George

I've waited no end

I've made enough friends

Hermione was more than a little surprised when an owl from George arrived at her office one morning asking whether 'the lovely Miss Granger' would care to accompany him for 'a spot of luncheon'. She laughed at his familiar, faux formality and replied via owl in the affirmative. He turned up at one precisely and presented her with a single orange gerbera. Hermione smiled as she took it, and then looked at it suspiciously.

"It's not going to do anything, is it?" she asked with trepidation.

"Of course not. How dare you insinuate that I would give a lady flowers that do things?"

She couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, or at George's blatant lie. Flowers that do things, indeed. She accepted his proffered arm and they walked out of the Ministry foyer and headed for the nicer area of Diagon Alley. Hermione often wondered why it was called an alley when it was far too big to be anything of the sort. Well, she supposed, it does take up as much space as an alley from a Muggle perspective. She felt a little foolish wandering around in broad daylight clutching a very garish flower. Trust George to pick the most noticeable flower possible. It least it wasn't singing or anything.

He led her to her favourite tea-room to get sandwiches, tea and (if he had his way) cake. Hermione was a little surprised that he hadn't taken her for a pub lunch like he usually did. It was more his style and she didn't mind, so long as it wasn't smoky. Oh dear, she thought, what does he want this time? She waited until they had ordered - a pot of tea for two, a Ploughman's for George and tuna and cucumber for Hermione - to spring the question.

"So, Mr. Weasley, why are we here?"

"To have lunch?" George asked in his best 'I'm not sure what you're asking' voice.

"If you brought me here, instead of the Cauldron, with no ulterior motive then I'm a carnivorous sheep," she said melodramatically.

A couple two tables over looked at her curiously. George looked surprised. He blinked at her very deliberately and started laughing.

"You're a carnivorous sheep? I've never heard that one before."

Hermione tried desperately to suppress a grin and couldn't. She buried her face in her hands in a vain attempt to disguise her blush.

"I'm not sure why I said that," she admitted sheepishly. "My brain's going fuzzy from paperwork. But that's not the point. What do you want from me, Weasley?"

"Do I have to want something? You didn't accuse me of having ulterior motives and claim to be a non-existent farm animal when we had dinner last week," he pointed out far too reasonably for Hermione's liking.

"Yes, but last week we went for a curry. Where you wanted to go. Today we're in my favourite tea-room and you brought me a flower. And it didn't sing or dance or cover me in water or ink or anything. There's something fishy going on."

George sighed. Damn, he thought, I knew the flower was too much. There was nothing else for it. He'd have to ask her now or she'd just prod him all through lunch. Their sandwiches and tea arrived, so he stalled for time by pouring two cups of tea while Hermione watched him suspiciously.

"Okay. Well, you remember you came to the re-launch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with me?"

Hermione nodded and looked a little confused.

"Well, the thing is, Fred and I got an invitation from a potential investor this morning to have dinner with him and his wife. And it was addressed to me and Fred and our wives."

"Wives?" Hermione asked, looking even more confused. "But you aren't married, George."

George had thought he wouldn't have to spell it out. Hermione was usually so quick at these things. Maybe her brain really had gone fuzzy from paperwork.

"I know," he said, "but he assumed that ..."

"Oh my ... George! You aren't seriously asking me to impersonate your wife?"

"I haven't got a wife for you to impersonate," he said cheekily. "I'm asking you to pretend to be my wife."

"Oh for goodness sake! Why don't you just tell him you're not married?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. Honestly, sometimes the workings of men's minds scared her. What a ridiculous idea.

"Well, then it'd be me and two happy couples and I'd feel like a right loser. Loner. Whatever. It's just dinner one evening. Please, Hermione?"

"I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that if your meeting goes well this man will wonder where your wife has gone all of a sudden? You're going to meet him more than once and I'm not being your fake wife for the foreseeable future. And my tea's getting cold, so that's the end of the conversation."

She picked up her cup and began to drink her now lukewarm tea. George started drinking his with a troubled expression.

"Look, I didn't want to upset you, I just ..."

Hermione cut him off quickly.

"I know, George, you didn't want to go by yourself and you didn't know what to do. I'll go, but not as your fake wife."

He looked relieved, then a familiar mischievous look flashed across his face.

"So, you'll go as my real wife then?"

Hermione threw a small packet of sugar - or possibly sweetener - at him and smiled back.

"Drink your tea."

~~~~~~~

Two days later, Hermione was at Ginny and Harry's helping a heavily pregnant Ginny with the furniture in the baby's room. They had decided to move the furniture in, keeping everything white until they knew whether the room belonged to Sirius James or Lily Minerva. Colour could be added easily later. 'Helping' mostly involved Hermione moving things while Ginny gave instructions from the corner of the room.

To Hermione's relief it could all be done magically and was over fairly quickly. She wasn't really one for heavy lifting. Ginny had laughed quite a lot when Hermione had announced that she 'wasn't big with the butch'. Soon, they were seated at the kitchen table drinking green tea and chatting away. Hermione decided to fill Ginny in on the whole 'George asked me to be his fake wife' situation, much to the other woman's amusement.

"Honestly, he asked me this in all seriousness as though it was the only sensible option! Your brother is a complete nutcase."

"Which one?" Asked a voice from the doorway. "Was Gin telling you about Ron and Luna or did I miss something one of the others did?"

Hermione got up to hug Harry. She ruffled his hair, before letting him go over to kiss his wife on the cheek. Ginny refused to get up, saying that it was too much effort and she'd only just sat down.

"So, what's this about Luna and Ron?" Hermione asked, looking a little confused. "I thought she was a lesbian. Wasn't she with Pansy Parkinson?"

Harry smiled at the slight distaste with which Hermione had said Pansy's name. She never could get to grips with whole 'Pansy's not evil' thing.

"Well," Ginny said, "Pansy's a lesbian. She's still with Luna."

"Then what ..." Hermione said incredulously.

"It's just that Ron's with Luna too." Harry chimed in looking far too pleased with himself.

It took Hermione a couple of seconds to digest this information.

"So, they're having some kind of ongoing threesome? Ron is involved in some kind of ongoing threesome."

Harry shook his head.

"Not quite. Luna is going out with Pansy and Ron. Ron and Pansy aren't involved with each other. I think Luna spends half her time at his and half at Pansy's. They're all perfectly happy and open about it, and they say there's nothing wrong with polygamous relationships so long as everyone's happy and knows what's going on."

"That's why he's been avoiding me then," she said, relieved that it was nothing more serious than his unconventional love life.

"Well, not avoiding you as such. He was a bit afraid of telling you, I think. Wanted me to tell you. He, well, he values your opinion so highly, I think he was a bit afraid that you'd disapprove and he didn't know what he'd do if you did."

"And I thought George was weird." Hermione sighed, trying hard to get her head around her friends' strange new relationship. Oh well, she thought, each to their own and all that.

"George?" Harry frowned. "What did George do? Is he having a weird polygamous relationship?"

Ginny burst out laughing and filled Harry in on her other brother's strange proposition to Hermione. When she had finished, Harry gave an oddly knowing smirk for the briefest of moments, then told Hermione he hoped she enjoyed the dinner. She wasn't really sure what to make of that, but she wasn't sure what to make of a lot of things that had happened in the last few days.

~~~~~~~

It was so embarrassing. Hermione had found that she had absolutely no idea what she should wear for her 'business dinner' with George. If it had been a Muggle thing they were going to, or a formal or informal wizarding thing she would have been fine. She just didn't know what was appropriate for those things in between. This was why she had called Ginny for help. And Ginny had asked bloody Parvati to help the two of them out.

Hermione had, therefore, ended up on an extremely girly shopping trip with the two. She wasn't sure when exactly Ginny and Parvati had bonded, but she was sincerely wishing that they had never become friends. They had dragged her into lots of shops, forcing her into lots of outfits and experimenting on her hair and make-up. Hermione had never felt so much like a lab-rat in her life.

It had paid off though, she had to admit. Waiting for George to pick her up in her smart-but-not-too-smart robes with her hair styled perfectly, Hermione thought she didn't look half bad. She would definitely fit in at the smart restaurant they were going to. Her, admittedly somewhat vain, thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. She smoothed down her robes one last time, checked her hair quickly in the mirror and went to answer the door. George was standing there, holding a single gerbera. This time it was a rather violent shade of pink. Hermione smiled and went to put it in water. The last flower George had given her was still on her desk at her office.

"Are you ready, muffin?" he asked sweetly.

"George," Hermione said warningly, "what did I tell you about nicknames involving baked goods?"

"That it may have been mildly amusing for one evening, but if I kept doing it you'd hex me in my sleep," he admitted sheepishly.

"Well, now that we have that clear, let's go. You did say that we're not married, didn't you?"

"I sent a reply saying that my brother and his wife and my 'partner' and I would love to join them for dinner."

"Your partner? That makes it sound like we work together or you're gay!" Hermione stifled a giggle at George's startled expression when she said this.

"You mean, they'll be expecting a man?" he asked, looking a little worried.

"No, I'm just winding you up. They've seen you with me on our last 'date', remember?"

George looked relieved and took Hermione's hand to Apparate. She didn't know exactly where they were going, and it wasn't a good idea to floo in nice clothes. She smiled at him and closed her eyes. She hated being Apparated by other people, even if it was just George, who had Apparated her so many times. She couldn't help finding it unnerving, especially after the time Dung had Apparated her in a hurry because she'd been crucio'd too much to do it herself. The pillock had left her foot behind.

They appeared in the foyer of the restaurant intact, much to Hermione's relief. Mr. and Mrs. Montague arrived mere seconds after George and Hermione, so the two were still holding hands. Hermione recovered herself and gently let go of George when she saw the 'aren't they sweet' look in Mrs. Montague's eyes. They were a fairly elderly couple with silvering hair. She was much taller than him, giving them a slightly incongruous look. George greeted them warmly, reintroducing them to Hermione who vaguely remembered them from the party a month earlier.

Fred and Angelina arrived shortly after that, and the three couples were shown to their table. Dinner conversation was light, avoiding the subject of business for the most part. Mr Montague asked the twins some questions about their inventions, carefully shying away from the financial aspect of their business. Hermione gathered that money was not a socially acceptable topic at the dinner table. It was quite sweet and old-fashioned really. Mrs Montague made small talk with Angelina and Hermione when the men were talking about recent inventions.

Angelina had given Hermione an interested smile, complete with one raised eyebrow, when she saw that she was to be George's date for the evening. She questioned Hermione about it subtly when she got the chance, not wanting the Montagues to think something odd was going on.

"So, George's date again? Glutton for punishment, are we?"

"It would seem that I'm his 'business date' of choice. Apparently, it saves him from having to chat up some random girl who might end up embarrassing him. He knows me so he doesn't have to worry about that. Plus, I'm clever, subtle and tactful. What more could he want?"

"Careful. He's starting to have a bad influence on you. That's just the sort of thing he says."

With that Angelina gave her a smile that Hermione didn't quite understand. Then she made a noise that sounded a lot like a disbelieving 'hmmm'. Hermione didn't have much time to think about this, because Angelina had gone back to a discussion about Quidditch with Mr Montague and Fred. George smiled at her and patted her knee under the table, then turned to Mrs Montague and asked after her son who was currently working with obscure magical creatures in Armenia. Hermione didn't have much time to think about the significance of the knee-patting as she was far too fascinated by Mrs Montague's description of her son's work.

~~~~~~~

As Hermione had predicted, she was indeed George's 'business date of choice'. She found herself being dragged along to all sorts of business dinners and lunches, conferences, openings and parties. Whenever George was invited somewhere 'plus one' for work, he invited Hermione. She discovered that she didn't really mind. She was guilt-tripped into the first two, but she would have stopped after that if she hadn't been having fun. It was nice meeting new people and going to fancy places all expenses paid. And it was only once or twice a month.

Admittedly, she had had to buy some new dress robes of varying formality, but after that hideous shopping trip with Ginny and Parvati six months ago she had more of an idea of what suited her and what was appropriate attire for different occasions. It would come in handy in the future, she was sure. After all, she didn't want to find herself in her thirties not knowing how to dress and behave in most spectrums of wizarding society. Hermione didn't tell anyone else this, because she knew they'd laugh and say that only she would consider being George's 'date' to business lunches a learning experience. Well, everyone would laugh at that except George who would look smug and make strange jokes and say that dating him would be a learning experience for anyone. Nudge nudge wink wink.

On this particular evening, they were going to a party held by some business associate or other of the twins'. Fred and Angie were meeting them there. Hermione leaned closer to the mirror to put in her earrings. She could do it by feel, but she preferred not to, since she almost pierced a new hole by accident when not paying attention a few weeks ago. She placed a small silver hoop in her left lobe, frowning with concentration. Angelina had been a bit weird about her and George's 'situation' (as she called it - Hermione didn't call it anything) at first. She seemed to think that George was using Hermione as a fake date as a prelude to actually dating her, or as some kind of pretext. She kept making odd hints and raising her eyebrows at Hermione's insistence that it was nothing of the sort.

It had started out as a favour to a friend. It was quite sweet when he asked her to go to the re-launch in the first place. He just wanted a mate to chill out with, not some daft girl he'd picked up for the occasion. Hermione hadn't realised how hard business could be for a single man. In her line of work, socialising was purely on your own time and nothing to do with the office; in George's it was mandatory and done in pairs. She put the other hoop into her right lobe and pushed a couple of strands of hair off her face, eyeing herself critically in the mirror.

She had carried on because it was actually a lot of fun. That first night had been awkward until the schmoozing was over and she had been able to relax. The other places he had taken her to had been much more enjoyable throughout. Hermione knew what to expect now and had relaxed into the role of 'supportive partner' easily. It was slightly weird, though, when she remembered that most of the people she was meeting assumed she was George's girlfriend. Some had even asked whether George had 'popped the question' yet. That had been hard to answer. She hated lying, but knew that actually we're not together would confuse far too many people. The idea was to support him, not make people think he had to bring a friend as a 'pity date'.

When she thought about it like this, seven months was a long time to spend as a regular pretend date. She had told George six months ago that she wouldn't be his fake wife, but she may as well be. What she was doing wasn't that different after all. Hermione didn't know how she had let it get this far. It had spiralled out of control without her noticing - it was only supposed to be one favour. Some of her colleagues and acquaintances thought she actually was dating George. They met for lunch once a week at least, they went out a couple of nights a month to official functions and he often brought her flowers and chocolate by way of thanks. She would've leapt to conclusions too. It wouldn't really be leaping, more like taking a tiny step and finding conclusions right there. And if she stopped now, George would be offended, his colleagues and associates would ask after her, and it'd be just as messy as a real break up.

There was a knock at the door. Hermione sighed and checked her reflection one last time. This was making her vain, she was sure of it. She answered the door to find George holding a purple gerbera and looking very smart. She smiled, accepted the flower and he kissed her on the cheek. She went to put the flower in water.

"Ready to go, sugar?" he asked with a grin.

"George?"

"Yes, sweetness?"

"I'm extending the threat regarding nicknames involving baked goods to included all kinds of food. And sugary adjectives."

He could tell by the tone of voice that she was no longer as vehement in her dislike of the daft nicknames. Much as she hated to admit it, she had grown accustomed to them, and secretly rather liked them.

"You know," he said mischievously, "I think you only threaten to hex me while I sleep because you want to see if I sleep naked ..."

Hermione walked over to him, smiling in what she hoped was a seductive fashion, then cuffed the side of his head when he really wasn't expecting it. Whether she had looked seductive or not, it had distracted George for long enough.

"Come on then, Romeo."

George grinned.

"Surely you mean Casanova."

"Hmm, slut or romantic. Yep, you're Casanova alright," Hermione replied with an equally wicked grin.

George grabbed her hand.

"We're going to be late. Stop being mean."

Hermione closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was standing outside the gates of the Wallaces' mansion. George didn't let go of her hand as they approached the front door and she was too preoccupied with the splendour of the building to notice. It was only when she heard Fred calling to his twin that she realised, and blushed a little as she understood that George still wasn't letting go. Hermione was never one for causing a scene unnecessarily (yes, the public fights with Ron at school had been necessary) so she didn't try to pull her hand away either. Angelina smiled in that knowing way that she had for the first couple of months of Hermione and George's arrangement.

Oh crap, thought Hermione, I like holding his hand. When did that happen? George chattered away to his brother, completely oblivious to the looks Angie was giving his 'date'. And the way his date was blushing. He led Hermione into the mansion and another evening of networking and socialising began. For Hermione it went by in a blur. She was on auto-pilot for most of the evening, knowing by now exactly what to say and do.

It seemed like minutes since they had been standing in front of the mansion, casually holding hands, and now they were outside her flat. Hermione has never been so nervous about saying goodbye to George. Before she knew what she was doing, she just blurted it out.

"Would you like to come in for a coffee?"

George didn't look surprised or confused. She had thought he would.

"I can't have coffee now or I'll be awake all night," he paused and Hermione held her breath, "but I'd love a hot chocolate. If you've got any?"

"Of course," she said, leading the way into her living room.

She walked over to the counter that divided the living room and kitchen and switched the kettle on. She slipped off her outer robes and hung them on a hook near the front door, noting that George had already done the same. She crossed back to the kitchen and reached for her tin of Instant Chocolate Powder. It wasn't until she carefully put three heaped teaspoonfuls in each mug that she realised that George was just as nervous as she was. Usually he hid it by making jokes, but tonight he was very quiet.

She turned to look over at him and was surprised to find him right behind her. She opened her mouth to speak and he silently placed a finger to her lips to stop her. His other hand was on the counter to her left, effectively pinning her in place.

"All we ever do is talk," he said softly.

Hermione wasn't sure what to think. She had never really seen this side of George before. She didn't have time to think much longer because George moved his hand from her mouth into her hair and leaned towards her. She didn't realise she had been holding her breath until she exhaled softly in relief. She closed her eyes and finally he kissed her.

She moved one hand up to his chest and the other to his face as he pulled her closer and slipped his arm around her waist. The hand in her hair began to move, pulling pins out until her hair was loose around her shoulders. When they pulled apart he said, "You looked so beautiful, dancing with your hair down that night." She smiled and kissed him again, enjoying the feel of his lips and tongue and how firm his chest was underneath her hand and how soft his hair was between her fingers.

"You're right," she said, when they eventually came up for air, "we do talk too much."