Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to J. K. Rowling.
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Chapter 5:  Yet Another Letter

Hermione sagged against the door as it shut firmly behind her. The glaring yellow of Ginny's room seemed almost blinding. Hermione squeezed her eyes closed and willed herself to calm down. Her breathing was still ragged and her face was flushed. She had run quickly up the stairs when Mrs. Weasley had come into the kitchen. Avoiding George's eyes she had slipped passed him. But she couldn't forget him, or what had just happened downstairs. Her lips still burned where his had met hers. She felt oddly light headed, strange tingles going up her spine. Hermione didn't understand what had happened downstairs during their chess match. One minute she was playing chess the next George was kissing her. 
Moving shakily over to the desk, she sat down. Crookshanks was soundly asleep on the bed. Next to her arm lay Durmstrang: A Beginning, and deeply engulfed in its pages was a little picture of her and Viktor. 

Hermione moaned softly, "Viktor", and immediately she felt guilty. What on earth had happened down there? Why had George kissed her? And the kiss... Hermione gently touched her fingers to her lips they still tingled slightly. Now more than ever Hermione wished that she was better friends with Lavender or Parvarti, all they talked about were guys, they would have some advice in this situation. 

"Not that there is any need for advice," she told herself firmly. Whatever had happened was an accident. It was just to warm outside. The atmosphere had been intoxicating. And there was no need to worry; she was with Viktor. She loved Viktor. But a flicker of doubt crossed Hermione's face as she thought this, that kiss was hard to forget. She had never been kissed like that. Not that Hermione had a lot of kisses to compare it too. All of her other kisses had come from Viktor of course. She enjoyed kissing Viktor, but he was always so cautious, she always knew it was coming. Their kisses always seemed so planned. But George...George was spontaneous. 

"But....but don't I like things planned?" She asked herself. Her feelings of doubt were becoming harder and harder to ignore. She needed to talk to someone, but whom? "Harry" she muttered. Hermione quickly searched the desk for some paper and a quill. 

Dear Harry,
How are you? I'm fine, well actually, I'm not fine. Things are just so confusing here. I swear I'm going to go crazy. Why don't you see if you can't come to the Burrow? It would help things if you were here. Ron still won't talk to me, and the twins... well, let's just say some things have happened. Please Harry, I will owe you forever. I'm so desperate to talk to someone that I know doesn't have an agenda. Let me know if you can come early. 
Love Hermione

Hermione opened the door and peered cautiously into the hallway, it was empty. She moved quickly to Percy's room and slipped inside. After listening to Percy for at least an hour one night as he discussed his plans to limit the inter-breeding of foreign owls he had told her that she could use Hermes, his owl. Hermione figured that Percy was just tickled to have someone listen to him for an hour without interrupting. Her lack of interrupting had been due to the fact that she had fallen asleep without his noticing rather than her rapt attention span. Percy's room would have fit into a traditional muggle hospital very well. Everything was spotless and shining. Hermione could almost swear that a faint lemony odor was perforating the room. It reminded her distinctly of the nursing home that her grandfather had been in. Hermes cage was surprisingly clean considering that he was an owl. She wouldn't have been surprised if Percy popped in a couple times a day to clean it. 

"Hullo Hermes" she said with a forced cheerfulness, "can you take this to Harry for me?" Hermes looked more than happy to fly somewhere other than the ministry office and he took flight almost immediately. As Hermione watched the owl disappear all she could think was "Please Harry....please."

Dinner that evening was very subdued. Ron was still ignoring Hermione, Fred was ignoring George, and Hermione and George were avoiding each other's eyes. Mr. Weasley had an emergency at the ministry and was working late. Mrs. Weasley seemed aware of the uncomfortable silence and kept trying to draw them all into conversation. Percy, however, was the only one interested in talking. He was expounding the Ministry's use of memory charms when dealing with farm animals. Hermione had long ago stopped listening. 

"Could someone please pass the rolls," Hermione asked not paying attention as George handed them across the table to her, not looking up. When she reached out to take it her fingers brushed George and the tingles were back, shooting up her arm. Gasping she dropped the basket. Everyone looked at her startled, but before any questions could arise there was a soft tap at the window. An owl was perched on the sill. George rose to let it in but Fred beat him to it.

"I'll do it," he snapped, "we don't want any more misplaced letters now do we?" He opened the window and pulled the letter off the bird. "Oi Hermione!" he called.

She stood up hopefully, had Harry gotten back to her already? But no she realized, if he had he would have used Hermes, or maybe even Hedwig. Fred grinned at her as she took the letter from his hands. As he sidled back over to the table he mouthed to Mrs. Weasley, "It's her quidditch player."

Hermione looked back up at the table finding Ron glaring at her angrily, but he wasn't the only one. George, she was startled to realize, was also giving her an odd look similar to Ron's. The silence in the room was now so overpowering that even Percy had noticed, his current speech about the magic lamp import inspections faltered. 

"I think I'll go upstairs to read this," Hermione spoke to Mrs. Weasley, "I'm not very hungry anymore." And with that she walked out of the room, her head held high pointedly not looking at Ron or George, who's eyes were following her every move. 

Dear Hermione,
How are you my love? How is your Uncle? I hope that things are going well for you there. I know that you are upset that Ron isn't talking to you. He seemed nice when we met at Hogwarts. I miss you... I wish that you hadn't left; things aren't the same here now. Even Gorky misses you; I think I caught him looking longingly at a pair of pants the other day. I wonder if your house elf liberation movement finally got to him? I was thinking, that maybe I could come to England and see you? I just wanted to mention it as a possibility. Don't forget that I love you Hermione.

Viktor

Hermione could feel tears welling up inside of her; she could almost hear Viktor talking to her in that accent she adored. Her hand wiped away a tear as it left an icy streak on her red cheek. What was she going to do she wondered? She knew that she had feelings for Viktor, when she had looked down at the letter that Fred gave to her she had felt her heart give a little leap. She was happy with him. 

"I like being with him, I'm happy in Bulgaria. I love Viktor, I love Viktor." Hermione repeated this mantra to herself for a moment or two until the tears had stopped. Feeling a little relieved she went to put the letter away when that horrible little doubt from the back of her mind came forward again. 

"There's a difference between loving someone and being in love you know Hermione."

She shook her head hard as if to drive this voice away. But the small bit of peace that she had found was gone now, only to be replaced by that horrible doubt. Hermione Granger hated doubt. She sat at Ginny's desk with her head in her hands, massaging her temples. A sudden tapping noise caught her attention. Outside the window in front of her was Hermes, accompanied by another owl, a large and snowy-white owl.

"Hedwig" Hermione cried out in relief. As the window opened, both owls flew in. Hermes deposited a letter onto the bed and soared back out. Probably meaning to fly up to Percy's window. Hedwig, on the other hand, perched on the back of the chair. Hermione picked the letter off the bed and started to read Harry's untidy scribble. 

Hello Hermione,
I don't think I can stay here much longer anyway. Since Dudley didn't lose any weight last summer, Aunt Petunia has started exercise programs. I'll try to break out in a few days, I'll take the Knight Bus to get there so don't worry. I have to go now; Dudley is about to start aerobics. 

Harry

P.S. I think that Hedwig has brought home one to many dead rats. Uncle Vernon is going to put locks on her cage again, so please keep her there for me.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Harry was coming. Maybe he could talk 
some sense into Ron. She wasn't sure if she would tell him about the kiss with George. 

"Not that there's anything to tell, a kiss doesn't mean anything," she told herself firmly. But that little know-it-all voice in the back of her head wouldn't keep quiet about this either.

"Are you so sure a kiss is just a kiss?" It whispered quietly. Hermione wasn't sure and she knew it. Things had been much easier in Bulgaria she wasn't confused there. There weren't all these doubts flitting about her head. She wasn't concerned with what Ron thought when she was there, she wasn't concerned with Harry or even Voldemort. She hadn't thought about his return at all. And that's what she didn't like about Bulgaria and Viktor; she forgot things there.

"Is that what love is?" she asked out loud. She couldn't be sure anymore. When she was younger she knew what love was. A prince on a white horse, he would come in and sweep the young lady off her feet, he'd take her back to his castle and they would live happily ever after. But what happens when the lady didn't want to be swept off her feet?

Hermione became aware of a distant rumbling sound. She cracked a wry grin when she realized that it was her stomach. She had left the table before eating and now she was starving. Several hours had passed since dinner and the house seemed quiet, well as quiet as the Burrow ever got. The ghoul in the attic still moaned and dropped things, Mr. Weasley had finally gotten home and Hermione could hear him talking to Mrs. Weasley, their voices drifting softly up the stairs. But there was no sound signaling where Ron, Fred, or George were. She stood uncertainly in the hall, looking up the stairs. After another growl from her stomach, this one slightly louder, she decided to sneak down. She slipped silently down the stairs, hoping to avoid running into anyone. The kitchen was blissfully empty. Sitting down with a full glass of pumpkin juice and a few pieces of toast, Hermione began to read the Daily Prophet that Percy had left out. She wasn't aware of Ron coming into the room behind her. 

He stood quietly by the door, watching her read. In his tightly clasped hand was yet another letter for Hermione. An owl had come soon after she had left the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had sent him upstairs to give it to her; but instead he had taken it into his room. He had glared at it angrily, hating it for whom had sent it. He had thought about reading it, had thought about ripping it up into little pieces, had thought about burning it, and had even considered combining the three; but in the end he had taken it to find Hermione. Ron couldn't understand what she saw in that stupid Viktor Krum anyway, so he was famous, and rich, and older, big deal. What really burned Ron up was that she had lied to him. Well so she hadn't lied exactly, but she hadn't told him the truth either. She had been with Krum for a month, in his house, in another country, doing God only knows what with him. He tightened his grip on the letter, trying to control his anger. In actuality, that's what bothered him the most about Hermione, his anger. He didn't understand why all the Krum business upset him so much. It didn't bother Harry at all. Harry just wanted Hermione to be happy. 

"Well I want her to be happy too, just not with him!" Ron thought darkly to himself. Hermione was still oblivious to his presence. 

He had to admit that Hermione always had that affect on him. He'd always had a short fuse he knew that. But no one could make him as mad as she could. Hermione seemed to know exactly what buttons to push, and what's worse is that she didn't even seem to do it on purpose. Time and again, she drove him to an almost blinding fury. She was such a know-it-all, such a busy body, and that blasted cat of hers! But Ron did want her to be happy, even if it was with Krum, although this thought brought an odd pain along with it. With a deep inward sigh, he cleared his throat and held out the letter to her. 

"Your darling has sent you yet another letter Hermione," he said coldly. Hermione jumped as he spoke, almost spilling her pumpkin juice. 

"R...Ron, I didn't hear you come in, how long have you been there?" She took the letter from his hand and realized immediately that it wasn't from Viktor. It was from her parents.

"I haven't been here long," he answered, turning to get his own glass of juice, not wanting her to see how he had suddenly reddened. But Hermione wasn't paying attention to him anymore her face fell as she read her letter.



Dear Hermione,

We know that you were hoping for some good news from us. I know that things aren't going very well with your friends right now. Your Uncle, however, is not improving. He seems to be getting worse; I don't think the cancer will go into remission, but your mother keeps hoping. I wish I could tell you something better. All we can do now is wait and see. I'd better go see to your mother, she's very upset right now.

Love Mum & Dad

Hermione stared at the letter, tears starting to cloud her eyes. She wished she were in France, she was very fond of her great uncle. And by the sound of this letter, her parents weren't there to offer emotional support to the rest of the family, but to join in the deathwatch. Ron turned to look at her and noticed how pale she was, how her eyes were glistening, how the hands holding the letter were trembling and he was immediately overcome with fury.

"What has he done? What has that no good, stupid prat done?!" Ron roared, moving over to Hermione. "C'mon, I'll get my broom, we'll fly there now, if he thinks that he can just treat one of my best friends like this then that stupid git of a quidditch player has got another thing coming!"

Startled by Ron's sudden outburst Hermione almost smiled. "It's not Viktor, Ron, it's my uncle. He's not getting any better," her voice faltered at these words. Ron looked at her hard for a moment, his eyes traveling from her eyes to the letter and back again. And suddenly he felt like the stupid prat. He sighed and sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry Hermione, about your uncle. I hope he gets better." He gave her hand a light squeeze and a soft smile. "Well, it's getting really late," he said suddenly, pulling his hand away from hers. He stood up and walked to the kitchen door and stopped.

"Um... Hermione, I'm having some problems with that essay for Professor McGonagall. Do you think you could give me a hand with it tomorrow? He asked hopefully, looking at her shyly. Hermione crossed the kitchen faster than one would have thought possible and threw her arms around Ron. She knew that was as close to a peace offering as Ron would ever give her, and she thought it was perfect, just perfect. Ron grinned down at her, a few shades redder than usual. She extricated herself from Ron and smiled back at him, managing not to cry. 

"I'd love to help you Ron," she said cheerfully, knowing that under normal circumstances she would make him do it by himself, but these weren't normal circumstances, Ron was finally talking to her again. They walked up the stairs together and then went their separate ways. 

Hermione entered the darkened bedroom feeling as if a large weight had been lifted. With Ron back on her side she felt that she could accomplish anything. Her problems with Viktor seemed insignificant now that Ron was talking to her again. She felt that she could face anything with Ron and Harry behind her. She smiled happily as she closed the door, all her problems would work out now, she had no doubt in her mind.

"Well don't you look like the cat that ate the mouse," said a soft voice in the darkness.

Hermione spun to the right to see George sitting at Ginny's desk petting Crookshanks. "George, what in the world are you doing here? You scared me!" she hissed in a whisper not wanting to wake up his parents who were hopefully asleep down the hall. If she could see in the dark, Hermione would have seen George blush, looking very similar to Ron. It was a Weasley trait to just go red all over.

"I...I didn't mean to scare you Hermione, I just thought that we should talk about what happened earlier." He paused now, looking down at the floor. Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed in front of him.

"Nothing really happened George. It wasn't a big deal, not really. I just don't know exactly why you did what you did." Hermione couldn't believe that she was talking in such a firm voice; it wasn't anything close to what she felt at the moment. 

George looked her straight in the eyes, the moon was shining outside, a slash of brightness fell across the old wood floor between them, separating them. "I don't know why I kissed you, it just seemed like the thing to do at the moment," he said in a subdued voice. Hermione almost thought that he sounded a little crestfallen. She looked out the window for a moment before she spoke again. 

"You don't just kiss people because it's the thing to do. At least, I don't think you do," she was trying hard to look at anything other than George's face which seemed unnaturally pale in the dark room. She decided then that the kiss hadn't mattered to George, and if it didn't matter to George, then it shouldn't matter to her. And anyway, I love Viktor, she thought. She stood up quickly, startling Crookshanks, who was still purring happily in George's lap.

"Look, like I said, it doesn't really matter. It was a mistake, it was just to hot outside, and summer makes people do crazy things. We'll just pretend that it didn't happen okay?" whispering this all very fast she started towards the door. She didn't want him to see her face; she never could hide her emotions. Right now everything inside her felt like it was at war. She wanted George to leave, but then again she didn't want him to go. Part of her wanted to forget about the kiss while the rest of her was screaming at her for the very thought. "Remember Viktor, Remember Bulgaria" she whispered under her breath to herself.

George stood up and followed her to the door. Hermione put her hand on the door handle and started to turn when he took a hold of her wrist and pulled her away from the door. 

"Look Hermione," he said softly moving closer to her, "I don't know why I kissed you earlier, but I don't think that was a mistake, even if you are in love with Krum." And with these words he pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers. It was gentle, like the kiss earlier. It seemed almost sad, like he was kissing her good bye, as if he was accepting the fact that she belonged to Viktor. And then George was pulling away, the warmth of his lips were leaving hers. He smiled at her sadly and stretched his hand out for the doorknob. Every particle of Hermione's body was saying no. And she reached out to him.

"George," she whispered hoarsely, her voice seemed so dry. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her, wrapping her hands around his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. She almost laughed at how shocked he looked before she pulled his head down to meet her lips again. George got over his surprise almost immediately. He lifted a hand to place around the back her throat, feeling the soft hair at the nape of her neck curl around his fingers. His other hand pulled her against him. Hermione wasn't thinking of anything at the moment. She was reveling in the sensations that were going on. George was kissing her, gently at first and then becoming more passionate. Hermione felt light-headed, she wondered briefly how long could someone goes with out breathing? But kissing George soon drove her to distraction. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she was now leaning up against the wall, George still pressed firmly against her. Deep in her mind she figured that if he didn't have his arm around her she would have fallen down by now, her knees felt so weak. George couldn't get over how soft Hermione was, at the moment everything about her seemed soft, her hair, her clothes, her lips, her body pressed against him. She was strong though too, Hermione held him tightly to her. He had never felt anything like this before, the whole world seemed to have stopped as he kissed her, feeling her lips part against his own, his tongue gently tracing the outline of her mouth. There was no telling how long they stood like, arms around each other, but the moon was no longer visible through the window, and there was no ray of moon light to separate them. They probably would have stood there all night kissing if a light in the hallway hadn't come on. 

They stood petrified, listening to Mrs. Weasley's steps up the stairs. "Fred, George!" they heard her yell, "how many times do I have to tell you to keep this door open!" They heard a door above them open. "Fred, where's your brother?" They couldn't hear Fred's reply but Mrs. Weasley started back down the stairs, walked past Ginny's room and down to the living room. 

Hermione opened the door a crack, surveyed the empty hallway, they could hear Mrs. Weasley calling for George downstairs. George slipped past her and started to go up the stairs when he met his twin half way. Fred looked at George, then at Hermione in the doorway. His eyes widened with surprise and shock. Hermione felt herself blush furiously and quickly shut the door. She turned and fell onto the bed, rather exhausted. "What in the world am I doing?" she muttered before she fell asleep, not quite sure about who she was going to be dreaming about that night.