurred, taking George by his hand to lead him into his own living room. Without awaiting his cue, she pushed him into sitting on the couch and flopped down exceptionally close to him.
"Well…aren't we aggressive," George commented appreciatively.
"Is that a problem?" Hermione asked with a teasing voice.
"Hardly…furthest thing from a problem in fact…if anything, I would like it if you were to be more aggressive."
"I don't know if that's what Healer Roe had in mind when she suggested I take it easy," Hermione grinned pointedly, swinging her legs so that they were over top of George's lap.
"Ugh…I conveniently forgot about the good Healer's orders," George replied, tenderly running his hand along Hermione's outer leg from her hip to her knee.
"And you were the one who was so keen that I see the Healer," Hermione pointed out, placing her hands on George's shoulders.
"Silly me," George murmured, moving his hands so that he was embracing Hermione. Eagerly, Hermione reciprocated George's kiss when he hugged her close enough to find her lips with his. Neither bothered to speak again after George's aside; both were far too absorbed in the electricity of their moment. As they kissed, Hermione didn't prevent things from escalating. It was as if a dam had burst within her conscious. The things that she had been unintentionally holding back before, she no longer felt the need to reign in. All the arguments that had convinced her tread carefully with George quickly disappeared. She considered how caring he had been after her accident, how supportive he had been at the hospital and the lingering worries that she had sustained since George had told her he was interested in her rapidly subsided. Instead of maintaining her reservations, Hermione sought George's mouth with her full effort and pinned him on the couch almost to the point of tackling him. George obviously didn't seem repealed by Hermione's newfound aggression, as he responded with a matched enthusiasm of his own.
Hermione sighed as George firmly massaged her back with both hands as she lay partially on the couch and partially across him. As she returned his kisses feverously, her head felt dazed, but she knew it was from George, not from the bump she had suffered earlier. Hermione ran her hands through George's damp shaggy hair, shuddering when she reached his injured ear and the ragged wound that surrounded it. Gently, she traced a circle around the opening, concerned that, even after so many years it might still be sensitive to her touch. Without removing her lips from his, she moved her hands to his arms, eagerly stroking his taut muscles. Her heart raced as George continued to explore her back, gently pushing aside her light sweater so that he could caress her bare skin. Every surface that he covered shivered with pleasure. His touch was as welcomed as ever. The Quidditch-related calluses on his fingertips were rough against her delicate skin, but they didn't subtract from her enjoyment in the least. Hermione didn't attempt to stop him when he ran his hands all the way up her back or moved them down her body to the backs of her upper thighs.
Time was a blur as the pair continued to enjoy themselves on George's couch. Hermione's lips were chapped and her head felt light, but not a single iota of her being wanted to stop.
"Mione, do you think it's time for bed?" George hesitantly asked her, reluctantly removing his lips from hers. "I'm just wondering if it's best that you sleep."
"Ugh, I suppose," Hermione muttered regretfully. As much as she would prefer remaining on George's couch with him, she knew that he was right. "I guess it's quite late…and I should get some sleep."
"Ok…well I'll go dig out an extra blanket for me…I'll take the couch,"
"Hmmm…you don't have too," Hermione replied hesitantly, hoping she wasn't unnecessarily crossing an unacknowledged boundary. "I don't mind sharing your bed with you…But just to sleep mind you," Hermione added pointedly. "If you recall, I'm not to over exert myself," She laughed self-consciously, hoping that the joke might mask her slight discomfort. Even though she was becoming more and more secure with George, she wasn't quite prepared to take things to a whole other level.
"That would be brilliant," George responded immediately, climbing of the couch while simultaneously lifting Hermione up with him. "I'll lead the way," He smiled widely, encircling his arm around Hermione's waist and wandering towards his hallway. Hermione silently walked along beside him, hoping that her offer was the correct decision. As George led her into his room, she concluded that it was; after all, it wasn't as if she was driving things along unduly rapidly with her suggestion.
"I don't think I've ever seen your room before," Hermione chuckled. Unlike the rest of his flat, his room wasn't marked by its starkness. A large bed stood in one corner and a substantial dresser drawers in another. Several bright red posters and banners for his Quidditch team, Puddlemore United, adorned the white walls. Clothes were atop the dresser draws and several shirts were scattered messily across a chair that stood across from his bed. Until she saw the collection of his wardrobe all in one place, Hermione hadn't realized just how much blue and grey George wore. Almost all the wrinkled tops that were lying around his room were of bright blue, dark blue, navy, grayish blues, or bluish grey; only the occasional bright red Puddlemore United top broke up the uniformed colour scheme. Stacks of Quidditch playbooks were strewn across the bright orange duvet on his bed.
"Oh wow, sorry about the mess," George mumbled, letting go of Hermione's hand and quickly stacking the books and resting them on the floor. "I wasn't exactly expecting a guest." He smiled in his crooked way that Hermione knew she was incapable of resisting.
"It's fine," She hurriedly encouraged. Other than the clothes, George's room was hardly cluttered. "Ah, I know this is odd to ask, but you wouldn't happen to have any pajama pants would you?" Hermione questioned, recalling how uncomfortably sleeping in jeans could be.
"Oh totally…" George smiled. "One sec," He dropped her hand and riffled through one of the many drawers of his dresser. "Here you are," He added, dropping several garments on the bed. "I'll let you change."
Once George had left, Hermione slid on the clothes he had passed to her. Both his checkered flannel pants and Puddlemore United shirt were far too large, but Hermione cinched the drawstring and rolled up the bottoms of the pants to make George's clothes work for her. Shyly, she crawled onto his bed, but didn't burrow beneath the vibrant duvet quite yet, opting to wait instead for George. Shortly George returned to the room, wearing only his flimsy, tight white undershirt and bright blue boxer shorts.
"Ok, you look amazing," George grinned, joining Hermione on top of his bed. "I think you should only where my clothes," He said, scoping Hermione into his arms.
"I don't know about that," Hermione replied self-consciously. She didn't mention it, but he also looked properly amazing in his pajama clothing. His shirt was tight enough to demonstrate his well-built torso and his flimsy shorts made her feel awkward in only the most pleasant ways. George leaned back onto his bed and Hermione followed him. She smiled as he quickly cast a spell to turn the lights out and cuddled her close to his torso. Filled with delight, Hermione sunk into George, enjoying the feeling of his warmth beside her. She rested her hand on his broad chest and listened to the repetitive and comforting sound of his breathing. George's strong arms encircled her body allowing the entire length of their bodies to touch. Hermione was grateful for the security she felt next to George: a welcomed departure from the fear she had felt following their accident that day on George's broom. Hermione sighed and lay with a grateful heaviness. Her heart beat slowed while all her doubts and concerns quelled. It didn't take her long to drift into a blissful sleep.
Author's Note: Sorry again about the delay. Please leave a comment, encouragement, or review and make my day! Any tips for getting rid of writer's block would be particularly welcomed…