Fictionallizzy
A/N:
Flashbacks will be scattered throughout this story to provide some background.
Song suggestions:
Matoma and Becky Hill – False Alarm
Sam Feldt and Cate Downey – Enough to Drink
Augustana – Hey Now
CHAPTER 2:
FLASHBACK:
"You came!" George exclaimed with surprise when Hermione walked into the abandoned classroom where the twins had asked her to meet them.
Although, 'asked' was an understatement.
"I'm regretting it already," she huffed and rolled her eyes at George's smug grin. "And it's not as if you and your brother left me much choice."
They'd practically bombarded her with owls and had thrown balled-up parchment at her head from the far end of the Gryffindor table during mealtimes. Said balls of parchment had contained over-dramatic pleas for help or ridiculous and utterly exaggerated compliments that wanted to make her laugh and pull her hair from her head in frustration all at the same time. They were relentless, even going as far as cornering her in the corridors between classes until she'd finally, yet very begrudgingly, agreed to hear them out.
She unceremoniously dropped her bag onto the floor, stirring up flurries of dust.
As she looked around the room, she noticed a thick layer of dust, not only on the floor but also on most other surfaces.
Besides the overpowering dampness that hung thick in the air, she caught the unmistakable smell of gunpowder she'd come to associate with the twins. She wondered if this was where they experimented during the year while at school.
The makeshift table at which Fred was sitting consisted of six desks that were pushed together to give him a larger workspace.
He held up a finger to indicate that he'd be with her shortly, while he furiously scribbled on a piece of parchment without looking up. He was practically scowling at the paperwork, and she found it strange to see him wearing anything other than a smile or a look of mischief.
"Why don't you have a seat?" George offered and pulled out a chair for her. "I can get you a glass of water. Or coffee, if you'd prefer."
This made Fred look up, his attention focused on his twin. He looked suspicious and curious all at once, but without a word, turned his attention back to the parchment before him.
"Thanks," Hermione said and apprehensively took the offered seat while narrowing her eyes at George. He was acting strangely around her today. And why was he blushing? "But I'd rather you not trouble the house elves. They have enough to be getting on with, without catering to your every whim."
When nothing bit her in the arse or exploded when she'd settled into her chair, she relaxed marginally. It was always best to be on guard around the twins. You never knew when they'd next decide to prank you or subject you, unwittingly, to one of their latest inventions.
Constant vigilance!
"Suit yourself," George said with a loose shrug. "But you should know they are all too happy to cater to our whims."
She snorted. "Doubtful. They're probably too scared to get on your bad side, lest they end up with a nosebleed or feathers."
"Actually," George grinned at her. "Dobby seemed rather interested in our Canary Creams. Said he's always wanted feathers."
"Don't you dare indulge him, George Weasley," she warned but grinned despite herself. Dobby was a strange little thing, but sweet, nonetheless. She had no doubt he'd be interested in sporting feathers.
"This feels as if I'm contributing to the delinquency of minors," she muttered a while later when a Ton Tongue Toffee fell from George's trousers pocket as he hiked his feet up onto the table. She scowled at the toffee on the floor, and then at him.
He didn't seem to notice. Instead, as if he had all the time in the world, he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and closed his eyes while the two of them waited for Fred to finish up.
For someone who had been so desperate for her to meet with them, Fred was being rather inconsiderate, making her wait this long. She was already regretting turning down George's offer of coffee.
With a final scratch of the quill, Fred leaned back into his chair and fixed her with a bemused look. "We're no longer minors if you'll recall."
"We had our birthdays in April, you know," George added in a drawl, briefly cracking open one eye to look at her. "Even passed our apparition tests."
"How adorable," she said with mock disdain. "It's a pity that coming of age doesn't require any sort of wisdom or responsibility."
George slipped his feet from the table and straightened up in his chair with a pout.
"Ouch!" Fred exclaimed with feigned hurt, clutching his heart dramatically. "Testy today, aren't we? Is it that time of the month again?"
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but George cut in before she could get a word out. "Wow, okay! I don't see this conversation ending well for either of you. Perhaps it would be more productive to turn our attention to the problem at hand, rather than trading passive-aggressive insults." He gave Fred a no-nonsense look that reminded Hermione so much of the ones Molly employed when dealing with her sons.
"Spoilsport," Fred said to George, following it up with a wink at Hermione. "I love seeing you get all riled up."
George stiffened momentarily beside her, fingers curling into fists, but when she shot him a questioning look, he merely shook his head and relaxed back into his seat without a word.
"I don't know if you're aware of George's WonderWitch product line," Fred said, pushing a few pages toward her across the makeshift table. "Most of it's ready to be introduced to the public, but we're having a lot of trouble with the Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher.
"Oh?" Hermione's brows lifted in surprise. How interesting. She shifted her gaze to George. "I'm impressed that you're developing a line with witches in mind. I always thought you focused more on gag gifts and prank products."
"We're aiming to create and stock a more diverse range of products," George said, rubbing his neck. The tips of his ears turned pink, but he held her gaze. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn't decipher.
Fred's voice startled George and her, and they hastily turned away from each other to focus on the parchment Fred was indicating to. "But the Pimple Vanisher has been giving us a lot of headaches."
"Figuratively," George added helpfully.
"Of course," she chuckled. "Well, have you experimented with the ratios of your ingredients?"
"Yes, ad nauseam," George groaned close to her ear as he leaned in to show her the parchment with various ratios they'd already tried. All of them were marked with large X's and messy notes were scribbled in the margins beside each.
"Well…shit..." she sighed resignedly after she'd thoroughly reviewed their ratios and the multiple pages of notes they'd made. "I see what you mean. Off the top of my head, there's nothing I can come up with that you haven't tried. I could always have a look in the library..."
She paused when Fred let out a frustrated growl and stuck his fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots. "We've tried that already. That's why we approached you."
It was such a stark difference from the easygoing Fred she was used to seeing, and for some reason, she thought he looked incredibly attractive like this, hair mussed, jaw clenched and broad shoulders stiff.
She imagined him looking at her like this, but with frustration of a different kind.
Her stomach clenched, and the sensation startled her into the present like a slap to the face.
To hide how embarrassed she felt for letting her mind drift to such inappropriate thoughts, she enquired about the exact function of the product to get a better idea of what the twins might have overlooked.
"As the name suggests, it's supposed to vanish pimples in ten seconds. Anything from the size of a pinhead to a pea," George explained. "But right now, it's making a small pimple grow to a boil roughly the size of a galleon. And then…" he pantomimed an explosion.
"Lovely." Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mental image. "So, essentially the Pimple Vanisher is doing the opposite of what is promised," she muttered to herself, thinking. She pulled her lip between her teeth and started chewing on it while she tapped her thumb distractedly on the table. "My gut tells me this has something to do with the amount of Bobotuber pus in the recipe."
"But too little Bobotuber pus renders it ineffective," Fred pointed out heatedly.
"Right. Because your product is so much more effective right now, is it?" Hermione bit out, raising a challenging brow at him. "I'm telling you, it's the only thing that would make the pimples grow into boils. Unfortunately, Bobotuber pus is a very tricky ingredient. You need the perfect balance if you want it to work."
"We know that Hermione," Fred huffed testily and shook his head at her.
"Don't take that tone with me, Fred Weasley. You came to me for help. Not the other way around."
"I know, I know. And I'm sorry. I don't mean to get frustrated with you," he said defeatedly. "It's just a lot of pressure. The successful launch of the WonderWitch line is resting on the Pimple Vanisher, and right now it doesn't look like it'll happen by the deadline we've set."
"So, extend the deadline," she suggested.
"Can't," George muttered into his hands as he scrubbed his face. "Our posters for the line of WonderWitch products have already been put up in the windows of every shop in Diagon Alley. It clearly states that it will be accessible by mail order from the 1st of November."
"Don't," Fred growled and shot her a peevish look when she opened her mouth to tell them they'd fucked up. "We know we should have perfected all our products before sending out posters announcing the launch."
Seeing the twins looking so despondent lit a fire in her belly. The pressure of a looming deadline had never stopped her from succeeding. And there was no way she would fail now. She'd make sure the launch was a success, even if it was the last thing she did.
"Give me two days," she said and organised the stack of notes into a neat pile. "I'll come up with a solution."
George reached for the parchment in her hand as she made to tuck it into her bag.
She quirked a brow in question, and George dropped his hand.
He traded a dubious look with Fred that made Hermione bristle.
"What?" she asked impatiently. "Don't tell me you don't trust me."
"It's not that," George hedged. "It's just…this line is really important to us and in the wrong hands—"
"Oh, my gods!" She barked an incredulous laugh and fixed the twins with a look of utter annoyance. "That's it, isn't it? You don't really trust me."
She shook her head and chuckled derisively, pushing back her chair with a loud scrape that made Fred and George wince.
She picked up her backpack from the floor, slung it over her shoulder and pushed the pages back at Fred across the table. "You asked me to help you fix this. Practically harassed me, and now you're too scared to let me."
George opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm not done!" She cut him off sharply. "Do you honestly think I'd just leave your notes all over the castle?"
"No, but if Umbridge—" Fred tried.
"Still not done talking," she snapped.
"Sounds more like scolding than talking, but all right," George muttered beside her.
"When have I ever acted callously?" she asked, hands on her hips. "I would never jeopardize your futures, even if the two of you drive me up the bloody walls most days."
She paused for a second and then shrugged. "You know what?" She levelled them with an imperious look. "I don't know why I'm even arguing about this with the two of you. It's your problem. Not mine."
"Wait!" George shot out of his seat, the chair toppling over in his haste.
Hermione cast it a cursory glance, but George ignored it, stopping her by curling his hands gently around her shoulders. "Please Granger, just hang on a second, will you?" he implored.
"I offered my help. You didn't accept. What more is there to say, Georgie."
His eyes softened briefly at the sound of her nickname for him. "We're sorry," he stated sincerely and looked at Fred, silently inviting him to concur.
"We didn't mean to insult you," Fred said, making his way over to her, notes in hand. "We trust you, but just—"
She raised a brow, daring him to finish that sentence.
"We trust you implicitly," he amended.
"Yeah. That's what I thought." She smirked, satisfied beyond measure, and took the papers from Fred, hugging them to her chest.
"One more thing," she added a few moments later as she opened the door to the classroom, heading out. "If you pester me for information or progress in the next couple of days while I work out how to fix your formula, I swear to Godric I will burn these." She pointedly lifted the notes in her hand and shook them threateningly at the twins. And with a saccharine smile, added, "Have a good night, boys."
With a wink, she shut the door behind her and headed to the Gryffindor common room to pull an all-nighter. She loved a challenge.
xxx
It turned out there had been one ratio the twins, and initially she, too, had missed.
After brewing a successful batch of the pimple-vanishing potion before breakfast and during lunch today, she caught up with Fred and George right before dinner.
She'd asked them for two days, and despite cutting it close, she'd delivered as promised.
"Can we meet up after dinner?" she asked, pulling them to the side and out of earshot just as they were about to enter the Great Hall.
She could see how hard the twins were holding back from shooting a barrage of questions her way, but they were restraining themselves very obediently thanks to her threats a couple of nights ago.
"We could go right now if you want?" George suggested hopefully.
"I didn't have time for breakfast or lunch today, but I'll be as quick as I can, okay?" she said sympathetically. She could appreciate how badly they needed the pimple-vanishing potion to work, but she'd offered up a lot of sleep and food the last two days, and now that she'd figured out the problem and corrected it, she felt like she deserved a hot meal and five to ten minutes of relaxation.
She'd slacked on her homework, and on top of meeting up with the twins in a few minutes, she had to finish it tonight before bed or she'd have nothing to hand in tomorrow.
Like two guard dogs, Fred and George flanked her the entire way up to the abandoned classroom they were using as a pseudo-office, the silence between the three of them fraught with tension and anticipation.
"You didn't!" George barked an incredulous laugh, surprise colouring his face when he spotted the cauldron on their 'table'. He headed straight for it and leaned closer to inspect the thick, shimmering powder-blue potion she'd brewed as proof of her success.
"I did," she grinned smugly and produced two pipets and a phial of greenish-yellow liquid from the pocket of her robes. "It even works on Bobotuber pus-induced boils."
She extracted a drop of the foul-smelling liquid from the phial. "Let me show you."
She steeled herself for the momentary pain and squeezed a tiny drop onto her nose.
Instant pain blossomed on the tip of her nose, and moments later, she sported a large boil for her efforts.
"George," she offered him the uncontaminated pipet as he was closest, "Would you do the honours?"
Without hesitation, he accepted the pipet, drew up a small amount of the blue potion and squeezed a drop onto the throbbing boil on her nose.
As expected, the potion provided instant, cooling relief for the pain, and after ten very tense seconds, there was a tightening of the skin on her nose. She recognized it by now, after having tested the potion on herself close to a dozen times today.
"You truly are brilliant, you know," George said, poking repeatedly at her nose as if to make sure this wasn't an illusion.
"Stop it," she slapped his hand away with a huff.
George stared in awe at the perfectly healed skin on her nose, then turned to Fred and gave a firm nod, as if confirming that the potion she'd brewed had passed the test.
Fred let out a deafening whoop that startled Hermione and then punched the air with a fist, a brilliant grin on his face. "Merlin, Hermione, I'm so bloody relieved that I could kiss you right now."
He practically lunged at her, cupped her cheeks between two large, callused hands and dipped his head to plant a scorching kiss on her lips.
Her breath hitched and her stomach fluttered in response.
This was her first kiss, and it felt rather lovely. Better than she'd expected.
Fred pulled back, hands still on her cheeks. He looked dazed and flushed, eyes glassy as he stared at her. "Uhm," he huffed a laugh, and then his mouth curved into a lopsided grin, instantly smug and cheeky. "That was...unexpected."
She had no idea if that was a good or bad thing.
"Are you quite done?" George growled from behind Fred and her.
The two of them jumped apart, having momentarily forgotten that they weren't alone in the room.
George was leaning against the desk next to the cauldron, arms folded, jaw clenched and glare murderous.
Hermione had no idea what exactly had made him this peeved. Was it the kiss? Because it had been impulsive and stupid. It wasn't as if Fred had meant anything by it. He'd simply been overcome with relief and excitement. But even if it had meant something to Fred, what did it even matter to George? Was he scared that she'd steal Fred from him?
This entire situation was ridiculous, and she didn't have the capacity to analyse it any further. And yet, for the next few days, Hermione did nothing but over-analyze it until she finally gave it up as a bad job.
END OF FLASHBACK
Present day:
In the days following her romp with George, Hermione tried her best to keep busy while avoiding her friends.
The worst thing about what had happened with George was that she could literally tell nobody about it.
So, while dealing with the grief of Fred's death and the guilt of turning down his proposal, she now had even more guilt to pile on.
Thanks to a favour from McGonagall in their sixth year, Hermione completed her NEWTS examinations instead of sitting for the standardised ones as her fellow students had. She'd somehow known she wouldn't be back for her seventh year.
It had been this foresight that had made it possible for her to apply for specialised internships, like Healing and Curse-Breaking.
While waiting for her letters from St Mungo's and Gringotts—she still hadn't decided which career she wanted to pursue if she got accepted—she filled her days by cleaning her apartment and crying over Fred. Then she headed stealthily into Diagon Alley to peruse the isles of Flourish and blots while praying she wouldn't run into George.
She longed for an ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, but that was too risky.
Some days, when the craving got particularly bad, she tried to convince herself that perhaps, if George spotted her, he would simply ignore her and keep walking.
Still…she wasn't taking chances.
After her hasty departure from George's apartment, she hadn't attempted to contact him, and nor had he.
She supposed he felt just as shit about it as she did. Or maybe he didn't even remember.
That thought was, somehow, even more depressing than thinking about what they'd gotten up to.
xxx
"Sorry I'm late," Hermione apologised by way of greeting when she walked in the door of the Burrow, a bottle of elf-made wine in hand.
Mrs Weasley had invited her to Sunday lunch, but if she were honest, she'd strongly considered not coming.
Not only would it be glaringly obvious that one of the Weasleys was missing, but it would also mean she'd have to face George. In front of everyone in attendance. One of them was bound to pick up on the awkwardness between George and her.
The need to make sure that Mr and Mrs Weasley were coping after everything, had won out in the end.
Luckily, she noted George's absence when she scanned the flock of Weasleys and company as they made their way over to greet her.
It wasn't until Ginny stepped aside that she spotted George lounging on a couch in the living room.
They locked eyes, and he watched her with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
It was not a welcoming look.
In fact, it seemed he was trying to flay her with his eyes; whether for leaving without first 'discussing what had happened' or as a warning that she better not utter a single word of their sexcapades to anyone in attendance, she wasn't sure.
It was strange to see him look this intimidating when he used to make her howl with laughter or tease and prank her mercilessly right alongside his twin.
Hermione scowled at him in reprimand. She bit back a scathing remark and rolled her eyes at him instead. Fuck him and his high horse. She wanted just as badly to keep their secret from ever seeing the light of day. She didn't even want to think about the fallout if anyone ever found out. They would crucify not only George but her as well.
"How have you been doing, dear?" Molly asked Hermione, enveloping her in a warm, motherly hug that made her want to break down and cry. As if she, as Fred's girlfriend, had any reason to complain, when Molly had lost a son.
She tried to keep herself in check as she admitted, "I've been better, Mrs Weasley. How have you and Mr Weasley been getting on?"
"Oh, you know," Molly waved away Hermione's concern, but her eyes shot full of tears, nonetheless. She sniffled, "Some days are harder than others."
Hermione produced a tissue from her jeans pocket and offered it to Molly; unfortunately, this innocent act opened the floodgates.
With a thank you to Hermione, Molly excused herself for a moment, and Arthur pulled Hermione into a side hug as she discreetly wiped away her own tears.
If only Molly and Arthur knew what she'd gotten up to with the remaining Weasley twin.
Then they wouldn't be nearly as tender with her.
"George," Hermione cornered him off to the side of the living room after lunch to talk.
It had been particularly tense, with George vacillating between picking at his food and staring at her with an expression she couldn't pinpoint.
"I hate seeing you like this," she sighed, taking inventory of his bloodshot eyes which were heavily underscored with signs of sleeplessness. His face was much thinner than it had been on their night together. "I know I have no right to meddle, but perhaps it's not the best idea to lean on alcohol to get over Fred's death."
"And what would you suggest I do?" he murmured low and dangerous in her ear to keep anyone from overhearing their conversation. "Do you think I should fuck his girlfriend instead?" He chuckled derisively. "Because I've tried that. And it's made it infinitely worse."
Hermione pulled back, shocked that he could be so cold and cruel.
"I think," he said, not bothering to keep his voice down this time, "That when you next feel the need to lecture me on what I should and should not be doing, you keep it to yourself."
This caused a stir in the living room.
Ginny scolded George sharply and Harry gave a firm nod in solidarity.
Ron was oblivious, rubbing his full belly with a groan of discomfort.
Mr Weasley sighed resignedly and Mrs Weasley clucked her tongue at George, but gave Hermione a sad smile, as if encouraging her to let it slide and take it easy on him, instead.
Bill wisely suggested that he take George home to sleep off the alcohol, while Fleur scowled at him from under her boyfriend's arm.
xxx
The problem with ignoring your friends, because you felt guilty for sleeping with your dead boyfriend's brother, was that you eventually ran out of excuses for declining invitations to get together.
While out for brunch at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry, Ginny, and Ron, they discussed their career interests and plans for the coming year.
She'd finally received back her letters from St. Mungo's and Gringotts. She'd been accepted into both programs and while she appreciated her friends' help tallying the pros and cons of each, she longed to tell George the good news and get his opinion on the matter.
Unfortunately, they hadn't spoken to each other since the lunch disaster at the Burrow, and he hadn't shown up to any of the subsequent ones in the weeks that followed their fallout.
This was yet another thing to add to her growing list of regrets; she didn't want him to stay away from his family because he was trying to avoid her. Perhaps she'd decline the next invitation; hopefully, Molly would casually mention Hermione wouldn't be attending, and prompt him into showing up.
They were having an impromptu celebration today, as Harry received his acceptance letter from the DMLE a couple of days ago, officially welcoming him into Auror training.
Ron, on the other hand, had decided to help George with the joke shop instead, stating that he wasn't sure if he was cut out to become an Auror.
Hermione supposed the joke shop was a better fit for Ron. It comforted her that George wouldn't be alone now that he'd have to navigate life without Fred, on top of running a business alone.
After the summer, Ginny would be starting her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and Harry and she were already making plans to get together over weekends and holidays.
She thought it was sweet, and yet, there was an unwelcome swirl of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She'd never begrudge two of her best friends their happiness, but she wished Fred and she had been this lucky. This carefree. What would their relationship have looked like without so much time spent apart and without so many threats hiding around every corner?
"I'm strongly considering St. Mungo's," Hermione said, trying to distract herself from her depressing thoughts. She cut into her eggs on toast, stuffed a bite into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "I've always thought about becoming a doctor when I was younger. That's a muggle healer," she added for Ginny and Ron's benefit. "So, I suppose going into healing would be a good fit."
"That'll be a lot of long hours," Ginny pointed out. "And a hefty study load."
Ron scoffed. "When has that ever deterred Hermione?"
"You spent an entire year with a time turner around your neck, just so you could take on more subjects," Harry pointed out when Hermione opened her mouth to counter Ron's statement.
She supposed it was true. There were very few things she enjoyed more than learning. But at this point, all that mattered was that she kept herself busy because being left alone with her thoughts was slowly driving her insane.
It gave her too much time to think about all her terrible choices lately, starting with declining Fred's proposal.
Honestly, it wasn't just the threat of what could happen to them during the final battle that made her say no. It was the fact that, while she and Fred had been dating for close to three years by that point, so much of that time had been spent apart.
They'd had most of her fifth year to sneak around for some privacy while juggling OWLS and NEWTS. But then Fred and George had unexpectedly decided to leave school without graduating, instead starting the joke shop.
It would have been nice to have been included in this decision, or even just warned.
This had been a big adjustment because, while she had to stay behind at Hogwarts for her sixth year, she and Fred had gotten to see each other only once or twice a month when she went on Hogsmeade trips or sneaked into London to stay over at his apartment for a night or two while Harry and Ron covered for her.
She'd rather hoped they'd be able to move in together at some point; get to know each other's habits and quirks, before taking a step as big as marriage.
Realistically, they'd had a lot of time to make up for, and some days, despite being head over heels for him, it had barely felt as if they were in a relationship.
After brunch, they took a leisurely walk through Diagon Alley, stopping at shops along the way to, what Hermione belatedly realised, was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
Fuck.
This meant she'd have to face George and she wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared for it.
They hadn't parted on good terms the last time she'd seen him, and she had no idea how she'd be received.
The storefront was just as bright and welcoming as always; nobody walking by would ever guess that, lately, the remaining owner wasn't feeling so bright or welcoming.
Hermione found this unbelievably tragic.
Inside, it still appeared as if the joke shop was doing well. There were many patrons; the store was packed, and products practically flew off the shelves. She parted with Ron, Harry and Ginny to look around at her own pace.
Lucky for her, George didn't see her as she squeezed her way through the throngs of patrons to peruse the shelves. Or perhaps he had spotted her but chose to ignore her. Either way, it was better than having him pin her with that intense gaze as he had at lunch a couple of weeks ago.
He had a way of watching her that both made her uncomfortable and flustered at the same time. It was impossible to decipher those looks. What she wouldn't give to have a glimpse into his thoughts just once.
Every time Hermione set foot in the joke shop, there seemed to have popped up countless new products, and by the time her friends were ready to leave, she had an armful of items she wanted to purchase.
At the till, George was polite enough while ringing up her selections but didn't go out of his way to make conversation, other than to ask if she'd found everything she needed and if she'd like a bag for her purchases.
She was relieved to find his eyes clear and focused if not a little cold, and he didn't smell of alcohol. The stubble that lined his cheeks and jaw suited him and she was rather partial to this new look. Unfortunately, the circles under his eyes and the gauntness to his face remained.
Still, she counted it as a win, however small.
She desperately wanted to drag him away from the check-out counter and force him to talk to her about what was bothering him. Other than the obvious.
She had an overpowering need to make things right between them. He was one of her friends, and after losing Fred, she felt the absence of George's company even more acutely than she'd expected.
But forcing him wasn't the answer right now. She was sure he'd seek her out when he was ready to talk.
A/N:
What did you think about the dynamic between Hermione and the twins?