Chapter Eight

Hermione let out a deep sigh of relief as she finally sank her tired body into the warm waters of her bathtub. The flickering candles around the edge of the tub were the only source of light in the room and helped eased the tired witch into the most wonderful state of relaxation.

After Sally left the night before, Hermione had spent a considerable amount time checking her bathroom from top to bottom. The idea of a man mucking around her personal little haven for nine hours bothered her. The fact that man was George Weasley bothered her even more for several reasons she'd rather not discuss. Much to her relief though, after two hours of inspection and another half hour of cleaning, Hermione couldn't find a single thing wrong with her bathroom… other than her melted shower curtain of course. Which was a tragedy of course because she'd liked it a lot. The dark blue and gold patterned piece of fabric had been a house warming gift from Harry and Ginny.

Admittedly it could have been worse. He could have burnt down her whole bathroom instead of just the shower curtain.

Twenty four hours later and she was still drawn between the anger of loosing her shower curtain and the appreciation of her newly reorganized cabinets. It was with a great amount of reluctance that Hermione finally admitted to herself how much easier she was suddenly able to find everything in her cabinet. It was almost worth the invasion of privacy.

Hermione watched the rising steam of her bath dance about in the candlelight as she recalled her day over in her head. Not unexpectedly, George had not shown up at her office at all today. Fred came in around noon to drop off some receipts but that was it.

Hermione frowned as she reached for her body wash and began to lather it up in her loofa. What could have possibly caused him to stick around for nine hours? In her bathroom of all places…

Even with the uneasiness of knowing her sanctuary was intruded upon all of yesterday, Hermione had been desperate to retreat back to it tonight none the less.

A surprise meeting with Helga Krum's attorney had left the perturbed witch with a bad taste in her mouth and a desire to soak her body until her hands turned to prunes. Siegmund Dietrich was tall, dark and gorgeous. With his slicked back black hair, broad shoulders and perfectly tailored robes there was little doubt that under other circumstances Hermione and Sally would have been tripping over their tongues at him. But a deep condescending tone and a pair of wandering blue eyes had left both women's skin crawling for the remainder of the day.

She was loath to admit it, but Hermione wished George would have shown up today. She could have used a laugh after her unscheduled meeting with Dietrich. Hermione glared at the ceiling. Did anyone respect the concept of appointments anymore?

At least when George burst into her office unannounced she didn't feel like she needed to keep her wand with in immediate reach… granted she put the ginger into her bookcase that last time but in her defense it was dark and she was half asleep. From the moment the tall dark man had swept into her office that afternoon till the moment he left, Hermione's wand was right next to her quill instead of in her drawer. He bothered her so much that only the threat of docked pay kept Sally's wand in her pocket instead of up Dietrich's nose. Merlin bless her dear assistant, but she was a bit over protective.

Mr. Dietrich's icy blue eyes made Hermione's stomach do flips the entire time, and not in a good way. The nerve with which he spoke to her was bad enough, but he practically oozed every last negative stereotype Hermione loathed about her profession.

Yes, she defiantly wished the irritating red head had shown up. She'd take frustrating over sleazy any day and at least George's eyes didn't leave her feeling like she needed to scrub herself raw. They were a nice shade of blue, darker but friendly with a bit of laughter in them.

She stopped for a moment and blinked. Why was she thinking about George Weasley's eyes and when did she start noticing they were blue?

'Probably about the time you noticed he looked good in that suit on Tuesday and whoa there, down girl!' Hermione blushed. 'Stop that! He is your client, and your best friend's older brother. No more romance novels for you, you're getting pathetic.'

Hermione wished she could chalk her less than professional thoughts up to a lack of male attention recently but that would imply she'd actually had any male attention at all recently. Then again who defined the span of 'recently'? Four years could be considered recently right? And well she couldn't help it if she had a weak spot for red heads in general now could she? Hermione often asked herself how much of her relationship with Ron had been based off true romance and how much of it was that she just really liked his hair. She liked to think there was more to her romantic choices then just nice hair bit she didn't have much of track record to compare with. It didn't help that George's hair was her exact favorite shade of red too…

Dammit, woman, stop it! You're supposed to be mad at him!

Shaking her head of any further embarrassing thoughts on the twin, Hermione finished soaping up her body and rinsed off. She reached over the side of the tub before proceeding to dry her hands. Careful not to drip on it, she bent down and picked up a thick brown tome from the floor before nestling back down into her bath to soak while she read.

She didn't stop reading until her water grew cold over an hour later. It was a much happier and far more relaxed Hermione that toweled off and left the bathroom. The petite brunette set her book down on her bed before rummaging through her dresser drawers for some night clothes. Spotting what she was looking for, Hermione lifted the pajama set out of its drawer and quickly donned them. Now clad in her most comfy pair of pajamas, the witch picked back up her book and went to the living room. She had just nestled into her favorite reading chair with a cup of tea when a sharp knock on the door sounded.

Hermione frowned in confusion but set her mug and book aside none the less and hurried to answer the door. She unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the door open. A red faced and incredibly uncomfortable looking ginger haired man stood there waving at her sheepishly. Hermione blinked a bit in surprise.

"George?"

"Hi…" he said.

"What are you doing here? Hermione frowned as she opened the door further. "Come to take my shoes for spin this time?"

"Funny," George fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her. "I came because I owe you explanation. And possibly a round of therapy appointments on me."

"I don't know about therapy, but an explanation would be fantastic," she said. Hermione suddenly noticed he was holding a muggle grocery sack at his side. "What is that for?"

"Er… that's the other part of why I am here. May I come in?"

Hermione glowered.

"Please?"

She sighed but stepped aside none the less and gestured for George to enter her flat. He slinked by her and went straight for the living room with Hermione trailing right behind him. The slightly agitated witch sat herself back in her chair before gesturing for George to sit on the sofa next to it. George sat very primly on the edge of the couch and looked around awkwardly for a moment as though he thought something was going to jump out and attack him at any second.

"Something wrong, George?" Hermione asked.

"No… just uh, just wondering where good old Crookshanks is," he laughed nervously.

"Probably curled up in my office asleep," she shrugged. "Why?"

"No reason."

"Ok…" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So what are you here for, George?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," he replied. "I didn't mean to stick around so long yesterday but I kind of got trapped in there, without my wand, and couldn't escape. I'm also sorry I went through your things. It was an invasion of privacy and you didn't deserve it. When I get bored I end up getting into things I shouldn't. I know this is a pathetic excuse, but it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How on earth did you get stick in my bathroom in the first place?" she asked.

"I uh…" George hesitated but sighed. "Crookshanks attacked me and I lost my wand. I figured it would just be easier to wait till you came home then to try and fight off your cat. I didn't realize you stayed at work till all hours of the night."

"I'll have you know I came home rather early last night," Hermione sniffed indignantly. "And why on earth would Crookshanks have attacked you in the first place?"

"No idea," George lied. "But he did and kneazle scratches don't heal with magic the same way other cuts do. Understandably I didn't want to walk for two weeks around looking like I just stepped back off the battle field waiting to heal."

"That still doesn't excuse you melting my shower curtain," Hermione said with a glare.

"No it doesn't," George replied, "But, I have just the thing for that problem!"

George reached down into the bag on the floor and with drew a plastic wrapped object. Hermione took the package and looked over it was a bit of grateful confusion. The package held an exact replacement copy of her charred curtain.

"Where did you find this?"

"A muggle store on the other side of London."

"You actually went to a muggle store to buy me a new shower curtain?" Hermione looked up in surprise.

"Er actually I went to six muggle stores..." he said as his ears turned pink again.

"I… I don't know what to say," she said.

"I also got these," George pulled two bottles out of the bag and held them out to her. "I sort of used up the last of what you had in both of those so I figured it was only right of me to replace everything I ruined. Wasn't sure where to find anything so it took me bit to track them down."

"How long is a bit?"

"Long enough that I visited five stores before giving up and calling Ginny for help," he admitted sheepishly. "If it makes you feel better about any of it, she is probably still laughing."

"A bit," Hermione smiled and hugged her new curtain to her chest. "You didn't have to do this, George, but thank you."

Smiling slightly he said, "Well aside from the fact that you're practically family, you really are doing Fred and me a huge favor by taking our case and I wanted to thank you. The joke shop isn't just our job, it's our dream. If we lost it to something as stupid as s couple of money hungry arses I honestly don't know what we'd do."

Hermione nodded. Lost dreams were one of the several reasons she became an attorney in the first place.

"If it helps at all I'll even make an appointment next time. I just hope you'll forgive me."

Hermione stared at George for a moment before her face broke out into a wide smile.

"Alright, Weasley," she smiled. "Consider yourself forgiven."

George smiled and let out a huge sigh of relief. He'd been really worried about this all day. Aside from almost blowing his chances to impress her, if she dropped their case they seriously could lose everything. Fred and he may seem like goof balls but the shop meant everything to them. Seeing her smile like that right now put George at complete ease. His moment of relief and victory though vanished as a furry projectile suddenly appeared out of no where and launched itself into his face.

Hermione shrieked as George fell over the back side of the couch trying to throw the demonic little beast off him. Merlin, he just couldn't win!

TBC

A/N: Two steps forward for George, one giant kneazle sized shove backwards. Poor George.

Everyone is finally on the mend so I stayed up extra late to try and finish this chapter for you guys. Hopefully you all like it and write me lots of reviews because I loves them so. R&R, dear readers!

~Chupip