Chapter Twenty-One

"And that's why Fred and me are no longer welcomed in Toronto, Canada."

Hermione snorted into her glass of iced butterbeer, "Can you really blame them though? Those cows hardly deserved any of that."

"True," George said as he stabbed a bit of chicken with his fork. "But to be fair if that manky little assistant hadn't of swiped the prank potion we were trying to pitch to their company it never would have happened. I don't know how it ended up in the hands of that muggle famer, but it's hardly our fault if he thought it was a new kind of vitamin for his herd."

Hermione shook her head in amusement as she returned to nibbling on the last bits of her sandwich. The hustling and bustling of the Leaky Cauldron was certainly a change of pace from the quite and intimate setting of the sushi restaurant, but Hermione was enjoying herself none the less. After the disaster that which was dinner at the Burrow and the highly embarrassing morning after, Hermione was just glad for the normality of the setting. Even if the stories involved transfigured Canadian cows.

"Well I do hate to cut this short but I'm afraid I am going to have to leave," George said as he wiped his mouth on a napkin. "I promised Fred he could take off the afternoon. Angie's due next week and has gone completely barmy with the nesting. Fred wants to make sure she hasn't purged his stuff again like last time."

"Oh," Hermione hoped she didn't sound as disappointed as she felt that their lunch date was ending a lot sooner than she had expected.

George noticed her expression and gave her his best smile. "Why Hermione, is that devastation I see in your eyes? I'm touched! You like me, you really really like me."

Hermione gave the prankster a cheeky smirk, "I might have liked you… but you're leaving so it looks like you'll never find out."

"Ah, but this does not mean I will never see you again," he countered. "I could come over tonight and cook for you. Then I'll be able to find out if you like me or not."

"Hmmm…. I don't know. It is a work night after all."

George gave her his best pouting face. The one he and Fred use to give their mother to stay out of trouble. "Pllleeeaasssse? I make a fantastic beef stew."

Hermione pretended to think hard about it, "Well…. Alright. But only because I really love beef stew. Not because I like you."

"We'll see about that," he winked and slid out of the booth. After straightening his robes and tossing a few galleons on the table, George bent down and caught up Hermione's hand. He ignored her dark blush and kissed it gently. "Till tonight then, fair maiden. Say six?"

Hermione babbled what she hoped was a yes, or at least a good bye, as the ginger disappeared into the crowed and out the door. The curly haired witch slumped back against her seat and smiled. She was trying really hard not to like George. Darned if he wasn't making it impossible though.

The day flew by a lot faster than Hermione had expected it too. Before she knew it, it was five thirty and she was frantically rushing to get home. Sally barely had time to wave good bye to her as Hermione dashed out the office door. Hermione usually enjoyed walking home but that was for days when her flat wasn't in complete ruins and she wasn't expecting company.

Hermione practically burst into her flat, effectively scaring the tar out of Crookshanks and took a panicked look at her home. It was a disaster. Papers and case files littered her entire sitting room, not to mention the plates of dinners past and books stacked up high on her coffee table. She didn't usually cheat and use magic to clean her flat but desperate times call for desperate measures. Hermione kicked off her shoes, dropped her brief case and turned her wand on her living room. A few quick swishes had the place looking tidy again, and another had the dirty dishes from last nights left over's flying to the sink to wash themselves. Hermione then darted to her bedroom in hopes of finding something comfortable but not grungy to wear. She glanced at the clock on her wall. Five fifty-three. She needed to hurry.

...~...~...

George checked the bag sitting open on his counter once more to make sure he had all the ingredients needed for dinner. Finally satisfied he cast a preservation charm on it before shrinking the bag down to fit in his pocket. George forwent the wine, having gotten a fair look at the fully stocked rack Hermione had in her kitchen, but sprung for a special dessert that he couldn't wait to share with her. Claire had practically assaulted him with it this afternoon when he went to purchase one from her bakery.

George was reaching for his coat when the green flames burst to life in his fireplace.

"George! GEORGE!"

The prankster dropped his coat and ran to the fire place, recognizing his twin's frantic voice.

"Fred, what's wrong?" he asked as nearly fell in front of the stone fireplace.

"I need you! Right now! It's Angie!"

"I'll be right there, Mate! Step back."

George summoned his coat before practically diving into the green flames.

...~...~...

The candles were light but had burned nearly half way down, two glasses of now room temperature wine sat on a bare coffee table and Hermione clutched a couch pillow trying desperately not to cry as the clock on her wall chimed eight times. It was quite simple really, she thought. She'd been stood up. After all that, all that talk about fair maidens, slaying dragons and wanting to be a little more than friends, he stood her up.

Well served her right for trusting a Weasley Twin.

Hermione disentangled herself from the pillow and leaned forward to blow out the candles.

"Come on, Crookie," she said softly to the ginger haired cat next to her. "Let's go to bed."

The orange beast meowed and untwisted himself from the ball he'd curled up in hours ago. His human was sad and he intended to fix that.

Hermione poured the wine from the glasses out and stuck the bottle back in the fridge. Maybe after she got into her pajamas it'd have cooled down enough to have some. She'd need a drink here soon one way or the other. Hermione was just about to switched off the lights in her living room when a rather frantic knock on the door stopped her. The teary eyed witch glared at the door. If that was who she thought it was he was in for the tongue lashing of his life.

A quick look through the peep hole confirmed her suspicions. Hermione yanked the door open. She was about to start yelling but seeing the half asleep three year old boy sitting on top of George's shoulders made her halt.

George had the decency to look very apologetic.

"I swear I can explain everything."

TBC

A/N: I won't really go into a lot of detail because at this point it just sounds like whining but its been a crappy few months. Sorry for the delay and sorry it's short but I hope the new chapter meets with approval. Hug your loved ones, and don't forget to R&R for me. I could use a smile.

~Chupip