Butterbeer and Chocolate for the Gryffindor's Soul

After taking various turns and going down empty passageways, George finally stopped in front of the door to an abandoned classroom somewhere in one of the towers. He tapped the door knob three times with his wand and muttered a spell under his breath before gallantly holding the door open to let Hermione enter.

Predictably, dust covered most of the desks. Ancient books still lined the bookshelves. A grandfather clock at the front of the room stayed permanently at three, while its brother remained at midnight in one of the back corners.

"Why is that there?" Hermione asked, pointing at the curtain that covered the entire left side of the room.

In response, George drew the curtain back to reveal an enormous window overlooking the forest. "I reckon that's why they stopped using this classroom," he said with a grin. "Might be too distracting. Though Defense Against the Dark Arts is not generally a class I doze off in."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked as she joined George by the window.

He pointed at the books. "You can tell from the titles. And there are some cages and tanks left in the closets."

Hermione drummed her fingers idly against a desk. "And the butterbeer?"

George laughed and obediently grabbed some bottles from inside the teacher's desk. "I should have guessed."

Hermione took one of the bottles with a small smile. "Cheers," she said before taking a swig. "So what now?"

George fidgeted. "I usually just come up here to sit and think, look at the view...don't exactly entertain all that much..." Suddenly he smacked his forehead again. "Sitting! I nearly forgot!" He pulled a desk closer to the window and quickly transfigured it into a couch with a pattern of bright pink teddy bears. After looking at it a bit sheepishly, he waved Hermione over to sit. "The window is low enough to still watch the storm."

She nodded, and they both settled themselves down on the couch, which proved to be rather comfy despite the teddy bears. For several minutes, they watched the rain slide down the window panes in silence. Then Hermione spoke.

"I don't mind the bickering or the teasing." She half-smiled. "In fact, I rather enjoy it. But sometimes...we disagree and we're both too stubborn to compromise. And we get so wrapped up in our own issues and lives to see each other clearly." She looked down. "And I strongly suspect I neglect him sometimes because I care too much about doing well in school. At the same time, he's sacrificed so much for me. He missed Quidditch tryouts to cheer me up when I was having a bad day." A silent tear ran down her cheek. "But sometimes he's stupid and takes something the wrong way--he's really insecure, you know that?" She hastily wiped at her eyes. "Then it takes so long for him to move on--he dwells on things a lot too. And that happens so often...like tonight...we got into some stupid argument over nothing again, and I usually don't mind, but today... I don't know... I'm so sick of all the pain."

George awkwardly patted her arm. "My brother can be a bit of a git sometimes."

Hermione jerked. "I'm so sorry, George. This must be, well, strange for you. To say the least. Ron being your brother and all." She smiled weakly. "I guess I forgot you were a Weasley."

"Well, that's a refreshing change," George said with amusement. "I usually find that the name Weasley might as well be stamped on my forehead. Must be the dashing good looks," he said with a grin.

"Might be, that." Hermione blushed as he raised an eyebrow at her. "George! I am going out with your brother, you know. It goes without saying that I'm partial to red hair and freckles."

With that, George suddenly became more serious. "You two are still going out, then?"

She looked down. "Yes, we are." Another tear escaped her eye. "Damn it! I feel like such a leaky faucet sometimes."

"Yes, Ron told me about that," George said while fumbling about in his robes. "Hopefully it's not too wet. Should have thought of this ages ago." Triumphantly, he produced an only very slightly damp handkerchief. After a quick drying spell, he handed it to Hermione.

"Thanks," she said gratefully. "I left mine in my room." Just as she had gotten ready to blow her nose properly, she put the handkerchief down and looked at George with a puzzled expression on her face. "Aren't you wet too?"

He merely pointed at the small puddle that was forming from the water dripping from his robes.

There was a moment of silence as Hermione tried to think of the gentlest, most tactful way of stating the obvious. She settled for not glaringly mean. "Umm...George? Couldn't you dry out your robes too?"

George turned a lovely shade of pink that exactly matched the teddy bears. "Have I told you lately that I'm an idiot?"

"Not for at least fifteen minutes," she assured him before blowing her nose. "Well?" she said, gesturing at his robes.

"Hmm?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in profound exasperation. "George Weasley, I want you to remove those robes immediately!"

George raised his eyebrows. "I never knew that the resident Gryffindor genius had a thing for strip shows featuring athletic young Quidditch players."

She threw a teddy bear pillow at him. "That's not what I meant and you know it!"

He grinned and threw it back at her. "I will never look at you the same way again, Hermione Granger." She promptly stuck out her tongue in response, and George's grin became even wider. "Very mature."

"Arg!" Hermione rolled her eyes again. "I'm serious. Take off those blasted Quidditch robes and dry yourself out. I don't want you getting sick because of me."

Grumbling, George acquiesced and did as she wished, revealing a relatively dry Weasley sweater and faded jeans.

"Now give me those." Within seconds, the robes were dry.

"Happy?" George demanded.

"Not quite," Hermione said with a smile. "You promised me chocolate. Now get me some."