Hermione and George returned to the flat later that evening with Hermione's things. She had checked herself out of the hotel, feeling a little crazy for letting herself be talked into staying with George. It's only temporary, she told herself as she watched George drag the luggage to his bedroom, ignoring Hermione's protests. They both felt slightly awkward, but tried to hide it for the other's sake. Hermione looked through George's kitchen cupboards and found next to nothing.
"I think we should pick up some groceries," Hermione called out.
"You're probably right," said George from behind her. Hermione jumped and turned around.
"You can't keep sneaking up on me like that!" she said, swatting him on the shoulder.
George just grinned. "Mum typically brings dinner on Thursdays," he said casually. "It's her excuse to check in on me, force me to spend time with people, or something." He rolled his eyes dramatically.
The color drained from Hermione's face. "What!? George, I can't be here when your mother comes! What's she going to think when she sees me here?"
"Ah." George saw the problem. "Okay, how about I go there to pick up dinner, and you can get yourself settled in," he suggested. "Mum'll be thrilled. I haven't been to the Burrow in -- er -- a while."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't face any other Weasleys right now. She wondered if Ron had told any of his family about their breakup.
George took a pinch of Floo Powder from the jar on the mantle and tossed it into the fireplace. Green flames erupted from it. "I'll be back soon!" he promised happily, and stepped into the fire. "The Burrow!" he shouted. The flames engulfed him for a second, and then he was gone.
Hermione didn't know what to do with herself now that she was alone in George's home. She turned to the large bookshelf and ran a hand over the books. She pulled out the first one that caught her attention and curled up on the armchair. She flipped through the book, not really reading. If Mrs. Weasley had been bringing George dinner regularly, he must have been home much longer than Hermione had originally thought. It was odd, she thought, that Mrs. Weasley had never mentioned it to the family. Perhaps she, as well as George, was still recovering from Fred's death and allowed George his space.
Not long later, green flames began to spit from the fireplace. Hermione checked the clock on the wall. George had been gone less than 30 minutes. She didn't expect him back so soon. She stood up, prepared to tell George he should have spent more time with his family. A person appeared in the fire, but it wasn't George.
It was Ron.
He stepped into the living room, covered in soot and glowering at her, his expression a mix between raw anger and hurt.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, feeling nervous.
He didn't answer. The anger melted away, leaving just the hurt and maybe a little embarrassment in its place. "I don't understand," he finally said, staring at the floor.
"Ron," said Hermione again. "I--"
Ron finally looked her in the eye. "You left," he said. "You came here?"
Hermione saw him searching for some reason, some excuse that would explain why she was at George's of all places.
"How long has this been going on?" he huffed angrily.
"Er, how long has what been going on, exactly?"
"This!" Ron thrust his hands out and gestured around the room. "How long have you been hooking up with my brother behind my back!?"
Hermione almost laughed. "Are you insane? Never in my life have I -- I'm not sleeping with George! I hadn't seen him in years when--"
"Don't lie to me!" Ron roared. "Don't tell me I'm crazy! Don't pretend it's nothing! I know what's going on! It explains why you left like that--"
More green flames began to burst from the fireplace. George clambered into the room, dropping a container onto the floor when he saw the scene in front of him, but both Hermione and Ron ignored him.
"I left because I was unhappy!" Hermione shouted.
"Then why didn't you say so! Instead of shacking up with my brother--!"
But Hermione had had enough. She drew back her hand and slapped Ron hard across the face.
"How dare you," she seethed. Her voice dripped with venom, quiet and deadly. "You stay away from me, Ronald Weasley, do you understand me?" She held up her hand again, prepared to deliver another blow, and Ron flinched.
George cleared his throat, making Ron and Hermione jump. They had forgotten he was there. "I think that means you should go," he said with a smirk. He looked as if Christmas had come early. George marched up, grabbed the back of Ron's shirt, and dragged him back to the fireplace. With a pinch of Floo Powder, George shouted "Anywhere!" and tossed Ron in. The flames swallowed him and he was gone.
George turned back to Hermione. "Wow," he said appreciatively.
Hermione was shaking with anger. "How could he -- why would he -- I can't believe--" Tears began to pool in her eyes as anger turned into sadness. George stood awkwardly, patting her back.
"Hermione, you are quite a woman," he said after a while. She half-laughed, half-hiccuped.
"Did you bring leftovers?" she asked in a wobbly voice. George burst out laughing. He picked up the container he had dropped.
"Mum made soup," he said, showing her the container. "I'm lucky it didn't spill, really." He held it up higher, inspecting the dish. "She probably put a charm on it to keep it from breaking." He shrugged and took it to the kitchen. Hermione followed.
George ladled some soup into a bowl and set it in front of Hermione with a spoon. Hermione ate gratefully. It had been too long since she had tasted Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking. George watched her eat, still smiling. Her face was pink and her eyes were shining. He thought she looked lovely.
"I meant what I said, Hermione," he said suddenly.
"Hmm?" She looked up from her soup.
"You are quite a woman."
Hermione blushed and shook her head, trying to hide her smile.
------
That evening George and Hermione spent hours on the sofa reminiscing about Hogwarts. George told Hermione how he and Fred came up with the idea to start a joke shop. He tried and failed to pretend the memories of Fred weren't painful. Hermione described the times she, Harry, or Ron almost died "every--blasted--year". George found it particularly funny to hear Hermione's point of view on each situation, as he had ever only heard Ron's side of the story. Each experience was funnier than the last. Soon the two of them were in fits of laughter with tears streaming down their cheeks.
"--and they thought I was absolutely crazy, you know, for noticing what the dog was standing on -- thought I was completely insane--" Hermione was recounting the time when they had happened upon Fluffy in their first year, and George found the story completely hilarious, laughing at all the right parts. "And when we got back--" --Hermione stifled a fresh wave of giggles-- "When we got back to the common room, I actually said that getting expelled would be worse than getting killed!" George threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"That does sound like you!" he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
Hermione's laughter died down and she suddenly became very quiet. "I was always too serious," she said. "I was too concerned about books and homework to really enjoy any of it."
"You're kidding, right? Hermione, I hate to break it to you, but you are not serious. I mean, you actually set fire to a teacher! And then attacked him two years later!" He roared with laughter again. "You probably broke at least as many school rules as me and Fred--" he stopped short and his face fell. Hermione instinctively reached for his hand.
"George?" she said, squeezing his hand gently.
"That's the first time I've said his name with a smile on my face," he explained. His cheeks slowly perked up into a smile again. He felt an odd sensation of relief. As if the weight that had been sitting on his chest since Fred's death had been briefly lifted. He looked up at Hermione, his smile growing. She was smiling too.
"I don't think I ever saw Fred without a smile," she said gently, then giggled. "Remember when you two set off all of your fireworks in the castle, and Umbridge was running around like a madwoman trying to clean up your mess? At the party in the common room that night, Fred looked so happy--"
"He wasn't the only one in a good mood," George interrupted, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. Her eyes widened as a long-forgotten memory raced back to her.
"I--I think I'll go to bed now," she said quickly. Her voice was high and flustered.
George grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. "Well, then, goodnight," he said softly. The softness in his tone unsettled Hermione, and she stiffly got up from the couch and headed to the bedroom.
"Goodnight, George," she whispered before closing the door.