Butterbeer and Chocolate for the Gryffindor's Soul

She had to escape. Her vision blurring, she crossed the common room, climbed out of the portrait hole, and began walking rapidly down the hallway. That is, until she ran into a set of drenched red-and-gold Quidditch robes.

"Hermione!" George Weasley looked down at his younger brother's girlfriend with concern.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Go 'way, Fred, George. Whichever Weasley you are. Doesn't matter."

"I resent that," George said mildly. "You ought to be able to tell the difference between me and my twin. If I were Fred, you would have run into Angelina as well."

To his relief, she gave a small "Hmph" of amusement. Things couldn't be all that bad if she could still "hmph". "I suppose you're right. But honestly, George, I want to be left alone."

It was his turn to snort. "Somehow I doubt that. You may think you want to be alone, but secretly you want a hug." George appeared to think for a moment. "And a butterbeer. Chocolate wouldn't hurt, either." He placed a finger on her lips as she opened her mouth to protest. "Hush, you know I'm right. Now...where's that dear brother of mine? He ought to be able to cheer you up..."

Hermione had been holding up rather well up to this point. Feelings of mild annoyance had kept back her tears. Not anymore.

"Hermione!" George began to panic slightly as he found himself in a very unfamiliar situation. Because of his reputation as a prankster, he usually didn't find himself in the position of confidante and comforter. Not that he wouldn't like to help--just nobody seemed to think he would be any good at it. And now, with Hermione nearly bawling in front of him, he began to wonder if such assumptions were actually true. If only Ron...

George smacked himself on the forehead. "I'm an idiot," he muttered. Hesitantly, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, do you want to talk to Harry, maybe? Quidditch practice got cancelled...he should be back soon with the rest of the team..." Well, they were best friends, George reasoned to himself. It wouldn't really be like abandoning her. Right?

"No!" Hermione answered vehemently. Seeing the puzzled look on George's face, she explained. "He hates it when Ron and I fight...He's always stuck in the middle. I don't want him to get involved this time." She looked away. "I'll go now."

"Wait!" Panicking, George grabbed her arm to prevent her from leaving. "Do you even know where you're going?"

Hermione quickly freed herself (he wasn't gripping her too tightly) and began to walk away. To be completely honest, she hadn't thought that far. After the fight, her only thought had been to get away. But there was no way that she would tell George that. After all, she had a reputation to maintain. "I'm going to drown myself in the lake."

"Wait!" George ran up to her. "You really don't have to drown yourself in the lake, you now. Just standing outside for a few minutes should do it." He gestured at his dripping robes. Hermione slowly turned to face him and gave him an evil glare. George's winning smile quickly disappeared. "Right, bad joke."

She continued walking. "I told you, George, I want to be alone."

George hesitated slightly before following her. "But I don't want to leave you alone. Highly emotional people are generally irrational. And irrational people should not be left alone in old enchanted castles where just about anything could happen."

Anger burned in her eyes as she faced him. "George Weasley," she said in a biting tone that threatened to explode at any moment, "I am NOT irrational! I am CALM! AND...MMPH!!"

George quickly put a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the side of the corridor. Ignoring her rather violent protests, he managed to point his wand at both of them and mutter "Chameleo." Moments later, they could hear Harry's laugh in response to a joke. As the Quidditch team approached, their voices grew even louder. Hermione quit struggling immediately as she looked at George in panic. What if Harry sees?? George, on the other hand, merely smiled. Sure enough, as the team walked by, carrying loads of snacks nicked from the kitchens for an impromptu Gryffindor party in the common room, no one seemed to notice them. After Fred and Angelina (the last of the merry group) disappeared into the portrait hole, George removed his hand from Hermione's mouth and ended the Camouflage spell.

"What spell was that?" Hermione wanted to know. "I haven't seen it in any of the books and I've looked at all the Charms books up to Grade 7."

George chuckled. "That's because it's not in any of the schoolbooks, Miss I'm-going-to-start-studying-for-my-NEWTS-before-I-take-my-OWLS. I found it in the library the other day."

While she looked a little surprised at this--a Weasley twin in a library??--that didn't prevent her from asking another question. "Does it make you invisible?"

"Not quite," George answered. "That's Invisibilito. Chameleo just makes you blend into the background." Faced with the unusual prospect of an interested audience (Fred and Lee didn't seem to find new spells exciting--well, unless they went boom), he decided to share his other neat discoveries. "And there's another lovely spell, Ignoramo, that makes you completely unnoticeable." For a moment, George looked sheepish. "Ignoramo or Invisibilito probably would have worked a bit better--with Chameleo there's a bigger chance of being noticed--but I didn't have the chance to try those out yet and I didn't want to risk it."

By now the tears had stopped, and now Hermione even had a weak smile on her face. "I still can't imagine a Weasley twin spending extra time studying."

He laughed. "Well, Fred usually doesn't. He spares every spare moment with Angelina. Or getting into trouble." Hermione's smile became more genuine. "But me, I like to plan the pranks and figure out ways to avoid being caught."

"I should have known," Hermione said quietly, but calmly. "What prompted this line of research? Disappearing drops?"

"Something like that," George replied. He looked at her with concern, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he asked, "Shouldn't you be crying?"

Hermione sighed. "Not anymore." She looked up at him with a bittersweet smile. "Just sad. You know?"

George nodded and took her by the hand. "I know a nice, secluded place where you can tell me all about your troubles. Who knows? It might help." He grinned at her. "In any case, it would be dryer than the lake."

A ghost of a smile managed to reach her eyes. "Does it have butterbeer?"