Coach was an adorable puppy, a small little thing that could curl up in the palm of your hand. His tail had been crooked from a bad incident with a bird and a tree, and his eyes tended to droop funny. He was an odd thing, with about a twenty-three percentile of surviving his first week of life.
Now he was seventy-five pounds of pure endless energy, currently suffocating Hermione Granger in her sleep.
Hermione kicked, sending Coach sprawling off the bed where he landed with a 'humph' before clambering back on the bed to lay beside his owner. She turned into him, burying her hand in his long golden fur coat, pressing her face into his shoulder before rearing away.
"Coach!" Hermione shouted bleary-eyed as she hauled herself out of bed. Stumbling on not one but two squeaky toys, that she kicked out of the way as she made a grab for her duvet.
"Get!" Hermione shouted, yanking the duvet out from under her dog. "Get-you stink!" Hermione groaned, watching as Coach triumphantly waltzed out of the room, trotting towards the kitchen where he would no doubt be sitting patiently, awaiting his breakfast.
Hermione grumbled, biting her cheek as she hauled her bedding down the hall and shoved it in the washer.
She hated skunk season.
"No, you are eating outside," Hermione demanded, stomping after Coach. She ripped open the front door and turned, one hand on her hip and the other pointing out the door as Coach pouted at her. "You'll be lucky I don't feed you kibble." Hermione snapped, watching as Coach trotted past her, still pouting.
She turned to watch him go, no doubt to trace the forest line looking for birds that didn't want to be chased. When she was startled to see a tall redhead, eyes wide and clutching a few envelopes to his chest.
"Ron!" Hermione stated shocked, stepping back nearly tripping over the door frame.
"What'd Coach do this time?" Ron asked, amused as he tossed Hermione's mail past her, letting it land on a small table beside the door. Where her keys, Coach's leash, and her bills usually ended up.
"Got into it with a skunk apparently." Hermione groaned, reaching up to rub at her eyes. Before pulling back slowly, she did not smell pleasant.
"Doesn't tomato juice-" Ron began, but Hermione sighed shaking her head.
"That's a myth, I've got soap at work." Hermione waved her hand in dismissal, before waggling her eyebrows at her old school friend. "So..." She trailed off, flicking her gaze once at Coach as he stopped near an old oak, looking up its trunk to the branches filled with leaves.
"She said yes!" Ron blurted, hiking his mail carrier bag further up his shoulder.
"Oh, Ron that's great!" Hermione gushed, extending her arms for a hug but Ron took one big step back, shaking his head. "Right, yeah sorry, metaphorically then." Hermione did an odd movement with her hands as if she was patting his back before retreating in on herself.
"You should swing by her shop later today and look at the ring-"
"I was with you when you picked it out?" Hermione stated slowly, raising an eyebrow at Coach as he dared to move close to the porch, before slipping away with a flat look in his eye.
"Yes, but on her finger, it's absolutely brilliant!" Ron's eyes were shining as he told her this, a bounce in his step as he gripped his mail carrier bag with both hands.
"I'll swing by and congratulate her." Hermione smiled softly at her friend, tugging on her pajama bottoms. "But if she tries to make me drink one of her weird teas-"
"The lemongrass one actually isn't bad, give that one a go." Ron raised a threatening brow, before breaking out in a grin. "The wedding's in June, best find yourself a date." He waggled his own eyebrows at her, knowing full well the last person she dated was him, and that was six years ago when they were in their last year of school.
"I'd sooner eat Calamari." Hermione scrunched her nose at the mere thought of eating anything that came out of the ocean. "Besides, Coach will be my date." Upon hearing his name, Coach bounded up onto the porch. Nearly barreling over Ron by brushing against his legs, before taking a defiant seat right beside the door. Gazing up at Ron expectantly.
"Coach, your Mum is one lonely woman." Ron whistled, digging in the outer pocket of his mail carrier bag to fish out a treat, that he tossed in the air and Coach caught with ease.
"I resent you for saying that." Hermione scrunched her nose in distaste.
"At least I don't reek like a rodent." Ron shrugged, then took two giant steps backward, stumbling off the porch before righting himself and lifting his hand to wave. "Don't forget to stop by!" He called, before turning on his heel and strolling down Hermione's pathway, to his small mailing truck.
Hermione passed on using a leash on Coach, mainly because then she'd have to wash it or throw it out, but also because Coach was strangely one of the most well-behaved dogs she'd ever met. He knew all the townspeople and often would disappear for a few hours to do his laps, greeting everyone with a loopy smile.
Today though, he seemed to sense he was in a bit of trouble and stuck right beside Hermione down her long laneway. She lived at the end of it, secluded and surrounded by forest. Her closest neighbor was an old woman, through the thick of trees in a small cabin.
Coaches head hung low as he sniffed the ground, and tail rim rod straight. Just standing normally, his rear end reached Hermione's hip which in itself was rather frightening at times, if he ran at you full speed. But Coach couldn't hurt a fly, even if he tried.
Hermione dug her key from her pocket, before glancing down at Coach. Who was staring longingly across the road, toward the mechanic shop that Ron's twin brothers owned. Having bought it out from the old owner, Zonk's, a few years ago.
"You can say hello after you don't reek like month-old lemon curd," Hermione instructed sternly, letting the both of them into her vet office.
She had worked hard to gain her vet license in only three years, wanting to fulfill a need that St. John didn't realize they had. As the closest veterinary was over an hour away, and on the far side of St. Ives, a neighboring touristy town that the townspeople of St. Johns despised.
It was hard at first, to gain the trust of the locals. But soon she was treating an arrangement of animals. From washed-up sea animals, farmer Arthur's cows, an assortment of pets, and the occasional bird. Most everyone in their three-hundred-person town had her on speed dial for anything to do with animals.
She had performed surgeries, hundreds of births, and even a few things she rather not hash out. Mainly to do with cats' anal cavities.
"Get in the tub," Hermione instructed, flicking on lights as she gestured to the big steel tub in the corner of her small office. She could only afford half a building, next door was her other friend from school, Harry's floral shop. A strange passion, but he did it well.
"Don't you pout at me, young man." Hermione instructed, flipping on the tap as she gazed at her landline, which was blinking at her that she had unread messages.
"It's not my fault you deemed it excusable to escape the house in the middle of the night, get in a tussle with a skunk then climb in my bed," Hermione instructed, pulling on long rubber gloves before squirting a stench-removing soap onto Coach's back.
Coach let out a defiant bark as if he was trying to argue with her but Hermione ignored him.
"How are you meant to swoon McGonagall's poodle if you smell like the bottom of a trash can, Coach?" Hermione asked, rubbing the soap into his fur.
Coach flopped down, rolling onto his backside so Hermione could properly scrub at his stomach. Hermione rolled her eyes but obeyed his silent command. Soon, Coach was sudsy and antsy to leap out of the tub.
"You wait just one moment," Hermione argued, grabbing the shower nozzle to begin washing Coach down. She soon slammed the faucet off, and Coach made a move to leap out of the tub.
"Coach!" Hermione yelped, snapping her fingers. Coach stilled, turning to look at her slowly. Hermione sighed, grabbed the blow dryer, and began running it over his big frame. Coach grumbled low in his throat, clearly displeased, but allowed her to finish.
"Oh, what did poor Coach-y boy do this time?" Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't bother turning to greet Harry.
Coach let out a few barks in greeting, panting as he grew antsy, wanting to greet one of his favorite people in Hermione's life. Beside Hermione herself of course-and oddly George, one of Ron's twin brothers, which was rather odd but no one questioned it.
As no one questioned anything to do with George these days, for he said far too little as it was.
"Skunk." Hermione sighed, switching off the dryer.
Coach jumped out, skidding on the linoleum floor briefly before shaking violently. Only when he regained his vision, did he rush toward Harry. Already shoving his nose into Harry's hand, searching for a treat.
"Did you hear the good news?" Harry asked, fishing a treat from his apron pocket that he tossed for Coach to jump and catch.
"Ron finally bagged?" Hermione asked, stepping past Harry to dump her gloves into the basin. Before turning to approach her desk, she couldn't remember if she had an appointment at eight or nine. One would determine if she had time to run across the street and kip a coffee from Lavender's shop.
"Apparently, get this, he dropped the ring," Harry smirked, leaning against her desk as he recounted the story that Ron had told him in the early hours this morning, as Harry's house on the back road was his first stop on his mail route.
"No." Hermione gasped, pleased to see her next appointment was at nine.
"Yes, fumbled it and everything. The waiter had a good laugh." Harry laughed at this, tilting his head back as Hermione giggled beside him. She could just picture it, a flushed Ron trying to recite his little speech all while trying to find the ring.
"Well, I'm happy for him." Hermione sighed, flipping her planner closed. She spared a look at her landline, before deciding it could wait.
"You are next in line sunshine-"
"I'll tell Ginny you slept with a nightlight until you were thirteen years old." Hermione threatened, digging a few crumpled bills out of her desk drawer.
Harry laughed, holding his hands in the air in a surrender position before stepping away from the desk. "Only joking." He promised, taking calculated steps backward. "Lovely chat, I've got to get back for a floral class for Sprout's kid's birthday." Harry winked at her, before shouldering out of her shop. Hermione trailed behind him, letting her shop door close behind her. She didn't bother locking up, as well, she lived in a town of three hundred people, most of them retirees.
There was very little if any crime at all.
Coach sat down next to Hermione on the sidewalk, looking up at her with a hopeful expression. Harry laughed at this, nudging Hermione's elbow and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Sod off Harry, now get, Sprouts glaring at you." Hermione gestured to Harry's storefront window, where sure enough, Sprout was mean mugging him, with a gaggle of seven years old at her feet. Harry cursed, jumped, and hurried over already apologizing before the door was even open.
Hermione sighed, turning back to Coach and smiling gently at him. Coach leaned forward, nuzzling his nose against her leg before giving her the worst puppy eyes she'd ever seen. His left eye drooped, while his right remained big and happy. A strange dog he was.
"Go say hi, I'm going to skip over for a coffee," Hermione instructed, gesturing down to the road to Lavender's Coffee Joint.
Coach barked happily, turned, and looked both ways on the only road in town, before bounding across the street. Hermione watched for a moment, as the Weasley twins already had the large double garage doors open. Both already tinkering over whatever cars the people of St. Johns deemed acceptable.
Hermione despised cars, truly.
"If it isn't Loopy!"
"Hiya Droopy!"
Coach barked happily, jumping up and down a few times before first running to Fred's side. Fred pulled his head out from under the hood of the Subaru he was tinkering with and patted Coach's head until he took off. Hurrying to George's side, where he looped around the man's legs before jumping up.
Settling his paws on the hood of the Chevy, peering into the engine alongside George. Hermione could hear the twin laugh from here, reaching over to scratch behind her dog's ears.
The local townspeople often nicknamed St. John's the pit of St. Ives. As they tended to get the washouts of the city, as well as the runaways from the coast.
But Hermione deemed it more appropriate to call it Weasley Town. Because you couldn't go more than a dozen feet without running into a redhead. They were the biggest family in St. John's, by a long shot. Somehow, every single one of the Weasley kids stayed in St. John's. Which was rather shocking, for a lot of people.
And disappointing to even more. As country-dwelling as the Weasleys were, they were kind and ready to help at a drop of a coin with no questions asked.
A lot of kids tended to run off to the city, looking for a brighter life. But not the Weasleys, who claim to have been one of the original founders of St. John's. Hermione knew it was all hogwash, but it was a cute story nevertheless.
There was their father Arthur, who owned the biggest farm in town and operated the biggest stall at the farmer's market on Saturdays. No one could grow a pumpkin bigger than that man.
There was their mother, Molly. Who owned a bakery on the edge of town, and if the wind blew right, her apple pie could be smelt all the way down the main street. Apples were grown by her husband, of course.
There was their eldest, Bill. Who owned the only tattoo parlor in town and was married to a French model, who somehow he convinced to lay her roots in their small town. Not one person could understand why but she loved it in St. John. She was the leading volunteer at the elementary and the kids loved her. If not for her long hair she let them braid, then for her accent that she delightfully showed off.
There was their second eldest, Charlie. Who bounced around, never quite sticking to one job at a time. He lucked out, seeing as everyone in his family did something else. Sometimes he helped out the twins, especially when they tinkered with motorcycles that came rolling in every few weeks when the weather was nice.
Other times he helped Bill tattoo. Other times he helped his mother knead dough. Sometimes he tagged along Ron's mail route. Recently, he had been poking around Hermione's shop, begging her to let him help her out. She was two more chocolate croissants away from letting him.
Then, there was Percy, the only Weasley to ever go to college. He currently worked at the bank, and somehow was loving it. He was also the only Weasley she had ever seen in slack pants. As the custom Weasley dress code was jeans, and whatever tee shirt smelt best that day.
Then, the twins. The only trustworthy mechanics in a fifty-mile radius. As a lot of local retirees swore they knew how to fix an engine, but seemed to always muck it up. There wasn't a single engine the twins couldn't get running. They worked on hauling trucks, family vans, old cars, new cars, and even lawnmowers. George himself had an old Mustang he was working on, and Fred was tinkering with a Harley.
Then there was Ron, who never really found a passion or anything he was good at really. So he signed on to be a mail carrier and now delivered on every route within St. John's, happily.
Then, the youngest and only Weasley girl, Ginny. She was the soccer coach at the school, for both boys and girls. As well as both the little league and the high school league. She loved it, and you could often hear her shouting drills down the street from the school.
She was also married happily to Harry and had a boy named Teddy right out of high school. What a scandal that had been.
Harry's parents were also long-time settlers in St. John's, as his father's parents had laid their roots down several years ago.
This left Hermione, who moved here at the unexciting age of three and hadn't left since except for her graduation trip she took with Ron and Harry to Mexico.
"Oi! You grabbing coffee?" Fred hollered over the road, squinting against the sun. The mechanic shop backed up to the beach, the lucky bastards. Quick quip out for lunch and they could go for a swim before forcing themselves back to work.
Not that George ever did-but the thought was nice.
"Yes, usual?" Hermione hollered back, already strolling towards Lavenders.
"Yes please!" George quipped, raising his head out of the Chevy. Hermione heard the ting of his head striking the metal and quickly turned on her heel so he wouldn't hear her laughing.
Hermione returned, exactly four minutes later, to George grumbling still rubbing his head while Fred whistled an off-key tune to the Subaru. Clearly trying to serenade it into listening to him.
"One triple shot, extra vanilla, and a splash of cream for you." Hermione set Fred's coffee down on his tool bench, before strolling across the shop to George's side. "And a straight black, no-nonsense coffee like a sane person." Hermione grinned, pushing his coffee into his grumbling hands.
"Perhaps your life would be a bit sweeter if you put a little sugar in your sin there, Granger." Fred quipped, taking a step back to take a long pull of the sugary concoction that he drank religiously. Hermione never was quite sure how the man could consume so much caffeine. Or sugar.
"Perhaps, you can start paying me back for all these coffees I get you every morning?" Hermione raised her eyebrow at the twin, grabbing a lone stool and perching on it. She had a spare fifteen minutes before her first client showed up.
"Nonsense." Fred scoffed, digging a tennis ball from his tool bench that he tossed down the road for Coach to fetch. "I told you, you bring an engine round that you need to be fixed, and I'll fix it for you. Debts paid, no transaction needed." Fred grinned, a toothy grin that caused Hermione's eyes to roll.
"I'd sooner vacation in Antarctica than own anything with an engine." Hermione quipped in return.
She had a bicycle and it suited her just fine.
"Pity, I can picture you in a convertible, what'd you think Georgie?" Fred asked, turning to his twin. Who was cupping his coffee like it would smooth all of his pain away.
"Moped," George stated, smirking at Hermione before leaning back against his tool bench.
Hermione rolled her eyes again and stood from her stool as Coach came racing back. Dropping a now drool-covered tennis ball at Fred's feet.
"I like my bicycle, named her Stacey just the other day." Hermione tilted her head as if she was pretending to be in thought. "Might let you paint her blue if you want." She shrugged, stepping out of the shop's garage to the sidewalk sunshine. She waved a hand in greeting to Flitwick, who ran the post office.
"Oh the pleasure would be ours, wouldn't it be, Georgie?" Fred smirked, turning to wink at his brother who didn't return the notion. Only regarded Hermione with a curious expression, before bringing his coffee to his lips.
"Yellow would suit you better." George finally answered, setting his coffee aside to pick up a wrench.
Hermione watched him for a moment, in his blue jumpsuit covered in oil stains. His fingers were stained black, and he already had an oil mark across his cheek. Out of the two twins, George spoke far less than his equal counterpart.
Hermione remembered it not always being that way, as kids you couldn't get George to shut up even if you tried. No amount of bribing, candy, or promises could get him to stop talking for longer than two minutes. Then, when he was only fourteen years old, he fell into the frozen pond on his parent's property.
It had been the biggest fright in a long time for St. John's. Rushed him off to the main hospital in St. Ives and everything. Three days later he came back with an ear that was mangled, and a thick bandage wrapped around his head. A bruise up the side of his neck, and an odd kink in his right hand. Every once in a while, if you watched, his right hand would twitch to its own accord.
He had never been the same after that. Much quieter, and reserved. Never spoke a word about the incident, and to this day refused to get in any body of water. Hermione had been too shy to pry. All she knew now was that Fred did enough talking for the two of them.
"Ms. Granger!" Hermione whirled around, tearing her eyes off the back of George's head to find Mr. Slughorn across the street, cradling his fur-ball of a cat against his chest. "We're ready!" Slughorn called again, before pushing into her shop, not bothering to wait on the sidewalk for her.
"Go trim princesses nails, we'll keep after Coach." Fred sent her away with a wave, a wink, and a toss of the tennis ball for Coach. Hermione thanked him with the bow of her head and jogged across the street towards her shop.
"Oh! Mione!" Hermione paused, hand on her door to turn and face Fred once more. "BBQ, Ron's place to celebrate the engagement! BYOB!" He hollered, before turning back to the Subaru, tossing his already empty cup into a nearby trash can.
Hermione shifted her gaze to George, who had turned, one hip against the Chevy to watch her. She sent him a crooked smile, tilting her head to the side. He stared back, and raised an eyebrow in her direction. She turned, a blush threatening to work up her neck as Coach bounded to George's side, dropping the ball at his feet.
Hermione dropped her twelve pack of seltzer's in her bicycle basket, before swinging one leg over. She had showered after work, changed into much more comfortable clothes as scrubs were not flattering, and was now whistling for Coach to come bounding out the bushes.
It was a short ten minute ride, as pretty much everything else in town was, to Ron's beach house he shared with his new fiance.
Hermione had stopped to see Luna during her lunch hour, where she gushed over the ring as if she didn't quite literally pick it out for Ron three weeks prior. Then endured a taste test of all of Luna's new teas, before leaving with a goodies bag of individual little packets that she promptly tossed in a kitchen cupboard as soon as she arrived home.
"I stand by yellow." Hermione kicked her kickstand down, lugged her seltzers out of the basket, and turned to find George leaning against a small Toyota bench seat truck he had been sharing with Fred since their school years.
The thing was banged up and bent funny from the amount of times they tore it through corn fields, and it was the awful shade of pale orange from its days of sunbathing.
"Not baby blue?" Hermione asked, turning to look at her forest green bike. It was the factory color, and she despised it.
"Yellow." George nodded, stepping towards her. He bent down, patting Coach's head who barked in response, before taking off around the side of the house, no doubt in search of Ron's own dog. A lab, who for all intents and purposes was severely overweight due to Ron's habit of forgetting whether or not he fed him.
"Why aren't you back there yet?" Hermione asked, pushing her pack of seltzer's against George's chest. He took them easily, hands brushing over hers as he looped his fingers in the cardboard handles. Hermione turned, grabbing her vegan hamburger patty that was nestled at the bottom of her woven bike basket.
"I don't gush over diamonds." George shrugged as if this was a particularly normal reason to not already be in the backyard with the rest of his family.
"More of a gem kind of man?" Hermione asked, leading George around the house. It was a slow amble, as George didn't seem particularly keen on hurrying this along.
"You could say that." George offered, eyes trained ahead on the waves already licking at the beach. It was nearly surfing season.
That was how it was with George, odd comments and distant gazes. Hermione never could quite figure him out, but she entertained his strange quips in favor of droning on about the things she liked, as he was too polite to tell her to can it.
"Let's make a bet." Hermione stopped them, just at the corner of the house that would reveal them to the rest of the Weasley clan. George turned to her, tearing his eyes off the ocean to raise his brows, pleased.
This was her favorite game she played with him.
"How many times do you think your family will make a comment about us?" She asked, resisting the urge to reach up and scrub away a line of car grease along George's hairline.
"What do I get if I win?" George asked, flexing his arms around the box of seltzers. The cans rattled as his right hand twitched in response, though he hardly blinked.
"I'll let you paint my bike yellow," Hermione stated, then smiled. "If I win, you have to paint it blue."
"Sounds like I do the work, and you get a free paint job." George raised an eyebrow, challenging her suggestion.
"Fine,' Hermione sighed, letting her gaze drift to the ocean before bringing it back to him. 'case of beer." Hermione jumped in, tossing her vegan patty from one hand to the other.
George quirked his mouth slightly, regarding her with an interested expression before schooling his features.
"Twelve." He stated.
"Nine." Hermione grinned, pretending to ponder it.
"George! Granger! Stop snogging and get over here!" Fred's voice boomed out, no doubt realizing that if Coach was currently wrestling Ron's dog in the sand, it meant Hermione had shown up.
"Does that count?" George asked, scrunching his nose slightly.
"Yes," Hermione stated at once, turned on her heel, and led him towards Ron's back deck. When Harry shot her an amused expression, Ginny clapped her shoulder and Molly yanked her into a hug like she hadn't seen her since Christmas.
It was an hour or so later, and the count was already up at six. Though, Hermione was slightly suspicious that George was egging on Fred quietly to make suggestive comments in his favor.
Already, Molly had asked Hermione if she had ever considered going out with any of her sons. 'Oh, I know you and Ron didn't work out..' had been Hermione's favorite line from the whole speech she made every time she saw Hermione. Hermione had caught George's eye and mouthed the number 'three' causing him to roll his eyes.
Bill had made a slightly offhanded joke that Hermione and George should attend the wedding together, that had been number four.
Harry had made a comment about Coach liking George the best, causing George to mouth 'five' at her. Though she didn't really think it counted until Ginny had topped it off with an 'it's because Hermione likes George the best of the lot of us.'
Seven, was the most mortifying because it had come from Teddy. Who clambered up on George's lap, and asked him why he was staring at Hermione. George had simply turned, tongue in cheek, and mouthed at Hermione, 'Seven.'
Causing Hermione to reach for her fourth seltzer while Angelina, Fred's wife, poked her shoulder in curiosity.
They were settled at nine, much to Hermione's satisfaction. As the sun set, they were ushered away. They all stood in the front yard, under the setting sun's gentle light. Coach was curled up by Hermione's bike, which Ron's dog had managed to knock over. When Molly grasped Hermione's shoulder, and then reeled George in with a tug on his bicep.
"Oh, my last two single children!" She had cried happily, reaching up to cup their cheeks.
Hermione tensed at once, eyes widening.
"You two will find someone someday, I swear on it." Molly gushed, reaching up to pat both of them on the crowns of their heads. So far, Hermione could argue it didn't count.
"Who knows Mum, maybe it's right under their noses." Hermione whirled around, glaring at Fred who tilted his head back in loud laughter.
"Ten," George stated confidently, nudging Hermione gently before taking two long strides to open his driver's door.
"What dear?" Molly looked at George confused, before shaking her head. Long ago forgiving herself for never understanding his strange ways. "Oh never mind, but yes, Fred is right. You two just never know!" She waggled her finger at them, before clicking her tongue at her husband who was trying to pull her away to the farm truck, eager to go home and go to bed as he was to be up at sunrise.
"Oh alright, Arthur!" Molly snapped, though it was lovingly. "Goodnight my children!" She waved, clambering up in the truck after Arthur and sped away as they called out their goodnights.
"You told him, didn't you?" Hermione turned, hands on hips to face George who pulled a shocked expression, hand flying to his chest.
"Told him what?" Harry stepped in curiosity, cradling a snoring Teddy against his chest.
"Yellow will look marvelous," George smirked, gesturing down to the bike. "And I like lagers." He smirked at her, folding his arm's over his chest as Hermione huffed at him. Certain the bastard had been cheating, dirty thing that.
"He didn't tell me a thing," Fred argued, sliding his arm around his wife's waist. "I figured it out around number five, I just wasn't sure who placed their bet higher. It was a risky one." Fred smirked, winking at George but George didn't catch it.
"Hermione, you aren't biking home in the dark, are you?" Hermione stilled, turning to face Fleur who was standing beside their Honda. She had her ever-present smirk on her lips, and a challenge in her eye.
"It's only up the road-" Hermione began to argue, but Ron choose that moment to barge in.
"George can give you a ride." He grinned, sliding an arm around Luna who leaned against him.
"Eleven," George stated at once, Hermione rolled her eyes. It shouldn't count, but in a round-a-bout way, it did. Knowing the Weasleys as well as she did, it definitely counted.
"Then he can take the bike to the shop, and work on it first thing tomorrow morning." Fred chimed in, winking at Hermione who glared at him back. Cursing Angelina for choosing to drive herself to the bbq tonight, rather than riding with George as they lived next door to each other. "And maybe snog you on your porch good night, like in the movies." Percy gave an awkward laugh at Fred's comment, before clearing his throat and sobering up.
"Coach." Harry whistled, causing Coach to lift his head immediately. Blinking at Harry confused. "You want to ride with George?" Harry cooed, jerking his chin towards George who had yet to move from beside his truck.
Coach barked happily, jumped up and into George's truck bed, and then gazed at Hermione expectantly. But Hermione was looking at George, who was frowning displeased at Fred.
"It's been settled, good night everyone!" Bill called, ducking into his car. Hermione watched, as Charlie straddled his motorcycle and sped away. Percy slipped into his two-seat Porsche, and drove away. George's gaze darkened as each of his siblings abandoned him.
Harry was buckling in Teddy, before righting and looking over at Hermione.
"Get home safe you two!" He called, before climbing in the car as Ginny started it. Hermione faintly heard George mumble a response.
Hermione turned on her heel, avoiding George's gaze, and heaved her bike up. She rolled it over to the truck, slightly off balance due to the amount of seltzer she had drunk this evening. Perhaps it was rather smart for George to give her a lift. Not that she'd tell him that.
"Twelve." George stepped forward, and grasped the bike's handle bars and seat, before lifting it up and over the tailgate. Lightly brushing against her, causing Hermione to take a stumbled step backward. He laid it down gently in the bed of his truck, before turning and striding towards his driver's door.
"Bye, kids!" Ron called, waving from his front porch step as Hermione wrestled the passenger door open that tended to stick every other time.
"Just because he's sodding engaged, doesn't mean..." George's voice trailed off as he cranked the engine. A loud song filled the speakers, but he didn't reach to turn it down, instead he looked over his shoulder and backed out of the drive. Leaving Hermione to wave at Ron, who waved enthusiastically back.
Hermione waited a total of two minutes, before reaching over and turning down George's cassette tape just enough so she could hear properly.
"You can drop me off on the corner, if it's that much of a hassle," Hermione stated quickly, trying to grasp George's sudden change in mood.
"What?" George stated, turning to face her before quickly looking back out the road. He had his right hand on his leg, while his left hand was on the top of the steering wheel.
"I just mean, so you don't have to drive all the way down the laneway." Hermione shrugged, pushing herself closer to her door. The air in the cab felt thick.
"Nonsense." George scoffed, straightening himself as he cleared his throat. "Just, I'll paint it blue if you want. I did sort of cheat." George sighed, flexing his right hand on his leg before stilling it. Though his thumb betrayed him, twitching before settling back again.
"No, you won. Yellow it is." Hermione nodded, turning away to gaze as the sun finally slipped below the horizon. "It'll grow on me." Hermione insisted, turning ahead as George signaled to turn onto the main road.
"You want flames down the middle?" George quirked, turning to give Hermione a small smile before turning quickly out the window. Hermione relaxed back against the cloth seats, relieved that George's strange mood wasn't because he had to drive her home. Or Fred's offhand comment.
"Great big ones." She joked, turning to gaze at her shop as they neared it, only to straighten at the sight of someone standing before it. Cradling an animal against their chest, and banging on the shop door. "Pull over!" Hermione demanded, already opening her door before George could even tap the brake.
"Granger!" George yelped, slamming on the brake. Coach barked in protest, not particularly liking the toss-around he endured, before straightening as Hermione tumbled out of the truck. Nearly tripping over the pavement edge, she hurried towards the person she now realized was sobbing.
"Colin?" Hermione asked slowly, approaching the boy she now recognized as being a few years younger than her. She couldn't remember if he had graduated this year, or last.
"Ms. Granger! My dog, he's..he's not breathing!" Colin wailed, turning on his heel in shock.
Hermione hurried to his side, barely paying mind to Dennis who was standing just behind Colin, trembling in a coat that was four sizes to big.
"Where are your parents?" Hermione didn't pay mind to George as he hurried up, leaving the truck running on the side of the road.
Hermione pulled back the blanket wrapped tight around Colin's Pomeranian, to find her eyes closed and a stream of blood running down the side of her mouth.
"They're in St. Ives, for their anniversary. We're the only ones home." Dennis trembled, though he was fourteen, he was a skinny thing and could pass for at least eleven or twelve.
"Please help me, Ms. Granger." Colin's voice trembled as he pushed the dog towards Hermione.
Hermione gathered the dog in her arms, and fished the keys she always carried. Shoving them in the lock, she let them all into the shop and flicked on lights before hurrying over to her single operation table she usually used for trimmings and haircuts.
"I need you to tell me what happened, every detail," Hermione instructed, spreading the blanket out. The Pomeranian kicked, seized and more blood dribbled from her mouth.
"We..we were watching a movie in the den, and then I heard Lucy cough. We waited for her to stop, but she never did." Colin's hands' shook, as he gently ran his fingers over her puffy tail. Lucy bucked again, seized, and coughed. Spraying Hermione's sweater with crimson dots.
"I...I went upstairs, and she had her head in the cabinet under the sink-" Colin was cut off, as Lucy gave a pitiful whine, trying to thrash from Hermione's arms as she cut the collar off from around her neck.
"Do your parents keep cleaning supplies under the sink?" Hermione asked, already guessing where this was going.
"Yes, but it was supposed to be locked!" Colin said quickly, then grew suddenly quiet. Hermione glanced up, already feeling along Lucy's stomach to see Colin's face turn an awful shade of white. "I left it open...I needed the counter spray because I spilled-" Colin cut himself off, trembling as he took three shaky steps away from Hermione.
"It's not your fault Colin, you did the right thing bringing her here. I'm going to pump her stomach, you can wait in the..." Colin rushed forward at once, shaking his head frantically and wiping away tears that had spilled over.
"No! No, I'll stay. She'll be scared alone." Colin stated confidently. Hermione gazed at him for a moment, before chancing a look up to find George. Who was standing, watching her with Dennis hiding behind him.
George nodded at her once and turned to whisper to Dennis. She heard the bell on her front door jingle before she jumped into action.
Grabbing the necessary equipment, forgoing gloves as this needed to happen now.
"Hold her neck steady, she won't like this." Hermione stated, feeding a tube down the dog's throat. Lucy bucked and squealed, before suddenly heaving. Spewing a white foamy matter onto the table, where it dripped, spilling onto Hermione's shoes.
She didn't pay mind to this, continuing to work until Lucy eventually stilled. Panting, her eyes fluttered open to find Colin hovering above her.
"You did good, you did really good, Colin," Hermione told him gently, moving quickly to wipe Lucy's fur clean so she didn't look quite so troublesome.
"She'll be alright?" Colin asked, running her fingers through the fur behind Lucy's ears.
"Yes, she'll be fine," Hermione told him kindly, already digging in a medicine cabinet for antibiotics he'd need to give her.
"I...I couldn't remember your phone number, so I came here." Colin coughed, wiping at his eyes before continuing. "I'm glad you drove by with Mr. Weasley when you did." Colin coughed again, shooting her a shy look before leaning down to whisper to Lucy again.
"Me too." Hermione whispered, knowing full well had she ridden her bike home, she would not have passed by her shop, as she would have taken the shortcut through the forest.
"Thank you, Ms. Granger." Colin stated, looking up as Hermione neared him with a small paper bag.
"Here are her antibiotics, give them to her three times a day with a bit of food. You'll want to get her food wet a bit, so it's easier to eat. I also gave you one of my cards as well, just in case." Hermione smiled at him kindly, pressing the bag into his hands. She moved again, grabbing a clean white towel to wrap Lucy in before handing her over. Colin cradled her against his chest, smiling gratefully.
"When my parents get home, I'll send them over to pay the bill," Colin spoke, shifting from one foot to the other.
"Nonsense, don't worry about it," Hermione reassured, leading Colin towards the door.
When they stepped aside, George had his radio playing while Dennis threw a tennis ball down the road for Coach, who eagerly chased after it. George was seated on his dropped-down tailgate, swinging his feet back and forth as he watched. It caused Hermione's heart to clench, and she quickly tore her eyes away to focus back on Colin.
"Do you two need a ride?" She asked softly, but Colin shook his head.
"No, we're just around the corner. Thank you again, Ms. Granger." Colin smiled at her, before stepping away and giving a low whistle that snapped Dennis's attention over.
"Is Lucy alright?" Dennis asked, jogging over, the ends of his coat dragging on the pavement. Hermione had to guess it was their father's, and he had grabbed it in a rush.
"All better, want to go home and finish our movie?" Collin asked, handing the paper bag over to Dennis. Dennis nodded happily, and reached over to pet Lucy gently before waving shyly at George.
"Thank you!" Colin called, before hurrying after Dennis toward home.
"You aren't getting in my car with that all over you." Hermione turned startled, to see Coach sitting beside George on the tailgate, both of them regarding her with a look of disgust.
Hermione looked down slowly, realizing her sweater was covered in blood, her pants had some cream colored mess on them and her shoes were thoroughly ruined.
"I've got scrubs, be only a moment." Hermione sighed turning on her heel, she strolled back into the shop. Slightly startled when the bell jangled, George followed after her, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"That happens a lot?" He asked, nearing the operation table.
"No, can't say it does." Hermione sighed, squatting down to dig in one of her cabinets. They were old scrubs, but they'd do.
"You were quite calm." George spoke again, Hermione turned to him, raising an eyebrow before glancing over at the bathroom door. "Right, yeah, I'll wait outside." George coughed, scratched the back of his neck, and retreated back out the door.
Hermione hurried, stripping her clothes off in the bathroom and shrugging on the scrubs. It was a tight fit, but she yanked them on. She tossed her shoes, and clothes in a rubbish bin. Along with the paper that had been on the operation table, as well as a few towels she didn't deem worthy enough to try and wash. Spraying a quick disinfectant, before turning the lights out and hurrying outside.
George was back in the cab now, windows down as an unfamiliar song filtered through his speakers. Coach was curled up in the bed of the truck, snoring away.
"Old scrubs?" George quirked an eyebrow as Hermione climbed into the cab.
Hermione looked at him strangely, before looking down at herself. Her top was stretched slightly and dipped a little too low for her normal wear. She also, realized just now, was stretched so tight the scrubs had become see-through and her red bra was shining clear as day through the white cloth. Her pants were stretched tightly around her thighs and her feet were bare as her socks hadn't been worthy enough to save either.
"Have you got something better?" Hermione challenged, lifting her gaze to meet his once more as she slammed the passenger door closed.
George coughed, then turned. Leaning towards her slightly, and reached behind her seat to the floor behind her. Before coming back with a blue checkered flannel that he tossed toward her lap. Hermione hurried to pull it on, all while George watched her.
"Are you going to drive?" Hermione asked, settling back in her seat, pulling the sides of the flannel over her chest, and crossing her arms. She shouldn't be embarrassed, not really anyway. She had just saved a dog's life, and wasn't really concerned about the fact her bra was revealed but something about the way George's eyes lingered had her palms sweating.
George-as far she knew, never had lingering eyes.
George didn't say a word, only shifted over and reached one long arm around Hermione. She stiffened, slowly turning to see his face near hers. She could count every freckle from this position, but as quickly as he had neared he pulled away at the sound of a soft click.
"Seat belt," George stated calmly, then turned and pressed on the gas.
Hermione flustered, shoving her hands between her knees, and watched the trees fly by as George drove down the main road.
Lingering eyes, as if. Hermione must have imagined. It was only ever a game. She had too many seltzers, her head muddled with the comments made by his family and the sudden rush of saving a dog from poisoning itself-George did not let his eyes linger on her.
That would be outrageous.