This story has taken off so much more than I expected, especially on AO3. I mean, WOW, you guys! I appreciate you all so much for leaving your thoughts, favoriting, following, kudos, what have you! I don't even know what else to say. You guys are amazing!
As is my usual, there are links in my bio/profile for anyone who wants to look at the things I'm describing. Again, not my strong suit. Visualizing is apparently not my strongest quality, we're working on it LOL.
RoonieTunes: Ahhhh, welcome! I love when readers migrate over! I'm so excited for this one, so I'm glad you like it!
ShamelesslyObsessed: Thank you so much! Banter always makes me nervous for some reason, even though it's so much fun to write.
Chapter Six
By the time that Sunday dinner had rolled around, Hermione was near spasms. She hadn't seen or talked to Ron since the pairings, though Harry said that he was handling things about as well as could be expected. So long as he didn't talk about her marrying George, he appeared to be fine.
She hadn't seen George since Tuesday dinner, though he'd owled to ask if she could start helping with the shop the Monday after dinner. She'd agreed, of course, but she was beginning to wonder if maybe she'd lost her mind.
Working in a joke shop was the very last thing she'd ever imagined herself doing, but she still needed a distraction, and she couldn't take it back. Not seeing as the two of them seemed so relieved to have additional hands on deck.
So she'd agreed, despite the fact that she was nervous enough about seeing Ron and his fiance for the evening, and it might put her in a horrible mood when she went in to help the next day. Particularly if he and Romilda were getting on well.
As it was, she was running late for dinner. They'd had to move dinner to Grimmauld due to the sheer amount of people coming, and Mrs. Weasley had long since gone over to start dinner preparations with Ginny. And they'd been asked to dress nicer than they might normally, though she had no idea why. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be in quite a tizzy about the whole thing, something about first impressions, but Hermione was nervous enough without having to figure out what she was supposed to be wearing.
She went relatively simple — it was only dinner, really, so there was no point in overthinking it — and gone with the little black dress she typically kept in the back of her closet.
Her mother had told her once that every girl should have a little black dress for such occasions, one where she needed a boost in her ego. At the moment, she could use some sort of confidence going into this thing, so she'd taken it off the hanger and stared at it for a great deal of time before she'd slid it on.
It did make her feel pretty, and it wasn't horribly flashy either. It was a simple, black dress that fell mid-thigh with a square neckline that was tasteful, but still showed enough cleavage to make her feel at least mildly sexy. The most risqué thing about the dress was the mostly open back, though there was a large piece of fabric across the middle that tied into a bow.
It was simple and classy, but it fit her well enough that she still felt confident in it, despite her flipping stomach. She hadn't dressed up since the Yule Ball, and though this was a far more casual dress and setting, she felt like this might be worse somehow. She'd have to look across the table at a man she'd loved for the last four years, and she had severe doubts that a dress was going to make that any easier.
But she'd kept it on, putting on the silver watch her mother had given her when she'd come of age, and leaving her hair as it was, long and wavy because of the charm she used in the mornings now, though her hair had tamed some as she'd gotten older.
Sighing heavily, she stepped into the simple flats she owned, and decided that she couldn't put this off forever. The house was quiet and everyone else had already made their way over to Grimmauld Place, but she'd been dragging her feet, praying that maybe if she took long enough, dinner might have been over by now.
Grabbing her bag, she made her way downstairs, preparing to Floo over and hopefully get this entire thing over with —
"Blimey, Granger, where have you been hiding that?"
She screamed, whirling on George with her wand pointed at him. He didn't even appear to notice, his eyes raking over her unashamedly, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"George, you scared me!" she huffed, lowering her wand. "I could have hexed you!"
He grinned at her, his gaze coming to meet hers without even an ounce of shame.
"Sorry, Mione," he said, sounding anything but. She huffed at him, but he continued talking before she could lecture him. "I came to grab you for dinner. Mum is losing her head that you're late."
Hermione grimaced guiltily. She had never been late so many times in all her life. She typically couldn't stand the thought of being late but she'd been so emotionally numb of late that she hadn't even cared at all.
"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly feeling badly for her horrible behavior.
"Don't be," he said, running his eyes over her again. "You look phenomenal. I'd have tried much harder if I knew you were going to look like that."
She blushed a little, not entirely used to someone being so forward in complimenting her. Ron had always been awkward about it, or simply complimented her because he wanted something from her, and she'd gotten quite used to that in the last few years. She wasn't entirely used to having someone do it just because.
She'd tried to look nice, of course — partially to get back at Ron, and partially to boost her confidence for the worst dinner she could have possibly imagined — but she'd not thought she looked much different than usual. Aside from the dress, she hadn't done anything else, but George was looking at her as if he'd never seen her before, and was sincerely regretting that fact.
"Thank you," she said softly, fidgeting nervously with the silver chain around her neck. "I think you look nice too."
He did. She'd seen him dress nicely before, of course, though it was typically in dress robes, not Muggle clothing. He'd kept things as simple as she had — a green button-up and slacks, but they fit him well. He'd rolled up the sleeves to the elbow, which made the strength of his forearms all the more obvious, and gave him a relaxed, laid back vibe that fit his personality rather well. Built like an athlete, he had broad shoulders and a body that was lean with muscle and just short of being bulky, which was hard to ignore in the shirt he was wearing. His hair was a vibrant red that he'd cut short, but hadn't bothered to comb that morning. The strands were messy, as though he'd been running his hands through the silky thickness or perhaps he'd styled it that way, she couldn't tell. The slacks were simple, but they fit him well, and made his height all the more prominent, and the belt he'd worn was simple but effective in drawing her eyes to his waist. The only other accessory he'd worn was the watch his parents had given him when he'd come of age, but it was somehow just as distracting as the way he'd rolled up his sleeves.
She'd known him attractive before now, of course, and he and Fred had always had a tendency of putting more thought and effort into what they wore than the rest of the Weasley children, but she'd never really paid much attention.
Well, not entirely true…she'd had a crush on him and Fred once. Back when she'd been far younger, and well before she'd fancied Ron. They were the sort of men most of the girls in the school had a crush on, that bad-boy, devil-may-care attitude attracting even the most well-behaved of them. She'd eventually switched her attention toward their younger brother, but she couldn't deny that he cleaned up well for a man that spent his days blowing up things in their workroom and cracking jokes at others' expense.
She cleared her throat when she realized she'd been looking him over in much the same way he had with her, and he grinned widely at her.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Granger," he said, grinning wider when she rolled her eyes with a reluctant smile.
"We should go, if you're mother is already having a fit —"
"She's always having a fit, she can wait a moment," he said dismissively, taking a seat at the kitchen table, and pulling out the chair next to him. "I have something I wanted to talk to you about before we go."
She hesitated at the serious look on his face before she forced herself to move her legs and take the seat next to him. She was unused to seeing him this serious, and it made her anxious. It was ridiculous, of course — a man couldn't live his entire life without being serious on occasion, but she'd always only ever thought of him as childish and immature. At the moment, the fact that he wasn't grinning or making jokes made her feel like he was about to tell her that he'd seen Ron snogging Romilda before he'd come over here, and she sincerely didn't think that she wanted to know that.
But he didn't say that at all. Instead, he pulled a small, square, velvet box from the pocket of his shirt and set it on the table between them. She stared at it for a long time as if she had no understanding of what was happening. Her brain — normally quite cognizant — had simply stopped all thought at all as if it had derailed somehow, and the wires had all been crossed. She couldn't even begin to open her mouth to ask him what exactly was happening between them at the moment, but he seemed to understand that she couldn't have spoken even if she'd wanted to because he simply opened the box without a word.
She couldn't have withheld the gasp, even if she'd tried.
"You seem like the sort of person who's a bit more traditional," he said when she blinked at the ring inside it. "Course, I'm not, so I went for something a bit in the middle."
"I — it's beautiful, George, you shouldn't have," she whispered, staring at the ring sitting snugly within the red velvet. It was a simple ring, elegant and understated, but beautiful enough that she almost didn't want to look away from it. The center stone was likely what he meant as a bit unconventional. It wasn't a diamond, but a round, sapphire — her birthstone — and was accented by two very small rounded diamonds on both sides with a horizontal marquise diamond on each side of those, all sitting atop a platinum band. It was exactly the sort of thing she'd have chosen for herself if she'd had the choice — classy, tasteful, and delicate. "It must have cost a fortune."
"Don't worry about that," he said, waving the comment away. She wished it were that simple, really, but she didn't want him to think that she cared about something as silly as an expensive ring. He kept talking before she could say so, and she was still too stunned by the fact that he'd bought her a ring — the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in all her life somehow — that she couldn't even get the words out anyway. "Look, Hermione, this whole thing is…well, it's definitely not the way either one of us saw this turning out, and I debated for a long time if I wanted to give you a ring, considering the circumstances, but you deserve one, even if this isn't what either one of us would have chosen." He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair, and if she didn't know him any better, she'd have thought he looked a bit nervous. "Neither one of us is in love with the other, and I figure getting down on one knee would just be a bit awkward for the both of us, but I want you to understand that I'm taking this seriously. This isn't a declaration of love, but more a promise to keep an open mind about this whole thing. I don't know what this will look like ten months or ten years from now, but I respect you, and you're important to me and the rest of my family, and I want you to understand that I'll do my level best to prove that to you. I promise that I'll do what I can to make this easier for you. No matter how long this lasts, I'll be honest with you about how I feel about this entire thing, and compromise when we run into the inevitable disagreement, and respect your opinions, even if they're different from my own. I promise to support you in whatever way you need, and I don't want you thinking that you're in this alone or that I don't recognize how lucky I ended up with this whole thing, even if you are a bossy little swot —"
"George," she said, thickly, smacking him on the shoulder with the back of her hand and rolling her eyes. "Be serious."
"I don't think I can give you that," he joked, laughing when she rolled her eyes again, despite her watery smile. "You don't have to wear it, if you don't want to —"
She didn't even let him finish before she'd thrown her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. It was quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her, and she didn't even care that she'd never once hugged him before or that this whole thing was so unbelievably crazy and overwhelming and awkward because no one had ever said anything so nice to her, and she didn't care about any of the rest of it at all.
For the first time since the entire thing had started, she felt like she might have been able to understand what the Ministry was seeing, even if she was nowhere close to ready to move on from Ron.
George laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her lightly.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice thick with tears. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"I've been told I have a way with words," he joked, chuckling again at the exasperated look she gave him when she pulled back. He reached forward to wipe the tears from under her eyes, and grinned. "No tears, Granger. Mum will have a fit."
"You said she's always having a fit," she said pointedly, taking the ring out of its box and sliding it on her finger. It was too big, but he tapped it with his wand and it shrank to fit perfectly. It was more beautiful on her finger than it had been in the box, and it made her want to cry again. "Did you know sapphire was my birthstone?"
He snorted, coming to a stand, and offering her both of his hands. He grabbed the empty ring box and slid it back into his shirt pocket before ushering her toward the fireplace, and holding out the flowerpot of Floo powder for her to take.
"Course," he said. "I listen. I reckon I know a good many things about you that you don't know about me."
She gave him a curious look.
"I doubt that," she said.
He raised an arrogant brow, and grinned down at her.
"One of these days, I'll prove it to you," he said, waving her toward the fireplace. "Now off you go. Ladies first."
She rolled her eyes at him, grabbed a fistful of Floo powder, and stepped into the green flames with a calm, "12 Grimmauld Place!" She had gotten used to the feeling of being sucked into a hot tube, though it wasn't her favorite way to travel in the Wizarding World. She preferred apparating — it was faster, and less stifling.
When she stepped out of the fireplace and into the Black sitting room, she nearly panicked, thinking that she had stepped out into the wrong house. It looked much different than she remembered it being. There was no sign of dust or the rotting smell she remembered from before, and the room was much more open now that the wall that had once held Walburga Black's portrait had been knocked down. The peeling wallpaper had been replaced with one of a light blue color, and the large windows let in a lot of natural light. Because the room had been opened up, she could see the chandelier in the entrance way, which had once been covered in dust and cobwebs, that was now sparkling and shiny, and the grand staircase had been dusted and polished.
She gaped in surprise. She hadn't been to Grimmauld since Harry and Ron had moved into it over a year ago, but she hadn't expected to see such a stark contrast to the building she'd once known. The amount of work they'd had to have put in in order to make it even close to this level of habitability…
She was so caught up in staring around her that she almost didn't move in time before George stepped out of the fireplace. He caught himself on her shoulders before they both went toppling.
"Blimey, Granger, I could have broken your neck," he said, reaching up to brush soot off of her nose. "You should know better than to stand in front of a fireplace."
"It's a bit rich for you to be telling me off, George," she said pointedly, returning the favor by brushing soot off his shoulders.
"Yes, well, I'd hate to ruin that dress of yours," he said with a wink. "Be a right shame if you never wore it again."
She blushed again, and he grinned, placing his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around just as Ginny was coming up the stairs from the kitchen.
"Thought I heard you two," she said, pausing to look at Hermione. "Damn, Hermione, where have you been hiding that dress?"
George gave her a look that was clearly intended to convey a 'told-you-so' message and she looked away from him, fiddling with her necklace again.
She sincerely was not used to this level of attention from men. It was sort of nice to have him looking at her like that, but then she felt bad for thinking so when he was Ron's older brother.
Then, of course, she felt ridiculous because he was her fiance so the fact that he found her attractive should have been a relief, and she and Ron were no longer an item anyway.
She distracted herself from the complexity of her thoughts by smiling at Ginny and wrapping her in a hug.
"Sorry I'm late," she said. "I haven't really been looking forward to this whole thing."
Ginny smiled at her in understanding, but waved the comment away.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Mum hasn't even finished cooking. She's been talking Katie's ear off about her job as an Investigator for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures —"
"Oh, really?" Hermione said excitedly. "I didn't know that she worked there!"
Ginny shared an amused look with George behind her, and gestured for them to follow her toward the drawing room.
"Yeah, I figured you'd want to talk to her," she said in amusement. "I'm sure she'd love to talk to you about whatever house-elf rights you're harping on about these days —"
"I'm not harping on about them!" Hermione said indignantly. "I just think that someone should talk about them more often, is all! If you stop talking about them then people stop caring that their treatment is barbaric and unfair —"
"Is Granger talking about house-elves again — blimey, Mia, you look fantastic!"
She'd have told him to stop calling her that, but he was being nice to her and the more people who told her she looked nice, the better she felt. She really hadn't expected such a simple dress to garner so much attention, but she wasn't about to complain.
The drawing room looked wildly different as well. The walls were a deep red color with gold filigree around the top. The windows in here were large, and the curtains had been opened to let in the light from outside, and looked out upon the street. The Black family tree was gone though she had no idea how Harry had managed to get rid of it, and the large fireplace had a fire lit already. There were two ornate glass cabinets on either side of it, but the items inside had been replaced with pictures of the Weasley family, Harry's parents, and random knick knacks that Harry had collected over the years.
"Thank you," she blushed, accepting a glass of wine that Ginny handed her with a smile of gratitude.
She could use a drink at this point. Everyone except Mrs. Weasley was in the drawing room, and the sight of Ron standing next to Romilda was making her hands shake. George rested his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward Fred and Katie, who were furthest from Ron.
She couldn't tell if that had been intentional on his part or not, but she wasn't about to protest.
"Hi, Hermione, it's so good to see you," Katie said, hugging her in greeting. "You look great."
"So do you," she said genuinely. Katie had worn a simple navy dress that flared out toward the bottom, and it made her feel a bit better about the fact that she'd chosen to wear a dress as well. "How have you been?"
"Not horrible," she said with a laugh. Hermione had always liked Katie. She was sweet and gentle, despite her physicality on the Quidditch pitch, and she'd always been nice to her. The last she'd seen her had been at the Battle of Hogwarts, and she'd looked exhausted and afraid then. "Just working lately. Been a bit worse since I found out I've been stuck with Fred —"
"OI!" Fred said beside her, poking her in the side in retaliation. "I'm quite the catch, I'll have you know."
Katie smiled at him, and patted his arm in comfort, giving Hermione a playful roll of the eyes. Despite her words, she and Fred were clearly comfortable with each other, as she stood relatively close to him and didn't appear horribly upset by the turn of events.
"They think they're God's gift to women," Katie said jokingly. "I was actually thinking of starting a support group."
Hermione laughed when George made an affronted sound.
"I don't think we're appreciated around here," he said. "We bring life and laughter to the world —"
"And also fear and Dungbombs," Hermione snorted.
George raised an eyebrow at her with a smirk.
"We don't use Dungbombs anymore," he said pointedly. "You think we support the competition?"
"You can't work for us if you use Dungbombs," Fred said with a raised brow.
"I've never touched a Dungbomb in my life," she said with an eye roll. "And I don't see what other choice you have unless you'd like to sleep on the shop floor from exhaustion."
Katie laughed, clinking her glass against Hermione's.
"I think you'll do fine with this one, Hermione," she said, nodding at George with a smile. "Just don't put up with his nonsense."
She didn't know why, but the words relaxed her a little. Maybe because her and George were so different, but Katie knew both of the twins far better than she did and hearing someone who wasn't a Weasley tell her that she and George would be fine made her feel a little better.
"Hermione's never let the twins get away with anything," Ginny grinned, coming to stand with them. "Do you remember that time she threatened to tell mum when they wouldn't stop experimenting on first-years?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at the reminder, but Fred scowled.
"That was low, even for you, Granger," he said, giving her a look full of judgment.
"Well, if you listened for half of a second, and took that stupid smug smirk off your faces —"
"George, you said you were going to loosen her up —"
George raised his hands in the air when Hermione whirled on him with a glare.
"He's joking, he's joking," he said hastily. "I did not say that. In fact, I find your prim and proper attitude to be particularly relaxing."
She scoffed, pushing him away from her with a roll of her eyes. The two of them were ridiculous on their own, but together they were so much worse.
She'd opened her mouth to say so, but Ginny screamed delightedly, and caused them all to jump in surprise.
"Merlin, Ginny, what the hell is the matter with you?" Fred said irritably, eyeing his little sister in distaste. "You nearly gave me a heart attack —"
Ginny ignored him completely, eyeing the hand that Hermione had used to push George away from her with a blossoming excitement.
"What is that?" she said excitedly, grabbing Hermione's left hand and tugging it toward her roughly.
"Don't rip my arm out of the socket, Ginny," Hermione said with an eye roll.
"That's what she was screaming about?" Fred said to George. "You'd have thought Voldemort had waltzed right in —"
"Go away, both of you!" Ginny said, eyeing her twin brothers sharply.
They gaped at her.
"What? Why?" George said, bewildered.
"Go away or I will hex you both," she said seriously. "Go, shoo."
They shared a half-glance and rolled their eyes, but left without argument. Hermione found this particularly amusing, though she didn't say so. The only other person she'd seen them listen to so easily was their mother, and she was certain it was because they were afraid of her, at least a little bit.
Though she didn't blame them if they were afraid of Ginny too. She'd seen her Bat-Bogey Hex only one time, but it had been horrific.
Katie and Ginny surrounded her hand the moment the two of them were gone, eyeing the ring in appreciation.
"Did he give you this earlier?" Ginny said excitedly. "He didn't even say. He did rather well though, didn't he? He didn't even ask me for help with it."
This fact surprised Hermione. George had good taste, and that was clear in the way he dressed typically, but she'd not have thought he'd know what sort of ring she'd like. His earlier comment about knowing what she liked more than she suspected came back to her idly.
"He gave it to me when he came to get me for dinner," she confirmed, rolling her eyes fondly at Ginny's clear excitement.
"Did he propose?" Katie said interestingly, moving Hermione's hand around to get a clear look at the ring. "The two of you weren't an item before, were you?"
"No," she said with a shake of her head. "To both questions. He said I didn't have to wear it since we didn't exactly ask for this whole thing to happen, but that I deserved a ring despite everything and that he promised to be open minded and honest about the process, no matter what happens between us."
Ginny sighed happily, sending George a look full of proud admiration.
"He always was the softer twin," she said fondly. "He really will be good to you, you know. I know you're still hung up on Ron, but I really think that the two of you are a much better fit."
Hermione chewed her lip, looking over at George anxiously.
"We're very different, Ginny," she said, voicing her anxiety aloud.
"That's not always a bad thing," Katie said kindly. "Fred and George act like they don't care about anything, you know, but they're both very sweet to the right people. And they're a lot smarter than most people give them credit for. You were always brilliant in school — you could use someone who can keep up with you —"
Ginny nodded, giving her a pointed look.
"And someone who isn't easily offended," she said. "I love Ron, don't get me wrong, but he was always threatened by the fact that you didn't need him. George won't mind that independence. And besides, Fred was right earlier — you need someone who reminds you to relax a little. And George needs someone to ground him some. Just don't count him out completely, yeah? He might surprise you."
Hermione refrained from saying that he already had — twice now. With the ring, and with the amount of dedication he put behind his work.
She just simply wasn't considering him as a romantic interest at the moment because she was hung up on Ron.
She glanced in his direction, attempting to be subtle about it, and she felt her heart stutter a little at the sight of him. He looked much different to George — he was taller, ganglier, less muscular — but he was her best friend and that was comforting. Even if he did seem enraptured with Romilda beside him.
She was a pretty girl with long, curly black hair and large, dark eyes. She had an air of boldness about her, and her voice was loud and dramatic even from this distance. Hermione had not been fond of her since she'd tried to slip Harry a Love Potion, particularly because her foolishness had almost resulted in Ron being poisoned (though this, of course, hadn't been her fault), but it was clear Ron thought her something special.
Though, of course, this could have been due to the woman's clear fawning over him. She'd liked Harry because he was famous, and Ron was now within the same boat. She and Ron had become almost instant celebrities after the battle, and it was difficult to go anywhere without someone stopping them for questions or autographs or photos.
Hermione hated it, but Ron had loved it. He'd always been that way — he needed external validation to feel worthy, even if it meant getting it from people who hardly knew him.
Romilda was a bit snobbish, a bit self-centered, a bit conceited, but she gave Ron exactly what he wanted — a pretty girl who fawned over him and didn't make him feel like an idiot.
Hermione looked away from him, blinking away tears, and tried to remind herself that their relationship was over. She tried to think about all of the things that didn't work between them in an attempt to ground her some, but it was hard to do the rational thing when her heart felt like it was shattering.
"Hermione, would you come with me for a sec?" Katie said casually, distracting Ginny from her fawning over the ring. "I think I have something that would look great with that dress."
It was a ridiculous excuse, considering she and Katie had never been close, and there was no way that she could have brought her anything that would go with her dress, but Hermione didn't care. She took the offered escape, and let Katie lead her down the hall to the first floor bathroom.
She made it the entire way before she burst into tears, and Katie closed the door gently behind her, turning on the sink in an attempt to cover some of the noise.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry," she said gently, reaching into her purse and handing her a tissue. "Is this the first time you've seen them together?"
Hermione nodded, trying to slow the tears with the tissue she'd been given.
It was all so stupid. The whole thing. She should have talked to Ron before now — she'd told George she would, and she really did need the closure, but seeing him so happy with Romilda was like a stab to the chest.
Had she even meant anything to him at all? He'd just moved on, gone about his life as if she were a mere memory, despite the fact that he'd been so angry about her being paired with George before. He hardly seemed like he cared about that now.
"I'm sorry, I'm being stupid," she sniffed, trying to blot the tears and force herself to stop crying. "I knew he was going to be here with her. I don't know why I'm crying about it now."
Katie sighed, squating down in front of her with a gentle smile.
"You're allowed to be upset, Hermione," she reminded. "This isn't exactly a normal situation."
"I know," she said, letting her head rest against the wall behind her. "I just don't understand how I got here. It feels like this is never going to go away."
Katie smiled in understanding.
"It always does," she said. "And I'm sure being paired with George doesn't make the entire thing much easier, but it's easier to take time for yourself. George doesn't seem in any rush to make things romantic between you, right?"
"No, he — I mean, he's been sweet about the whole thing," Hermione agreed. "He doesn't have any expectations about what this is supposed to look like, but it — I mean, it's so weird to be engaged to him but pining after his brother."
Katie laughed good-naturedly.
"Yeah, it sounds like one of those Muggle soap operas," she said in amusement. "It adds a bit of an extra obstacle into the mix, but I think you should embrace the chaos of it all. Do things you wouldn't have done before, find time for you, try something new. It'll feel like going through the motions at first, but it gets easier. And, if it helps, I like you much more than I like her. She was talking about how she tried to give Harry a Love Potion earlier…I thought Ginny might kill her."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the thought. Ginny was a scary girl to enrage, and Romilda was brave for even thinking that bringing that up would be a good idea. And it did sort of make her feel better to hear Katie say she liked her more. It was a childish, petty feeling, but it raised her spirits a little.
"Good?" Katie said when she'd finally pulled herself together.
Hermione nodded and smiled at her thankfully.
"Yes, thank you," she said quietly, shutting off the tap. "I'm sorry for getting so upset —"
"Oh, nonsense, what are friends for?" Katie said, waving the words away. Hermione tried not to look surprised at how easily she'd referred to her as a friend, but the older girl spared her from having to respond. "Oh, right, here," she said, removing the bracelet she'd been wearing and clasping it around Hermione's wrist. "In case Ginny asks what we were doing in here. You can have Fred give it back to me."
Hermione nodded, waving her wand over her face to make her face appear less blotchy from crying. Katie led the way back to the drawing room, but it was empty by the time they'd returned.
"They're probably downstairs, come on," Hermione said, leading the way toward the final door in what had once been the entryway hallway, and down the narrow set of stairs.
The kitchen, she remembered from when they'd been on the run, was just as sparkling and unrecognizable as it had been by the time they'd had to abandon the building after leaving the Ministry. Kreacher had done a marvelous job in keeping up with it. The cherry red walls were clear of cobwebs, the hearth at the end of the table was crackling merrily, and the old, iron pans that had once hung from the ceiling had been replaced by newer, fancier ones.
The long wooden table that occupied the center of the room was exactly the same, however, and it could sit at least a couple dozen people around it. Mrs. Weasley was rushing about setting the table with all of the food with Kreacher behind her, looking quite distressed that she was lifting a finger. The older woman paused when Hermione and Katie entered the room and smiled warmly at her, wrapping her in a strong hug.
"Hermione, dear, there you are," she said, patting her cheek fondly. "You look beautiful, dear. Here, sit next to George — dinner is almost ready."
"Do you need help, Mrs. Weasley?" Katie offered immediately, watching the older woman bustle away in concern.
Mrs. Weasley beamed at her, but waved her away.
"Aren't you sweet, dear?" she said happily. "No, no, don't you worry, I've got everything. Just have a seat."
Hermione laughed at the doubtful look on Katie's face, and took a seat next to George.
"She's a force, don't worry," she said. "It's easier to just agree most times. She'll tell you when she needs help."
"Yell it at you, is more like," Fred said with a fond eye roll as Katie took a seat beside him. He immediately draped his arm over the back of her chair. "You should have seen the way she used to harp on about me and George. Could have brought the whole house down."
Katie laughed, and asked him something or other about his family, but Hermione was distracted before she could really hear what either of them had said. George surprised her entirely by draping his own arm across the back of her chair and leaning forward to grab the bottle of wine next to her and pour some into her glass.
"Everything alright?" he said quietly, not immediately moving away from her when he was finished pouring.
She hadn't noticed before, but he smelled quite nice. There was a hint of gunpowder that she was fairly familiar with, but there was also something spicy underneath that she couldn't quite place. It worked well together in an odd sort of way.
She distracted herself from his line of questioning by maneuvering around him to load her plate with food. As much as she could handle eating at the moment, which truthfully wasn't much.
"Yes, it's fine," she said. "I'm sorry. What did I miss?"
George eyed her closely, but he accepted the answer without much fuss and answered the question casually, leaning back in his seat, but keeping his arm across the back of her chair.
"Other than Percy's riveting story about the importance of broomstick regulations, not much," he said. "Almost makes me never want to fly a broom again, tell you the truth."
Hermione laughed, and gave him a disbelieving look.
"I hardly believe that," she said. "Has Percy ever flown?"
George hid his grin behind the rim of his glass.
"Once," he said. "Flew right through the kitchen window. Never saw him get on a broom again."
Hermione tried not to picture such an event, in case it sent her into a laughing fit. She didn't like flying herself, and flying through a kitchen window was likely the best thing that could have happened to her on a broom.
"Don't laugh," she admonished lightly instead. "Not all of us feel at home on a broomstick."
George studied her carefully for a moment, raising his eyebrows in interest.
"You've flown before haven't you?"
"Of course," she lied, laughing as if the idea of her having not flown a broom were entirely absurd.
George's grin widened.
"You're a horrible liar, Hermione," he said immediately. "We'll have to work on that too. Can't have you telling on me to Mum when she finds out I put Flatulent Fudge on Ron's plate." Hermione gaped at him and was about to whirl around to see if he were joking, but he tightened his hold on her shoulders and raised a pointed eyebrow. "Don't go giving it away now, love," he said warningly. "He'll be just fine. Why haven't you been on a broom?"
She knew what he was doing, and there were two parts of herself at war at the moment. The part of her that didn't like the idea of pranks and rule-breaking wanted her to turn around and warn Ron not to touch a single thing that was currently on his plate. The other part of her didn't want to give George Weasley the satisfaction of backing down from his line of questioning.
She was heavily debating which one of these things was most important to her before she answered. She wasn't quite sure that she'd really decided when she finally answered him.
"Because I don't like flying," she said primly. "Why did you give him Flatulent Fudge?"
"Because he's a prat," George said in a way that left no room for disagreement. "How can you know you don't like flying if you've never been on a broom?"
She gave him an impatient look that made him grin at her. She couldn't tell if the fact that he was so unbothered by her tetchiness was endearing or annoying. Perhaps the fact that he wasn't easily offended by her uptight, often tactless and argumentative style was a good thing. Most people found her quite annoying when she was moody like this, but he didn't seem to mind much at all.
On the contrary, she had the sneaking suspicion that he was brushing it off with the understanding that it wasn't him she was upset with, and attempting to distract her from it with humor instead.
A very mature thing to be doing, considering she was being quite the baby. She sighed heavily, and his grin widened as if he knew she was going to drop the Ron issue based on that sound alone. Her stubbornness wanted her to keep pressing, but she decided to ignore it for the time being.
Having George Weasley be more mature than she was was just simply not the sort of ego check she needed at the moment.
"I've flown on a Thestral," she said. "And Buckbeak. And a dragon. I didn't like any time."
George snorted and gave her a condescending look that made her want to hit him, but she breathed in slowly through her nose instead.
"Flying on the back of a winged animal is hardly the same thing as flying on a broomstick," he said. "Especially one that's invisible while you're flying on it."
"I don't like heights," she said stubbornly.
"You're supposed to face your fears, Hermione," he said with a grin.
"Says who?"
"Loads of people," he snorted. "Shakespeare, Aristotle, Bertrand Russell. Aren't these the sorts of well-read blokes you'd trust?"
She stared at him for a long moment. Maybe she was in an alternate reality or something. One in which George Weasley was actually quite well-read even though he'd only gotten three O.W.L.s. A thought that pained her even to think.
"None of those are the sorts of blokes who had anything to do with flying. They're all Muggles. And I sincerely doubt that they'd be interested in being on a broomstick."
"You make me proud to call myself a Gryffindor, Hermione," he quipped. She scoffed, rolling her eyes and focusing on her mash rather than quipping back. "I'll get you on the broom, you know."
"Unless you've decided to hog tie me to one, that's not happening." He grinned at her as if she'd offered him a challenge that he had no problem accepting. She didn't know what she'd been doing, saying something like that to him. "That was a joke. Don't even try it."
He laughed loudly and she hid her own reluctant amusement behind a bite of food. He leveled her with a serious look.
"It's Wizarding tradition to leave the wedding on a broom, you know."
She knew she must have looked ridiculous with how quickly her head snapped sideways to look at him. Particularly because he nearly choked on the glass of wine he was sipping at the horror he must have seen on her face.
"We're not doing that."
"Sure we are," he grinned. "It's tradition."
She could almost throttle him, she really could.
"You just said not even two hours ago that you're not much for tradition —"
"I'm for this one," he said, grinning widely when she huffed at him in frustration.
"You're only saying that because I don't want to do it."
"Perhaps I'm trying to help you," he said with a smirk. "Really broaden your horizons, you know?"
She scoffed, and opened her mouth to say something — likely something that would convey just how much she'd like him to shove that sentiment somewhere else — but she was interrupted from doing so by Mr. Weasley.
He stood, clearing his throat loudly, and they all quieted immediately. It had always surprised Hermione how quite easily the more soft-spoken man could get every one of his children to listen immediately without much fuss.
Course, she hadn't seen him get serious with his children very often so she imagined that they all recognized the signs more easily. She very rarely saw Mr. Weasley angry, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. When George had lost his ear, he'd nearly tackled Lupin to the ground for getting in his way. That was simply as close as she wanted to get to seeing him angry in real life.
He watched them all settle, as they turned to look at him, setting down their cutlery and waiting for him to speak. He looked a bit lost for words at first, but cleared his throat and said, "Well, first of all, we appreciate all of you for taking the time to meet with us. Goes a bit without saying, but this isn't exactly a normal situation —"
"Putting it a bit lightly, Dad," Fred snorted. He grinned when his mother gave him a hard look. "Right, carry on then."
George hid his grin behind his wine glass again, and Hermione elbowed him in the side in reproach.
"Right, well, all of this craziness aside, it's been nice getting to know all of you," Mr. Weasley said. "This isn't exactly how we expected to be marrying off our children, but we hope that we can make the best out of a very bad situation. Until further notice, you're all family now, and we'll handle this like a family moving forward, so don't be strangers. Molly and I are here to help, no matter what it is you need. Understood?" There was a chorus of agreements along the table. "Right. As the first piece of advice I can offer you all as new members of the Weasley family — very important, I'm afraid. You'll need to follow this rule very carefully in future, but under no circumstances should you be accepting food or drink from Fred and George."
There was a chorus of laughter when Lydia, who had been sitting on George's other side, pushed her drink away from herself hastily and looked at Charlie in horror. Hermione was fairly certain George had only poured the girl another glass of wine, but it was hard to tell because he winked at her immediately after she'd thought it.
"Now, we've got a lot of weddings to plan and not a whole lot of time to do it in," Mrs. Weasley said, looking anxious. "And I don't suppose any of you have considered what order we'll want to go in. There's six couples, and only ten months…"
There was an awkward silence because none of them had truly wrapped their heads around the fact that they were getting married, and Hermione hadn't even asked George about a date. She didn't want to set a date. A date made it very real.
"Harry and I can go first," Ginny said, looking at Harry for confirmation. The poor, lovestruck bloke just nodded as if he couldn't care at all if she married him right then and there. "It makes the most sense since we actually wanted to be married. And I wouldn't mind a fall wedding. We can worry about ours first and give everyone else some more time to decide on dates."
Hermione could have sunk in relief. How was she supposed to decide what date she wanted to marry a man she didn't even want to be marrying?
But she tried to keep that to herself because George was sitting right next to her and it seemed a bit rude. Not that he really seemed all that in a hurry to marry her either.
It was Hermione's own stupidity for assuming that no one else had chosen dates yet. Really, it had been a week so maybe people had already talked about it, but she'd tried to think about literally anything else. She just assumed that everyone else had been doing so as well, even Katie and Fred, who seemed fairly comfortable with each other.
She should not have assumed that. She should not have felt her entire heart stop beating at the moment that Romilda opened her mouth to speak.
"Ron and I actually decided on December fourth, if no one else wants it."
There was a long, awkward silence in which Hermione had frozen completely at the sound of the words. Ron was very clearly trying not to look at her, and she really couldn't tell how she was supposed to be reacting.
She stood rapidly, grabbing the half-empty wine bottle that was still in between her and George, she said, "I'm going to get more wine," and prayed that no one would be paying enough attention to notice that the bottle wasn't even empty to begin with.
The moment the she'd stepped through the door that led down to the cellar, she could hear Mrs. Weasley trying to smooth over the awkward tension that had been left in her wake. She didn't particularly care — she was merely attempting to get as far away from the dining room as possible.
It was colder down here, the air far less humid and it smelled like wood. It was clear that Harry had only gotten to parts of the cellar as one half looked cleaner than the other and smelled far less musty. She hadn't really come here for wine, but she stuck to that side of the room. She had to go back up there with something when she was done, and it probably wouldn't be appreciated if she accidentally grabbed a bottle of wine that was spoiled.
Course, it might poison Ron and that might be worthwhile.
She didn't mean that. She was upset, really. And who wouldn't have been?
December.
That was only five months away. Five months. In five months, she'd have to watch someone else walk down the aisle toward him. She so severely did not want that.
And perhaps she was being a bit dramatic — five months really was a decent amount of time. It wasn't as if he were getting married tomorrow. But it had only been a week since the letters had mailed, and he'd already decided? Already decided that he was perfectly capable of picking a date to marry someone else and hadn't even had the decency to warn her first.
It was truly too much, and quite unfair.
"Granger, tell me you didn't break your neck coming down here because that'll really put a damper on dinner."
She jumped at the sound of George's voice — or at least she assumed it was George because she didn't see why Fred would have come down here to talk to her. She supposed that George might have felt more responsible for her now that they were engaged to be married.
The thought made her scoff, but it seemed all George needed to know to know that she had not, in fact, broken her neck. There was a muttered word, and then a bright light filled the space coming from the tip of his wand.
She hastily wiped at her eyes before he could notice the wetness on her cheeks, but he wasn't stupid. She tried not to think about the fact that he probably could tell she'd been down here having a nice cry in the dark, and said, "I can get wine by myself, you know."
He looked at her for a very long moment, as if he were heavily debating calling her out on the obvious falsehood, but he must have decided not to bother.
"Four hands is better than two," he said casually. "Especially if you were trying to look for it all in the dark."
It hadn't been that dark. There was a dim lantern on one side of the room that cast shadows about the room, so she could tell where she was going. Mostly.
"I was enjoying the ambiance," she said dryly.
He grinned at her, seeming a little relieved that she had enough good spirits to crack a joke, even a relatively poor one.
"He didn't tell you?"
She looked away from him and busied herself with the wine bottles in front of her. She was not a wine connoisseur — how did one know if it was still good or not?
"No, we haven't spoken," she said. "I mean, I know I said I would, but it's — I've been avoiding the whole thing. Did he tell you?"
"No," he said, sounding much closer to her than he had been before. "It didn't appear he'd told anyone based on Harry and Ginny's reactions." She nodded because she wasn't sure what else to say, and he sighed. "If it helps, he ate the fudge to get out of talking once you'd left. He's up there gassing up the place. Had to get out of the room before I passed out."
She snorted, finally turning to look at him, and not bothering to hide the fact that she was wiping away her tears this time. He was directly in front of her now.
"So you came down here to get away from the smell?"
"I was going to check on you anyway, but an escape can do two things," he said seriously. She rolled her eyes, and grabbed two bottles of wine at random, deciding to pray for the best. He reached out a hand to take one from her. "Are you sure you're ready to go back up there?"
"Because of Ron or the smell?" she said pointedly.
"Exactly," he said, sending her into a fit of laughter.
"People will know if I spend the rest of dinner down here," she said. "It's awkward enough already."
"You're too good for him, you know," he said before he could convince himself otherwise. Her head snapped to look at him and he was almost convinced she was going to start yelling, so he said, "I'm not saying this entire thing isn't totally absurd because it is, but someone like you shouldn't be down in a wine cellar crying over some prat like Ron."
"Someone like me," she said blankly, as if she were unsure if she should be offended or not.
"You're the brightest witch of your age, aren't you?" he said with a smirk. "You're the only reason Harry and Ron even made it through the last seven years alive. You'll probably end up saving a thousand house-elves and running the Ministry one day. Be a right shame if you let Ron steal that passion from you, is all. Don't forget who you are, Granger."
She had no idea what she was supposed to say to that, but he was bounding back up the stairs before she could even find the words to reply anyway, taking the light with him.
Finding a place to end a chapter is actually my worst nightmare.
I've got a lot going on this weekend, so I've no idea when the next update will be. I appreciate you all though! I'll see you as soon as possible!