Current mood:	excited
Entry tags:	gfeather, hermione/george

Fic: Won and Lost, Part II [PG-13] George/Hermione
Title Won and Lost
Author gfeather
Character/Pairing Hermione/George
Rating PG-13
SummaryPost war, Those who have lost much to the war have used Grimmauld place as a place for privacy to grieve and heal...
Warnings Character death (but in general I think it's a hopeful fic)
Genre Flangst
Author's NotesThis was actually meant to be a much shorter fic... oops...


The next morning Hermione was slow to get out of bed. Groggily she managed some clothes and
slipped on her worn slippers and descended the two flights of stairs down to the kitchen. Harry
had obviously cooked this morning, as evidenced by the massive pile of dishes by the sink all
obediently filing into the hot water under Ginny’s guidance, though Harry was nowhere to be
seen. Most people in the house were adequate cooks, but Harry was without question the best.
She had asked him once how he learned to cook, to which he simply stated that living at his Aunt
and Uncle’s had been good for something.

Without turning around, Ginny said, “I saved you a plate. It’s keeping warm in the oven.”

With a flick of her wrist, the oven door opened and a plate floated to a clear spot on the table
while Hermione pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a cup of tea. Once seated,
Hermione began to pick through the enormous helping on her plate, slowly becoming more alert
as the level of the tea in her mug dropped. By the time she was on her second cup, Ginny had
finished the dishes from earlier and sat down with her own mug of tea. There were voices
coming from the sitting room, but through the closed door they were only a low murmur.

“George was at breakfast,” Ginny mentioned casually.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Well that’s good. Did he actually eat today?”

Ginny nodded. “I was surprised. He ate two pieces of toast and some eggs. I haven’t seen him
eat that much in one sitting in months.”

“Did he look any better?” she asked curiously.

“It’s hard to tell. He’s gotten so thin. Miranda brushed off Charlie again this morning and the
two of them went off to the library together,” Ginny shrugged her shoulders, “who knows?”

Hermione held in a small giggle. “Poor boy. He just won’t take a hint will he. She could beat
him over the head with a Beater’s bat and he still wouldn’t give up.”

The corners of Ginny’s mouth turned up at the comment. “Perhaps that’s what he wanted
George for. Tips on avoiding major bodily harm when confronted by a maniac with a bat. I
wouldn’t go looking to George for dating advice though. He hasn’t gone out with anyone since
the Yule ball.”

Hermione’s thoughts returned to the conversation in the dark the previous evening, but as with
Ginny’s nightly wanderings, she chose not to mention it. Instead she managed a vaguely amused
smile and ended the conversation. Picking up her dishes, she washed them in the sink and said,
“I really doubt Charlie is going to humble himself to asking his little sister for advice about girls.
If you want to play matchmaker, you had best try the other end. Besides, maybe Miranda needs
another girl to talk to.”

“You have a point. Perhaps I’ll spend some time with her today.”

Hermione nodded and moved to the door, “Later, Gin.”

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but George didn’t turn up in her room that night,
or again for over a week. In all honesty, she had expected another conversation of some sort,
maybe this time at a more normal time an location, yet even though he was eating more regularly
and spending less time in his room, that seemed the extent of his newly improved mood. It
wasn’t until she was ready to begin the process of brewing the Wolfsbane potion for another
month that he talked to her again.

The trouble with Wolfsbane was that it was finicky more than difficult. True there were dozens
of complicated instructions and precise measurements, but the hardest trick to master were those
tiny changes to temperature that could change the state of the potion from simmering to boiling
over in less than a few degrees. It was fortunate that she had long ago mastered a variety of fire
and flame spells, but there had been a few near misses the first time she tried to make it.
Examining the ingredients cabinet in the study come potions lab, she set out everything she
would need to begin. The knives were all razor sharp, the chopping block and mortar and pestle
were scrubbed and immaculately clean and the cauldron had been thoroughly checked both for
contamination and any signs of flaws or deterioration. She had just set out the monkshood and
picked up a knife to begin when a knock came at the door. Without turning around she shook her
head and called through the door, “Remus, don’t you dare come in here. I’ve told you a dozen
times, it’s not safe for you to be in here at any time during the brewing process. The fumes alone
are enough to send you straight to St. Mungo’s.”

“For a smart man, he must be pretty stubborn about helping you if you automatically assume it’s
Remus coming to visit,” came a mildly amused voice from the doorway.

“George? What are you doing here?” she asked, spinning around with the knife still in her hand.

He watched as she gestured with the knife and said, “Well I was going to offer to keep you
company or even help, but I never trusted being around Mum with a knife...”

Hermione set down the knife and observed him carefully, “No offense George, but this potion
requires a lot of concentration. I’m not sure having company is a good idea.”

“Well once the first five ingredients are added and well blended they have to simmer for five
hours before cooling overnight. I’ll come back then. Five hours seems like a long time to sit
staring at a cauldron.” he said lightly with the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

She gave him a fishy look which caused the hint of a smile to grow as he stated, “You wouldn’t
believe the places you will find information for jokes from. We couldn’t have made Canary
Cremes without the Wolfsbane potion. The same property that allows werewolves to keep their
mind during the full moon is what keeps people from thinking they are actually a canary and
jumping out of windows.”

“Jumping out of windows?” she asked, slightly incredulous.

A real smile graced his features then and he nodded. “The prototypes didn’t take into account the
impulses of the bird and the first thing I tried to do was launch myself out the window into the
garden. Fred only just managed to catch me with a levitating spell before I had a rather
uncomfortable encounter with the biting rosebushes under our window.”

“It’s a wonder your mother didn’t sell you to the circus. I can imagine what the pair of you were
like when you were younger.” she said, half shaking her head in disbelief, half chuckling.

“Of course you can. We were cute and charming. So, shall I stay, or come back later?”

Hermione noted the curious expression in his eyes and made a decision. “Give me an hour. The
chopping needs to be very precise and I really won’t be any company. I should have it close to
simmering in an hour and you can tell me all about this dubious research put into developing
Canary Cremes.”

When George returned, he was still in the reasonably good mood he had been in before and they
passed the time quite pleasantly as the Wolfsbane simmered on the worktable. His morose mood
of the past months still crept in here and there, but the more usual happy George had come out of
hiding. She made a point to keep the discussion light and enjoyed hearing and talking about
happier times. By the time the potion was ready to be taken off the flame and left to cool,
Hermione had laughed so much her sides were hurting. George was smiling and some of the
hollow look had faded from his expression.
***

As the November full moon approached, Hermione became busier with tending the Wolfsbane
potion and saw little of the other occupants of the house. In the week preceding the full moon
she had to carefully dole out the potion to Remus, Miranda and whoever had come from ‘the
pack’ that month while maintaining the quality and potency of the mixture. She learned after the
first couple times that dividing the completed potion into two cauldrons made it easier to
maintain the portions for the end of the week. Each night she would bring one of the cauldrons
to a rolling boil before ladling it out into goblets and quickly returning the boil back to a slow
simmer. Remus would always try to entertain her with the faces he would pull at the taste, but
she would quickly shoo him out of the room. Usually it took a couple hours to be certain the
boiled cauldron was back to a stable simmer and she could leave the study for another day.
George hadn’t been back to visit her since the first day of brewing, but she heard from more than
just Ginny that he was attending meals regularly now, though she never saw him there as she was
invariably late for anything not potion related during these two weeks.

By the time she had doled out the last dose of Wolfsbane potion and cleaned up the study, it was
sunset and she was exhausted. It was a busy month with all the regulars from ‘the pack’ turning
up, though most had told her they probably wouldn’t be there next month because of wherever
they went and whatever they did for Christmas. None that she knew of were still in contact with
their family, but she didn’t pry and made a note to make less potion next month since only two
had made any indication that they might show up. Leaving the study, she gave a passing thought
to supper, but decided she was too tired and went straight for her room.

To her surprise, George was there with a small tray of sandwiches and two butterbeers.
Something seemed to be troubling him, however, and her brow furrowed as she sat at the
conjured table. His voice was a bit strained when he spoke. “I figured you would be late tonight
and might appreciate some dinner. Charlie cooked tonight, so you didn’t miss anything.”

“Tinned soup and toast?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

George nodded, “But the toast wasn’t burnt and the kitchen wasn’t covered with soup so he’s
getting better.”

Picking up one of the sandwiches on the tray, she took a bite and smiled. Egg salad sandwiches
weren’t haute cuisine, but she wasn’t picky after two weeks constant attention to the Wolfsbane.
George gave her half a smile and picked up a sandwich of his own and together they ate in
silence.

When he was through, he picked up one of the butterbeers and took a big gulp before starting to
talk. “I got a letter from Angelina last week. She hadn’t sent one in a while and she sounded a
bit upset.”

Hermione’s mind had been wandering while they ate, but her attention snapped back at those
words. “Oh? Did she say what was wrong?”

“Not in the letter, no, but she asked if she could see me. She wanted to meet at this coffee shop
down the street from the Leaky Cauldron, on the muggle side,” he said, then paused for a
moment before continuing, “Well it sounded important, so I agreed to meet her yesterday. I went
into town and... you stopped by the shop last month, right? When you went to the apothecary?”

She closed her eyes and nodded, resting her chin on her hands as she leaned on the table. “And
before too. I’ve used it a couple times as a place to hide out from people in the street.”

“So you know,” he stated matter of factly.

“Yes. I know. I would have told you, too, but it wasn’t my place. She needed to do it herself,”
Hermione tried to explain.

“I’m not angry, or upset with you. Ange told me you’ve been trying to help... I just don’t know
what to do. What am I supposed to do about this?” he asked her, sounding confused and a bit
lost.

Hermione let out a long breath and answered honestly, “What can you do about this? You need
to figure out what you are going to do about the shop, but beyond being supportive there isn’t
much you can do for her.”

“She kept repeating that she was alright and not to worry, but what does she expect when you
give someone news like this? How am I supposed to tell Dad? He’s not going to like this,”
George said in a low moan.

“I wouldn’t count on that. I think he won’t be as upset as you think, but before you get around to
telling the world did she mention whether or not she wanted them to know?”

He nodded. “She said that if it was possible she wanted the baby to know its family, so I said I
would tell them. Dad’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Stop it, George,” she commanded, “I think your dad is more likely to be pleased than
disappointed, at least once the shock has worn off.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?”

She shrugged, “Probably a number of reasons and probably the same reasons why I feel guilty
about leaving my Aunt Janet to go through my house instead of going myself. It’s ugly and
unpleasant, but trying to overcompensate for it isn’t going to make things better. You can’t beat
yourself up about this. I don’t know if you were paying any attention to the legal papers that
went across your desk after Fred died, but Ange owns a third of the business now. Of his 45%,
he gave 30 to Ange and 15 to Ginny. She isn’t helpless, and she isn’t looking for charity! If she
wants you and your family to know, it’s because she doesn’t want to do this alone, not because
she expects you to take Fred’s place. So give up the guilt trip George, it doesn’t suit you.”

By the time she had finished, Hermione had worked herself into quite a state and was slightly
flushed in the face. George looked at her strangely for a moment then said, “I think I know why
Ron liked to wind you up so much.”

“What?” she said, thoroughly confused by this non sequitur.

A smile turned one corner of his mouth. “You are quite pretty when you work yourself up and
start lecturing.”

Completely baffled by this comment, she didn’t have a chance to react before he pulled her into a
tight hug and whispered, ‘Thanks’ into her ear. Just as suddenly he let go and headed for the
door. As if none of the previous conversation had transpired, he summoned the sandwich tray
and said. “Good night Hermione. You look knackered. See you in the morning.”

Completely bewildered she watched him leave without a word.
***

To say that life around Grimmauld place was a little odd over the next few weeks was the
understatement of the century... and with little more than a year left to the century, Hermione felt
fairly confident in this assessment. As expected, most were shocked by the news that Angelina
was nearly nine months pregnant and looked ready to burst if hugged too tightly, but most were
pleased with the news even if they hadn’t been particularly close to her before.

The day after Hermione’s lecture, Arthur showed up at the house and disappeared into the study;
a location chosen for the assurance that it was not tampered with in any way since no one in the
house would dare risk even a potential disturbance to the Wolfsbane potion. When they emerged
nearly an hour later, Arthur was beaming and George looked quite dazed and slightly green
around the edges. When asked later, all he would say was ‘some things should never be
discussed, let alone repeated,’ before disappearing for the rest of the day. In the morning, they
left the house to call on Angelina, which seemed to have been less traumatic for George. At that
point, the house was a buzz with curiosity about George’s recent, and seemingly sudden,
excursions. By the time they returned for supper and the announcement was made, the kitchen
exploded with noise and excitement and a barrage of questions.

From that point on, everyone seemed to be busy. Ginny had bounded off to Diagon Alley the
next day with plans to help out at the shop. Harry seemed to have a renewed interest in working
on the less habitable parts of the house and mentioned something about having a guest room for
her if she came to visit. Various friends and classmates came through the house to visit as Luna,
one of the few who was still at the house, started making arrangements for a baby shower. She
had scarcely even known Angelina or Fred, but simply stated, ‘It’s about time we had something
happy to celebrate,’ and continued to make invitations.

George found the house as a hive of activity a bit hard to take and retreated to the study for the
most part, though it was now possible to convince him to walk through muggle London as an
alternative. Though the weather had turned cold and the damp in the air had become pervasive,
Hermione found herself enjoying the escape from the chaos that made the house feel more like an
ant hill than a place for healing the hurts of the war. It was good to see people happy and busy,
but for herself, she preferred the quiet.

Within less than a week, Angelina was dragged to the house for a baby shower, though it
resembled more a small scale Hogwarts reunion, and Hermione found the press of people a bit
much. By three o’clock the house had been noisy and crowded for several hours and she felt
justified in a brief escape before dinner. Picking her way through the well wishers, she found
Ange at the centre and told her, “If the party gets to be too much for you, Harry has a room
upstairs where you can lie down for a bit.”

Angelina nodded, “This is worse than the week before school starts at the shop. Especially since
my ankles are swollen. I think I’ll lay down for a bit before supper, but most people won’t be
staying. How on earth did you find everyone?”

“Blame Luna and her connections through The Quibbler. She tracked everyone she could
down...” Hermione paused and reconsidered her words before saying, “and she found out what
happened to the others. Another time, perhaps, you can ask her. She’s compiled quite a list.
Anyway, I’m going to slip out for a bit. I’ll see you later.”

Hermione gave Ange a quick hug then picked her way back through the crush of people and into
the entrance hall. Finding her warm winter coat, since a cloak would be a bit out of place, she
pulled it on and grabbed a scarf and mittens before slipping out the door. She had just made it to
the sidewalk when a voice called out behind her, “Not fair, Miss Granger. If you get to sneak
out, I get to come too. Hold up a moment.”

It really wasn’t a pleasant day. The wind was blowing and if the clouds were any indication it
was likely to snow within the hour. Tucking the ends of her scarf into the neck of her coat,
Hermione tried to block the creeping tendrils of cold that were trying to sneak through the cracks.
A moment later George came dashing down the stairs, still zipping up his coat with a pair of
gloves and a hat held between his teeth. She smiled as he continued to move quickly down the
street and out to the main road, eager to be away from the house.

They walked down the usual route towards the park without speaking. The street was busy with
cars and the sidewalk was bustling with people in a hurry to get where they were going and out of
the cold. As the park came into view, George slowed his pace and seemed to relax.

“I didn’t think I knew that many people! Why did you let Luna invite so many?” George asked, a
bit incredulous.

She snorted. “You make it sound as if I approved the guest list. She undertook this project on
her own. Besides, some of it was to see who was still... around. She has accounted for most of
the people from her year through to yours. She didn’t invite them all, but she found out what
happened to them. Many of the less involved went back to Hogwarts this year.”

“Do you regret not going back for your NEWTs?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yes... and no. I feel a bit incomplete without them, but at the same time what would I do with
them? The point of getting high NEWT scores is to improve your job prospects and... it will be
quite a while before I can have a normal job and just be normal,” she answered truthfully.

He nodded and suggested, “You could always brew potions for sale to the general public. The
apothecary in Diagon Alley does consignments so long as they meet standards.”

“Don’t you think brewing Wolfsbane for six to ten werewolves a month is enough potion
brewing for one person? In all honesty, by the time I get out of the study on a full moon I am
glad not to see another cauldron for two weeks. It takes so much concentration,” she confessed.

A gloved hand took hers and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Remus would understand you
know...”

She sighed heavily. “Of course he would, and he’s said as much a dozen times. He’s too
familiar with going without what others would call necessities. Then there’s Miranda to consider
as she’s never let the wolf out fully, never had a month without the potion. She seems to be
doing better and I wouldn’t dream of making her go through that without help. There’s also ‘the
pack’ to consider, though most of them give the impression that they never expected more than a
month or two of potion, let alone a place to sleep. They’re so used to having nothing... how can I
not help them?”

“Perhaps to help yourself? Wolfsbane really takes it out of you,” George observed.

“It can’t be helped. I won’t give it up,” she stated firmly.

“Will you at least let someone help you then?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’d still be worried and double checking, and besides, who really
wants the headache of fiddling with Wolfsbane every two weeks.”

“I’ll help you.”

“George-”

“I’m not stupid. I know how to work with potions, though I don’t have a fancy mark on a test to
prove it, and most of the time is watching it simmer and stirring at ten minute intervals. You’ve
figured out all the complicated bits and refined them down to an art. Surely there is something
simple enough you can trust me with,” he rambled.

She stopped walking and turned to observe him for a long moment. “Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“This isn’t a game, George.”

“Good, because I’m not playing.”

“I can’t,” she said, turning away and continuing to walk.

He called out from behind her, “Can’t what? Admit you need help?”

She froze, curling her hands into fists and trying hard to keep under control. For a full minute
she didn’t move or say anything, feeling the beginnings of the icy snow sting her cheeks as they
were blown forcefully against her by the wind. A pair of warm arms wrapped around her from
behind and a warm voice rumbled in her ear. “I need help, and I need to help you. Will you let
me?”

Hermione broke from his grasp and started forward again without answering. She didn’t see
George scoop up a handful of slushy snow, but she felt it when it connected wetly with the back
of her head. Whirling around, she was prepared to launch into a reprimand when another slushy
missile hit her squarely on the chest. She glared at him, but he only raised his eyebrows
innocently. When she started to bend down to get her own handful, she noticed the hand that had
been behind his back come forward to reveal four more snowballs and she gave up the counter
attack. Turning away, she ran down the path in the hopes of avoiding being hit, but years of
playing Beater must have improved his aim since every throw hit its mark. The last one hit her
right on the behind and she could feel the wetness seeping through the denim of her jeans.
Rubbing her offended posterior, she forgot for a moment that he was still chasing her and was
caught completely by surprise when she was tackled from behind. They fell in a graceful arch,
landing heavily, and painfully, on the frozen ground.

When she regained her breath, she started in on him. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?
Do you really think this is a good way to go about proving you are responsible and trustworthy?
Throwing snowballs at me, then rugby tackling me to the ground? You are the limit, George
Weasley. I never know what you’re going to do next.”

“You don’t?” he asked with the long absent mischievous glint in his eye, “Good.”

Then once again, he took her by surprise, leaned over and kissed her firmly.

By the time Hermione had processed what had just happened, George was up and off the ground,
continuing down the path. He wasn’t running, but his pace was quick and she had to run to catch
up with him. When she reached him she called out, “George, hold on. Will you just wait a
minute?”

He ignored her and kept walking towards the edge of the park and the route back to the house.
She jogged after him and managed to grab an arm before he could snatch it away. She spun him
around to face her and was about to ask him what he was on about, when she noticed his
expression and the words died on her lips. All that she could manage was a concerned,
“George?”

He turned his face away and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Sorry... I just...”

“What was that?”

He sighed heavily. “A mistake.. I’ve messed things up...”

“If it was a mistake, why did you do it?” she asked gently.

“Because I wanted to,” his voice was barely a whisper.

She smiled softly, but he tried to pull away from her grip on his arm. She held on and said
steadily, “I need help. Will you help me brew the Wolfsbane potion this month?”

George glanced at her sideways, still embarrassed. “I could probably do that.”

“Good,” she said and pulled him into a tight hug. His arms came around her tentatively, then
returned the embrace, enveloping her in his grasp.

They stood there for a long moment before the wind and the stinging precipitation encouraged
them to begin the walk back, this time hand in hand. As they turned to leave the park, she
glanced over her shoulder at the spot where he had tackled her to the ground and commented,
“You still haven’t justified those snowballs you threw at me.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Simple. You’re pretty when you’re indignant.”

She had half a mind to rebuke him, but settled instead for a small shove. He returned the shove a
bit more forcefully, causing her to stagger. They continued this little shoving match nearly to the
turn onto Grimmauld Place, when instead of pushing her, George pulled Hermione tightly to him
and kissed her deeply. Taken off guard, she was thoroughly flustered and blushing as they
climbed the steps into 12 Grimmauld Place, but was relieved that everyone in the house would
think her slightly dishevelled state a result of the weather.
***