George tugged on the hem of his swimming trunks before jumping out of the truck. His hands were still covered in grease, and he was sure his hair was a mess, but work had run late and he only had about five minutes to change before rushing over to pick up Hermione.
Hermione, who was walking out of her house with Coach leading the way wearing a bikini top, a pair of loose shorts, and a bag on her arm. George stumbled to a stop at the end of her walkway, tugging on the tee shirt he had thrown on, and considered ripping it off himself when Hermione turned to greet him with a smile, shutting the door behind herself as she did so.
"Hey! Road soda?" She asked, pulling a steel cup out of her beach bag as she neared him. Coach had already bounded over to the truck, hopping up into the bed of it. Giving an impatient bark, much to Hermione's amusement.
"A road soadie, why Granger." George teased, accepting the steel cup as she pulled her own out.
"Beach is only like five minutes away, now let's go!" Hermione laughed, brushing by him to hurry towards the truck. George shook his head and hurried around his truck to jump into his driver's seat. He stilled, shutting the door behind him as Hermione was in the middle seat, her beach bag abandoned on the passenger seat.
He raised his eyebrows at her, a silent question on his lips.
Hermione seemed to take note he hadn't started the truck and turned to him. Cup at her lips, and eyebrows raised.
"This alright?" She asked, gesturing between the two of them.
Fred's words rang through his head, and he quickly turned away shoving the keys into the ignition. Forcing his fingers not to shake as he turned them.
"Yes, course, why wouldn't it be?" He coughed, cleared his throat, and reversed, his forearm brushing her knee where it was propped near the gear shift as he moved.
As he switched back to drive, his left hand that held the steel cup was also gripping the steering wheel. He stilled, hand hovering over the gear shift as he bumped down the laneway, he then threw all common sense out the window and let his wrist rest on her knee, fingers around the gear shift. His knuckles turned white as he waited.
Her bare skin felt warm under his wrist, and he felt himself blinking to regain his focus as he turned off her laneway, down the road that would wrap through the forest for a bit, before dumping them into a small parking lot at a secluded beach only the locals ever used.
His wrist stayed there, for the whole five minutes of their drive until he was forced to let go so he could park properly, as he was still clutching his steel cup with every ounce of strength he had.
"Ahh, George! Just the man I need, help this old man out and carry this for me?" James squinted, covering his face from the setting sun glare, and gestured towards a cooler sitting in the back of his car. An old Mustang passed down from his father.
"So we've admitted we've gotten old, have we!?" Hermione hollered after him, sliding across George's seat and landing on the concrete, her bag coming crashing down beside her.
"Can it Granger, I've got a young heart," James argued, clapping George's shoulder as he heaved the cooler up. Hermione shut George's door with her hip and nodded at Coach as he looked at her to see if he can go chasing Dorothy down the beach.
"Not if you don't watch your cholesterol, Potter!" Sirius called, trailing beside Remus who was carrying both their beach chairs.
"Oi, Black! Fuck off!" He shouted, flipping him two birds causing the other man to laugh.
"The children, James!" Lily scolded playfully, helping Ginny yank a surfboard off the top of their car.
"Teddy doesn't mind, do you bud?" James asked, quirking an eyebrow at Teddy who was straining to carry his bag of sand toys. Dragging it across the sand, refusing help from Fleur who was attempting to grab the bag from his hands.
She looked flustered trailing after him. Her hands waved about, sunglasses sliding off her nose, and three different sunscreen bottles in her hands. Teddy was promptly ignoring her, his destination being Bill who was waiting a few yards away on a beach blanket, watching his wife with a smile.
"No, Mommy says bad words all the time." Teddy shrugged, causing a laugh to burst from George's lips. Hermione smiled to herself, grabbing George's steel cup for him, and followed him down the sand to the section the Weasleys had staked out for them.
"You riding some waves tonight, Granger?" Charlie asked, stretching on a beach towel with a strip of sunscreen across his nose.
"Maybe when the sun sets." Hermione shrugged, flopping down on the beach towel Angelina gestured to beside hers. Fred had sprawled out on the one on her other side, and a blue one beside Hermione's lay empty. Hermione didn't have to take very many guesses as to who it was intended for.
"Attah girl, Percy's already out there trying to show off." Charlie scoffed, pointing out into the water. Audrey was standing in the waves, watching as Percy struggled to stand on his board, he wobbled for a brief moment and just as he caught his balance, the wave jumped up wiping the board out from underneath him. Audrey's loud laughter floated down the beach.
"He's going to pull a muscle if he keeps going like that." Hermione mused, squinting as Percy's head popped back up. George snorted, amused, as he sat down beside her. Having deposited the cooler next to the blanket Lily had spread out.
Teddy was beside it digging into the sand with a pink shovel. George stretched his legs out in front of him, and Hermione didn't have to turn to notice he had taken off his shirt. Bastard-though she had yanked hers off the moment she had heard George's truck turn down her drive. A daring chance with a warm reward.
She could still feel the warm skin of his wrist against her bare knee, settled there for the short and quiet drive. A small act of affection that she had never received from another person before.
"Waves are better when the sun dips, doesn't he know?" Fred asked, propping his head up on his hands.
It had started back when they were all in school, the first day of surf season the waves were always shit, despite the large crowds that tended to flock towards St. John's. At night though, the tourists would go back to their rentals. Leaving the beaches empty for the locals, just as the sun would set the waves were brilliant. Hermione couldn't recall who discovered this first, but it had quickly become a tradition in their group, and Hermione had grown to adore it.
"My turn! My turn!" Teddy bounced up and down, holding a small bodyboard and pointing towards the ocean, his pink shovel abandoned in the sand.
"Let's go, Teddy!" Harry called and ran past his son, James on his heels as they raced towards the water.
Coach and Dorothy barked happily, pouncing in the waves.
"Do you want to go put our toes in?" Hermione turned slowly, tearing her eyes off of Charlie who was trying to do a handstand on a surfboard and pulled her hand out of the bag of chips she was devouring to blink at George.
He only smirked, seemingly amused by her reaction, and clapped his hands together softly.
"Let's go." George reached over, poking her bicep before pulling himself up. Hermione pushed the bag of chips towards Angelina, despite the fact she was fast asleep, and hurried after George, pulling her shorts off quickly and throwing them back where they landed on his towel.
She trailed him, slightly curious as to why he was asking her-and if maybe he was having one on and intended to throw her in the water. Only too slow, as George had faltered in his footsteps.
George stopped, just at the edge of the water.
"Just toes." Hermione reminded, and she stepped in front of him just off to the right. Slipping in the water until her ankles disappeared beneath the water before turning to him.
She watched, through her sunglasses as George studied her for a moment. Her cheeks burned, though she could easily blame it on the sun as he took in her swimsuit-clad body. She wanted to squirm and turn away but George suddenly took a deep breath.
She wasn't any better. His freckled-covered shoulders were practically glowing in the setting sun and she couldn't tear her eyes off of them.
"Is it cold?" He asked, looking back at the water. Hermione bent over, placed both her hands in the water then turned to George, holding her hands out. It was silly, but George seemed to take her seriously.
George poked her palm, before turning away.
"A bit." He said, shuffling in the sand, refusing to admit it was burning his feet.
"Uncle Georgie, look!" Hermione didn't catch him in time, as it didn't register until split seconds before it happened. But Teddy came barreling in, crashing into the water just before George, splashing him with water to his knees.
Hermione froze as George tensed, his spine going rigid as he looked down at his legs.
"It uh-" George started, but Hermione was already moving. She stepped over, mindful not to splash, and grabbed his wrist, wrapping her hand around it.
She rubbed a small circle and pulled.
George stumbled, his right foot crashing into the water than his left.
"It's-it feels nice." George stuttered, he took another delicate step forward, now submerged ankle down.
They continued going, Teddy swimming around them occasionally splashing as they took tentative steps. Completely oblivious to George's clear anguish. Teddy only babbled along, dunking his face in on every go-around and kicking his feet against the sand.
"This is good-" George coughed pulling his hand from Hermione's, his cheeks tinted pink from the sun. "I can do this." George pointed down, he was submerged just below the knee and could still see his toes through the blue water. That was enough to ground him.
"I might just start crying." Hermione looked up, submerged at nearly her thigh to see Fred standing before them beaming.
Hermione's cheeks colored as she spotted Bill, Charlie, and Ginny floating on surfboards watching them. She could only imagine everyone else was staring at them from the beach. The poking and prodding she would receive from Lily would be nearly enough to send her packing if George hadn't shot her a glance as if to make sure she wasn't going to take off right then and there.
Measuring her up before turning to address Fred.
"Don't you dare," George warned, hands shaking as he pointed at his twin brother. Though a smile was tugging on his lips, that caused Hermione's heart to hammer.
"No I'm being serious man, look at you." Fred smiled kindly, he took a tentative step forward but George went rigid. His hand dropped to his side, trembling against his swim shorts that hadn't so much as touched the water yet.
They had, with no doubt, ever touched water in their entire existence.
"I don't think-" George started, stepping closer to Hermione. Hermione stayed rooted, watching Fred closely.
"I won't push you." Fred held both hands up, a look of earnestness on his face. Fred took another step forward, and George's hand flew out, crashing against Hermione's thigh before finding her hand.
She squeezed it as Fred wrapped George in a hug, whispering things Hermione couldn't hear in his ear.
George lasted a near twenty minutes, even managing to bend over and splash some water at Teddy, who shrieked with laughter and swam away before circling back to latch onto Hermione's legs.
When they got back to their towels, Hermione promptly ignored Lily's knowing gaze and sprawled out on her towel. She busied her hands by pouring another drink into her steel cup as George dried his legs thoroughly. His hands shook as he dragged the cotton towel up his legs.
"That was good." Hermione passed him a beer and clinked her cup against it before taking a sip.
"I didn't like it." George shook his head, leaning back on his hand.
"But you did it." George looked over to see his Mother smiling at him softly from her beach chair.
George nodded, chewing on his lip before answering. "Maybe by the end of the summer, I'll jump off the dock." He decided, nodding though Hermione could see the fear lace through him.
"Maybe, by the end of the summer, you'll actually tan." Lily joked, leaning over to poke a finger against his red shoulder. "Where's your hoodie at, it would keep the sun off your skin?" She cocked her head at him, and Hermione tilted her head confused as George's cheeks colored violently.
"It's too warm for that." George stammered out, turning away.
"I think it's just right," Lily argued, pressing a bowl of fruit into his hands.
Hermione stared between the two for a moment, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together before deciding she didn't even want to pretend as if she understood. Turning away, Angelina pulled her arm until they were pressed shoulder to shoulder on the towel.
"Nap time," Angelina whispered to her, pushing her face into Hermione's neck. Hermione giggled, kicking her feet out causing Angelina to laugh against her. A hand came up, cupping her now slightly growing belly and Hermione couldn't help but smile at her.
"Will you be her godmother?" Angelina whispered to her, grabbing Hermione's hand to press it against her stomach.
Hermione gasped, yanking her head away to look Angelina in the eye. "Are you serious?" She spluttered, eyes wide.
"Yes, of course, I think-"
"No, I mean it's a girl?" Hermione whispered, leaning in close again as Angelina was still keeping her voice low.
"Not like officially, but I've got a feeling." Angelina grinned, flattening their hands on her stomach.
"Oh my god, Angelina," Hermione whispered, gazing down at her stomach. "You want me to-me?" Hermione stuttered out, lifting her eyebrows when she looked back at her. It had to be a joke, Hermione, a godmother?
"Fred's going to ask George, but he's going to make it this huge thing. I just wanted something..I don't know, private between us." Angelina shrugged, though her cheeks colored.
Hermione grinned, throwing her arm around Angelina's neck and pulling her to herself. They swayed for a moment, enjoying each other's embrace until a shadow loomed over them.
"I want cuddles too." Fred pouted, he squatted over them before pushing his hands in between their bodies until he was finally wedged in between them. His head was buried in Angelina's neck, and his legs intertwined with Hermione's causing both girls to laugh.
Hermione pulled away, patting Angelina's stomach in acknowledgment. Though when she turned she found George gazing at her, eyebrows raised.
"Jealous?" She quirked.
George whipped his head away, shoving a strawberry in his mouth to stare out at the ocean.
"No." He stuttered out, cheeks blaring as he poked around for more fruit.
Hermione leaned over, her legs still tangled with Fred's, and nudged his hand away, pinching a strawberry between her forefinger and her thumb. She looked up at him, as she slid the fruit between her lips and smiled.
"Liar."
Hermione tugged on the neckline of her dress, then tugged on the waist until it felt more settled on her skin. She was delighted to have a tan this early in the summer, as it complimented the periwinkle blue dress quite well. Hermione slipped her toes into her shoes, a pair of simple silver flats before hurrying into the kitchen to have a beer before George arrived.
Hermione whistled, grabbing Coach's food bowl off the floor.
"Afraid it's kibble tonight, pup," Hermione told Coach as he rounded the corner. Coach grumbled, but sat obediently next to his place mat on the floor until Hermione set the bowl back down. Taking a long pull of her beer as she stood up straight again. "Maybe I'll get you a treat or bone tomorrow." Hermione mused, rummaging in her fridge for the bowl of leftover pasta from her dinner last night. A small appetizer wouldn't hurt.
Coach barked, before diving back into his kibble. Nibbling at it as Hermione leaned against the counter, spearing a fork into the pasta.
"Maybe we go to the beach, aye?" Hermione asked, earning another grumble of bark from Coach. Hermione mouthed the word 'no', rolling her eyes at Coach's attitude.
"I'd take you with me Coach, but it's a fancy event. I'm in a dress for heaven's sake and there's wine, I don't even really like fancy wine, more of a box person myself. But there will be art and-" Hermione rambled, chewing and waving her hand about as she talked.
"It's a nice dress."
Hermione jumped startled, looking up from her pasta to find George leaning against the archway with his shoulder, hands shoved in his trouser pockets. He was wearing a simple black button-up, and his hair was tousled with gel.
"Thanks," Hermione replied, taking another slow bite as she dragged her gaze over him. Craning her head to the side, she noticed the toes of his nice cowboy boots that his father gifted him upon graduating from school. A tradition he started with Bill, way back. The boys only ever wore theirs for nice occasions, like weddings and funerals. While Ginny wore hers nearly daily, as hers were a fiery red color and she absolutely adored them.
"Is it bad?" George asked, he spread his arm and did a slow twirl, before raising his eyebrows at Hermione expectantly.
"No-No! It looks good, you look good!" Hermione stuttered out, hands clamming as she spoke. She quickly set the bowl to the side and grabbed her beer to take a long pull.
"That nervous?" George quipped, stepping forward he pulled a fork from her silverware drawer and poked around in the pasta before coming back with a hefty bite and shoving it in his mouth. His eyes widened slightly, nodding in contentment at the taste of her leftovers.
"No." Hermione lied, taking another drink. She pulled it away, and set it on the counter before clapping her hands together. "Oh, I need my purse! One moment." Hermione pressed her hand to his arm and slipped past him before hurrying down the hallway. Slipping into her bedroom she grabbed her over-the-shoulder small black purse, took a moment to take a deep breath in the mirror, and hurried back to find George putting the pasta back in the fridge, and patting Coach on the head.
"Ready?" George asked, turning towards her.
"No," Hermione said truthfully, causing George to frown.
"You don't have to-" George started, but Hermione quickly shook her head.
"No, I mean just..it's fancy, that's all." Hermione shook her head, stepping towards the front door where she could hear George's truck idling in the laneway.
"You look good, Hermione." Hermione paused, turning to face him and she found George looking at her expectantly back, hands in his trouser pockets again, meeting her gaze easily.
How he did such things, Hermione wasn't sure. Her chest was a muddled mess of emotions, and her cheeks were tinted pink she was sure-just the sight of George had her curling her toes.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered, reaching up to run a hand through her curls before snatching her hand away so she didn't mess with her half-hour of hard work. George only quirked a small laugh and stepped towards her.
"Let's go then." George smiled, stepping towards her he guided her out the front door and shut it behind himself. Coach barked after them, running to the window to watch them walk down the porch steps.
She followed him down to the truck, stepping up into the passenger seat as he held the door open. She watched him walk around the front of the truck, rubbing his hands together before climbing up into the driver seat, and slamming the door behind himself.
Hermione found herself watching him as he reached for the gear shift before suddenly his eyes flashed to hers.
Hermione sat stone still, as George reached over the seat between them and grabbed her arm giving it a short tug. She moved, sliding across the seat until she was next to him, only then did he remove his hand from her arm, and crank the truck into reverse.
"Seats too far away," George mumbled, as he shifted back into drive and they bumped down the laneway.
Hermione only smiled, pressing her shoulder against his as they turned for the highway.
Neither saying another word.
The lights were bright, and the man playing live piano music was smiling at anyone that so much as looked his way. Hermione had already earned three smiles, and she had been there perhaps ten minutes if that.
"What do you usually do?" Hermione asked, standing on her tiptoe to whisper to George, he seemed much taller with his boots on. Boots that she couldn't help but continue to glance at. Though that only meant she got to take her eyes from his boots, up his mile-long legs, across his torso, and to his face-each time his lips would smile, and she would turn away.
"I usually stand in the corner, and wait for it to be over," George admitted, taking a half step closer to her as an elderly couple, decked out in polyester suits ambled by, talking animatedly to each other. Though George couldn't understand a lick of what they were saying.
"Have you seen Lee or Oliver yet?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes at George. She could just picture it, George standing somewhere on the sidelines in his six foot two inches of glory, sipping an expensive glass of wine and giving everyone one of his empty stares as he waited for the art show to be done.
"No," George admitted, standing on his toes to gaze over everyone's heads, though he didn't truly need to stand on his toes, as he could see just fine. He hadn't realized artists were so short til that moment. "Well, there's Charlie." George snorted, bending to point in the line of sight of Charlie.
Hermione scanned for a moment, before letting out a startled laugh. Charlie was being paraded around by an elderly woman, in a long ball gown who was just absolutely glowing with Charlie on her arm. Charlie was smiling smugly, dipping his head in acknowledgment to everyone they passed and holding tight to the older woman's hand.
"She hosts this art show, apparently Charlie swooned her last year." George rolled his eyes, looking down at Hermione who smiled at him, a laugh line forming between her eyebrows.
"Well, that girl is definitely that man's mistress." George followed Hermione's line of sight, to see a young girl in a cocktail dress hanging onto the arm of an elderly man.
"That's his daughter." George deadpanned to Hermione, causing a small gasp to tumble from her lips.
"No way." She whispered, grasping his elbow as she stared at them.
"I have no idea Hermione, I stand in the corners." George laughed, then slipped his hand up her arm to steer her towards a man holding a platter of wine glasses.
They both plucked one up and sipped them idly as they wandered around. Hermione kept her hand on his arm the whole way, letting him decide the direction they ambled.
"Oh, would you look at that!" Hermione turned at the high-pitched voice, and found Lee clutching Oliver's arm, his other hand pressed against his chest. "She's beautiful, Oliver." Lee pretended to swoon, then rushed forward pulling Hermione from George and wrapping her in a tight hug.
Hermione blushed, swatting Lee's shoulder as she was pushed away so he could marvel at her dress. He pulled her dress straps and forced a spin out of her until George stepped up, swatting Lee's hands away.
"Oi, she's not one of the art pieces Lee, quit it." He sighed, pulling Hermione to him again but Hermione frowned, pulled away, and performed another spin, fluffing her dress as she went.
"I think I look radiant." Hermione grinned, settling into Lee's side as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Though she flustered, slightly as George's gaze was caught on her waist before his eyes snapped up to hers.
"Radiant, Mr. Boots," Lee smirked, looking down at George's scuffed cowboy boots.
George flushed, kicking his boot against the wood floor until Oliver walked to his side, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
"And we look drop-dead gorgeous," Oliver smirked, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss on George's cheek. George ducked out of it, laughing, straightening his shirt as Oliver pulled on it.
"You wear the same thing every year, Weasley," Oliver smirked, pulling on the lapels of his own suit jacket, a navy shade of blue.
"You need to spice it up, Georgie!" Lee crooned, stepping forward he undid George's top button making his cheeks flush. Lee was wearing a floral shirt, unbuttoned to his sternum, and a pair of very tight-fitting leather-looking pants.
"I think he looks good." Lee stopped, pulling away with wide eyes to Hermione. Who straightened her shoulders, walking over to loop an arm around George's waist, pushing herself against his now very warm side. "Only a man with impeccable taste can pull the same outfit off over and over again," Hermione replied smugly, but Lee and Oliver only tilted their heads back in laughter.
She glanced at George, but he was raising his wine glass to his lips and very pointedly not looking at her. She moved to pull herself away, but he stepped towards her-an arm sliding around her waist until he had a firm hold on her, freezing her in place.
No words were needed to express how he felt about that particular sentiment.
"George, with impeccable taste?" Oliver asked, winding an arm around Lee who was wiping tears from his eyes.
"She's a comedian." Lee laughed, then suddenly clapped his hands. "Have you seen my piece yet? Oh, well-who cares? You'll look at it again, come on!" Lee reached forward, grabbed George's arm, and pulled.
Hermione pulled right along with him.
Lee began waving his hands around, talking animatedly, and pointing out tidbits on his art piece that he felt as if they needed to know. Hermione was listening, she really was, but George's finger was rubbing circles on her hipbone and it was highly distracting.
He then proceeded to keep her there, pressed against his hip, as Oliver gave them a tour of other art pieces. Meanwhile, Lee stayed behind to talk to a couple that was interested in his piece. Oliver whispered gossip to them, pointing out couples who were on the brink of divorce and art pieces that were way overpriced in his opinion.
Hermione had proudly poked George's side when the young girl had actually been the older man's mistress, George had only rolled his eyes.
Lee's painting had sold for a price that sent Hermione's eyebrows into her hairline, and George coughed in shock. Though they both congratulated him, and Oliver forced them into a round of wine before George politely excused them for the drive home.
Which was quiet, and Hermione had felt her hands grow clammy though she couldn't tell why. George had turned the music on, and was stone silent, only moving when the road would bank.
Once she saw the lights for the St. John's sign, she leaned into him as her eyes had gone droopy. She watched, bleary-eyed as his fingers twitched on the steering wheel. His thumb bounced three times, and his ring finger did a little dance before they stilled.
She reached for his hand, drawing it into her lap before realizing just what she was doing. Her hands stilled, still gripping his hand, and he reacted. His middle finger twitched as he spread his fingers, overlapping hers before clenching his hand. Her right hand wound up blanketed in his, and his thumb did a bounce before rubbing a circle on the back of her hand.
The road banked, sending her shoulder pressing into his and he pressed back as they turned towards the road that would turn into her laneway. They were still quiet, the soft sounds of the Beatles floating through the speakers.
George parked the truck slowly, leaning over to shift the truck with his left hand before stilling.
"I had fun," Hermione whispered, tightening her hand in his.
"You did?" George asked, settling his hand on the gear shift, his body angled towards her. "Even with the fancy wine and this dress." George reached over, pulling on her shoulder strap before dropping his hand. Their fingers were still laced between them.
"Like your shirt's any better." Hermione quirked, reaching forward to tug on his collar. George gasped, pulling away just enough for Hermione's hand to fall from his shirt.
"I happen to like this shirt." George looked down, smoothing a hand down his chest. "It was a gift from my Mum." He stated proudly, dropping his hand back down to his leg, and spreading his fingers over his knee.
"Hmmm." Hermione mused, nodding her head with a small smile on her lips. George laughed quietly, fingers dancing on his knee in a rhythm Hermione didn't recognize.
"But you had fun, yeah? It's a bit...Lee is.." George rambled, dropping his gaze and turning to look out the window. Hermione felt his hand twitch in hers as if he wanted to pull it away but forced it to remain where it was.
"Lee is lovely, he's great," Hermione said, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.
"No, yes I know, of course..he's just done a lot for me that's all, anyway enough about him, that's not what we're talking about." George shook his head, pulling his eyes away from the window to look back at Hermione.
"We can talk about him if you want to talk about him." Hermione pressed, moving to settle in her seat but George shook his head, pulling her forward. Hermione frowned, looking up at him but George only shook his head.
"I don't want to talk about him." He insisted, tightening his hand on hers.
"What do you want to talk about?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.
"I don't want to talk," George said, causing Hermione to frown again moving to pull away from him.
George opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by a loud bark from Coach. They both turned sharply, to see Coach bounding off the porch towards them, and someone standing in Hermione's doorway.
"Who the hell is that?" Hermione asked, pulling away from him entirely and she jumped out of the truck.
George watched her for a moment, a pit of dread settling in his stomach before looking down and realizing she had left her purse behind. He snatched it up, hurrying out of the truck, and jogged towards the porch.
"Ron!?" Hermione asked bewildered, looking Ron up and down confused. He was dressed in sweats and a tee shirt, with a sheepish look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Luna kicked me out." Ron shrugged, cheeks coloring as he looked between the two of them. Hermione was squatting down, scratching behind Coach's ears as he nuzzled her neck with his nose. "I can-uh-leave, if you two were-uh-" Ron cut himself off, clearly unsure what exactly it was he needed to say to finish that sentence.
"No, it's okay, he was just dropping me off," Hermione said, standing up. Coach nuzzled her one more time, before bounding off the porch and rushing towards the tree line.
"Well, we were talking." George interrupted, earning a curious glance from Hermione and a deep laugh from Ron.
"I'll leave you two to talk then, cool if I take the guest room, Mione?" Ron asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"Yes, of course." Hermione nodded, folding her hands in front of herself. Ron nodded at her, smiling before turning to George, pointing a wiggly finger at him before stepping into the house, pointedly shutting the door between them.
"I thought you didn't want to talk," Hermione said, turning on her heel and leaning forward to pull her purse from his hands. George shook his head, stepped away, and held the purse up over his head. "Don't be a child, George." Hermione snapped, folding her arms over her chest.
George frowned, taking another step backward as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.
"I had fun tonight," George argued, folding his arms behind his back, purse tight in his hand.
"I did too, but you don't want to talk about it, so!" Hermione threw her hands up, agitated and frankly quite embarrassed.
"I do want to talk about it but not right now." George frowned.
"Then when do you want to talk about it? Because-"
"I want to kiss you, Hermione."
George's face was stern, and his eyes were boring into hers causing Hermione's hands to clam up. She stumbled backward a step, hand coming up to her chest before she slid them down her sides, over her hips.
"Well, okay." Hermione nodded, clearing her throat. She looked around, everywhere but at George.
Until George seemed to not like that, and stepped forward, sending Hermione's back pressing into the wall. Her eyes found him, and his gaze held hers with ease. She despised how easily he could seem to do that, while her insides were a turmoil of feelings, he looked as if they were discussing the weather.
"That's a nice thought." Hermione nodded, hand rubbing down her hips again, trying to rid the sweat from her palms. She wasn't even lying, she was just insanely nervous, without a lick of a reason why.
"A nice thought." George snorted, amused, taking another step forward. Why was he always amused?
"Yes, I mean...it's not a bad thing to think about," Hermione argued, squeezing her hands into fists at her sides.
"So you think about it?" George asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands still folded behind his back.
"I don't not think about it." Hermione quipped back, cheeks turning pink as George's eyes changed from amusement to ease. Holding hers steadily.
"I don't not think about it either," George admitted, stepping forward again. The toe of his boot crashed against the toe of her flat. She shuffled, standing on her tiptoes, pressing her back against the wall. Not in desperation to get away, more so in an act of trying to appear more comfortable than she truly was.
Hermione and George didn't hear the door squeak, nor did they hear Ron clear his throat.
"Sorry to interrupt-"
George and Hermione spun fast, nearly knocking heads to see Ron standing in the doorway. Holding Hermione's house phone in his hand, a sheepish expression on his face, with his free hand shoved in the pocket of his sweatpants.
"It's for you-obviously." Ron flushed, extending his arm. Hermione stared at it for a moment, before stepping forward quickly and taking it from his hand. Her hands trembling as she smashed her thumb on the unmute button.
"Hello?" She asked, clearing her throat. "Oh.." Hermione flashed George a look, sending his cheeks pink. "Hi, Auntie. Everything alright?" She asked, stepping by Ron into the house.
George stared after her for a moment, before Coach came up onto the porch, brushing against his legs. George jolted and brought his gaze up to Ron's to see only a look of amusement on his face.
"If you so much as-" George started, holding up his hand to point at Ron only to realize he was holding her purse in his hand, sending his cheeks pink once more.
"My lips are sealed," Ron promised, pretending to zip his mouth closed and toss the key over his shoulder.
"Good, because-"
"I may have called Fred," Ron admitted, taking a step back as George darted for him, aiming to poke him in the ribs. "We were interrupted by Bella's call." Ron jerked back, swiping at George who sidestepped out of the way.
"You absolute ass." George growled, stepping into the house to drop Hermione's purse on her side table.
"Beer?" Ron pointed towards the kitchen, and George hesitated rocking back on his heels before nodding.
"Do you think she'll mind?" George whispered, glancing into the house to see if she was standing nearby.
"Not at all." Ron beckoned him in and shut the door behind him.
George avoided Fred by going to work two hours early, knowing full well that Fred would not hesitate to break into his house in the early hours of the morning just to prod him for details. So he went to work early and was halfway under a car when two hands wrapped around his ankles and yanked him out.
He blinked, the sunrise glaring through the bay windows to see Fred staring down at him, arms folded and eyebrow quirked.
"Yes?" George asked, wiping his forearm across his forehead. When he pulled his arm away, there was a new black smudge on his navy jumpsuit. He frowned at it, before jolting as Fred poked his stomach. "Ow! What the-Fred!" George yelped, as he was suddenly yanked up, nearly pitching over his engine crank.
"I get a call from Ron of all people at half past eleven last night telling me you've got Hermione pressed up against a wall under her porch light." Fred snapped, throwing his hands up but making no move to back away, leaving George no choice but to lean back against the hood of the Honda he was working on.
"I did not have Hermione pressed up against anything," George argued, darting his eyes across the street, Hermione wasn't at work yet.
"But you were under her porch light?" Fred clarified, pressing his fingers against his temple as if he was thinking really hard.
"I was giving her her purse back that she left in my truck-"
"At half past eleven last night?" Fred continued, then he snapped his fingers, pulling a face at George as if he had just discovered the mysteries of the universe. "You were going to kiss her!" He yelped, grabbing George's shoulders and giving him a good shake.
"St Ives is a far drive." George bit out, shaking Fred's hands off his shoulders, willing his surely red cheeks to go away before Fred clued in to make fun of him for it. "I wasn't going to kiss her." He tacked on, though it held no weight.
"Wait." Fred stopped, taking a half step backward, a look of pure horror crossing his features. "What was Ron doing at Hermione's place?" He asked, gasping like the girls on his Mum's favorite reality shows do.
"Luna kicked him out-"
"No, she didn't," Fred argued, shaking his head and stepping further away. George took a deep breath, shaking his head, and then fixed Fred with a look.
"What the hell-Harry?" George stopped, peering around Fred to see Harry standing there with a cardboard tray with three coffees on it and a sheepish look on his face.
"Ron's an ass." He stated simply, stepping into the shop. He set the cardboard tray down, and plucked two of the coffees up, pressing one into Fred's hands and the other into George's.
"We know," Fred stated proudly, puffing his chest. "We raised him that way." He smirked, winking at Harry before taking a long pull of his coffee.
"But why on this particular morning, you may ask?" Harry smirked, leaning against the edge of George's workbench. "Well, I'll tell you." Harry continued, causing George's eyes to roll.
He stepped away, turning to face the Honda until Harry continued, only then did his hands pause as Harry's voice filled his ears.
"Ron may have gone over there after he found out about the date, which I definitely didn't tell him about-"
"It wasn't a date."
"And he may have been intentionally cock blocking." Harry finished, throwing in a little flare with his free hand. "Worried about her and all that-you know how Ron is, constantly fretting. Definitely wasn't my idea either, and Ginny didn't talk me out of anything-"
Babbling idiot.
"You were going to sleep with her!?" Fred bellowed, turning swiftly to George with a look of absolute pure horror on his face that had George snorting, amused by the sheer lack of common sense he was surrounded by.
"I was going to do no such thing-" George stopped himself, tilting his head to the side because it wasn't entirely out of the ballpark, before shaking his head. He hadn't even gone past holding her hand, never mind pulling back her sheets. "I didn't even get to kiss her!" He argued, before flushing as Fred snapped his fingers at him.
"So you were going to kiss her?!"
Fuck. Fred had figured it out.
George stared at him, weighing the options in his head without giving anything away before nodding. "I may have been trying but her aunt called-" He finally went to admit, only to be startled by Harry's sudden stern voice.
"Bella called?" Harry interrupted, all humor wiped off his face, spinning on his heel to glance across the street where Hermione had still yet to show up.
Why hadn't she shown?
"We were also arguing before, so I don't really think she wanted to kiss me-" Harry shook his head, waving his hands at George until he stopped talking.
"Forget the kiss thing, I don't care. You are telling me Bella called Hermione last night?" Harry asked, his voice stern and all business.
George shot a glance at Fred who shrugged, clearly at as much of a loss as he was. George turned back to Harry, talking slowly as he answered. "Yes, she did, they talked for probably twenty minutes before she had a few beers with Ron and me, then I went home."
"What did she want?" Harry asked, pulling away from George's workbench.
"She didn't say." George shook his head, furrowing his brows because Hermione had seemed shaken after getting off the phone, but he had puzzled it out to their small porch encounter and had plans to apologize for it during their daily mid-day coffee. Which seemed unlikely to happen now.
"Fuck." Harry cursed, shooting off the bench he started for the bay door, before stopping in his track and spinning around.
"I take back what I said." He stated finger pointed at George his other hand wrapped around his cup of coffee. "I do care if you kiss her, please don't fuck it up." He nodded and seemed to ponder saying something else before turning and strolling away, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went.
George turned to Fred, raising an eyebrow. "Why does everyone think I'm going to fuck this up?" He asked and a grin fit across Fred's face, the sort of grin George hated whenever a Weasley sported one. Ron had flashed a few last night.
"So there's a definite 'thing' then?" He asked, and George found himself groaning.
"No-maybe. I don't know." George shook his head and turned away, taking a sip of his coffee as he went.
Though he stalled as Fred didn't move from his spot and reached up-scratching behind his neck. It was stupid but it wasn't impossible. There was no way. But maybe.
"Do..do you think Hermione and I could..could, well you know." George waved his hand a bit, though he refused to turn and face his brother, and instead set his coffee cup on the workbench. Eyes focused on a stain of spilled oil.
Fred seemed to mull this over for a second before he sighed gently.
"I think you and Hermione could be whatever you want to be, George," Fred answered at last and turned away.
George fought it off for a moment, but the smile broke through anyway and he had to clear his throat a few times, before turning back to work.
George shuffled his feet, kicking at the floorboard of Hermione's porch before taking a deep breath, raising his fist to the door before dropping it. It had taken him more than a few minutes to get out of the truck, then he had nearly turned back when he passed the mailbox and now that he made it up to the front porch, the front door was a whole different challenge.
That, and the porch light seemed to almost be laughing at him. As mental images of him pressing Hermione up against the wall beneath it filtered through his mind.
"This is stupid-stupid, stupid-"
"The doors unlocked."
George spun, cheeks burning as he caught sight of Hermione standing at the bottom of her porch steps dressed in her running gear, with Coach sitting by her feet. Her knee was scabbed over, but far less bruised than the last time George had seen it.
"I've got a few beers in the fridge...' Hermione waved her hand at the door, 'if you want to come in?" She asked, tilting her head. "Or do you want to stand there and call my front door stupid a few more times?" She asked.
George stared at her for a moment, before realizing he should probably answer but the words seemed lodged in his throat. The whole speech he had rehearsed driving over was refusing to surface. So he spun, placed his hand on her doorknob, and pushed it open. He heard her footsteps follow as he ducked under the archway into the kitchen.
George yanked open the fridge, pulling out two beers. He kept his eyes fixed out the window above the sink, opening both beers with his hand before spinning around. Sliding one beer across the table toward her, slowly lifting his gaze as she was watching him and he wasn't quite used to being watched like that.
He wasn't used to being watched ever.
"I should change...probably." She whispered, grabbing the beer and taking a sip before setting it back.
George stared at her, her words taking a moment to process before he nodded suddenly. Just barely, a drip sounded and George spun to see the tip of her faucet leaking, not steadily or hardly at all. It most likely wasn't even a drip, but rather the handle wasn't shut properly. All the same, it was a distraction he suddenly desperately needed.
"Your faucet is leaking again." George bounced up and beelined for the door. But Hermione's hand swept out, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back.
His hand crashed against the table, where he caught himself before he was suddenly looming over her. Her hands moved up, up his arm until it was settled on his shoulder, and only then did she rise to her full height, and they were suddenly standing toe to toe.
She was sweaty and George was covered in car oil as today had been more distracting than any other. Fred's encouraging words buzzed through his mind and Harry's warnings settled in his gut. The feeling of Hermione's hand in his never seemed to fade, and the loop of her spinning in her dress never left his mind once.
It was happening all over again but this time there was no buzzing porch light, plank wood wall, or Ron looming behind the door. There was her, the kitchen table, and her hand pressed against his cheek.
"George..." Hermione whispered, though she made no move towards him, George felt his heart rate pick up.
"I think I'm not very good with words." George nodded to himself, finally tearing his eyes away from her to glance out the window as he heard the sound of an engine. He let out a low whistle, turning back to Hermione. "I really like you but I think maybe you don't know what's coming." He let himself study her eyes for a moment-unsure if he had ever been this close to them, before shrinking away slowly.
Her eyes watching him all the while.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Away from her wandering hands. Her hand dropped to her side as she studied him, and he hadn't moved from the barricade he had with her against the table.
He had two choices here. Two life-altering choices. He could listen to his father's warning words, or he could stay close. He could be with Hermione.
"What-"
"I'm also not leaving." He decided, nodding his head before he stepped forward, plucking his beer from her hand. "Burgers?" He asked, tilting his head.
She nodded briefly at him, tilting her head at the sound of a car door slamming. She hadn't a clue who was here and was still drunk over the overwhelming feeling George had given her when he had pressed close to her hand cupping his cheeks. The way he had loomed over her, all height and lanky limbs. Oil smeared between his brows, and that twisted grin he wore only ever for her.
He turned, pulled out a package of her vegan patties, and walked towards the front door whistling, swinging the bag in his hand. Leaving Hermione in the kitchen.
Dumbfounded, and still pressed against the table.
He pulled the door open and grinned at the woman with her hand poised to grab the handle of the door. All manicured and done up. She reeked of expensive perfume, and her eyes widened considerably behind jet-black sunglasses. Looking thoroughly shocked by his appearance.
"Staying for dinner, Bella?" He asked, grinning at her with all his teeth and an undeserved wink.
It was quiet, and it was awkward and he had already sent a text to Harry. Harry, had still yet to show up but George didn't find himself minding all too much. Because he was halfway through his burger, Hermione was licking her fingers clean and Aunt Bella had only touched her wine glass.
That, and Hermione's foot was resting against George's ankle beneath the table.
"How is your shop, George Weasley?" George stilled, looking up from the burger between his hands, and looked at Aunt Bella. She was pursing her lips and poking her fork around at her burger that she had cut up with a knife, like a savage. It was disheartening, really.
"Great!" George beamed, swallowing his bite down with a swig of beer. "Busy." He nodded, chancing Hermione a glance, she was too busy ripping the label off her second bottle of beer.
"My second husband worked on boats." Bella mused, pushing her plate away and standing.
"He chartered a yacht for rich boarding school boys in St. Ives, Aunt Bella. I don't think he worked on boats." Hermione sighed, rubbing her nose between her forefinger and thumb. George watched her do so, before tearing his eyes away and finding himself locked in Bella's knowing gaze.
Don't make it worse. His father had warned him.
"What are you doing here, George Weasley?" Bella asked suddenly, setting her wine glass on the table.
"Auntie," Hermione said sternly, shocking both Bella and George, though the reactions from both of them were wildly different.
The sound of the front door being thrown up sent a flash of relief through George, and he nearly sighed with it but straightened up as Bella shot him a glare.
"Hermione, I brought flowers-Oh, Aunt Bella!" They all looked up swiftly to see Harry standing there, beaming with a vase full of flowers clutched in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. Ginny stood just behind him with wide eyes and holding Teddy on her hip. Fred stood just beyond her, smiling smugly and holding a platter of cheeses while Angelina held a platter of meats.
"Friends!" George shouted, springing up to his feet. He reached past Harry, grabbing the cheese platter and then the wine bottle from Harry's hand. He spun, deposited them on the table, and then turned again. "Fred, a word?" He asked, leaving Fred to raise his eyebrows and for Ginny to jump in, thrusting a hand out towards Bella.
"It's been so long!" Ginny flushed, plunging her hand into Bella's that was most definitely not outstretched towards her.
Teddy turned away from the woman, pressing his face into his mother's neck, and watched as George darted past them.
George pressed a kiss to Angelina's cheek, then tugged Fred out the front door shutting it tight behind him. He waited-sucking in a sharp breath and spun to face Fred who was still staring at him with wide eyes.
"I tried to kiss her." He blurted, before stepping away from Fred and starting for the steps, but Fred was quick, hauling him back by the elbow.
"Say that one more time." Fred insisted, tightening his grip on George's arm.
"I tried to kiss her," George whispered, eyes widening in shock because it was the first time he had admitted aloud just what he had attempted. His hand came up slowly, pressing against his mouth. "I mucked it all up Fred, I couldn't do it." He whispered, pulling himself away. Fred let him, but only because he was too busy laughing.
Like bent over backward, hands on his stomach, laughing.
"Stop laughing, Fred! This is serious!" George bellowed, before rushing forward clamping his hand over Fred's mouth as he began struggling to pull a breath in properly. Fred pulled his hand away, and nodded, breathing deep before clearing his throat.
"Okay, okay." Fred held his hands up in surrender, glanced at the front door then stepped forward towards George. "What are you, sixteen?" He teased, poking George's stomach until he danced away. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
"Oi! George, Fred, get in here, we're opening up the dominoes!" Angelina's voice came floating out the open screen window, where she then waved and backed away from, leading Fred to punch his brother in the shoulder and haul him into the house.
"You so much as tell her..." George trailed off with a warning, pinching his brother's skin.
"She knows George, the whole town knows." Fred taunted, then they rounded the archway into the kitchen.
"Aunt Bella, is that a new haircut?"
George smirked at Hermione, hands in his pocket as he watched her. She turned away, blushing, and focused back on Ms. Sprout who was rattling off about her poodle. Petting it all the while, while in near tears over the damn dog. The said dog had apparently gotten into Ms. Sprout's trash can this morning, and she was sure the thing was going to die.
"I'll take a look at her stomach for you, run a few tests." Hermione began reassuring, taking the lime green leash from Ms. Sprout. "I'll call you in about an hour?" She asked, running her hand down the poodle's back.
"Oh yes dear, that should be fine." Ms. Sprout wiped a tear away and leaned down to kiss the poodle before nearly floating out of the shop, giving George only an accusing glance before the door's bell jingled upon her departure.
"So you'll come then?" George asked, rocking back on his heels before strolling across the linoleum floors towards Hermione.
"Tsk tsk." Hermione clicked her tongue in warning when George neared her, and pointed down to a line on the floor. "No customers past the line." She berated him, before pulling away to force the obedient Poodle's mouth open, bending down to peer inside.
"I'm not a customer," George whined, leaning with his elbows on the steel table to give her the Weasley trade puppy-dog eyes.
"Hagrid is due any minute, if he sees you crossing lines then he'll start crossing lines." Hermione winked at him, then clamped the poodle's mouth shut. Trailing her hands down, rubbing at a few spots on its belly, looking up at the ceiling as she did so.
George was flabbergasted, but he supposed he probably looked pretty similar working on cars.
"Charlie crosses the line." George pointed out, and Hermione rolled her eyes up at the ceiling, dropping her hands to the table.
"Charlie works here." Hermione sighed, pulling away to grab a needle out of a drawer, pulling on latex gloves as she went.
"He does?" George wrinkled his nose, though it didn't really surprise him because Charlie seemed to work everywhere. He had pulled a shift just last week at the shop.
The door jingled, and George bit his tongue before turning around. Shooting up straight at the sight of Fred, covered in oil with a scowl on his face. George only had about half a second to school his face, when Fred raised his arm to point at George.
"Your break ended ten minutes ago." He growled, letting the door slam shut behind him. "And I just had an entire bucket of oil dump over me because Charlie is about two shiny nickles rubbing together away from getting his ass kicked." Fred jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and George took a half stumbled step forward, before turning his face over his shoulder to smile shyly at Hermione.
"I'll be there George, now get before Fred fires you." Hermione shooed him away, plunging the needle into the poodle's back leg, earning a small yelp from the poor thing.
"Fred has no right," George argued back, before ambling back over to a still-snarling Fred.
"I'll get Mum to do it." Fred snapped back, and as soon as George was in reach he snagged the collar of his shirt and yanked him stumbling out the door, shooting Hagrid a grin before hauling him across the street.
Hagrid let out a low whistle, before leading Fang into Hermione's store letting the door slip closed behind him.
"Going to the game, Miss Hermione?"
Hermione watched the twins cross the street, Fred's arm looped over George's neck and George laughing as he pushed and shoved at Fred's side. But Fred wasn't giving in, still scowling at him and yanking at his collar as he did so.
"Sure am Hagrid," Hermione answered, gently laying the poodle down to work a tube down its throat.
"Right on." Hagrid laughed, flopping into a waiting chair as Fang crashed to the ground, already leaving a puddle of drool on the linoleum. "That Weasley boy has been over here a lot." He commented, grabbing a magazine off the small table.
"Hagrid," Hermione warned, though shot him a small smile. Trying to hide her excitement behind her lips. Hagrid only had to glance at her once to understand what she meant.
"Duly noted Miss Hermione." Hagrid nodded seriously. "My lips are sealed."