A sign in the window of Flourish and Blotts caught Hermione's attention. Help wanted. This seemed as good an answer as any. She went into the shop and talked with the owner. He was so ecstatic at the possibility of the Hermione Granger working in his shop that he offered her the job on the spot.
"Part time, mind you," the elerly man squeaked as he waggled a finger at her. She smiled back.
"That sounds perfect," she responded warmly, although inside she felt cold. This was the first step to being on her own again. It was the right thing to do, to continue to heal, but her heart sunk.
Hermione and the shop owner discussed hours and pay for a few minutes, and Hermione left the shop feeling very gloomy. She'd book a room in the Leaky Cauldron tonight, she decided, as she headed back to George's flat. He was in the kitchen when she arrived.
"Hey," he called to her as she walked in. "So I was thinking, since I don't have anything to do in the shop tomorrow, we could--what's wrong?" His eyebrows knit when he saw her tense expression.
"I got a job," she shrugged with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Flourish and Blotts needed some part-time help, and since I've read most of the books in there..." she trailed off, biting her lip.
George smiled at her. "That's great, Hermione! But--and don't take this the wrong way--you don't look particularly...happy about it?" He ended his sentence with a question.
Hermione sighed. The time had come sooner than she wanted. "I'm...I'm going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until I find a place." She didn't look at George.
His mouth dropped open. "Did I do something? Is this because of the other morning? Because I told you, it was my wand," he said, holding his hands up. "I wasn't trying anything funny--"
"George," Hermione interrupted. She rubbed her forehead. "I just--I can't stay here. It was only temporary, remember? Just for a while, we said. I've stayed here too long already. Ron's mad at you, your family's probably mad at you too, and you're sleeping on the couch, and--"
"But I don't care about all that," George insisted.
Hermione scoffed. "I care!" George flinched as she raised her voice. "You've been sleeping on that stupid couch for almost two weeks! It's ridiculous! I'm not going to stay here and make you do that--"
"Fine! I'll stop sleeping on the couch then!" He threw up his hands. "I'll sleep in Fred's room!" He stared at her, breathing heavily.
Hermione was taken aback. This wasn't going the way she had hoped. All she'd wanted to do is come, get her stuff, and go. She pinched her eyes closed, hating herself. "George, Fred's been gone for years, and you haven't even been able to open the door," she said through gritted teeth. "You really expect me to believe you're going to--" Her words were cut short as George pushed past her and into the hallway. She realized what he was doing and darted after him. "George, wait!"
George got to Fred's room too quickly and thrust the door open. Hermione, not realizing George had stopped, collided into him and they both toppled into the room. They were quiet for a moment, still splayed on the floor. George pushed himself up as he gaped at Fred's room, turning slowly to take it all in. It was extremely tidy, except for the thick layer of dust on every surface. A few photos were hung on the wall and their occupants stirred in their frames. George's knees buckled and he sat down hard on the bed.
"He made his bed before he left," he breathed. Hermione touched his shoulder and sat next to him. "He made his bed every morning." His sadness made her heart ache. She wanted to badly to hold him, to comfort him, but knew she couldn't.
"George, I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "I shouldn't have--"
"No," he interrupted. He gave her a sad smile. "It was time."
Hermione stood and walked around the room, looking at the pictures on the walls and running her hand along the top of the dresser. Her hand touched paper, and she looked down to see a thin envelope with George's name on it. She picked it up and turned to George, who was still sitting on the bed.
"What's this?" She held it out to him and he took it, turning it over in his hands. "Do...d'you want me to open it?" she asked, biting her lip.
George shook his head. "No. No, I-I can do it." The envelope wasn't sealed. He slid his finger under the flap and carefully pulled out a piece of paper. "It's a letter," he said in a dazed voice. He unfolded it with shaking hands. Hermione stood back to give him privacy. She watched George's eyes scan the contents of the letter. His eyebrows knit together and he closed his eyes for a moment, and the continued reading. Suddenly he smiled, his breath coming out in a soft chuckle. Hermione let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. George looked at her, still smiling.
"What's it say?" Hermione asked curiously.
George paused. "I'll tell you someday," he answered with a cheeky wink. Then his face fell. "I assume you're still leaving, though," he said softly.
"I'm sorry," she said truthfully. "I just...think it's best."
He sighed but nodded. "Okay." He put the letter into his pocket and they left the room together. They gathered her things quietly and she packed her suitcase.
"You don't have to go," George said suddenly, breaking the silence. He looked at her intently. Hermione's chest tightened at his look.
"I can't stay." Her voice wavered slightly, but she quickly snapped her suitcase shut and headed out the door, leaving the only place that had brought her any sort happiness in two years.
------
George watched out the window as Hermione made her way through Diagon Alley toward the Leaky Cauldron. He felt like he had lost his chance. If I ever had a chance, he thought to himself. He had to remind himself that this was his brother's ex-girlfriend. The girl his brother was still in love with. George realized with a sharp ache in his chest that the odds of Hermione feeling the same way about him as he did about her were very slim. He turned away from the window and flopped onto the sofa. Pulling the letter out of his pocket, he read through it again, this time more carefully, soaking up every word written by his twin.
George,
If you're reading this letter, I either didn't make it back to the flat, or I forgot to dispose of it properly. Hopefully it's the latter, but if not, I have a few things to say to you. I'll keep it short.
First, don't give up on our shop. Your shop. You've worked too hard for this, and I'm not going to let some silly little thing like, say, me dying or something, keep you from your dream. Don't give up, brother. Do what you do best, and keep doing it.
Second, be strong. Give yourself time to grieve for whatever you need to grieve, and then pick yourself up and keep going. Other people are relying on you to be strong, and I know you can be.
Lastly, and I've said this before, just tell her how you feel already, yeah? All of your pining and yearning will not accomplish anything. We both know Ron isn't the one for her.
Be brave, brother. I love you.
Now GO GET YOUR GIRL.
-Fred
George read and reread the letter for hours. Tears leaked from his eyes as he cried and laughed at his twin's words. The night grew darker, and he folded up the letter and put it on his mantle where he'd be able to see it. As the night wore on, his eyelids became heavy, and with a yawn and a stretch he climbed into his bed. He felt that same sharp ache in his chest when he realized Hermione was the last person to sleep there. The bed wasn't made and he could see the indentation in the sheets where she had slept. He lay down next to where she had been, wishing she was still there, and fell asleep thinking of her.
Chapter 7
Start from the beginning
