On New Year's Day Hermione woke up feeling like death warmed up, and was so eager to drain the contents of the vial next to her that she forgot about it's awful taste. She scrambled to kitchen in search of something to wash it away and George emerged from his bedroom to find her hunched over the sink, drinking directly from the tap.
"Feeling a little worse for wear, are we?" he enquired mildly. Hermione scowled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Totally Ginny's fault," she retorted. "I don't make a habit of this, you know. All of my hangovers are a result of drinking with a Weasley."
He smiled at her. "Don't know about that," he told her. "I seem to remember a night on the Firewhiskey at the Cauldron with no Weasleys in tow at all."
Hermione's hands flew to her mouth as she realised what he was saying.
"You… you saw me that night?" she asked. He nodded.
"Found you staggering around Diagon Alley," he told her. "Did you really think you got yourself home, in that state?"
Hermione frowned as she pieced together the timeline. "But that was when you didn't go out."
His expression grew serious. "I was never so far gone that I'd have left you to collapse in the street, Hermione."
Growing a little uncomfortable under his gaze, she waved the empty vial under his nose. "Well, thank you very much," she said. "But where the hell was this the next day?"
He shrugged. "Must've slipped my mind."
A few weeks after new year, Hermione was curled up with a book in what she'd privately come to think of her armchair in the flat above WWW when George cleared his throat. She kept her eyes on her book but didn't miss his carefully casual tone as he spoke.
"So," he started. "Did you hear that Percy's moving in with Penelope?"
She met his eyes. "He hasn't already?"
George smiled. "I mean officially, not just sleeping there every night while keeping his stuff here. I might have to get a lodger, not much point me rattling round this place by myself." He suddenly grew extremely interested in a loose thread on the arm of the couch, training his eyes on it as he continued. "Your lease is up soon, isn't it?"
Hermione closed her book and mulled it over. It was true that the lease was coming up for renewal, and without Ron paying towards it the flat was taking up an awfully large proportion of her salary. She'd been thinking about moving somewhere in the wizarding world, and she spent more than half of her evenings here anyway.
Decided, she asked "So what would the rent be?" and George looked up with a relieved grin.
Hermione spent a raucous Valentine's day in the Leaky Cauldron with all of her single friends. Ron was conspicuous in his absence and she mentioned as much to Ginny at lunch the following day.
Her friend adopted the same nonchalant tone George did when he was worried about how she'd react to what he was saying. Hermione didn't buy it for a second.
"Oh," said Ginny, pushing food around on her plate. "I think that since New Year he's, er, been seeing quite a bit of Luna."
Hermione took a moment to let Ginny's words sink in "Good for them," she told her, delighted to find that she meant it. Ginny risked a looked at her and she smiled. "Part of the reason Ron and I didn't work was that he found me too driven – too focused, you know? Maybe Luna is just what he needs."
Convinced, Ginny relaxed and filled her in on the rest of the gossip. Hermione listened good-naturedly and went home that night relieved of a weight she hadn't been aware she was bearing.
When she moved into the flat, Hermione had taken precautions to ensure that her frequent nightmares didn't disturb her new roommate. A muffling spell around her bed meant that George would never hear her cry out in the night, so it was a surprise a few weeks after she moved in to see him pop his head around the door while she read a report in bed at 4am.
"Are you ever going to talk to me about this?" he enquired. She gave him a deliberately blank look and he sighed, coming in to perch on the side of the bed. "The dreams," he told her, gaze frank. She put the report to one side, eyes narrowed.
"Ron told you."
It wasn't a question but he nodded anyway. "He's worried about you," George said "We all are – anybody can see you've not been sleeping. Mum thinks you're just working too hard, but she's definitely noticed. Why didn't you tell me?"
Hermione avoided eye contact. "I suppose I'm embarrassed," she said. "I don't want to be a burden to anybody, especially you. You've been through so much-"
"And I became total zombie until you dragged me back into the world," George finished, His eyes were warm as he addressed her. "Hermione, you went through something terrible. I can't even imagine what it was like, and there's no weakness in admitting that it still effects you."
Hermione flushed under his concerned gaze and he placed a hand on hers as he continued.
"Ron thinks it's getting worse. Is that right?"
Hermione nodded, too tired to lie. "I think it's being alone," she told him. "I'm fine nearly all of the time – really, I am. But being on my own in the dark, it just takes me back there."
George nodded his understanding, then reached out to shuffle her slightly across the bed. He scooted up to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders to pull her to his chest. Some distant part of Hermione's mind told her that she should protest, but her exhaustion won out and with a grateful sigh she closed her eyes, letting the warm comfort of his presence lull her to sleep,
George felt her relax as her breathing became deep and even, and he sat awake for long time, eyes fixed on her face as he idly ran his fingers through his hair. "Don't worry, I've got you," he whispered to her sleeping form, a weight to his words which indicated a solemn promise. After that night, Hermione the muffling spell from her bed, and it became second nature for George to steal into the room if he heard her wake, wordlessly lifting his arm to allow her to place her head on his chest.