A/N: Hello! Since it's been so dreadfully long since the last update, how about a recap of the story so far?
Hermione received a message from Fred via the Wireless, asking her to find George. She did so, and has been meeting him in secret, as he isn't yet ready to face his family and the Wizarding World again. His magic went a bit haywire just after Fred's death, resulting in a minor injury to Ginny. Hermione has been teaching him the ways of being a Muggle: laundry, cooking, and 1980s cartoons. Lee has joined in with their fun as well, from time to time. When we last left them, George had just admitted that he wanted to kiss Hermione.
The story is winding down, now. Just one more chapter after this one, plus the epilogue. Thank you for sticking with me throughout the sporadic updates as I rewrite this fic! xx
Chapter 12: Magic
"Hermione?" Percy said as he shook her shoulder, snapping her out of her daydream. "Are you okay?"
"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Sorry."
"You've been a little sidetracked the past few weeks."
"Sorry," she said again. "Won't happen again. I'm fine."
More than fine, really. Her daydreams were distracting in the best possible way. She'd been letting herself be carried away and smiling a secret, giddy sort of smile when Percy interrupted her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, looking as though he was bracing himself for a blow. She was tempted, just to see how much he would squirm.
"Mm, I don't think you really want to hear about my love life," she said.
"Oh." His lips turned down into the sort of frown he might have given someone who interrupted his reading. "Well, being single will only be an asset to you right now. You can work your way up through the Ministry without worrying about your personal life interfering."
Leave it to Percy to boil anything down to how it impacted career advancement.
"Thanks, Perce," she said with a dry laugh. "Helpful."
Smiling, he tugged one of her curls. "Why don't you take a break? We've been working on this for hours."
"Yeah, I suppose I could. I've had quite enough of Pimpling Whizzbees for one afternoon."
When Hermione reached the front of the shop, she found a very distraught Verity. The queue for the till went out the door. Customers badgered her from every side for assistance, and Ron and Lavender were nowhere in sight. After promising the frazzled Verity that she'd find one of the other shop employees to rescue her, Hermione rushed to the break room.
About a year before she started attending Hogwarts, Hermione went on holiday with her parents. During said holiday, they went swimming in a lake. Or, they tried to, at least. It was during a drought, and the water was so low that people had to walk for about twenty metres through what was essentially a mud pit before they reached the water. Hermione went running ahead, eager to reach the lake and start swimming. She ended up sinking up to her thighs in the fishy smelling muck. When her father pulled her out, it made a wet, suctioning noise that could only be written out phonetically as schlorp.
That holiday was the first thing she thought of upon seeing Ron and Lavender snogging in the break room. The sound was exactly the same as when she got stuck in the mud. Schlorp. Apparently, neither of them had improved their technique since sixth year. Well, more power to them if they both enjoyed it that way.
Hermione coughed. A grimace found its way onto her face at the extra-loud noise of Ron's mouth separating from Lavender's, though she tried to force it into a neutral expression.
"Err, sorry to interrupt, but Verity is kind of drowning out there," she said. "She asked me to get one of you."
"Oh!" Lavender said, her cheeks turning pink. "Right. I'll go."
With that, she squeezed past Hermione and hurried to Verity's assistance, her gaze glued to the floor.
"Shit," Ron said as the door clicked shut. "Sorry. I shouldn't have let you find out like that. I meant to tell you-"
"Relax. I'm happy for you. Both of you."
"Really?" He edged away from her, like he was afraid a flock of canaries would pop out and attack him at any second.
"Of course. I was just surprised. I didn't realise you were that interested in each other." And she didn't realise that two people could produce that much saliva. "She's grown up since you last went out with her, though. I think she'll be good for you. Don't worry, I'm not carrying a torch." Chuckling, she pulled him into a one-armed hug. "I can eat a Paramour Violet to prove it, if you like."
Ron laughed along with her, then looked down at her with curious blue eyes. "Are you actually carrying a torch for someone else, then? The Secret Lover not-Percy bloke?"
"Shouldn't you be getting back to work?"
"Nah, I'm the boss." Flopping down in a chair that kicked up a cloud of dust, he crossed his arms behind his head. "So, is it someone at work? Wait, it's not Malfoy, is it?"
"Oh, for the love of... You're just as bad as him. He thought the same thing. Arrogant little ferret. No, it's no one at work." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't really feel comfortable talking about this with you."
"Hmm." Ron stood up again in order to better make eye contact with her. "Look, I know I've been a bit... difficult in the past when it comes to your boyfriends, but I promise I won't be this time. I talked with Ginny about it a few weeks ago. When I told her that I thought you really had a secret boyfriend, she had this long talk with me about driving you away and respecting your decisions and I don't even know what else. It was really long, and she used sock puppets. Condescending little…"
As Ron trailed off, muttering under his breath about his sisters methods, Hermione smiled.
"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," he said. "But there's no need to keep it all secret, really. I'm not going to get jealous this time." He grinned boyishly, looking rather proud of himself.
Hermione was more than a little skeptical. How long would his newfound openmindedness last once he discovered that her "secret lover" was George? All she could do was force a laugh, hug him, and hope he would remember his promise if she and George ever got involved.
On her way out of the shop, Hermione bumped into a familiar witch. Angelina's long arms reached out to steady her, surprise taking over her expression.
"Hermione," Angelina said. "Hi."
"Hi."
Angelina let the silence linger just long enough to become uncomfortable before she said, "How's George doing?"
"Um. He's... better, I think." As she spoke, Hermione's eyes darted around in search of any Weasleys who might overhear.
"Good. I felt awful after I the way I acted in the supermarket."
Hermione nodded, trying to shove away the mental image of George's face after Angelina mistook him for Fred. On impulse, she touched Angelina's arm.
"Would you like to see him?"
-oOo-
Hermione steadied herself against a brick wall next to a skip and shook her head to rid herself of the lingering, squeezing sensation of Apparition. Angelina and Lee stood a few metres away, but no one else disturbed the alley near George's flat. They appeared to have managed the journey without being seen by any Muggles. As if on cue, her phone vibrated in her handbag. The words "Secret Lover" lit up the screen.
"Are you busy right now?" George asked as soon as she answered.
"Well, I was working on some new products with Percy, but-"
"Ah, forget Percy," he said with a scoff. "You know I'm the Weasley man you really want to spend time with."
Hermione laughed. "If you would've let me finish, you would already know that I'm on my way to yours. Lee's with me, and, um, we're bringing another visitor."
"Oh? Male or female?"
"Female."
"Don't tell me he's actually managed to find someone willing to shag him."
Before Hermione could respond, Angelina snatched the phone away.
"I heard that," she said, "and no, he most certainly has not. I should hope I have better standards than that."
"Oi!" Lee said. "I'm standing right here, y'know."
Angelina grinned. "We'll see you in a few minutes."
As usual, Hermione let herself in without knocking. George stood in the middle of the living room, not even trying to look casual. His posture was as stiff as Rita Skeeter's hair.
"Hey, mate," Angelina said, her lips twitching up into a soft smile. "It's good to see you."
"Yeah, same." He cleared his throat. "But what's all this about standards? Since when do you have those?"
Angelina's voice lowered to an affectionate murmur. "Since sixth year."
"Ah, right." He rubbed his chin, as if this was brand new information. "That makes sense. Knew it couldn't have been before second year or so. Guess you got over your Squib fetish."
Angelina groaned. "That was your fault."
"My fault? I'm not the one who broke poor Filchy's heart."
Roaring with laughter, Lee clutched his sides. "I forgot all about that," he said. Turning to Hermione, he added, "Fred and George dared her to leave an anonymous love letter for Filch. She dotted her i's with hearts and told him she dreamt of a little cottage with just her, him, and Mrs. Norris. And I think there was something in there about loving his cabbage-y aroma. It was brilliant."
"Until Professor McGonagall worked out that it was me," Angelina said. "I had to sit in her office for an hour, listening to her talk about proper student/faculty relations."
"Yeah," George said, "but look on the bright side. You never told her it was our idea, so we never got in trouble. And isn't that what really matters?"
With that, the three friends fell into an easy, laughing conversation about their antics at Hogwarts. Hermione listened in, shaking her head at this, rolling her eyes at that, but mostly beaming. When they started talking about getting Katie and Alicia around for a visit, she waved goodbye to George over Lee's shoulder and slipped out the front door. Better to leave from the alley to avoid interrupting their reunion with the crack of Disapparition.
As she walked, she rubbed her hands together, wishing she'd thought to bring gloves and a scarf. An unseasonably warm November had been frozen out by a December that already threatened snow. Everyone she passed was bundled up, squinting their eyes against the bitter wind. Cloud thickened overhead, blocking out the setting sun.
George caught up with her in the alley.
"Hey," he said as he jogged up to her, his cheeks pink and his eyes bright from cold. "Hold on a sec." Backing her up against the wall next to the skip, he gave her shoulders a squeeze. "There's something I've been thinking about trying. Stay right there, okay?"
Hermione nodded. After putting metres of space between them, he produced something from the inner pocket of his jacket: a wand. His wand. Hermione held her breath.
"Orchideous," he said, circling the wand in the air. A cheerful bouquet of bright yellow dandelions burst from the end and landed in his free hand. He offered them to her with a flourish and a half-smile.
"Hey, what do you know?" he said. "Neither of us exploded. That's a good sign, right?"
"I'd say it has to be." She chuckled. "And, err, thank you. Dandelions?"
"Fred and I used to pick them and give them to Mum when we were little. She always put them in jars of water and said how beautiful they were. Never complained about them being weeds." Pausing, he caught his lower lip between his teeth and raised his eyebrows. "Well, until she worked out that we were charming them to dye her nose green when she sniffed them."
"Tsk. Horrible boys."
Just in case, she kept the bouquet far from her nose.
"We really were." Rocking back on his heels, he tucked his wand away and inched closer to her. "Are you going to the Burrow for Christmas?"
"I imagine so. I'll probably stop by for a while before I go to my parents' house."
"Good." A few brave snowflakes landed in their hair and melted while he cupped one of her shivering hands between both of his and blew on her fingers to warm them. "Do me a favour, then?"
"Of course."
"Ask my mum to set an extra plate?"