It had been almost three months since Harry and Ginny's wedding, the last time Hermione had seen Ron, when Mrs Weasley announced that she was throwing a party at the Burrow to mark the start of the festive season. Ginny had joined Hermione and Harry on one of their Sunday trips into Muggle London, and the three of them were wandering absent-mindedly through Covent Garden when the topic came up.
"So," Harry began a little awkwardly, casting a sideways glance at Hermione as they picked their way through the crowds. "Ron, er, said he hoped to see you at the party next week."
At Hermione's startled glance he began to backpedal. "Not that he… not like that! He just, er-"
With a roll of her eyes Ginny stepped in and saved her stammering husband.
"Ron says it'll be weirder if you're not there than if you are," she told her friend. "I agree - and anyway, I'm getting sick and tired of micro-managing my schedule to keep the two of you apart. You'll be there, right?"
Hermione assented, privately relieved. She wasn't too worried about seeing him – she felt so much more in control than she had on their last break – and she wanted to go to the party to keep an eye on George. He was doing much, much better these days. Lee Jordan's visits to the shop continued to be regular, and some of the others had started to pop by too, but he still very rarely went out and she wasn't sure how he felt about crowds. She'd not forgotten that she had found him hiding behind a hedge at Harry and Ginny's wedding, after all.
Later that week she thought she detected a hint of relief in George when she nonchalantly suggested that they head to the party together. She told him she was due to be at Gringotts for work that day and asked whether she could drop her things off at his and get changed at the flat before leaving for the Burrow and he readily agreed, both ignoring the fact that she could Apparate home to get ready in less time than it would take her to cross the street from the bank.
On the night, she stared at herself in the tiny mirror in George's bathroom (really, this was such a boys' flat) and what to wear. She was fighting the impulse to make sure she looked as good as possible for her first run-in with her ex – after all, she really didn't want him to want her back – but she didn't want to turn up looking like a bag lady when everyone else was dressed up, either.
In the end, she opted for a sparkly gold jumper which she hoped said festive but not sexy with tight black jeans and ankle boots. She quickly applied make-up – not too heavy – and eyed her tangled hair for a moment before deciding the natural look would do just fine for the occasion. She stepped out of the bathroom to find George looking her over.
"First run in with Ronniekins?" he asked and Hermione nodded, ignoring the slight flush she could feel rising in her cheeks under his scrutiny. He smiled approvingly. "Struck the balance nicely, Granger. You look good without looking like you're trying to look good for him."
Relieved, Hermione took the arm he held out to her and with a loud crack the two of them appeared outside the Burrow. She kept hold of his arm as he rang the front door bell, enjoying his solid presence as she fought down the butterflies in her stomach. He must have sensed her nerves, because just before the door opened her turned to her and said, in a completely deadpan voice, "If you need somebody to hit him, it'd best be me. I won't get in as much trouble as anybody else – I'm damaged, y'know?"
That surprised a laugh from her, and it was a smiling Hermione who stepped forward to hug Molly in greeting a moment later.
The front room was already uncomfortably full when they entered, a wave of noise and warmth hitting them as they stepped inside. Hermione cast a quick glance at George but he appeared unperturbed by the commotion, so she let go of his arm and gave him a quick grin. He made his way over to a corner where Lee was sitting with Charlie and Hermione turned to scan the rest of the room.
It only took a few moments for her eyes to light on Ron, and she was unsurprised to note that he was looking straight at her. He offered her a nervous half smile, and she took a breath and began to push her way through the crowd towards him. Best to get this over with, she told herself, carefully scanning the alcove he stood in for singing mistletoe. Mrs Weasley had been so thrilled that George was putting out new products again that she'd gone on a spending spree, and there was no corner of the house that you could guarantee was prank-free. The last thing Hermione wanted was to speak to Ron with an obnoxious plant yelling rude rhymes about them the whole time.
Satisfied that the cost was clear she stood in front of him. Feeling suddenly shy, but ridiculous for feeling that way in front of somebody who she knew so well, she offered him an awkward hello. They looked at each other for a beat and she blushed and turned away.
"It's, um, good to see you?" she tried, looking anywhere but at him. Suddenly a wide grin bloomed on his face.
"It's really good to see you, Hermione," he told her. "And please do not take this the wrong way, but I think I'm really, really glad that you're not my girlfriend."
Laughing in relief she finally looked at him properly and then, on impulse, threw her arms up to pull him into a hug. Over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of George, and for a worried moment she thought she saw a flash of unhappiness mar his freckled face. Then Charlie nudged him and he turned to his brother with a laugh, so Hermione put it to the back of her mind but made a note to check on him shortly.
Pulling back from the hug she looked at Ron. "So, how are you!?" she enquired excitedly.
The two of them spoke for quite a while, the topic flitting from work (Hermione's investigations often lead to field work for Ron and Harry to carry out) to gossip, to Mr Weasley's latest experiments with muggle technology. It was such relief to catch up – Ron wasn't the right boyfriend for her but her was one of her very best friends and she hadn't realised how much she missed just speaking to him. Hermione was feeling almost giddy with happiness when he took her by surprise with a murmured question, his tone suddenly serious.
"You still having the nightmares?"
She looked at him for a moment – of course, only Ron would know to ask that question. He shrugged at her. "You look tired."
She gave him the honest answer. "It comes and goes, but yes. I'm managing though. Getting a lot better at distracting myself when I wake up."
He didn't look convinced but he let the issue drop. They carried on talking about trivial things for a few more minutes, until Hermione began to notice some curious eyes on them. She smiled ruefully.
"I think we'd better mingle, before people start to talk," she told him. "I want to check on George, anyway."
He glanced around and nodded his assent. "Thanks, by the way," he said to her as she began to step away. She looked at him questioningly.
"For everything you've been doing for him," he continued. "I mean – I know that you're not doing it for me, that you'd do it for him regardless, but you're really helping him, y'know? It means a lot to all of us"
Touched by his gratitude, Hermione reached out and squeezed his arm. "Anytime," she told him quietly. "See you around, Ron"
As he wandered into the kitchen in search of Seamus and Dean, Hermione picked her way through the throng to perch on the arm of the sofa that George was now sharing with Bill and Fleur. "How's it going?" she whispered. Again, she thought she detected a slight stiffness in him when he responded.
"Not about to run screaming from the room. Glorious reunion on the cards?" He gestured with his beer bottle towards the door Ron had just disappeared through and she gave an unladylike snort in reply. "Hardly. But I'm cautiously optimistic about our friendship getting back to normal."
Almost imperceptibly, George seemed to relax and an easy grin spread across his face as he turned to look at her properly. "I'm glad," he told her. "Really. Want a drink?"
She couldn't contain the grin that spread across her own face as she nodded. "Champagne please!"
The rest of evening passed by in a whirl of music and laughter. Hermione came across Ron a number of times in conjunction with different people, and each time she thanked her lucky stars for the relative normality of their interaction.
Over the coming weeks, Hermione was extremely glad that she and Ron had formed a truce (and increasingly suspicious that it was the main reason Mrs Weasley had thrown the party in the first place). Social activities cropped up throughout December, while wintry weather saw Wednesday night Quidditch practice cancelled more than once, so she found herself running into him regularly. It was also a relief to be able to accept her invitation to Christmas dinner at the Burrow – she'd been prepared to stay away for Ron's sake, it was his home after all, but she hadn't relished the idea of Christmas with the Lovejoys.
Not having to worry about bumping into Ron meant that she didn't have to turn down as many invitations as she had over the previous months, but that left her with less time to visit George. Thinking of him alone in the flat while she sat in crowded pubs with all of their friends nagged at her, and she decided it was time to try pushing him a little further.
"Christmas shopping!" she announced one Sunday morning, waving a list at him as she breezed into the flat. "I'd bet anything you haven't even started."
He gave her a flat look. "I'll order for delivery."
She kept her tone upbeat. "On the 12th December? You'll never get things in time if your relying on owl service at this time of year!" His expression didn't budge. She sighed and tried a gentler tone. "Look, we don't have to go today. I've barely taken a day off work this year – I could book tomorrow off and we can go in office hours, when the streets are nice and quiet?"
He walked past her to stare down onto the bustling street below. "It's not the crowds Hermione," he told her, voice subdued. "It's the staring, and the whispers"
Hermione was flummoxed for a moment but then comprehension dawned. She was used to it from wandering around with Harry all these years, but it was true that the war had made them all famous. How often it came up depended on how recognisable you were – Luna, for example, got a lot more attention than Neville – but everybody in Harry's inner circle had to deal with it pretty regularly.
George turned to regard her unhappily. "Don't try to tell me it's died down since the war, or that I imagine it. Look where I live!" he gestured to the street below, "I've tested this theory, Hermione. I can't leave the house without it starting. Lanky ginger with one ear? Not hard to figure out which one I am. Soon as I'm three paces out the door I start to hear the word 'twins', start to hear Fred's name muttered. I can't deal with it, not from strangers."
Hermione's shoulders slumped and she was about to admit defeat when an idea occurred to her.
"What if I took you somewhere where nobody had any idea who any of us are?" she asked him. He looked at her curiously and she smiled. "Have you ever heard of Oxford Street?"
An hour later, the two of them were pushing through the masses of harried looking shoppers at Oxford Circus. Hermione kept casting sidelong glances at George at first – he said that crowds weren't a problem if they didn't know who he was, but he'd lived in relative seclusion for over two years. Even if it hadn't been the hustle and bustle that had driven him off the streets in the first place it could still be overwhelming for him now.
She didn't see anything to worry about though. If anything, he looked as cheerful as he had in years, gazing around at the Christmas window displays like a little kid. She smiled and grabbed him by the hand. "Focus, Weasley!" she ordered him, marching him towards the first shop on her hastily rewritten muggle world list. "You have a lot of work to do."
Early that evening, after an exhausting but highly effective march around the shops, the two of them sat by the window of a small old-fashioned pub watching harried-looking people dashing around under the twinkling Christmas lights. Hermione sipped her beer smugly. The day had been a roaring success, even if she did say so herself. She'd braced herself for a wobble when George had removed his hat in an warm department store, warning him that he would probably attract some looks even if people had no idea what the missing ear signified. George had shrugged it off though. "Not worried about the ear," he told her quietly. "It's the people going on about Fred that bother me."
It was a good job that he wasn't perturbed by stares from muggles really, because his utter fascination with everything in an electronic store certainly attracted some attention. Eventually she managed to peel him away from the iPads and steer him towards a jewellery store to look for gifts for Ginny and Molly. "Not having magic makes people really resourceful, doesn't it?" he'd asked her, shaking his head in admiration as they'd walked out, the shop assistant staring after him in disbelief.
Now, as they sat surrounded by bags, George reached over to squeeze her hand.
"Thank you, Hermione," he said in a low voice, gazing into her eyes with an uncharacteristic intensity. "I mean it, for everything."
Blushing, she murmured a polite response and then took great interest in her drink. The moment passed, and they passed the rest of the evening in companionable chatter before slipping into a deserted alleyway to Apparate to their respective homes.
Christmas day at the Burrow was a bittersweet affair. It was lovely to all be together, but impossible to ignore who they were missing around the crowded table and the redness around Molly's eyes went unmentioned but not unnoticed. George tried his best but the strain in his smile was obvious. Hermione's heart ached for all of them as she gamely kept up a string of inane chatter with Ginny and Fleur, doing their best to lighten the mood.
After pudding they all headed into the living room and the atmosphere eased a little. Fred's absence was less obvious when they weren't all sat around the table, and breaking into smaller groups did something to ease the tension. Hermione was enjoying a debate with Percy about the necessity of registration for non-dangerous magical beings when she realised George was absent from the group. Excusing herself, she crept upstairs.
She knew what she was expecting to find, but it still tugged at her heartstrings to see the door to the twins' childhood room ajar. As quietly as she could, she padded along the corridor to peek into the room and saw George sitting silently on what had been Fred's bed, head in his hands.
Hermione froze, paralysed by indecision. She didn't know whether to grant him his privacy or offer him comfort. Just as she'd decided to leave him alone, he raised his head and looked straight at her, and the naked hurt in his eyes spurred her into action. Wordlessly she crossed the room to wrap her arms around him. He clung to her, his arms around his waist and head pressed to her chest as she stood in front of him. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head and raised a hand to stroke his hair, rocking him gently as his shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Neither of them were sure how much time had passed when George took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away from her. She stepped back, asking a silent question with sympathetic eyes. He managed a shaky smile.
"I'm ok, 'Mione. Or I will be, at least. You get back to the party and I'll clean myself up and be down in a min."
She gave his shoulder one last squeeze and then headed back downstairs, slipping into the living room as unobtrusively as possible. Ginny gave her a sidelong glance but said nothing. When George returned to the group a few minutes later nobody said a word, but everybody could see that the pain he had been carrying all day seemed to have eased.
That night just as everyone was preparing to leave Hermione passed George a small wrapped parcel. "Your present," she explained. "Didn't want you to open it in front of everyone in case you'd prefer to keep it quiet." Back in his flat, George smiled to himself as he unwrapped a small box labelled 'George Weasley's guide to Muggle London'. Opening it he found an Oyster card, a cash card pre-loaded with muggle currency, a handful of guidebooks and a pass for the city's main tourist attractions.
Neither George nor Hermione mentioned the scene in his childhood bedroom when they next saw each other, and by the time Harry and Ginny's New Year's Eve party rolled around they'd an unspoken but firm agreement to brush it under the carpet.
Hermione arrived at the flat early to help Ginny magically enlarge the living room and kitchen – there was no way the tiny flat was going to house the partygoers without it. Work done, Ginny cracked open the first of many bottles of champagne and by the time the rest of the guests began to trickle in she was feeling pleasantly tipsy and good about herself.
Ginny had declared the evening an occasion for glamour and Hermione, no longer worried about inspiring any unwanted ardour in Ron agreed readily. She let the younger witch apply potions and poultices, transforming her bushy curls into sleek waves, and held still while Ginny applied kohl to her lash line.
"There," said Ginny, surveying her work with satisfaction. "You're a knockout. Don't ruin it by wearing something awful"
I won't Hermione thought, looking at herself in the mirror in Harry and Ginny's bedroom. The dress was an uncharacteristic extravagance, bought on a whim on the way home from work. It was relatively simple, dark blue with a subtle shimmer woven through it. The neck was cut high and it had long sleeves, but that just served to balance out the short skirt and low back. She topped the outfit off with shoes that she could only consider for an occasion that involved as little walking as a party in her best friends' flat and the sapphire earrings that George had given her for Christmas. He'd laughed off her protestations about the price after he'd caught her eying them on their shopping trip. "I can handle it," he told her. "Ask Percy to show you the books some time."
Overall, the effect was pretty impressive, even if she did so herself. She had her suspicions confirmed by a similarly tipsy Ginny as soon as she stepped out the bedroom – Hermione was greeted by a loud wolf whistle and a shout of "Merlin – Harry, tell Hermione how hot she is!"
Harry turned slightly pink – he'd been out buying supplies while the girls had been tucking into the booze. "I'd really rather not," he said to Ginny. "You do look great though," he added helpfully to Hermione. She beamed at him and accepted the glass Ginny was waving at her.
"Cheers," she said clinking glasses with both of them. "Here's to a Happy New Year!"
Five hours later the place was packed and her outfit was having a very gratifying effect. Dean Thomas had spent the best part of an hour chasing her around, and Lee Jordan had stopped speaking altogether when he got his first proper look at her. Ron had stopped, eyebrows raised, when he came to say hello and for a moment she wondered whether she'd made a mistake, but then he gave a low whistle and shook his head with a smile. "Well," he said. "You're making me look good tonight. I'll be the envy of the room!"
Grinning, she gave him a playful punch in the arm and carried on talking to a mostly-recovered Lee.
She and Ron had come a really long way, but it still felt a little awkward at midnight when the countdown approached one and she found herself next to him. She was aware of the awkwardness of the situation even through her champagne buzz, so it was a huge relief when at the stroke of twelve a long arm snaked between the two of them, turning her at the same time as bumping Ron in Luna's direction. She told herself that it was that relief that made her heart jump into her throat and her belly flood with heat when she found herself nose to nose with George Weasley.
He was one of the few men who'd appeared totally unaffected by her appearance that night, so it was a total shock when he gave her a wink that could so easily have been from the old George and whispered "You know you look spectacular, right?". Then he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers in a brief but firm kiss. "Happy New Year, Hermione Granger," he murmured into her stunned face, before he was pulled into a hug by Ginny and Hermione turned to Ron and Luna.
Relief, that's all, she told herself, trying to ignore the burning sensation she could still feel on her lips minutes later. Relief, and shock and champagne. Almost convinced, she joined the rest of the group for Auld Lang Syne and was relieved but a little disappointed when she found herself nowhere near George in the circle.
The party continued into the small hours, and it was almost 6am when Harry came in search of Ginny. His wife was in an undignified heap on the floor surrounded by empty bottles, Hermione stretched out in a marginally more refined position on the couch beside her. It had been a slightly traumatic hour – Ginny had decided that it was time to talk about her wedding night and no amount of Hermione's protests had persuaded her that Hermione hearing about Harry was as bad as Ginny having to hear about Ron. Fleur hadn't helped at all, asking astonishingly frank questions with a typically continental attitude until Bill had appeared to take her away.
Harry regarded his wife with faux exasperation. "Time for bed,2 he told her. Ginny beamed. "Bed." She agreed happily. Harry hauled her off the floor and even through her haze Hermione registered a brief pang of longing – not for Ron, but just for anybody to look at her with the sheer adoration that she could see in Harry's eyes when he looked at his wife. A moment later George appeared and held out a hand to help her up.
"S'fine," she told him as she wobbled to her feet. "Time f'me to go ome."
He shook his head. "Excellent way to splinch yourself, Granger," he told her. "I've got a couch with your name on it."
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he turned to hand Harry a vial of the hangover remedy he'd given to Hermione after her break up with Ron. "For my wastrel sister," he told him. "Happy New Year!"
Then with a crack, he and Hermione appeared in the flat above WWW. She slumped onto the couch immediately and was asleep by the time he returned with a blanket. Brushing the hair off her face, he bent to press a tender kiss to her forehead before placing another vial on the pillow next to her and heading to his room.