Fictionallizzy
A/N:
This chapter contains a flashback.
I had some fun with this chapter, and hopefully, you'll agree that most of it is lighthearted.
Song suggestions:
James Arthur and Anne-Marie - Rewrite the stars
Not Meant To Be – Theory Of A Deadman
Jonas Blue ft. Theresa Rex – What I Like About You
CHAPTER 5:
FLASHBACK:
Hermione went in search of George while Fred sneaked off to Diagon Alley to meet with a supplier. Their mail-order products were selling faster than they'd anticipated, and as a result, the twins were almost always working instead of studying.
She found him hunched over a book in the library, researching Billywig properties.
Since Ginny was too young to give Hermione advice on matters involving sexual preferences and Harry and Ron had no experience with sex, she thought she'd come to George for advice. As Fred's twin, he had the most insight into his brother's likes and dislikes. If anyone could help her, it would probably be him.
"I need your help, George," she whispered, claiming the chair beside him. She scanned the immediate vicinity for Madam Pince or any students within earshot. With the coast clear, she continued, "Or some advice, at least. But if this is too awkward for you; it's fine if you say no."
He put his quill down beside his notes and leaned back in his chair, watching her expectantly. "Won't know until you tell me, Granger."
"I think Freddie is ready to have sex."
George coughed uncomfortably and his ears turned red at the tips. There was a flash of disappointment on his face; barely discernible before he stowed it away and scratched his jaw awkwardly.
"Oh, forget it," she huffed and got up to leave. She knew this was an awkward topic and she was mortified that she had to come to him for advice. But he was her only option.
"Granger," George stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. When she looked back at him, his eyes were soft and careful. "Is this what you want? Are you ready to have sex? Or are you rushing this because you think it's what's expected of you?"
She shrugged half-heartedly. "I suppose so. I mean, things have been leading steadily up to sex lately, if I'm being honest. It's proving more difficult with every day that passes not to go all the way. Everything feels more intense as if I need more from every kiss and every touch. Fred and I have been together for more than six months, but if I listen to the other witches talk, some of them have had sex with their boyfriends far sooner. I'm worried Fred might think I'm too much of a prude."
George grinned and shook his head emphatically. "Trust me, Granger. He doesn't think that. You know he's also a virgin, right?"
"I know," she nodded, biting her lip. "But it's different for guys, isn't it?"
"I think it differs from person to person, but the most important thing is that you go at a pace that feels natural for you."
"Have you and Angelina done it yet?" Hermione asked, knowing this was none of her business and that he had every right not to answer her question.
George gave a firm nod but didn't look her in the eye when he said, "We have."
"And was she your first?"
He heaved a sigh. "Merlin's balls..."
"Sorry…that's none of my business," she said. "I don't mean to pry, but I swear there's a point to all these questions."
George looked up at her with resignation written over his features. She didn't quite understand that look. "No. Angelina wasn't my first."
Hermione's stomach lurched uncomfortably. For some reason, she hated that he'd been with more than one witch. Why did it even matter? He wasn't hers.
"This next question will probably be the most awkward, but overhearing girl talk has made me feel insecure and right now, I don't know what to believe anymore."
George scoffed. "What could possibly make you feel insecure, Granger? You're perfect." He blushed bright red and cleared his throat, "I mean, objectively speaking."
"Thanks…" she grinned sheepishly. "That's really sweet of you to say. But I've heard this specific topic being discussed way too many times not to wonder if it's something I should consider. But that might mean I'd need your help. And it could help you and Fred, too. For your WonderWitch line."
"Granger," he interrupted her, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You're rambling."
"Sorry," she grimaced. "But this is a sensitive topic."
"Why don't you start with what you overheard the other witches talking about."
Hermione's cheeks flamed with mortification, and she hid her face behind her hands, groaning, "Gods, this might be the most embarrassing moment of my life."
George took her hands gently and placed them in her lap. The look he gave her was so tender that she couldn't help but feel bolstered. Safe to confide in him.
"It seems wizards prefer witches to have no hair…down there…" she pointed between her thighs. "For various intimate reasons."
"Oh!" George's eyes widened and he coughed a laugh.
Hermione glared at him. "Don't laugh, Georgie. This is serious. I need to know if that's what Fred will expect for our first time."
"I'm not laughing," he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from doing just that. "It was unexpected, that's all."
The two of them stopped talking as a sixth-year student shuffled past them with an arm full of books.
"So?" she demanded impatiently when they were alone again. "Is it true?"
He shrugged. "I mean…that really depends on the wizard. Just like any other personal preference, inside and outside the bedroom, some like their witches bare. Others don't care either way."
"And you?" she asked before she could think better of it. "What do you prefer?"
George groaned and dragged a hand down his face as if she were testing his limits. He exhaled a heavy breath and his shoulders dropped. "I'm not sure Fred's expecting that from you," he hedged. "Maybe with time, you two will learn and grow together. Try new—"
"Oh, my gods," Hermione huffed a laugh. "You don't want to admit that you like your witches bare, do you?"
"Fuck, Granger," he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "This is not about what I like."
"But if you prefer bare to b-b-bush," she stuttered with embarrassment. She's never blushed so much in her life. "Then chances are Fred might, too."
"Maybe," he relented and cocked his head to the side to scrutinise her. "But I'll ask again. What do you want? This will be your first time as well. Your feelings and thoughts matter too."
That was a fair statement, she supposed.
But what did she want?
Perhaps she wanted to fit in. Be prepared. Drive Fred crazy and sweep him off his feet for their first time…at least appearance-wise. She'd gathered from all her eavesdropping that it wasn't very enjoyable for the witch the first time she had sex. It was painful…uncomfortable and awkward. And if the wizard was inexperienced, it might not even last very long.
"I want you to help me create a hair removal potion," she stated decisively. "You can add it to your WonderWitch product line if it works."
"You're sure about this?" he asked, scrutinizing her for any signs of doubt. "This is what you want?"
"I'm sure." she offered him a firm, unwavering nod.
"Then I guess we've got work to do."
xxx
While Hermione's parents were well aware by now that she had a steady boyfriend, she still had to lie and say she was staying at the Burrow when she wanted to spend the weekend at Fred's apartment.
They would never allow their sixteen-year-old daughter to stay the night at her boyfriend's house without parental supervision.
After losing her virginity to Fred during her fifth year, there hadn't been another opportunity to have sex especially when Umbridge was watching the students' every move.
Fred and George had left school shortly after exams had started, granting Hermione no warning. She'd found out along with Harry, Ron and Ginny, and for an entire week, hadn't responded to any of his owls.
They'd made up after some proper grovelling from Fred via owl - the twins had been so busy getting their joke shop up and running that there was hardly time for Fred to come and see her.
For the remainder of her fifth year, they'd only managed to meet up twice on Hogsmeade weekends for a coffee and a quick lunch before he had to head back to the joke shop. Needless to say, it had put quite a bit of strain on their relationship.
The summer holidays were a godsend. She and Fred needed this time together. Her sixth year without him at school was going to be challenging; she had no idea how often they'd find the time to see each other. While Fred assured her everything would work itself out once he settled into his new routine, she wasn't as sure.
Fred had convinced Hermione to treat him to a few run-of-the-mill Muggle experiences, and they'd spent the entire day at the beach, soaking up some sun and messing around in the cool water. George and Angelina had come along, making it a double date.
For lunch, she'd bought hotdogs and soft-serve ice cream for everyone, and with a full belly, she'd settled on her towel under the umbrella, dozing lazily with Fred beside her.
Hermione hadn't been amped about Fred's suggestion to invite George and Angelina along, because she had the strangest feeling Angelina didn't like her much. She had no idea why; they barely knew each other and hadn't spent much time in each other's company. But after today, Angelina had made her animosity toward Hermione crystal clear.
When Fred commented on how much he liked Hermione's bikini, Angelina made a snarky comment about Hermione's lack of curves and how she could use some sun. Fred then pointed out how Hermione filled out her bikini top better than Angelina.
While Angelina had a perfectly toned and curvy body, she hadn't been blessed with an ample bosom, like Hermione.
George had made the mistake of laughing at Fred's comment. And for the rest of the day, when Fred and George were out of earshot, Angelina continued doling out passive-aggressive insults to Hermione.
At last, the torturous double date was over, and while George and Angelina had gone out for dinner, Hermione and Fred had the apartment to themselves.
Fred pushed her dress up to her waist, pulled her knickers off and unbuckled his belt, tossing it over his shoulder. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've replayed our first time in my head, champing at the bit to get you all to myself again?" he murmured. "And seeing you in that bloody bikini today, knowing I couldn't just whisk you away and ravage you…" He squeezed his eyes shut and growled at the memory.
They were both very eager to have sex again after their only time at Hogwarts. There were many nights over the last month when she'd missed Fred so much, yearned to have him touch her and make love to her, that she'd ended up with her hand in her knickers to get rid of the constant ache between her thighs. It was not the same as having him inside her, and she was finally getting what she'd been craving.
Fred was just about to unbutton his trousers, his hands shaking with anticipation, when the front door of the apartment opened.
They startled, and Fred hurriedly covered her with his body to hide how exposed she was.
George and Angelina walked in, stopping short at the sight of them on the couch. "Bloody hell!" George snapped, looking away. "Think you two can take this to the bedroom?" He waved a hand in their general direction. "I do not want to see my brother going at it on the couch with…one of my friends."
Fred tugged Hermione's dress down, stuffed her knickers into his trousers pocket and grabbed his belt from the end of the couch. "Sorry," he smirked, but a hint of pink coloured his cheeks. "We didn't think you'd be back so soon."
"The point is," George grumbled, still looking at anything but them, "I want to relax on that couch without worrying about what's happened on it in my absence."
Angelina leaned into George, and while pinning Hermione with a smug stare over his shoulder, said in George's ear, "I know just how to distract you." She hooked her finger in George's belt loop and pulled him after her toward the bedroom while Hermione and Fred stared after them.
In the end, she and Fred had to cast a Muffliato to drown out the lewd noises coming from George's bedroom. Angelina had made it her mission to be loud, and whatever she'd been doing to George must have been mind-blowing, because he hadn't been quiet either.
It was gross. Crass, even, but Fred had known exactly how to get her back in the mood for sex.
Unlike George and Angelina, Hermione and Fred had the decency to silence their room before they started undressing each other. They hadn't rushed the foreplay and made love over and over until well after midnight, making up for lost time.
"Sorry," George whispered when he walked into the small kitchen where Hermione was chugging a glass of water at the sink. "Didn't know anyone was awake."
She'd woken up a few minutes ago with a full bladder. After using the loo, she'd sneaked into the kitchen for some water wearing only Fred's Gryffindor Quidditch jersey, not expecting to run into anyone.
He noticed her attire and promptly redirected his attention, but his blush was evident in the low light from the lamp in the living room.
Feeling exposed, Hermione tugged at the hem of the jersey to make sure nothing inappropriate was showing and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't wearing a bra and hoped George hadn't noticed.
While knowing better, she scoffed at his statement and said, "How could anyone sleep through all the noise you and Angelina were making?" She nudged her chin toward George's bedroom door. "I think all of Diagon Alley heard you two."
He cocked his head, gauging her expression for a moment. His lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. "Apologies. We'll try to remember the silencing charm next time."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You know you're one of my best friends, Georgie. But you've been a dick ever since you walked into this apartment last night. The George that I know wouldn't go out of his way to make people uncomfortable by having obnoxiously loud sex. We could hear everything clearly; it was as if Fred and I were in the room with you two."
He bristled and fixed her with a peevish glare. "Please, Granger. As if you and Fred were being considerate while dry-humping on my bloody couch."
"It's Fred's couch too. And we thought you and Angelina would be home late since you said you were going out for the evening," she accused.
"Yeah, well…" he faltered. "Plans change."
"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "I'm going back to bed. But when I close the bedroom door quietly, I want you to picture me slamming it loudly enough to rattle the windows."
George snorted a laugh in response, his ire evaporating in the blink of an eye. "Gods, you're cute when you're angry."
"How dare you," she gasped indignantly. "I'm bloody terrifying when I'm angry, not cute." But a grin followed despite her best attempts to remain angry with him.
Fred's bedroom door opened, and he shuffled sleepily into the kitchen. He grabbed her used glass, filling it with water. When he'd downed half, he turned to them, looking adorably dishevelled and confused, "What are you two doing? It's almost three in the bloody morning."
"I was just lecturing your brother on propriety and volume control," Hermione explained evenly and crossed her arms, waiting for Fred to concur.
"Yeah, man," he hitched a brow at George in reprimand. "That wasn't cool. At least cast a silencing charm next time. I have no desire to hear what my brother sounds like while in the throes of passion with his girlfriend. That's disturbing."
"Noted," George said dryly. "As long as you and Granger keep things innocent outside the bedroom."
"Deal," Fred conceded with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He turned to Hermione and slipped his arm around her waist. "Come back to bed, sugar tits. It's way too cold without you next to me."
"Call me sugar tits again," she warned, planting her hands on her hips, "And you'll find out how cold the couch can be."
xxx
"I think they're arguing," Hermione said to Fred as they waited in line at the rollercoaster while George and Angelina were having a heated discussion over by the candy floss booth.
Just like at the beach, Angelina has been hurling snide comments at Hermione all night long. While she'd refrained from critiquing Hermione's body or appearance this time, she was subtly voicing her disdain for Hermione's choice of Muggle activities tonight.
"Yes, well…" Fred pursed his lips. "She's been unpleasant since we arrived, and George has been biting his tongue the entire time. "I guess she's finally pushed him too far."
"Are you having fun, at least?" She asked, feeling stupid for bringing Fred to the amusement park in Surrey. Perhaps it had been a childish idea.
"I was having a brilliant time until…" he trailed off, jerking his chin in Angelina's direction. "I don't know what her problem is, but it's grating on my nerves."
"I think—" she started to tell Fred about the way Angelina has been treating her lately, but cut off when George marched over to them, shoulders stiff and jaw clenched. He looked pissed off, and apparently the conversation with Angelina hadn't gone well.
"Angie and I are going to head home. She's…not feeling well," George lied. "But you two have fun. Don't rush on account of us." His gaze flicked to Hermione. "Thanks for bringing us here." He gestured toward the amusement park. "I had one hell of a time. Maybe we'll come back again, yeah?"
"Sure," she grinned half-heartedly. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
Hermione only heard about George and Angelina's break up a few days later when Fred explained why he was planning a guys' night out to cheer George up. It turned out George didn't much care for the way Angelina was behaving towards Hermione. While it sucked that George was single again and would probably feel like a third wheel for a while, Hermione couldn't help but appreciate that George had stood up for her.
END OF FLASHBACK
"I've been thinking…" Daphne said as she and Hermione walked down the road toward their favourite little restaurant while the late afternoon sun baked warm and golden against their skin.
The wind whipped Hermione's hair into a tangled halo around her head and curled between her legs to press her sundress tightly to her calves.
Daphne stopped in the middle of the street, closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air, "That we should forget about Healing and embrace Barbados as our new home." She turned to Hermione, cheeks glowing golden after an entire week spent in the sun and blue eyes glittering like the tropical waters behind her. "Who in their right mind would pick dreary London over this?" She stretched out her arms to point out the breathtaking paradise that was Bathsheba.
Hermione grinned indulgently at her friend. "And how do you suggest we make a living? I'm sure your parents will have something to say about the two of us taking up permanent residence in his summer home."
"Pfft," Daphne waved away Hermione's concern. "I'll camp out on the beach if my parents have a problem with it."
Hermione turned her gaze toward the azure waters with its white-capped waves that rolled out onto the golden shores to caress the warm sand with the same gentleness of two lovers embracing.
The palm trees leaned sideways from years spent battling against tropical winds and rain. And the houses against the cliffs, pressed into the green background like little white tiles, beckoned Hermione to stay. To become part of a lifestyle that called for hats, sunglasses and dresses all year round. This paradise where everything was possible and where nothing seemed complicated.
But nothing was as simple as it seemed. Even here, far from home, memories followed her around. Invaded her sleep and clung to the vestiges of her dreams as the bright morning light beckoned her into consciousness.
Hermione was startled when Daphne's cool hand curled around her wrist. Her blue eyes were serious when they met Hermione's. With a bitter-sweet smile, she said, "I know, Granger. Things are rarely as simple as packing up and leaving behind all the complications."
Hermione sighed warily. "I felt like I had all my ducks in a row before Fred died. Before George and I happened. I had my future lined up: Gringotts or St Mungos. I knew I'd marry Fred eventually, even if we were way too young when he proposed. It was never a question of 'if', but rather 'when'. I had my friends. Had the Weasleys for family."
Daphne didn't say a word. She waited patiently for Hermione to continue.
"And then Fred was lying pale and broken on the floor in the Great Hall next to all the others who'd fought so valiantly but met their demise anyway. With my engagement ring in his pocket instead of on my finger, because I said no." Hermione swallowed convulsively to keep her tears at bay. It didn't work. She swiped angrily at her cheeks. "And before I could wrap my mind around the fact that he was gone forever, we were lowering him into a grave and smiling at random people as they asked us if we were 'okay'." She scoffed bitterly. "That stupid fucking word. How could any of us be 'okay' after losing Fred?"
Daphne's bottom lip trembled, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears as she slipped her arm around Hermione to draw her into a comforting embrace that made maintaining her composure infinitely harder. With her chin resting on Daphne's shoulder, she mumbled, "Makes it sound as if Fred's death was the same as stubbing a toe or burning your tongue when your tea is too hot." She hiccupped. "And then George comes along, making everything so much harder."
"Is this thing with George truly as complicated as you think?" Daphne asked hesitantly.
"It's like I'm a moth and he's the flame," Hermione explained the best way she knew how. "I can't stay away from him, even knowing the consequences."
"And what if he feels that way about you?"
"It doesn't matter. My history with Fred means George and I can't be anything other than friends."
"It's been more than a year since Fred passed. Don't you think that's enough time that a relationship with George might be feasible?"
"I'm not willing to risk losing the only family I have left. They've always been there for me when I needed them."
"I suppose I get that," Daphne nodded sagely, "But for what it's worth, I think George is crazy about you. He has 'husband-eyes' whenever he looks at you."
Hermione wiped her eyes and laughed wetly, retreating from Daphne's hug. "You're ridiculous. You've seen us together a total of two times."
"Exactly," she said smugly. "That's how obvious it is."
Hermione ignored the comment. "I just have to stay five feet from him at all times, so we don't end up in bed together again."
After she'd pulled herself together, Hermione and Daphne enjoyed a nice meal while watching the sunset, before they headed home to relax on the balcony of the Greengrass' beachfront Manor with a bottle of vintage, elf-made wine.
xxx
"I was thinking fish and chips?" George said by way of greeting when Hermione met him for lunch at the second-floor waiting area.
Ariadne Tuffin, supervising Healer for Creature-Induced Injuries, was much more considerate than Merrick Stymie had been with lunches and tea breaks, and never kept them after their shifts ended.
Having regular meals had afforded Hermione some much-needed curves. Even Molly was somewhat appeased, although she maintained that a few more pounds wouldn't hurt.
"I'm so hungry I'd eat just about anything right now," she said and hooked her arm through his as he steered her toward the elevators."
Since Hermione and Daphne returned from Barbados five months ago, she and George had maintained a platonic relationship, steering clear of any situations that could land them in bed together. At first, she found it difficult not to look at him and remember what it felt like to be in his arms. But with time, it became easier.
He often took her out to lunch or dinner when she worked, and the few times she couldn't afford to slip away because Ariadne needed all hands on deck (even when she never explicitly said so), George would drop off something for her to eat when she had the time.
He'd come over to cook for Daphne and her when they were too absorbed in cramming for examinations to think about trivial things like food and showers. He'd give her a foot rub after a long day on her feet and stay to 'watch TV' with her while she slept through the entire movie because she couldn't keep her eyes open. She'd wake up in her bed the next morning, apartment clean and tidy except for a letter from George wishing her a great day at work.
He'd make a great husband someday. It was a pity he wouldn't be hers.
With her overflowing schedule, it helped that they often hung out in a group so she could find time to see all her friends. The downside to this was spending so much time around couples—none of their friends were single. It was hard not to see the appeal of having George as her boyfriend, and she wanted so much to ignore the consequences of choosing to have a romantic relationship with him.
While Hermione had been delighted to find out that Ron and Daphne were dating, she'd expected them to rush into intimacy and be hot and heavy right off the bat. But according to Daphne, there had been no 'sleepovers' yet. This was saying something, as Daphne had no reservations about casual hookups.
She seemed rather serious about Ron and seeing them together was adorable.
"Any interesting cases today?" George asked when he settled in across from Hermione at their table.
The Witching Well was a new restaurant that had opened in Diagon Alley a little over three months ago and they were hooked from the first bite. It was an adorable little brick restaurant with moss-covered walls, fairies drifting close to the ceiling to provide intimate lighting, and a perpetual mist hovered over the flagstone floors. They served your garden-variety foods, like burgers or the fish and chips they were having today, but the menu also offered the most magical foods that looked like little displays of artwork on plates.
"I reattached a leg today. The patient had a run-in with a Chimera and barely escaped with his life," she told George while she broke off the tail end of her battered fish and stuffed it into her mouth. It was hot and crunchy and perfectly seasoned. "I don't think he'll ever recover completely. Might have a limp."
"That sucks," George frowned. He seemed a little distracted today.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he straightened in his chair and focused his attention on her.
"Come on, Georgie," she cocked her head and watched him dubiously. "I can read you better than you think. Something's up."
He sighed resignedly. "I ran into Angelina this morning as I headed back to work. I grabbed a coffee on the way from meeting with a new supplier, and when I walked out of the door, we sort of…collided as she came in."
"Oh," Hermione responded cautiously. She was sure there was more to it, and even more sure that she wasn't going to like it.
"She asked me on a date," he continued.
And…there it was…
She didn't like it one fucking bit.
Hermione frowned down at her fish and chips, suddenly not hungry anymore. "And what did you say?"
"I said I'd let her know…"
Well, at least he hadn't accepted…yet.
"Why didn't you say yes?" she asked with a toxic curiosity. Why couldn't she let it go? Be happy he wasn't eager to jump back into the dating scene with one of his exes. If he was considering it; if Angelina wanted to give a relationship with George another try, there had to be some measure of attraction that still existed between them.
Fucking Angelina Johnson.
Athletic, curvy, sexy.
"Hey," George coaxed her from her inner meltdown. "If you don't want me to date her, you can tell me."
Almost defensively, Hermione replied, "Why wouldn't I want you to date her? You're single. She's single. There's obviously still some spark between you two if she asked you out."
"I just thought maybe—" he cut off with a scoff and clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed with her. "Whatever. Let's not talk about this anymore."
"Fine," Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
"Good." He bit out, glaring at her.
They were locked in a silent stare-down and she hated it. He was the most important person in her life, and fighting with him unsettled her. Why couldn't she just be honest with him?
But it always circled back to the same, tired reasons. Even so, they'd managed to keep things platonic for five fucking months. Eventually, they would have to start dating; there wasn't a future for them as anything more than friends.
Hermione got up, suddenly feeling miserable and weary and gutted. "I think I should get back, George. But thanks for lunch," she said and fished a few coins out of her pocket to pay for their meal.
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "Don't be ridiculous, Granger." He waved away her offer to pay. "I don't want your money."
She ignored him, placing the coins on the table between them, itching to piss him off and desperately wanting to fix things at the same time.
But she needed time alone with her thoughts.
"You should owl her and say yes to that date."
He scratched the stubble on his chin irritably and sighed but didn't respond.
xxx
"Well, what did you expect?" Daphne asked and planted her feet on Hermione's coffee table. She lifted her wine glass to her lips to take a large sip and turned to Hermione. "Neither of you has the balls to have a go at a relationship. So…eventually you'll have to start seeing other people."
Hermione growled.
"Oh, come on, Granger. Did you really think a platonic relationship with you would be enough to satisfy George for the rest of his life? The man has needs that are not being met. And if you're only going to keep pushing him away, you'll need to start dating too. Take your vagina off the shelf, wipe away the cobwebs and put it to good use. I'm telling you; a good shag will do you wonders. It will stop you from pining for George and simultaneously show him you're 'serious' about only being friends."
"I'm not pining for him, Daph. And my vagina stays on the shelf. I've got enough to keep me occupied right now."
A woosh and a burst of green flames announced a visitor, and a second later, George stepped out of her fireplace, hair messy as if he'd repeatedly run his fingers through it.
"Hi Daph," he greeted wearily and gave Hermione a stiff nod. "Can we talk, Granger?"
"Merlin, would you look at the time," Daphne said, glancing at her bare wrist with feigned interest. "I have to meet up with Ron." She unceremoniously plopped her wine glass onto the coffee table and stood up from the couch. With a wink, she said, "See you at work tomorrow," before disappearing into the fireplace.
"I don't want to fight with you," he said earnestly and settled in beside her on the couch. "I hate it when we leave things unresolved."
"I'm sorry, Georgie. I didn't mean to get angry with you," she caved. "It was a surprise, that's all. We'll have to start dating at some point, and I don't want to hold you back. Selfishly, I like having you all to myself, but that's not fair to either of us."
He watched her for a moment, brown eyes guarded. "I shouldn't have brought it up when I wasn't even sure about my decision yet. But I said I'd let her know because I don't think I'm ready to start dating again. Specifically, Angelina. We broke up for a reason, and nothing has changed since then. It would be stupid to consider a relationship with her when I know how it will end."
Thanks to Fred, she knew it had something to do with how Angelina had treated her back then but didn't know the specifics. George had never brought it up, and she'd never asked. She knew he'd tell her if he wanted her to know; it must be personal if he kept mum about it.
"Angelina isn't the only single witch in London, Georgie."
He cocked his head at her and pursed his lips reprovingly. "Did you not hear what I said?"
"Not ready to date. Yes, I heard you. But that will change eventually."
"Eventually," he concurred, reaching for the telly remote and turning it on. "But I'm content with my life as it is right now."
His words settled the discontent from their earlier argument, and she silently agreed with him. Things were perfect; nothing needed to change for the time being. If she had her way, she'd sit like this, right there on the couch with him forever.
xxx
"What on Godric's green earth are you doing?" Hermione asked, hands on her hips as she watched George. "I leave the room for two minutes and this is what you get up to?"
He was sitting on her couch, playing with a condom.
He frowned as he stretched the rolled-up latex close to breaking point. "Smells funny," he sniffed it cautiously and scrunched his nose. "Like strawberry…but also rubber? What is it?"
"If you don't know what it is, why are you playing with it?" she challenged.
"I was looking for a tissue in your purse," he said distractedly. His hand slipped and the condom propelled across the room to land near the front door.
"And obviously you succeeded in your mission," she told him sarcastically. "Well done, you. But that's a condom you have there."
"What does it do?" He rubbed his fingers together, looking confused. "It's rather oily, isn't it?"
Hermione walked over to the sink in her small kitchen, grabbed the roll of paper towels and tossed it at him. "It's a Muggle form of contraception. Also protects you from sexually transmitted diseases."
"And how would one go about using it?" he asked curiously.
She sighed and turned to retrieve a cucumber from the fridge. Gods, this was going to be mortifying.
With a flick of her wand, she summoned the abused condom from its landing place. "The man rolls it over his penis when erect. Like so." She blushed but soldiered on regardless. She pinched the tip of the condom between two fingers and rolled the latex over the cucumber. "The ejaculate collects at the tip during climax, and after the deed is done, you remove it, tie it at the end and toss it in the trash."
"What happens if the condom breaks?" he asked sceptically, eyes volleying between the cucumber and her. "Can it break?"
"Yes, it can break." She walked over and handed him the cucumber. "And I think the consequences are obvious."
"Right." He nodded to himself; eyes fixed on the latex-covered cucumber in his hand. He prodded the red tip of the condom warily. "Sounds dodgy if you ask me."
"That's why you're supposed to take care when putting it on. If you don't pinch the tip while rolling it on, air can get trapped inside. And then…" she trailed off, hitching her shoulder.
"Is this the thing you were talking about that night in the loo at the Leaky?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes." She looked down at her feet, hiding her burning cheeks from him as she tried not to think about that night.
He huffed a laugh. "Good thing we didn't use it, then. Right?"
"Yep." She nodded at the floor, praying for a subject change.
"Whelp," he said, doing just that as if he could see right through her. "Should we get going?"
"Gods, yes!" She heaved a sigh of relief and practically sprinted to the fireplace.
They were headed to the Burrow for lunch, and after the awkward conversation they'd just had, nothing sounded better than company.
xxx
"Help me out here, Granger," George frowned. "You started Hogwarts at age eleven, right? Young and innocent. Never heard of the birds and bees at that point, I assume. And you lost your virginity to Fred."
"Right…" Hermione nodded cautiously, wary of the point he was trying to make.
"How is it that you know so much about condoms, then?"
Of course, this was where their conversation was headed.
George had convinced her to take him 'condom browsing' in Muggle London and she'd stupidly indulged him. Serves her right to be cross-questioned like this. It was all her bloody fault. But when she'd let him loose in an aisle with shelves full of different condoms, he'd looked like a boy on Christmas morning.
He's been inspecting the different brands and types intently for the last fifteen minutes.
"My parents took me to a family planning clinic after I introduced them to Fred for the first time. They thought it better to be safe than sorry."
"Makes sense, I suppose," George nodded sagely. "But how did you learn to use them so confidently? Your demonstration the other day suggested some experience."
"Oh, my gods, George. Is this really what you want to talk about? Out of a thousand better topics, you latch onto this one."
"I think it's rather appropriate since we're here to buy condoms."
"You said you only wanted to browse. See the different kinds available."
He shrugged evenly, "Potato, potahto," and resumed his browsing.
This had been a stupid idea.
"Pleasure Max?" he commented loudly, selecting a box, and then another, from the shelf. "Taste me?"
He looked from the box already in his left hand, to the newest one in his right hand.
All the patrons in hearing range (the entire bloody aisle) looked their way.
"Oh, my gods, keep it down, will you?" she chided waspishly. "Everyone can hear you."
"Sorry, sorry," he apologised cheekily to the onlookers.
"Oh look!" he whispered excitedly and dumped his selections into Hermione's arms to inspect another box. "Invisible!" He turned back to Hermione, awestruck.
At least he'd forgotten what they were talking about before.
"But if they're invisible, how do you find them? Or put one on?"
She chuckled indulgently. "They're not actually invisible. Just very thin, that's all."
"Thinner than the one I found in your purse the other day?"
She offered a firm nod. "Yes."
He frowned at the box. "Why would anyone want a thinner condom? That's asking to get your witch pregnant."
Hermione's stomach gave a dangerous flutter. She squashed the burgeoning mental image before it turned into a ridiculous daydream starring George, her and the thinnest condom on the planet. Not the best thing right now…
"It enhances the sensation," she explained. "Condoms tend to make the guy 'feel' less during sex."
"Cooling condoms?" he asked over his shoulder, cocking a brow in question. "How does that even work?"
"No!" she practically shouted. Attracting attention again, she lowered her voice before George and she were asked to leave the store. "Don't ever use those. It's not a nice feeling for the witch."
"Aha!" he whispered accusingly. "I knew you've used them before. But I thought you and Fred—" he faltered.
She rolled her eyes and sighed resignedly. "If Fred was my first and only…until you…how do you think I learned to use them?"
"Books?" he asked innocently.
She shook her head, "Think, George…"
It took him a second. His lightbulb moment and his embarrassment were one. "Oh…"
Yes, oh.
"I'm going to regret asking this, but why did Fred know how to use them?"
Hermione blushed. "Much like you, he played with them. Broke a fair few in the process, but eventually, he got the hang of it."
George hummed his acknowledgement, deep in thought.
She'd pay big money to know what was going on in his head.
"All righty then," he said after a moment. "Shall we pay and get out of here?"
"Are you—" she gaped at him and then at the condom boxes in her arms.
"Going to buy them all?" he finished for her. With an impertinent grin and a wink at her, he announced, "Yes. Yes, I am."
Her face fell. "What are you going to do with all of them?"
He gave her a look that suggested she was slow on the uptake but answered anyway. "Play with them. Perhaps use some of them eventually. Why?"
She bit her tongue and shook her head instead of answering. What if he was buying condoms so he and Angelina could try them out together? She honestly had no idea if there had been any developments since Angelina asked him out a few weeks back. This was none of her business. She had no right to be jealous. George was a great guy. He deserved a witch who'd make him happy.
"Just be careful, Georgie," she told him seriously. If he got Angelina pregnant, or Godric forbid a witch he barely knew, it would make his life very complicated.