Disclaimer - I own nothing to do with Harry Potter, for it all belongs to J.K. Rowling and company.
Summary - Hermione comforts an emotionally destroyed George the night after his brother died. (Original, huh?) DH epilogue is burning in the trashcan, don't worry. Possibly OOC and maybe just a wee bit AU even without the crapshoot of an epilogue, even though when a person comforting someone who is grief stricken can equal some weird things, trust me.
No BETA reader because I had to post this ASAP to be able to get my mind off it, so any mistakes are mine and if anyone sees a mistake, just let me know and I'll correct it. Thanks for reading. Remember to review! They're like drugs to us authors.
Warning - Explicit sexual content. 18 and older please. Not even close to work-safe.
Hermione had Apparated back to the Burrow with the rest of the distraught Weasley family and Harry. It was merely six hours after the war was officially over, but the grieving for the red-headed family had just begun. They had lost a son, a brother, a twin. Fred Weasley had been taken down amidst the battle; he had died right in front of his brother Percy, along with Harry. George did nothing when he saw his twin being half dragged, half carried, into the Great Hall when the battle was over. He had no words, no tears, nothing. He felt as though everything had been taken away from him. George couldn't even register he had other family for at least a few hours, for he felt as though he not only lost his best friend, but literally his other half.
It was now almost nine o'clock the next night, and the whole family, along with Hermione and Harry, had only returned to the Burrow a mere six hours previous. Mrs. Weasley was fumbling about the house, cleaning and making food through the tears that never stopped flowing from her eyes. She, almost violently, shoved bowls of stew in front of the not-hungry people at the large table, never making comment as they simply pushed their food around. Hermione was one of the last ones to excuse herself from the table, silently vanishing the contents from her bowl.
"Goodnight, Dear," Mrs. Weasley said, patting her roughly on the head as she hiccupped a sob.
"Night, Mrs. Weasley," she murmured before leaving the kitchen.
She was just turning to hit the fifth floor landing when she came upon him. He was on his knees, his red head and hands plastered to the door clearly marked "Fred - The better looking half" on a wooden plank in the middle of the door, accompanied by another saying "George - The funnier half". His body was shaking silently with uncontrollable gut wrenching sobs, and Hermione was worried he wasn't breathing. But suddenly he took in a large shaky breath before letting it back out in a strangled sob. She wasn't sure what came over her, but….
Suddenly she knelt behind George, her right leg in between his, and slid her arms around him. One arm went over his shoulder, down across his chest and to his opposite side. The other arm went under his arm and back up to his shoulder, holding him securely against her. It was then that George let it all go, blubbering like a small child, no holds barred. He felt her press her torso more into his back and allowed himself to rest against her, reveling in the comfort that she was giving. At first he thought it was his mother, but the woman holding him was petite, other than the chest, and smelled of vanilla and chamomile. His eyes stung too badly to try to look at her arms, but he didn't care. All he knew was that he was empty, lost, incomplete and she was warm with a comforting embrace.
"Shhh," she cooed into his ear and he could tell she was crying too. "George, it's all right, it's all right."
"No," he choked out. "No, it'll never be all right."
He could tell by the voice it was Hermione and that relaxed him more, knowing his family wasn't seeing him fall apart so badly. He was supposed to be the funny one, the one to always cheer you up, and he didn't want them to see him like this. Her hand came up further and began stroking his bright red hair back repeatedly. Her cheek found the side of his head, her lips just under his intact ear.
"I feel so lost, Hermione," he managed, unable to carry the burden alone, although he knew his family felt it, he needed to get it out. "I can't… I can't be without him. Why wasn't I with him? I could have protected him, I could of…. I need him in order to breathe, I can't breathe without him."
"George, shh," she said through her tears. "It wasn't your fault, it wasn't. You couldn't have protected him. You did everything right, sweetie, everything. It'll be okay. I know you don't think so, but it will be. It'll just take time."
"No!" he sobbed. "It'll never be okay. I'm missing half of me! Not just my fucking ear, but my fucking twin. Oh, Fred, why?"
Hermione gripped him tighter as she felt him sag further back and she supported his weight, sitting back on their feet. He turned his head and buried his face into her arm, simply needing to feel her skin to know he wasn't alone, even though she had him held against her. She choked back a sob and tightened her grip as much as she could without hurting him.
"What did he do to deserve this, Hermione?" he asked heavily. "What wrong did Fred do to deserve a death sentence? Why him, Hermione, why?"
"I don't know, George," she whispered against his neck. "He didn't do anything to deserve it. No one who died last night deserved it."
"I don't fucking care about them!" he yelled.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she said gently, stroking his hair again. "He didn't do anything wrong, George."
"I could have helped him."
"No, then you might be dead too."
"I wish I was."
"No you don't," she whispered, praying to whatever God there was to heal this poor man's broken heart.
"I don't know how to live without him," he cried, sounding defeated.
"We'll get through it, George," she said.
"How could he do this to us?" he asked.
Hermione wasn't exactly sure how to answer it, but she just knew George was going through all the stages of losing someone rather quickly - denial, guilt, anger, blame. She simply said nothing and continued to hold him until he was ready to speak again. She didn't have to wait long.
"I can't feel anything, Hermione, I feel so empty."
"I know, sweetie," she said quietly. Her legs were starting to fall asleep and she realized that perhaps he wouldn't want his family to stumble upon them, so she decided to ask him the question that she didn't know would change things between them forever. "Hunny, maybe we should get you into bed. What do you think?"
George nodded. "Will you stay with me for awhile?" he asked. "I don't want Mum to see me like this and…."
"And what?" she asked.
"And I just feel like I'm still alive with you," he said into her arm, his voice still husky from sobbing, but his tears dying down.
"Of course I'll stay," she replied without a second thought. "Sit up just a little, hun."
George felt her arms unhook from around him and instantly felt empty again. He shivered and waited for her to stand up before following suit. He didn't even turn around to look at her before he opening the door and stepping in. Hermione followed him into the dark room, closing the door behind her. She jumped slightly when his hand blindly reached back for her, grasping her arm and pulling her along.
"Sorry, I'm not turning on the lights because I don't want to see his bed," he explained.
"That's fine," she replied.
She almost ran into him when he stopped in his tracks in front of his bed. Without words, Hermione blindly ran her hand over his chest, making sure he was standing directly in front of her and whispered a spell. George felt his blood-stained sweater turn into a soft t-shirt and his jeans turn into sweat pants. He heard her whisper another spell he assumed was for her soiled clothing. Silence still between them, George pulled back the thick quilt on his full sized bed and climbed in. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Hermione climb in right after him, pulling the blanket back over them.
She turned on her side, facing him, and he turned on his side, facing her. No words were needed as they molded their bodies together, his arms around her, her arms around him, legs tangling. She ran her hand over his hair as she felt his body begin to shudder again. He felt her body move against his, trying to get closer and he noticed she was shaking too. His hand raised to her cheek of its own accord, brushing the tears from it. He never noticed how soft her skin was, but now, in the midst of his pain, he stopped to think about it as he wiped more tears from her face.
"Shhh," Hermione whispered through her tears in the dark, "don't cry, George, just breathe."
He surprised them both by chuckling lightly before sniffling. "You stop crying and maybe I'll consider it."
"Okay," she whispered, closing her eyes and putting her forehead against his. "Do you feel a little better, getting all that out?"
"A bit," he said quietly, tucking her frizzed hair behind her ear. "I still can't… feel."
"What?" she asked.
"I just can't feel anything," he said, sniffling. "I feel pain and hurt and devastation, and I can feel you trying to comfort me, but I don't know if I'll ever really feel again."
Hermione mulled this over for a moment. She brought her hand that was in his hair to his hand that was on her face and rolled back a little. He made to protest but stopped as her hand guided his to her chest, placing it just on the top of her breast, right over her heart.
"Do you feel that?" she asked.
He paused for a moment before he felt her solid heartbeats. "Yes," he whispered, pressing against her skin, counting the beats.
"You have one of those too," she said. "It's still there, I promise. Whole as ever, George. It might not feel like it, but I assure you it's there."
Her speech only made George choke up more, thinking that her words were true, but he didn't know why he couldn't really believe them. He relished in the warmth of her bare skin underneath his hand, as well her steady beating heart. "I can feel this," he said weakly, curling his fingers on her skin before stretching them back out.
To Hermione it sounded more like he was convincing himself as opposed to her. "Tell me what I can do, George."
"Don't leave," he replied instantly, mildly surprised by his own response. "You're helping so much, Hermione, I don't know why, but you are."
She kept her hand on his as he continued to flex his fingers over the skin of her breast. "Does that help, George?" she asked, putting pressure on his hand.
"Yes," he said quietly, he tears slowing. "I can feel it. I enjoy the feel of your skin."
His reply surprised her a little, and she was silent for awhile. They had known each other for almost seven years, and she had indeed had more conversation with George than any of the other Weasleys, except for Ron. She was also amazed how she was all reaction with him, never once second guessing herself. She felt comfortable and needed with him, but not just because he was hurting. It was something… more. She leaned back into him, releasing his hand, but he left his on her as their bodies pressed together again. Hermione brushed her fingertips over his chiseled but slim jaw line before ghosting them over his cheek, wiping away any moisture.
"I can feel that," he breathed, closing his eyes.
"Does that feel good?" she asked.
"Anything that feels, feels good."
They both paused, silently wondering whether or not to laugh. Hermione decided it was better just to smile and not make him feel any worse because of odd wording to a sentence. "Well that's good then."
He took in a shaky breath. "I just can't stop thinking about it, Hermione."
"I know," she whispered.
His hand moved up and back down. "You skin makes my palm tingle," he said boldly. After completely breaking down in front of her, he figured there was no reason to sugarcoat or hide anything.
Hermione blushed slightly. "Good," she said. He pressed her closer. "What are you doing?"
"I need to feel more, Hermione, I don't want to lose this feeling."
"George, I'm right up against you there's no way to…," Hermione stopped there, a sudden thought coming to her. She was going to say 'no way to be closer' but there was. "You need more feeling, don't you?"
"I don't know how," he whispered.
"I do," she whispered back.
Like with everything else, she didn't stop to think or second guess herself or her actions. Hermione leaned up a little, tilted her head to side, and blindly leaned down, and just happened to find his lips with hers immediately. At first George didn't respond, too shocked to do anything. But as she pressed more firmly, he could feel a warmth spreading through his body and pressed back. Hermione parted her lips and glided her tongue over his bottom lip, seeking entrance. He obliged her, allowing her tongue to search his mouth for a moment before he responded, his tongue chasing hers back into her mouth.
His hand slid from the top of her breast up her collarbone, her shoulder, and finally tangling into her mess of hair, holding her in place, silently begging her not to pull away. Her hand went to his neck as the kiss became more heated, stroking the baby-soft skin just below his jaw. He moaned into her mouth as she pressed her hips into his, and she moaned back, feeling a very prominent erection press against her thigh. Her leg that was tangled with his slid up his leg to his hip and she hooked her leg around it, holding him against her.
Suddenly, he pulled back, panting. "No, Hermione, I can't do this to you, I can't."
"Do what?" she asked, breathing heavily.
"Take advantage of your caring nature, I can't do that. We're both so vulnerable and I won't be able to stop after this, so we need to stop now," he said pleadingly.
"Does this help you feel, George?" she asked, rotating her hips into his.
He groaned and gripped her hair. "Yes, but Hermione you can't do this."
"Yes I can," she said stubbornly.
"I can't do this."
"Why?" she asked.
"I'm taking advantage of you," he said quietly.
"How?" she asked, running her leg up and down his hip.
"Because I'm a bloody mess and you are too nice to just walk away, which you should," he muttered.
"I want to do this," she said.
"No you don't," he said, starting to breathe heavily as Hermione continued rubbing herself against him.
"If I didn't want to do this, I would have never started it," she reasoned.
"I can't ask you to pick up the broken pieces, Hermione," he whispered.
"You aren't broken," she said confidently.
"You found me broken."
"Then let me help you," she said. "Let me try, George. I need this as much as you."
"What about Ron?" he asked suddenly.
"I don't want him, George," she replied honestly. "It would never work between him and I and he knows it. Have you notice that it is you I am here with, and he has not come looking for me whatsoever. I'd rather be here anyway."
George paused for a moment. "What if I can't do this?" he asked quietly.
"Then tell me no," she whispered, ducking her head to his neck and sucking on a very sensitive piece of skin.
"I can't," he moaned. "I need you, Hermione. It's so pathetic."
George had no idea where that came from, but the truth of it slammed into him like a thousand bricks and suddenly he was rolling to his back, pulling her on top of him. They'd known each other a long time, and although they weren't best friend, he couldn't deny that she had a wonderful personality as well as beautiful with an amazing body that he had always been quite attracted to, which his hands were currently all over. He ran his hands from her hair, down her back to grab her round backside, pushing her along his erection, and back again. Once he finally had her free of his neck, he blindly searched for her mouth, plunging his tongue in the moment their lips met.
Hermione ground herself against him, moaning into his mouth as the friction shot waves of pleasure through her. She found herself ripping his shirt over his head and moaning with him as her fingernails raked over the hard plains of his chest and stomach. Her shirt was soon to follow and his hands fumbled to her breast, squeezing and pinching, licking and sucking. She threw her head back as his lips closed around a hard nipple, his tongue swirling sensually around it.
"I need you," he whispered into her ear after each nipple had been given ample attention.
"I need you, too," she panted.
"Lay back," he commanded.
Hermione didn't question him as she laid back, allowing her legs to stretch to either side of his stomach. He sat up while running his hands up her smooth bare legs to the elastic waistband of the shorts she had transfigured for herself. "You're sure?" he asked.
"Please," she moaned. "Stop thinking, baby, and just feel."
He was taken aback by 'baby' coming out of her mouth, but if he was honest with himself, he liked it coming from her plump lips, especially when she was saying it to him. He practically ripped the shorts from her body, kissing each ankle as he pulled them off. His hands once again traveled up her thighs, Hermione's breathing growing in volume the closer to where she wanted him to touch. He didn't torture her too long before gently running his finger between her folds. He groaned lowly as he felt how wet she was. Hermione panted and whimpered as his finger ghosted over her entrance, teasing her. He felt his erection pulse painfully as she moaned when his finger traced the inside of her nether-lips.
"I can't take it," Hermione moaned.
He didn't reply, but simply brought his hands to her hips, indicating he wanted her to sit back up. She obliged him, tucking her legs under her as she sat up. She raised herself and began tugging at his pants before he helped her, sliding them over his hips and down his legs before kicking them off. Hermione barely waited half a breath before reaching for his very erect manhood with her hand. She couldn't even fully wrap her dainty hand around it, but he still moaned as she worked the skin of his shaft up and down. His hands found her breasts again, tweaking her nipples lightly.
Hermione perched herself above him and came down just enough to rub the tip of his erection through her wet folds, teasing herself as well as him. She paused for only a moment before placing him at her entrance, took a deep breath, and began the long way down. They let out identical cries of pleasure as his member slowly filled her tight, wet core. Finally hitting bottom, George's hands tightened on her hips, silently begging her to remain very still. She felt like a virgin, so tight but so wet and welcoming.
"Do you feel that?" Hermione asked huskily above him, her walls convulsing slickly around him.
"Yes," he moaned back.
In that silent, nonmoving moment, Fred was not forgotten by any means, but George felt, really felt. He concentrated on the pure feel of her, reveling in the warmth of being buried deeply inside her. He felt almost whole again, almost fully alive. It was in that moment he realized he needed more of her. His hand flew to the back of her neck, bringing her down for a sloppy deep kiss. Her hands went beside his head on the pillow and she rotated her hips, moaning at the friction. George brought his free hand to her hip, encouraging her to continue. She slid up and down him slowly, biting his lip lightly as her clit rubbed against his lower abdomen. He met her slow, deep thrusts, and basked in the loud keening sounds she was making as her nipples and clit rubbed along his skin simultaneously.
George broke the kiss once oxygen was needed. "You feel so good, Hermione," he moaned into ear before nipping it lightly.
"You feel so good too, George," she panted.
His hands went to her ribs and pushed her back so his hands were free to roam her breasts and sturdy hips. He moaned at the new position, barely able to retain solid thought as her moist walls contracted around him in time with her movements. His hips raised to meet her every time, filling her to the hilt. One of his hands traveled from her breasts and made a slow, sensual trail down her stomach, but he hesitated before dropping it any further. Hermione noticed.
"Yes," she groaned. "Please touch me George."
Hermione's head fell back and she moaned loudly as his thumb delved between her folds to her clit, pressing against it. Her hips bucked as she rode him faster, pleasure coursing through her veins as George continued the constant pressure. He moaned and met her quickened pace, holding longer on the up thrust, trying to fill her more deeply. Once again, George felt as though he needed more of her.
"Lay on your back again, Love," he panted.
Hermione paused, momentarily stunned at the sweet sentiment. George however, seemed unfazed, so she allowed her legs to slide back in front of her, and she leaned back as he sat up. Her legs wrapped around his back and she moaned loudly as he went more deeply inside of her as he slowly made it to his knees, supporting her hips with his arm around her back. He was forced to exit her exquisite heat as he laid her hips back down to the bed and smiled a little when she whimpered at the loss.
He took a moment to settle securely between her thighs, hitching each of her legs around his hips. He brought his mouth to hers slowly, languidly tasting her mouth as her hands roamed his firm shoulders and back. Hermione moaned and bucked her hips as his hand found her breast, kneading it with his palm. He broke the kiss and ghosted his lips along her jaw and neck before finally hunching slightly to reach her other breast, the tip of his tongue barely grazing her taut nipple.
"George," she moaned, her hands raking into his hair.
"Hermione," he whispered against the heated flesh of her breast.
"Please," she begged. "I want you so badly."
"Tell me you need me, Hermione," he said, his tongue finding her nipple once again.
Hermione arched off the bed. "I need you," she cried. "I need you so badly, George, please."
He smirked against her skin and slid back up her flushed body to meet her lips. He raised slightly, reaching a hand between them. He mimicked her actions from earlier, teasing her opening and clit with the tip of him member, eliciting a moan from her.
"Responsive, aren't we?" he muttered against her lips as she arched into him. She made a noise of agreement, her breathing becoming erratic.
He lined himself up and in one swift thrust, he was completely sheathed back in her tightness, her damp walls once again constricting around him. He cursed as she moaned when he hit bottom, never thinking it possible to be so deeply buried within someone like this. He cautiously rocked his hips, his eyes closed tightly as she arched off the bed again, pressing her full bust into his chest.
George knew it wasn't going to be long until he was a goner, so he once again trailed his hand down the soft plain of her stomach to that little bundle of nerves between her folds, applying pressure as he picked up the pace. Hermione arched again, meeting his quick pace, not able to contain the noises being ripped from her chest as he pounded mercilessly into her willing body.
"Harder," she moaned.
"Come for me," George growled, his thrusts becoming sloppy and rough as he obliged her request. "I'm not going to last inside your tight little body, Hermione, come for me, Love."
Hermione felt a bolt shoot from her stomach to her toes and back. "George!" she screamed as an explosive orgasm overtook her entirely, her back arching off the bed.
"Oh, fuck," George cried out as her juices flowed over him, lubing his member as it slid between her quivering walls. He called her name just as she milked him for all he had, spilling deeply inside her.
He leaned on his elbows, panting and shaking from his release. Hermione's hands found his head and directed it to her shoulder before kissing his cheek and wrapping her arms around him, taking on some of his weight. They laid there for an immeasurable amount of time, trying to catch their breath. George lightly kissed her shoulder, her neck. Hermione smiled and leaned her cheek against his forehead.
"Thank you," he said thickly against her neck.
"Anytime," she whispered back, stroking his face lightly.
"Can I hold you to that?" he asked, and then mentally slapping himself for sounding so desperate.
"I won't leave this room until you force me out," she said, kissing his forehead.
"What if you have to go to take a shower and eat?" he asked with a smile.
"If you want me back, I'll come back."
"What if I never want you to leave?" he asked quietly, inhaling her smell of vanilla-chamomile, no longer embarrassed for such questions.
"Then I'll never leave," she said seriously.
"Why is that?" he asked.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "If you don't want me to leave, then I won't leave, that's why."
"Is that the only reason?" he asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
"No," she answered quietly, sensing his nervousness. She ran her fingers through his hair, nuzzling her cheek against his forehead. "No, George, that would not be only reason at all."
"Good," he said, smiling. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "I thought we had that settled?"
"Oh," he said. "Well, then would you care to join me at the other end of the bed?"
"I would be honored."
George lifted and gave her a slow kiss before slowly sliding out of her. She followed him to the other side of the bed and slipped back underneath the covers, once again turning to face each other, tangling their limbs until they were satisfied that they were close enough.
"Good night, Hermione," he whispered.
"Good night, George," she said just as quietly, a small smile on her face. Hermione stroked his hair and planted small kisses on his face until finally hearing the slow rhythmic breathing indicating that he was asleep. She soon followed his lead, falling into an exhausted slumber.
Hermione woke before George to find them in the same position, but he was shying away from her a bit, quivering in his sleep. The sun was just beginning to rise and she could see a pained look on his face, his eyes scrunched and his mouth quacking with deep breaths raggedly being inhaled and exhaled. She wrapped her arms more securely around him and began stroking his cheek, feather-light. He woke with a start but quickly fell back into her warm embrace.
The tears started quickly, but she didn't try to stop them this time. Somehow, she knew he needed to let it out, and he loved her for that. He knew if it got out of hand, she'd take care of him, and that gave him a huge amount of comfort through the excruciating pain he was feeling. As he laid in her arms, soaking her bare shoulder with sorrowful tears, he knew that even if she didn't mean what she said last night, he would carry her sweet vanilla-chamomile scent with him, reminding himself that there is light at the end of the tunnel. However, he did hope, even through his pain, that she would stick around, for not only his sanity, but for his heart, which seemed to skip a beat with her soft touches and sweet words.
A/N - Thank you for reading! This was a muse that would just not leave me alone and I might make this a chaptered story after I'm done with With A Red Bow if I get enough people wanting more. Review please!