Chapter 28

A/N I meant to upload this chapter on Christmas eve. Then Boxing day passed and now its the 27th and I am finally getting to it. Marry late Christmas! I hope everyone has been having a nice week. I managed to finish another chapter the other day. I am not super thrilled with this one, to be honest. It has been SOOOO hard to write. I have that vague picture of where this story is going but its so hard to get it there. I think I managed to push the plot along in the chapter I just finished so here is hoping I don't take another year to finish. Of all of my stories so far, this one has taken me the longest to write. Thank you so much to everyone that has stuck with me!

Enjoy!

The imminent full moon had George feeling like climbing the walls of his uncle's suddenly cramped home. For the last few mornings, he'd floo'd to the Burrow for an early jog around the property and a swim in the pond. It was helping, but the gradual increase in energy—both magical and physical—still left him feeling mental.

Normally not one to go looking for a fight, the run-in with high level Death Eaters two evenings before had been exhilarating. Now, as he sat in the parlor, knee bouncing rapidly, George wondered how irresponsible it would be to apparate to Little Hangleton.

"George, are you alright?"

Hermione put her hand on his thigh and looked up at him with concern. Her hair fell to the side, wafting her heady, floral scent all over their corner of the room. Now suddenly bothered for an entirely different reason, it took all the self control he had not to grab her delicate wrist and drag her into his lap.

"I'm fine, love. I think I'll go see if Gideon feels up to some dueling practice."

"Ah, alright…" Hermione frowned in confusion as he fled the room, but went back to her book. When he found his uncle, leaned against the kitchen counter sipping his tea, the other man took one look at him, rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Oh honestly, nephew. Just toss her over your shoulder, take her upstairs and shag her already. I don't understand why you're acting like such a prude." He gave George a condescending smirk. "I really doubt she's going to mind if it's a bit rough, mate. She seems the type to be into that."

He had the good sense to run.

"You disgusting wanker! What have I said about speaking about her like that?" They thundered up the stairs, Gideon tripping on the top landing thanks to a well timed jinx.

He only laughed, managing to get his foot against George's chest, sending him back down the stairs far enough for him to escape. "I bet she's been fantasizing about it all week."

George's blood felt like it was on fire as he tore down the hall after his uncle, slamming bodily into the loo door where he had taken refuge. "Let me in. I'll show you rough, you manky git!"

Gideon continued to taunt him from the other side of the door, laughing more every time George slammed into the door. "You're so much stronger now, nephew." He continued in a falsetto. "Oh George, won't you please pick me up and take me against the wall! Better yet, those sturdy bookshelves down in the parlor! Oh yes! I just love the full moon, George! You're like an animal, love." George hit the door particularly hard, nearly knocking Gideon to the floor from where he leaned on the other side. "Yes! Just like that, George! Harder!"

Just as George readied himself to try again, Fabian sauntered down the hall, leaning casually against the wall beside the battered door. George glared at him. "Have you got anything to say, uncle?"

Fabian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Do I look that stupid?"

With an irritated growl, George slammed his shoulder into the door again. "Come on, Gideon, open the door! You coward!"

Despite what he'd said, Fabian sighed dramatically and commented. "This is why we only date muggle women. No need to worry about ancient magical sex entanglements. You already know you want to marry her, George, what are you waiting for?" He clicked his tongue. "Her father's permission?"

Back against the door, temporarily ignoring the mocking sounds from the other side, George aimed his wand at Fabian. "You know what? Mum was right. Proper slags, the pair of you. No mixed up magic? How many of my muggleborn classmates were actually your unclaimed bastards, I wonder."

Fabian looked indignant. "Oi! Rude. We are experts at the contraception charm, I'll have you know. And we died, or did you forget? As if we'd abandon a bastard." He crossed his arms and squinted up at him. "Besides, what do our dalliances have to do with your reluctance to sleep with your witch?"

Feeling some of the anger leave him, George kicked his heel against the door and sighed. "It's too soon, innit? We've only been properly together a month. And it's not the magic I'm worried about. I'm just…"

From the other side of the door, Gideon snickered. "It's never too early! If you're not worried about the magic, do the right ritual and spend the weekend in bed."

"Shut it, you! I'd rather wait until after the moon." Suddenly jarred when Gideon rattled the door, George growled at him over his shoulder and kicked the door, hard. "I'm afraid I won't have control of myself. A bit rough is one thing, but what if I hurt her?"

Both uncles scoffed at once, Fabian spoke. "Please, you're not actually a wolf, George. I'm sure you're worried for no reason."

"I'm telling you, mate. She'll be into it!" Gideon added, reminding George that he was supposed to be angry. Standing to face the door, he banished the entire thing and lunged for his uncle. He shrieked in a most unmanly way and went down hard. "Fabian! Help me, brother!"

Standing in the hall, watching them struggle on the tile floor and shaking with laughter, Fabian shook his head. "Oh no way. I heard what you said about Hermione. You deserve that "

"I'll say." Three pairs of eyes snapped to the beet red Hermione suddenly standing in the hall.

George shoved Gideon a final time and stood, dusting himself off and joining them in the hall. "I'm sorry, Love. Guess I lost my head."

She laughed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Is he alright?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "He'll live." Flushing with his own embarrassment, George stepped into her space. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it, yea." Her blush somehow deepened as she watched Fabian duck into the loo after his brother.

"George," she continued in almost a whisper, eyes shining with adoration "If it's me feeling rushed you're worried about, well…" Her hands gripped the front of his shirt. "Don't be. I'm not worried about the magic either."

There was more to say, words she'd left unsaid, a conversation George found that he longed to have with her. But his uncles needling at one another in the background reminded him that now wasn't the time.

Before he could say anything though, she gave him a positively wicked smirk and added, "And your idiot uncle is right." Her nails grazed his chest as she tugged him closer so that her lips brushed his ear. "I have been fantasizing about it… all… week…"

Hermione shrieked as he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. George hadn't heard what his uncle said—the blood rushed too loudly in his ears—he'd only felt Hermione's laughter against his back as she reached out and shoved Gideon back into the loo as they passed.

GH

It was rough, at least the first time. George tried to restrain himself in the beginning, but in hardly any time he'd lost himself—in her, in the magic, in whatever the full moon was doing to him—but Hermione didn't care. She was lost too.

George's touch felt like fire and magic. His lips on her neck, his fingers grazing down her side, his strong hands gripping her thigh, her bum, almost too hard. And all the while her magic raged through her, reaching out for his, blending together. Their soul bond, once a faint and precious thing, now tangible, more solid.

In a brief lull filled with gasping breaths and long, slow kisses, Hermione wondered if it would always be this way for them. Was this how sex always was for compatible magical couples? Or was it their soul bond that made it feel like George was a part of her, inside of her but so much more profoundly than simply where their bodies had joined.

And then his kisses became more insistent and the smoldering heat in her gut roared back to life, banishing any lingering curiosity.

There was only George, only her.

Afterward, moonlight streaming across the floor from their window, Hermione lay with her back pressed to George's chest. A smile graced her face as he dropped hot, lingering kisses up her arm and along her shoulder. She felt, for the first time in what seemed to her centuries, safe, whole and truly happy.

Her entire life, it often seemed, had been one long first time through a war had left them broken shells of themselves. They'd both lost so much. And then they traveled back in time, losing everything they had left but each other and their hurts.

Somehow, despite everything, here in the wrong time, missing almost everyone she'd ever loved, Hermione was complete. The war didn't matter, Voldemort could go to hell, nothing outside their door meant anything at all to her just then.

"Hermione..." George murmured her name against her shoulder in between kisses.

"Yes?"

"Marry me?"

A soft, gasp escaped her lips. She looked back at him, serious intensity lighting his brown eyes.

"Yes."

A beautiful smile split his face. "We could do it now." She rolled over in his arms to face him, excitement bubbling in her chest at his words. "We don't need anyone but magic to witness the proper old rite."

"Yes," she pulled him into a kiss. "Let's do it." Another kiss and a thought of their family popped into her head. "And after the war, we can celebrate in France with our family."

The look he gave her was so tender and so full of love it nearly brought her to tears. "I love you, Hermione, so bloody much."

After a long searing kiss, he pulled away and sat up, reaching for their wands. "Do you know it?" Before she could answer in the affirmative, he chuckled. "Of course you do. I'm sure you read about it ages ago."

"Git." She smirked. "Before Bill and Flur's wedding."

He laughed and opened his mouth to respond when they were interrupted. Blindingly bright in the dimness, Fabian's patronus—a small wild cat—leapt into the middle of their room

I'm sorry to interrupt lovebirds, but you two need to get down here. We have something of a situation. Bring any healing potions you have.

Lacking his usual mirth, Fabian's message sucked all the happiness from their room. For half a moment, neither of them moved. Their eyes locked, resigned and resolved, then George tossed her her wand.

"Shite." He yanked on his pants and stepped into his trousers as she looked around for her bra. Rushing to dress and quietly panicking, Hermione grew more and more distressed the longer she could not locate the scrap of lace and wire. "Shite, shite bloody buggering…"

"Here, love." Suddenly George was in front of her, her bra held out in his left hand. "It was under the bed, on my side." He sighed as she snatched it from him. "It's all right, Hermione. Whatever is downstairs, we'll deal with it. Then," he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'll carry you back up here and make you my wife."

GH

The air was sweet, the ground beneath his paws, damp. It must have rained recently. Somewhere, a stumbling drunk shouted obscenities into the dark, scolded by an exasperated woman.

Pausing to rest his most injured flank and get his bearings, Sirius dropped beneath a large hedge at the end of the village street. He had only been to the Prewetts' place once before—thankfully after the fidelius charm—but his head ached and it was dark.

It was somewhere close by, conveniently only a few miles from his mad cousin's estate. That was the only reason he had decided to give the erstwhile Order members a chance. Without his wand. London was too far on foot, especially injured as he was. He would just have to trust that they wouldn't betray him.

Snivellus—one time school nemesis now likely marked Death Eater—had helped him escape. Or rather, given him a barmy plan to do so himself. Somehow, the ancient blood wards around the manor had not noticed one large, limping black dog. To be safe, he had fled almost completely into himself, allowing the animal mind to take over. Perhaps that had been why it had worked.

Most concerning just then, was how the bloody hell his school nemesis and Death Eater had known he was an animagus to start with. It was a secret the marauders had kept closely guarded. Who had told him? Only the four of them and Lilly even knew.

As to that, why had Snape even helped him at all? When he'd first aimed his wand, the crucios had been real. But then they'd stopped and he'd tore through his meagear mental defenses in search of specific memories. Snape had known what he was looking for, pulling images of him in his animal form and snippets of the Prewett twins.

Thanks to the torture, it had taken Sirius longer than it ought to have to sort out what Snape had been trying to tell him. It was obvious once he'd figured it out, but it had taken another little while, laying on the floor of his dark cell, to decide to go for it.

Hungry, exhausted and hurting, Sirius gathered himself up and crept out from his hiding place. Praying to all the gods he could think of that he wasn't walking into a trap, he limped past the village pub and a few dingy looking cottages. There, at the end of the lane, stood the Prewetts home.

Invisible to muggles and anyone who hadn't been told, the three story townhouse looked markedly out of place. It reminded Sirius uncomfortably of his parents' home in the city. The only other time he'd been here, he had wondered if perhaps they'd nicked a London townhouse and brought it to the country.

Aware the lot was likely being watched—unfortunately not by any of his friends as it was still meant to be his shift—he snuffed around at the ground as though following some scent or other and slipped through the wards.

They would have sensed his intrusion. Now completely spent, Sirius collapsed on the front steps, human again, and waited.