First of all, shoutout to all of you who gave me date ideas! They helped so much. Some of them were some I'd considered myself but wasn't sure if they'd be weird or farfetched so that helps. You're all amazing!
I'm other news, I'm several chapters ahead in my other series, so I'm focusing solely on this story at the moment. As long as I don't get burnt out on writing, I should get ahead again on this as well.
melissag13: Thank you so much! That last chapter was my favorite to write. I just adore their dynamic at the moment.
RoonieTunes: Ahhhh! Isn't George the best? My real motivation in life is to get people to fall in love with the Weasley twins the way I have. They're just perfect. I agree that Ron is being a big baby, but it's so fun for me to write hahaha. I love the drama of it, and he always was a bit immature in the books.
Bookcozy: Oh God, I agree, George is just perfect. A wildly underrated character, and I just adored writing him in the last chapter. Plus I really loved writing the Molly/George scene. She definitely handled things poorly when they were younger, but I really do adore the way she loves all of her children. She deserves a slight redemption. As a side note, I haven't read Fourth Wing yet, but it's on my TBR. It might have to be my next read because everyone is so hyped about it LOL.
Chapter Ten
The Burrow was crowded and loud that following Sunday when family dinner had come around. Hermione found herself quite exhausted — working at the shop had that ability apparently, regardless of how much coffee she drank — and she had taken to sitting in a corner of the living room with a book rather than participating in conversation around her.
It had been a hectic end to the week. The twins had scheduled interviews over the weekend, which had required her and Verity to be on the floor for the majority of the previous day. Neither twin seemed fond of that idea, but with July coming to a close, and Hermione's job at the Ministry looming closer, they'd been forced to make some sacrifices.
They hadn't liked a single prospect so far, citing temperament and patience as the main reasoning, and while Hermione agreed that a certain level of patience was required to work there, she highly suspected that what they were really looking for was someone patient enough to handle Eugene. The eight year old was there nearly every day, and neither Fred nor George would explain to her where his parents were, why they allowed him to use their products willy nilly, or why they were practically glorified babysitters where Eugene was concerned.
All they said when she asked — or demanded, more like — was that there were "special circumstances" at play.
She was going to tear their office apart in an attempt to understand those special circumstances because she'd never met an eight-year-old who was such a terror before. Granted, she'd never really spent time around children before; both of her parents were also only children, so she didn't have so much as a cousin to have grown up with, and she'd not gotten on well with any of the children from primary school. She'd long since learned that her personality tended to be a bit off-putting for other people her age, particularly when she'd been younger.
Most children wanted to play outside, not be subjected to hours of reading a dusty book on biology that they'd found in the very back of the library.
As it was, she and Eugene did not get on well. They'd made an equally bad impression on each other that first day, and it had become clear that that impression was going to last quite awhile. Something Fred and George seemed to find amusing despite the fact that it led to her screaming at Eugene at least three times a day and being covered by putrid green goop (he was "experimenting like Fred and George" by coming up with horrid concoctions intended to be "bogies") whenever she did not react quick enough to dodge them. Her reflexes were becoming quite sharp, which would have been more satisfying if they weren't being used to dodge around rampant children and dive out of the way from Eugene.
In any case, the day before had been exhausting. Saturdays at the shop were an all hands on deck sort of situation, and though the twins had scheduled interviews for the slowest part of the day, it still felt like she'd been run over. By the time she'd come back the evening before, she'd only had the energy to eat a bowl of stew and then drag herself upstairs and fall into bed. She hardly felt like she'd gotten much rest at all for the day, but Mrs. Weasley wasn't a fan of anyone sleeping past nine on Sundays because there was too much to be done before everyone arrived.
At the moment Hermione understood her level of stress; there were so many people at the house that she had a hard time finding anywhere to relax. Sunday dinners had become an ordeal with seven children and all of their fiances piling into one house. It had been loud before, but Hermione was certain that the Muggles could hear them from town at this point.
Mrs. Weasley had commandeered the kitchen, forcing anyone who wasn't helping peel carrots and parsnips out of her way. The twins, Harry, Ron, Charlie, Katie, Bill, and Ginny had all long since ventured outside to play a game of Quidditch in the paddock. Mr. Weasley was subjecting Percy's fiance, Audrey, who was also Muggleborn, to a cascade of questions about the purpose of batteries and microwaves.
Hermione had avoided that section of the living room since she'd heard his original question about toasters, but she had to hand it to Audrey — she had the patience of a saint. It boded well for Percy that this was the case because he'd long since been boring Charlie's fiance, Lydia, to tears with a lecture about the importance of Apparition restrictions.
Hermione typically got along quite well with Percy, but she'd avoided him as well for the purposes of sitting in silence. Once he got going, it was hard to get him to stop and she was in no mood to discuss Apparition and flying carpet regulations.
Hermione had no idea where Romilda was. She ignored her presence as best she could, particularly because she was going around showing everyone her new ring. She had no idea what it looked like and didn't want to know.
She simply buried her nose in one of her romance novels that she'd charmed to appear like a Transfiguration text and went on about her day. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Percy stand and excuse himself and nearly laughed when Lydia looked around frantically for someone else to speak to before he got back.
Her gaze dropped to Hermione's book, and she hesitated, but ultimately seemed to decide that a conversation about Transfiguration was much safer than one about Ministry regulations because she hurried over and took a seat across from her.
"Hermione, right?" she said without preamble.
It was the work of a lifetime to smooth out her smirk before she looked up at her. She hadn't talked to the older girl much since the pairings had been made, but she seemed nice enough. She was loud and independent, and beautiful in a way that made it hard not to look at her. She was blonde, her hair shoulder-length and stick-straight, the bridge of her nose smattered with freckles and her eyes a deep shade of blue. She had the look of a person who was religious about taking care of her body, which likely appealed to Charlie, who was quite fit himself, though Hermione supposed one had to be in order to work with dragons.
Charlie had gotten lucky as far as Hermione could tell. Lydia did not appear overly concerned by his comings and goings, more interested in going about her day however she saw fit, and seeing as Charlie had had no interest in being married, it seemed to fit that he'd be paired with someone so laid back and independent.
"Yes," Hermione said, trying not to appear disappointed that she'd been interrupted just when the book had started getting good. "How have you been?"
"Fine, other than that horrid conversation with Percy —" she paused, wincing to herself. "Sorry, I mean, he's great. I mean, there's nothing wrong with him, and I know the two of you get on well so I don't mean to sound — everyone here is great. It's just that —"
Hermione blinked at her in surprise, taking pity on her by cutting her off.
"There's a time and place for flying carpet regulations, I get it," she said, though, if she were being totally honest, she'd found part of what Percy had been saying fascinating. But she'd seen the way everyone else reacted to his speeches, so she pretended not to be as interested as she truly was.
Lydia sighed, rubbing at her eyes.
"Sorry, I tend to put my foot in my mouth," she said apologetically. "Big family and all that — it sort of eliminates the part of you that's quiet and reserved, you know?"
"Not really," Hermione said, though she'd noticed the same could be said of any of the Weasley children. "I'm an only child."
Lydia gaped at her.
"You're joking," she said as if the thought of such a thing were abhorrent. "I couldn't imagine. Far too much silence to hear your own thoughts when there's no one screaming outside your door about how your sister borrowed the other's sweater without asking."
Hermione snorted.
"Reading eliminates the thoughts just fine," she said. At least the anxious ones.
Lydia eyed her book cautiously.
"I'll take your word for it," she said, clearing her throat. "You're engaged to Fred? No, wait — it's George. I've a hard time telling them apart. Personality wise, I mean, because obviously George doesn't have the ear." She winced to herself again. "Great, Lydia, keep talking."
Hermione couldn't help herself and burst out laughing. She'd never met someone so willing to say every thought in their head. Except maybe Luna Lovegood, but she might have had a screw loose somewhere. Lydia appeared quite cognizant however.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, still laughing to herself. "I just — I'm not used to someone saying everything they're thinking out loud."
Lydia smiled weakly at her.
"Character flaw, so I'm told," she said. "It happens when I'm nervous."
Hermione's brow furrowed.
"Why are you nervous?"
"Because Percy might come back out here and lecture us both about carpet regulations," she deadpanned. "But also because this whole thing is just a bit weird, you know? Don't get me wrong, the Weasley's are great, but every time I'm here I sort of feel like I'm having an out of body experience."
That was putting things a bit lightly as far as Hermione was concerned. She still wasn't sure she believed the entire thing, and she'd been listening to wedding talk from Mrs. Weasley for the last several weeks. The woman was working herself into a tizzy about planning so many events within such a short span of time.
She and George hadn't even discussed anything to do with the wedding. She was fairly certain that they were both pretending it wasn't looming on the horizon for them, but she wasn't about to be the one to bring it up.
Hermione fidgeted with her engagement ring nervously, and Lydia's gaze caught the movement.
"It's very pretty," she said, nodding toward her left hand. Hermione paused, folding her hands in her lap instead. "He's got good taste at least."
Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly.
"Do you have one yet?"
Lydia shook her head.
"No," she said, not sounding at all disappointed by this fact. "I think Mrs. Weasley might have a conniption about that soon, but…well, truthfully, I never really wanted to be married. Neither did Charlie, so we're sort of dragging our feet with everything."
Hermione looked at her in concern.
"Do you get along?"
"Oh, sure!" Lydia said, waving the question away. "Charlie's great! I was lucky, all things considered. As far as I can tell, the Ministry did quite well in determining pairings, but it's the principle of the thing."
She supposed she understood that, although she didn't know if she agreed about the pairings. It was possible that her own anger and sadness was clouding her judgment in that case, but she was still trying to figure out what in the world the Ministry had been thinking in pairing her with George Weasley of all people.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, he appeared in the living room with Fred and Charlie, dressed down in a white T-shirt and jeans. Fred, dressed exactly the same as if the very thought of looking different to George was abhorrent, stood on Charlie's other side. They were ribbing him about something, laughing at the way his ears had colored red, and enticing him with some ridiculous candy they had between them.
She didn't even want to know, but Lydia spoke before she could even formulate what ridiculous product they were pushing now.
"It should be illegal to have so many attractive men come from the same family," Lydia muttered resentfully, eyeing the three men in the doorway with reluctant appreciation.
It was as much surprise by this statement as it was her own reluctant agreement that sent her into a fit of laughter. The sound pulled George's eyes in her direction automatically, and he grinned, loping in their direction. Fred and Charlie followed.
"What's so funny, Granger?" George said, throwing himself into an empty seat. Fred took the only other seat at the table, forcing Charlie to stand behind Lydia.
Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, breathing deeply.
"Nothing," she said, waving the question away. "Just Lydia speaking every thought in her head —"
Charlie snorted.
"Yeah, you should have heard her meet my boss for the first time," he said in exasperation. "She told him that he had a small head for someone his size."
"It was a compliment!" Lydia said indignantly. "And he's very large — it made me a bit anxious. Does he deadlift the dragons on his lunch because I don't see what —"
"Yes, mother, I'll ask her when I head back into the living room."
Lydia stood hastily at the sound of Percy's voice from the kitchen, and pulled Charlie to stand directly in front of her, sinking behind him in an attempt to keep herself hidden from view.
"Is he gone?" she hissed, looking up at Charlie in a panic. She was short, even for a woman, so the difference in their heights was almost comical. "Is he gone, Charlie?"
Charlie had frozen completely as if he weren't entirely sure what was happening and any movement from him might tip the scales in a dangerous direction.
"Is who gone?" he said out of the corner of his mouth, sharing an alarmed look with Fred and George. Hermione covered her mouth to keep from giggling.
"Percy," Lydia said impatiently. "He was in here for hours lecturing me about flying carpets and broomsticks and Portkeys and Merlin knows what else. All while you were off gallivanting on a broomstick —"
Fred and George snickered as she took a hesitant look around Charlie's shoulder. She whipped back to her position quickly.
"You get me out of here, Charlie Weasley," she demanded, poking him in the chest. "I've done a public service already, I'm not doing it again, do you hear me?"
Charlie's lips twitched as he attempted to escape the clutches of his stuffy younger brother. Percy had definitely reentered the room, but Hermione wasn't sure that he was even looking for Lydia to begin with. He seemed quite distracted in having a conversation with Audrey and his father.
"There's something off with her," Fred observed of Lydia when she and Charlie disappeared into the kitchen. He said the words with a hint of laughter in his voice, but he was eyeing the spot that they'd disappeared with appreciation. "I like her."
Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes.
"Of course you do," she deadpanned. "You like anyone who doesn't like Percy."
"Not true," Fred quipped, raising a pointed eyebrow. "I like you and you like Percy."
Hermione blinked at him in surprise.
"You never said you liked me."
"Didn't realize I had to," Fred said with a smirk. "Would you like me to wax poetic? Oh, Hermy, your eyes sparkle like —"
"That's enough," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes. She didn't know why she bothered to begin with. "I get enough of this at work."
She was spared his retort by the appearance of Ginny and Katie, who entered from the kitchen talking about Quidditch.
"I think the Holyhead Harpies are looking for a Chaser actually," Katie was saying to Ginny, who looked like she might fall over from excitement. "That's what Angelina told me anyway. Murphy had a career-ending injury last season. They were hoping she'd be alright to come back but I guess not."
Hermione could tell by the look on Ginny's face that she was going to be looking into trying out, and she hoped Mrs. Weasley didn't lose her head when she found out. Ginny had managed to convince her that she was waiting to apply for jobs until September when school started up again, though she'd really just been scouring the Prophet for Quidditch openings.
When the two of them came within reach, Fred reached out and grabbed Katie by the waist, pulling her into his lap. Hermione raised her eyebrows as Ginny took a seat in the only available chair around the table.
She hadn't spoken to Katie since the last dinner, but she and Fred were clearly quite comfortable with each other. It was enviable. After her outing with George, something had changed between them, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly what. She tried not to overthink it. She had a better understanding of him now, and she chalked it up to that.
They certainly weren't at the point of being physically affectionate in the way that Katie and Fred were, though she supposed they'd been much closer friends than she and George.
Course, everyone else seemed to be more accepting of their relationships now. Percy and Audrey weren't horribly affectionate, but she'd seen him kiss Audrey's cheek when he thought no one was looking. Lydia and Charlie, despite their reticence to marry, were clearly quite comfortable with each other. Everyone seemed to be working their way to accepting what was to come.
Everyone except her.
Her eyes shifted to Ron, who was in the corner with Harry and Romilda. She looked away hastily, reprimanding herself silently. She had to quit doing that. Particularly when George was sitting right next to her.
Katie caught the look, however.
"Have you seen her engagement ring?" she said quietly, leaning forward in Fred's lap. "Perhaps we ought to be grateful you got George. He's got far better taste than Ron."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. She hadn't seen the ring because she'd been avoiding it, but it couldn't be that bad. Ginny grimaced.
"It is a bit hideous," she said. "Though I suppose that she likes it and that's all that matters."
"It's the size of a hippogriff," Katie deadpanned.
Hermione looked pointedly at the ring on the other girl's finger. It was not elaborate, just a single diamond on a silver band, but the diamond itself was much larger than the rest of the rings she'd seen by the other fiancés.
Katie snorted, waving her away.
"Don't look at me like that," she said. "I told Fred if he got me anything flashy, I'd shove his head up his own arse. Apparently, he doesn't believe that size is flashy in any way."
Fred grinned widely.
"You didn't specify," he said casually. "I took that to mean nothing gaudy. Besides, you know what they say about size —"
"They weren't referring to the size of a diamond, you git," Katie said good-naturedly. "Anyway, I don't mean the gem is the size of a hippogriff. I mean, the whole ring is the size of a hippogriff. It's like he's marking his territory —"
"It's the color of piss so he might be," Fred said dryly.
George laughed loudly when Hermione gave him a disapproving look.
"Don't you think this is a bit rude?" she said primly. "We shouldn't be talking about them behind their backs."
"Oh, Granger," Fred sighed. "We've really got to loosen you up."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Ginny spoke before she could.
"We can loosen her up at Harry's birthday party," she said, turning to face Hermione. "I've been meaning to talk to you. I want to throw an elaborate party at Grimmauld. You know, cake and decorations and drinks, the works. Seeing as his other birthday parties were all done in passing with Voldemort on the loose and everything. Or worse when he had to celebrate with those horrid Muggles."
Hermione nodded. She wasn't sure her best friend had even had a normal birthday party before. Mrs. Weasley had always tried to do something if he was at the Burrow, of course, but there wasn't much a person could do when they were all trying to stay hidden from Death Eaters. And the year before had been devoted to rebuilding the Wizarding World.
"Sure, that sounds great," Hermione said. "Do you need help with anything?"
"You can come by early to decorate if you're not working?" Ginny said hopefully. "I think I've got everything else covered. Mum has the cake and the twins can handle the alcohol."
She was supposed to work that day, so she looked at Fred and George apologetically. It was a Saturday, so not the best time to get out of work, but neither of them looked overly concerned.
"The shop won't burn down without you, Granger," George said with a shrug. "I'm a bit more concerned by Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex anyway."
Ginny smirked at him.
"You should be," she said, eyeing him curiously. "What did you two do on your date the other day?"
Hermione groaned, but Fred chuckled. Ginny had been dropping the question on her and George at random as if she was hoping that if she took them completely by surprise, she'd get the answers she wanted.
It didn't matter how often Hermione told her it had not been a date; Ginny insisted that she was blind to what was happening in front of her. It didn't matter if George told her that it wasn't any of her business; Ginny insisted that she was looking out for the both of them. Which felt like a bit of a stretch to Hermione, but she wasn't even sure what else to say that would get the tenacious Gryffindor to leave them alone.
George smirked at his sister, leaning back into his chair casually and draping an arm over the back of Hermione's chair.
"I'm not telling you anything if Hermione isn't, little sister," he said easily.
Ginny snarled and turned to Fred.
"But you know don't you?"
Fred blinked and shot forward to grab the book Hermione had been reading, flipping it to a random page. Hermione straightened, tensing and her heart racing.
She prayed to anyone that was listening that he did not notice any of the words on the pages because then he would know it wasn't a Transfiguration textbook. But if she panicked and snatched it back then he'd know she was hiding something.
Oh, God, which would be worse?
"Sorry, Gin, I'm quite interested in the laws of human transfiguration as you can see," Fred said casually, barely even looking at the pages in front of him. "You'll have to set your sights on George and Hermione here."
Fred was clearly not reading the pages, but Katie glimpsed them because her lips parted in surprise and she coughed, her eyes darting to Hermione's, who was trying very hard not to sink into the floor beneath her in embarrassment. Worse because Katie winked at her conspiratorially.
She was going to die here. Fred and George were the very last people she needed to know that she read romance novels on the side, but Katie kept her expression carefully blank otherwise. She relaxed a little.
Maybe no one would notice then. Except George was looking at her oddly.
"Hermione, are you alright?" George said, his brows furrowing as he looked at her.
"Yes," she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she repeated, "Yes, I'm fine, it's —"
"It's because I called it a date," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "She gets all awkward when I say that, even though I don't know what else it would have been —"
"A friendly outing," Hermione griped, still watching the book in Fred's hands carefully. "And that's not why — it's just a bit warm in here, is all."
"Perhaps all the Transfiguration reading has gone to your head," Katie said unhelpfully, grinning widely.
Hermione could kill her. Fred snorted, looking down at the book and opening his mouth to say something smart —
She could tell the moment his eye caught something on the page because he froze completely. She watched his eyebrows raise slowly to his hairline as his eyes darted across the page, but it was the slow grin that really made her want to hide under the table. He looked like a cat who'd caught the canary, and that did not bode well for her.
"Bloody hell," he said, sounding floored and delighted, like Christmas had come early. He flipped the book closed to make sure he'd read the cover properly before flipping it back to the page he'd been reading. "I can see why you charmed this book, Granger. No wonder you think it's so warm in here —"
She darted forward to snatch it from his grasp and Katie covered her mouth to hold in her giggle. Fred was grinning at her widely, and she had a horrible suspicion that he was never going to let this go.
George looked between the two of them curiously.
"What's happening?" he said, trying to get a look at the book she'd taken back. "Charmed it how?"
She would simply die right here if George found out what she'd been reading. She'd only just started it, so she hadn't gotten to any of the more inappropriate scenes yet — she was at Sunday dinner for Merlin's sake — but she knew what was in it. And she could guess what Fred had read based on how arrogant he looked.
"Is it one of her romance books?" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I don't know what she's so nervous about, people read them. You'd think the world would swallow her up if anyone found out —"
"Romance books?" George said, confused. Katie was having a very difficult time controlling her giggling.
"Oh, there's a bit more than romance in there, mate," Fred said, highly amused. "If Mum found that, she'd sanitize our old room —"
"Fred," Hermione hissed, her face bright red. "Don't you dare."
Fred was still grinning widely when he raised his hands in placation.
"I won't say a word to her, Granger," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "No one else needs to know that our precious Head Girl isn't quite so innocent as she pretends to be."
George appeared to have caught on to what was in the book because his jaw dropped and he stared at her as if he'd never seen her before.
"Is that smut you're reading?" he said.
Her face flushed and she hid it behind her hands. What had she been thinking? Why would she have chosen to read instead of being a normal human being? She should have kept it upstairs and brought down an actual textbook or the papers from the Ministry, but she'd wanted something relaxing that didn't require a lot of intellectual focus after the week she'd had.
The romance novels were a guilty pleasure. She'd never told anyone except Ginny that she even read them and it was because the younger girl had plied her with firewhiskey until she'd been too lightheaded to think properly.
She'd never be able to look at George again. She was certain of that. He'd laugh at her. Or he'd be as upset as Ron had been when he'd found one of them on her nightstand and realized that she was reading about sex, but not participating in it, though she had no idea what difference that would make.
It had been awkward and stupid then, and it would be so much worse with George because he was…well, he was her fiance who wasn't even supposed to be her fiance.
"Relax, Granger, it's no big deal," Fred said, still grinning.
She lifted her head to glare at him, careful not to look anywhere near the space George was occupying next to her.
"Really?" she snapped, her mortification turning quickly to anger. "So you're not going to tease me?"
"Oh, I'm definitely going to tease you," he said happily. "But, to be fair, I thought I was going to be reading about Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, and instead started reading about Daniel's mouth on her —"
Katie slapped a hand over his mouth before he could announce the contents of her book to the entire living room. She gave her fiance a hard look and then smiled at Hermione.
"What he means to say," she said gently. "Is that it's all in good fun, and it just surprised him to read. And don't feel bad, Hermione, it's just a book. I read them sometimes too. Not at a family dinner, mind you, but —"
"I wasn't — I'd just started, there was no — no funny business," Hermione spluttered.
"Funny business," Ginny giggled. "Merlin, this entire conversation has gone downhill."
It had, and she was very aware of the fact that George had never moved his hand from the back of her chair. It didn't normally bother her, but given what they were talking about, it felt very awkward now to have him touching her and —
She was never going to read in public again. She was too awkward for this sort of thing.
Very fortunately, Mrs. Weasley announced dinner was ready and she jumped to her feet and raced outside, ignoring Fred's chuckle behind her.
There was not enough room to eat indoors, so they'd moved the dining table outside and expanded it to fit everyone. Hermione took a random seat and pretended she didn't notice when George sat beside her. To her annoyance, Romilda sat on her other side, and she moved closer to George instead because…well, because she was petty and that was it. She had no other excuse for it.
Even so, she refused to look at George for the whole of dinner, engaging Percy in conversation about Portkey regulations instead because she knew George would have no interest at all in joining in on that conversation. She was fairly certain she heard him snort beside her, but otherwise he ignored her clear attempts to ignore him.
Ginny, Romilda, and Mrs. Weasley were all discussing the weddings a bit further down, and part of their conversation distracted her a bit from what Percy was saying.
"We'll need to start planning everything soon," Mrs. Weasley said to her daughter, brooking no room for argument. "You've put it off long enough, Ginevra —"
"We have months, Mum," Ginny said with an eye roll. "And it doesn't have to be anything fancy —"
"You are my only daughter," Mrs. Weasley said as if the very words offended her. "We're not cutting corners, and who knows how backed up all of the boutiques are with so many people getting married at once —"
"My mum owns the boutique in Diagon Alley," Romilda said. "And they're booked out for at least a month —"
Mrs Weasley brandished her fork in Romilda's direction.
"You see?" She said to Ginny, who rolled her eyes to the sky. "We can't wait any longer. You still need to decide on a date —"
"October 16th."
"And we'll need to go dress shopping and pick colors and floral arrangements and make a guest list — and you really can't leave anyone out, dear, because it offends people — and then we'll need to worry about decorations and an officiant and —"
"Alright, mum, alright," Ginny said in exasperation. "I get it. We can start planning this week."
"Good," Mrs. Weasley said smugly. "And we'll need to worry about Romilda and Ron's next. It's not much longer after yours and Harry's wedding."
"We don't have to stress," Romilda said, smiling at Ron as if he were the light of her life. The look made Hermione want to vomit. "Ron isn't too fussed as long as we have the ceremony here. And my mum will handle my dress."
God, they were really doing this. Getting married. They were talking about dresses and locations and dates, and she'd not even thought about her own, but Ron was already setting ground rules for theirs and it —
George put a hand on her knee under the table and Hermione jumped so badly that she knocked her knee on the underside of the table.
"Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the night?" he said quietly, removing his hand and wrapping his arm over the back of her chair again. She tensed at the reminder, but he used his foot to pull her chair in closer before she could make an excuse. She gasped sharply. "Don't even think about it. You're driving yourself mad listening to the wedding planning."
She didn't even know why it surprised her that he picked up on her emotions anymore. He was so very perceptive for a man that spent all of his time cracking jokes and she really didn't understand it. Fred was good at reading people, but not quite in the same way that George was, and it left her mind reeling a bit when he noticed the smaller things she did.
"We haven't even talked about our wedding," she said quietly. She didn't even know why. She wanted to talk about that even less than she wanted to talk about her reading choices, but it was already out of her mouth and she couldn't take it back now.
The words seemed to surprise him as well because he reared back slightly, blinking at her in surprise, before he seemed to get control of the reaction.
"You didn't seem keen to talk about it —"
"Oh, and you were?" she said pointedly. He laughed under his breath.
"Fair enough," he said, running his Yorkshire pudding around his empty plate and sopping up what was left of his gravy. "What exactly are you wanting to talk about?"
"Well, I don't — a date, I suppose," she said awkwardly. "Everyone else has picked one except Charlie and Lydia."
George snorted.
"Mum made them pick one when they got here. She got the feeling that they were avoiding her," he said with an eye roll. "They picked the very last day before the deadline."
Great.
Not that Hermione would have liked to wait that long as she really didn't like the idea of pushing it so close, but the fact that they were the last to choose a date was a bit unsettling. She didn't like being the last at anything, even something as ridiculous as this.
Normally, she was ready in advance, pre-planning until her head ached from it all, but here she was…procrastinating for the very first time in her life.
"I really don't mind much when we have the wedding, Hermione," George said. "It's really your decision —"
"Why is it my decision?" she huffed in irritation.
She didn't know why it irritated her and this felt like too personal a conversation to be having at a family dinner, which she was now regretting, but it felt like it had with Ron.
She made every decision and then it got thrown back in her face that she made every decision two months later. Nevermind the fact that George was not any more excited to marry her than she was him, and that was apparent in his body language at the moment.
He either didn't notice her growing irritation or it didn't bother him because he merely raised his eyebrows, twirling a curl of her hair around his finger idly. It felt more intimate than it should and she huffed at him, snatching the curl away. He smiled like he found that amusing.
"It's your wedding, Hermione —"
"As much as it is yours," she snapped, trying to keep her irritation in check when his family was chatting around her.
"Do you want me to answer your question or do you plan to jump to conclusions some more?" he said, a spark of irritation entering his calm facade. She narrowed her gaze on him, but nodded at him, biting her tongue before she said something rude. She wasn't really used to someone being so forward about their irritation — Ron had always been a bit passive aggressive, so she'd gotten quite used to interrupting and pushing and jumping to conclusions, so George's immediate openness surprised her a little and might have been the reason she conceded quite so easily. "All I'm saying is that this sort of thing isn't really…important to me. Not that marrying you isn't a big step or that I'm not taking it seriously, but because — well, truthfully, if you told me you wanted to have the wedding at the Ministry then I'm fine with that. If you want to have some sort of stuffy black tie affair then I'll put on the robes and pretend like I like the taste of champagne, though if I have any say, I'd really lean away from such a thing. I'm not telling you to make the decision because I'm averse to doing it myself, but because if we're going to get married then the least I can do is give you the wedding you've been giggling about with Ginny for the last five years —"
"We haven't been giggling about it," she said softly. And they hadn't, though saying she hadn't ever thought about her wedding day would have been a lie. "But it — you didn't have a choice in any of this either. You must want something."
George shrugged.
"I want Fred standing next to me," he said easily. "And I would prefer not to be overly stuffy about it, but I have no preference for if it's in fall or winter, morning or night. I don't care about flowers or colors either, to be frank, but I'll pick if you give me options. You deserve to have the wedding of your dreams, whether this is our decision to marry or not, and I can give you that. So you pick, Hermione. Whatever you want, it's yours."
Was it possible for a heart to explode?
Because it felt like hers might. And to think, she'd been snapping at him a moment before for something ridiculous, and he'd merely been thinking about her wants. It was…confusing.
How was this the same man who had pushed Montague into a Vanishing cabinet and experimented on first-year students? Had he always been like this underneath that prankster facade and she'd just never gotten down deep enough to notice it? Did that mean things were different between them now?
Because this felt more personal. This felt like he was showing her pieces of himself that he reserved for select few others. Maybe only Fred if she were really considering it.
And that was a bit terrifying, wasn't it? This entire situation was a bit terrifying.
She tried not to stare at him for too long, her mind racing for the proper response to what he'd said.
A date. She was supposed to be picking a date. Right.
She'd imagined a fall or spring wedding, personally. Summer was far too hot for her tastes — and well outside the deadline — and winter was just not even within her realm of consideration. Fall was far too soon, however. Much as she appreciated George's patience and fortitude about this entire thing, she did not want to be married off in a few months. She was not ready for that at all.
"Spring," she said weakly, her gaze still locked with his.
She watched his expression carefully as the word hung between them, looking for any sign that he didn't like what she'd said and was merely going to give her what she wanted at the expense of his own feelings. But he merely nodded to himself, considering their options.
"Fred and Katie are getting married at the end of March," he said. "If you're wanting warmer weather than April is probably better anyway. We can go a few weeks before Charlie and Lydia so Mum doesn't pop a blood vessel with two weddings so close together."
She still felt like a few weeks apart was enough to stress his mother, who had been frazzled at the mere mention of Ginny's wedding, which was three months away. But any sooner and Hermione was sure that she'd have a heart attack.
The fact that they were even having this conversation felt like insanity was knocking on her door.
"Right, so April 16th?"
"Sure," George acquiesced. He looked at her with a smirk. "It might help if you didn't look like you'd swallowed a Puking Pastille."
She grimaced.
"Sorry, it's — this entire conversation feels insane," she admitted, trying to crush down a panicked laugh that was bubbling up in her throat. Why had she not just let him make fun of her for her stupid book?
His gaze narrowed on her, and she felt like he could sense her panic. There was a careful moment of consideration from him, and then he said, "You're planning our next 'friendly outing', by the way."
The panic she'd been developing in her chest screeched to a halt entirely, and she blinked at him in surprise.
"I — what?"
Her head was spinning at the sudden change in conversation, but he was watching her closely, cataloguing the signs of her panic and whether or not the statement had distracted her effectively enough.
It had. She hadn't known she was supposed to be planning anything, and he'd not mentioned it last time.
And why had he put emphasis on the words like that? It hadn't been a date. He'd not said it was a date. She'd not said it was a date. It had been a friendly outing.
Despite her inner turmoil and endless questions, he shrugged and went back to his plate casually, satisfied that he'd halted her meltdown to some degree.
"I planned something…it's your turn. Fair is fair," he said, grinning at her casually. "You can take me to whatever shop you get those smutty books of yours at, if you'd like."
She snorted, rolling her eyes. She'd have sold her soul first, but the return to casual humor and mild embarrassment was far better than the panic she'd been feeling moments before, so she grabbed onto it desperately.
"You wouldn't have fun at a bookstore —"
"I'd have fun at that bookstore —"
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "They sell them at all bookstores —"
"Good to know," he said, his eyes sparkling. "I needed a good idea for your birthday —"
"You are not —"
"Don't worry, I'll charm them to look like Transfiguration texts. Maybe I'll highlight the naughty bits for you to enjoy later —"
She despised him.
"First of all, you cannot mark the inside of a book," she said disapprovingly. The thought alone made her want to cringe. She had no idea why the words seemed to amuse him so much. "And secondly, I'll not be reading any book you get me from now on."
He snorted, rolling his eyes.
"We both know that's a lie," he said. "You can't help yourself when it comes to books. I saw the way you were looking at them in that bookstore — it felt a bit like I was third wheeling —"
"You were," she quipped petulantly. "It really ruined my whole mood, knowing I'd have to see you when it was all over."
He grinned at her lopsidedly.
"Well, it's a good thing you had that book at home then. Sounds like you really could have used a pick me up."
"I despise you."
He laughed loudly, pulling her into his side.
"I'm growing on you," he said proudly. "You like me a lot more than you did a month ago. Go on and admit it, Granger."
She sighed heavily, trying to convince herself that she, in fact, did not like him more than she had a month ago.
But that was a bit difficult to say at the moment because he was turning out to be much different than she'd originally pegged him — still utterly ridiculous and a bit foolhardy, but certainly much more thoughtful than she'd noticed before.
He irritated her to no end, but in a way that kept her on her toes and felt more like mental sparring than it did an argument; it felt less like the all-consuming rage she felt when she and Ron had been dating and he'd said something so wildly off-putting that she felt like she was being dishonest with herself if she didn't stand up to it.
So, yes, she could stand to be around George Weasley more than she could a month before but admitting so felt odd and personal for reasons she didn't totally understand.
She was only just debating if she was brave enough to admit that he was right when there was a sharp, annoyed voice that broke through the odd limbo they were in.
"What are you two smiling at each other about?"
Hermione tore her gaze away from George's and looked over to see who had spoken and who they were talking to. She met Ron's eyes further down the table — the blue of his gaze so much colder and sharper than the warm brown of George's — and she was startled to realize that he was looking at them.
And so was the rest of the table now that he'd broken the casual discussion with the angry question.
Ginny was smirking behind her glass of wine, and Katie shared a grin with Fred across from them. Everyone else was looking between the two of them and Ron anxiously.
Now that everyone was staring at them, she was suddenly realizing how close she and George were sitting. Which, in her defense, he had tugged her chair toward him when she'd been trying to avoid him earlier, but even still, they were speaking so quietly to the other that she was practically leaning into him and it was…
Well, it was nice, but now it was a bit awkward. And she didn't want to think about why it felt so natural to her at all.
She cleared her throat awkwardly, and sat up straighter, trying to think of any excuse that would be plausible for sitting so close to him that wasn't going to make things more awkward than they were at the moment.
"After all these years you'd think you'd have learned to keep your nose out of my business, little brother," George said casually from beside her, appearing far more relaxed by their current scrutiny than she did. He looked at his mother casually as well, ignoring the reddening of Ron's ears. Hermione avoided eye contact with everyone entirely. "Hermione is fine with getting married April 16th, so you can stop nagging at me."
Mrs. Weasley picked up the conversation quickly, clearly keen on avoiding an argument between her two sons.
"Wonderful!" she said happily. "That's a date for all of you then. My word, there's so much to do before then. We'll need to get started right away…"
Hermione barely listened for the rest of dinner. She merely avoided eye contact with Ron and busied herself with thinking about anything else that wasn't her impending nuptials.
She had nine months before she had to worry about anything else.
I changed George's eye color from canon in my other story, but we're going back to brown here. I like the juxtaposition of his and Ron's eye color being different here, so that's what we're going with.
I really don't remember if I mentioned his eye color before this in this story? I'll have to go back through and check.
Anyhow, the drama continues in the next chapter and I just cannot help myself. See you soon!