Seven

Let go of your heart, let go of your head, and feel it now.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," she said to George.

He was wearing rather fetching blue dress robes with snakes slithering around the edges. They weren't real serpents, but they were making Hermione feel decidedly uncomfortable. As was they in which George was holding her arm in a deceptively casual yet surprisingly vice-like grip. He was grinning. Hermione really wished she had said no.

"Come now. You don't mean that, muffin. You have the honour of accompanying the host. Just think how jealous all the other girls are."

Hermione snorted in disbelief. George pretended to be offended, then swiftly forgot about the slur on his attractiveness and steered his unwilling date across the room towards Fred and Angelina.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had had to close during the war for many reasons, but after a brief period of recuperation followed by frenzied designing, inventing and experimenting, the Weasley twins were ready to re-open with a vengeance. They had decided to have a big launch. Hermione had reluctantly agreed that everyone could do with a party. It would help people release some of the tension of the past few years. She had also found that she no longer regarded Fred and George's business with the disdain she had shown previously. It was what they did best, and some of their ideas were ingenious. And after all that had happened people could do with a laugh.

George had come up to her one day last week and announced that he needed a date and he wanted to take her. When Hermione had looked at him in surprise he had informed her that as host he had to have a date. In one of his rare moments of absolute honesty, George had gone on to say that he didn't want to chat up some girl just to take her to his party and make small talk. He had looked her in the eye and told her that he just wanted to relax and have fun with his friends. She caught the unspoken message and had been touched by his sincerity. It had been impossible to say no.

So here she was, all dolled up in pale green dress robes with her hair done all nice, slightly embarrassed that she matched her date's moving snakes.

"You've met Fred and Angie haven't you, strudel?"

Hermione hit George for his faux politeness. Ange seemed to think that she was justified, as she raised one eyebrow in solidarity with the younger woman.

"I take it this idiot managed to convince you to be his date for the evening then," Angelina commented wryly.

"Against my better judgement, yes," Hermione replied with a grin.

"I resent that!"

"I'm sure you do."

"Oh no! Percy, three o'clock," Fred warned in a stage whisper.

George promptly grabbed his date and dragged her off in the opposite direction to meet a surprisingly large amount of people she didn't know. After many tedious little chit-chats and false smiles, music started playing. To Hermione's great relief George announced that they could stop networking and have fun.

Her relief was short-lived. 'Fun' meant starting the dancing with Fred and Angelina.

"But ... But, why?"

George laughed at Hermione's expression.

"Come on, cinnamon bun. It'll be fun. Promise."

"Fine," she sighed, "And stop calling me pastries. It's weird."

George laughed again. He also insisted on slow dancing with her, despite the fact that the music was pretty lively. They made an odd sight: George and Hermione embracing and swaying slowly to the fast beat; Fred and Angelina twirling about all over the place. Hermione was surprised that Ange didn't get dizzy with her husband swinging her about like that. It reminded her of the way they were at the Hogwarts Yule Ball so many years ago. It was nice to see that some things never changed.

"Now you know why we're slow dancing. No one will look at us while those two put on a display," George murmured in Hermione's ear. He had a point.

When the song ended more people started dancing. George and Hermione put a little more space between them and started to enjoy themselves a bit more. He turned out to dance a little like his brother, only not quite so outrageous or dangerous. Hermione was starting to feel a little light-headed. Her hair was slipping from the pins she had tortured it into earlier, so she removed the all and let it cascade over her shoulders.

"Ooh, I love this song! I didn't know they'd play Muggle music!"

"I may have raided your CD collection after I guilt-tripped you into coming," George grinned.

Hermione smiled and twirled him around. Then it was her turn to spin. George thought she looked like a different person with her hair flaring out as she turned and her robes shimmying as she moved. Hermione started singing along.

"The music's too loud and the noise from the crowd increases the chance of misinterpretation, so let your hips do the talking ..."

She laughed as George wiggled his hips in a rather disturbing manner. When the song finished he took her hand and led her off to get a drink. Several drinks and dances later Hermione proclaimed that George had got her 'giddy as a fish' and he'd better not spin her any more. Ever the gentleman, he obliged. The next song was a slow one so he pulled her close. Hermione leaned against her date for support as they swayed in time with the music. When the music stopped George tactfully kept one arm around his tired and slightly inebriated companion to steady her.

"Come on then, cupcake. I'd better get you home."

"I told you not to call me pastries."

"A cupcake isn't a pastry," George informed her knowledgeably. "It's a cake."

"Hmm," said Hermione doubtfully, as he steered her to get her cloak and apparated her back to the Burrow. He walked her to her room, kissed her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Good night, angelcake."

George apparated back to the shop to get a head start on the cleaning.