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He wasn’t Hermione’s first kiss, but he was the first kiss that made her want more. She didn’t even know how it'd happened really. It was the summer she was staying at Grimmauld Place, she’d been talking to Ron in his room discussing how unfair it was they couldn’t write to Harry. It was late, later than Molly allowed them to be out of bed, let alone behind a closed door.
Hermione had been tiptoeing back to her own room when she’d heard a creak on the stairs, the sound of Molly’s voice drifting towards her. She’d panicked, she’d only just got back in the woman’s good graces after the situation surrounding the Triwizard Tournament.
But then there had been the click of a door to her left, and an arm reaching out to drag her into the darkness. A finger had pressed to her lips as her eyes adjusted to what wasn’t actually darkness, but a gloomy cupboard. A cauldron bubbling in the corner balanced precariously on a stepladder. And looming above her had been mischievous brown eyes.
“Shhh,” he’d breathed out with a grin, his finger still pressed to her lips. Skin warm and smelling faintly of gunpowder.
Hermione’s heart had picked up its already rapid pace until it was galloping. Beating so loudly she was sure he would hear it. Her eyes had traced quickly over his face, tracking freckle placement, the mole on his neck, the slight curve of his lip, the bump in his nose. George.
Molly’s voice had come closer still and George had leant closer, his body pressing her back against the closed door as he’d pressed his ear to it.
By the time Molly’s voice had faded and George had pulled back Hermione had been trembling. “Don’t worry, she’s gone,” he’d reassured her, his finger finally leaving her lips. “Figured neither of us wanted to get caught.”
His grin, god his grin, she still thought about it. But his face had morphed quickly into concern, hands running up and down her arms. The adrenaline of almost getting caught, the proximity to him, had her unable to stop shaking. “Hey, it’s okay,” he’d soothed her, stepping back as far as the cupboard would allow, trying to give her space.
But as he’d stepped back, she’d stepped forwards – more like a stumble really – her hands going to his chest. His hands had gripped her immediately, steadying her and making her off-kilter all at once.
There had been eye contact, a raised eyebrow, understanding, and then lips. Lips pressing against hers in a rhythm that was practiced, confident, intoxicating. No, it wasn’t her first kiss, but it was the first time she went willingly as he pressed her back against the door. The first time she’d pressed forward with her tongue first, seeking his out, tasting the treacle tart he’d had at dinner. Her arms had gone around his neck on instinct, hands going to his hair, shorter now and much more attractive for it. It was definitely the first time she’d let a boy press his knee between her legs, and most certainly the first time she’d allowed herself to grind against another person.
It had been George who pulled back first, eyes dark and hair a mess. “We should stop,” he’d whispered, “before we get carried away.”
And that was when she’d realised, she was getting carried away, letting her body lead her to places she wasn’t ready to go. She’d blinked rapidly, pulling out of his arms, ignoring the confusion – the hurt – on his face as she’d fled back to the safety of her room.
~
They didn’t mention it again. Not for the rest of the summer or that whole year at school. Even when George would conspicuously stay out of her arguments with Fred. Or when she took his bleeding hand after a detention with Umbridge and gave him some murtlap, fingers lingering a little too long. Especially not when he’d pulled her aside one evening and told her that him and Fred would be leaving, leaning close and pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering, “See you around, Granger.”
And then... life got complicated. The Department of Mysteries, Sirius, and being laid up in the Hospital Wing with what felt like a million potions to take. Boys were the furthest thing from Hermione’s mind. And it stayed that way, especially with George away from Hogwarts. Those fleeting feelings began to fade, settling into something quieter. Butterflies when someone would mention his name. A warm sense of pride when she saw a Wheezes product.
Without Hermione even realising it, the burning lust from that night at Grimmauld, the feeling she’d deemed too dangerous, had simmered away into something deeper. Something more. Something infinitely more dangerous than desire alone.
~
Hermione didn’t realise her feelings until she saw Remus carrying him into the Burrow, blood pouring from the side of his head. Her heart faltered, vision fading momentarily, lungs unable to draw a breath. George.
Her feet carried her to the kitchen table where Molly had begun to work immediately, casting spell after spell over her son. Tears were pouring from Molly’s eyes yet she remained stoic, focused only on saving him. Hermione’s voice trembled as she asked, “Can I help?”
Molly didn’t even spare her a glance as she shoved a towel into her hand, “Apply pressure here.” She placed Hermione’s hands at the side of George’s head, the towel immediately turning scarlet. “These wounds aren’t closing with magic. I need the blood to clot so I can see what I’m doing.” Molly faltered for just a breath. “Ginny, sterilise a needle and get all the potions from under the sink.”
All three of them worked together whilst Remus kept guard outside, waiting for the next set of people to arrive. But Hermione couldn’t let herself think about who else might be hurt, or worse, not when George’s life hung in the balance. It took far too long to stop the bleeding. And with only two blood replenishing potions Molly refused to give him both. Hermione had almost screamed at her, George needed them, but she knew deep down Molly was right. The night wasn’t over yet.
No one said a word as she held George’s hand whilst Molly stitched him up the best she could. As she brushed his hair back from his face as they poured a dash of calming draught and dreamless sleep down his throat. Hermione only let go of his hand when Molly and Remus levitated him to the sofa, having done as much as they could do for now.
~
She stepped back when Fred arrived, watching as he fell to his knees in front of his twin. George’s eyes had fluttered open and she sagged in relief, tears welling in her eyes.
Hermione stepped away then, giving the twins a moment, making sure to go and hug Harry and Ron, grateful they’d made it through without any lasting damage.
It was later, when the Burrow was quiet and everyone had been sent to bed, that Hermione snuck back down to where George lay on the sofa. Fred was sprawled out on the matching sofa, having argued something fierce with Molly about being the one the watch George overnight.
She knelt down beside George’s still form, a trembling hand reaching out to brush his hair back. “I can’t save you from getting caught this time,” he whispered, making her jump in surprise. His eyes opened softly, “I’m a bit laid up, y’see. But I think another one of your kisses would sort me right out.”
“George!” she gasped softly, keeping her voice low. “You startled me! I didn’t know you were awake.”
“How could I sleep when you’re touching me?” his voice slurred slightly for the pain potions he’d taken not long before. Hermione jerked her hand back from his hair and George groaned lightly in protest. “Don’t stop.”
“Tha-that’s the potions talking,” she stuttered.
He went to shake his head but his eyes winced in pain. Hermione’s hand went instantly back to his head, holding him steady. “Not the potions, love. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about that kiss? How often I’ve kicked myself for chasing you away?”
“You didn’t ch-chase me away,” she breathed out, not quite believing his words, “you were right. We were getting carried away. We were... I was... too young to want...” she trailed off. To want what? That was the question wasn’t it. What exactly did she want from George.
His eyes began to droop as he murmured, “I know,” closing completely before Hermione could even think of a response.
She let out a shaky breath, inhaling the scent of him, somehow still tinged with gunpowder even now. Tears prickled at her eyes again as she pressed her lips to his forehead, lingering there until the fear of being caught was too much. As she turned to leave her eyes caught a matching set to the ones she’d spent so much time thinking about. Fred’s eyes were sharp in the darkness, assessing. They didn’t speak a word as Hermione backed away quietly, sneaking back to Ginny’s room where she lay awake staring at the ceiling.
She was leaving, in a few days most likely, a week at best. The Horcrux hunt wouldn’t wait for her to sort her feelings out. Would only be messier for everyone involved if she admitted the truth. That she cared about George, a lot.
~
But as Bill and Fleur’s wedding loomed mere days away, and Harry’s birthday drawing simultaneously closer, Hermione couldn’t stop thinking about what the hunt would mean. More specifically, what could happen if they were caught.
It was a terrible plan, especially considering she had actual feelings for him, but who else would she trust? Who else would she want it to be?
Because Hermione was under no illusions as to what the Death Eaters would do to a virgin. Mudblood or not. Losing her virginity by choice wouldn’t stop them doing... that, to her. But if she could protect a part of herself, give herself willingly to someone she... cared for, then just maybe she could keep her mind from shattering. And surely that was worth asking for?
But the days passed quickly, with George spending most of his time recovering, and Hermione could hardly walk up to him when he still likely had a concussion and ask him if he would please take her virginity. The more she procrastinated, the more she worried, until it was the night before the wedding and she found herself at the twins’ bedroom door.
She was already in her pyjamas, a shorts and vest combination she hadn’t let Molly catch a glimpse of for fear of the look she would get. Her hand raised and knocked lightly, the door opening with a spell from the other side. The twins were sitting on their respective beds, both in just a loose pair of pyjama shorts. Her eyes fixed on George, going to the bandages still around his head rather than his bare chest.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked quietly ignoring the look from Fred. “Alone.”
George visibly swallowed and Hermione’s pulse quickened, she was actually going to ask him. And if he agreed they would... He shot a pointed look at Fred who raised his eyebrows.
“You want me to leave? Being kicked out of my own bedroom, I see how it is,” he huffed with exaggerated flair.
“Technically you don’t live here anymore,” Hermione argued. Fred rolled his eyes, getting to his feet.
“Semantics, Hermione. Well, I guess I’ll give you two a minute alone then.” He stressed the word, shooting a pointed look between them.
Hermione gathered every ounce of her courage, physically squeezing her eyes shut to force the words out, “Or maybe don’t come back tonight.”
The silence was deafening, she didn’t dare open her eyes, and then... “Excuse me?!” Fred exclaimed, quickly being hushed by George.
“Fred!” George hissed. Fred glared back at him as they seemed to have a silent battle of wills. One Fred seemed to lose as he huffed, picked up his pillow and shoved it dramatically under his arm.
As he passed her in the doorway he lowered his voice just enough for her to hear, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Hermione.”
And then he was gone. The door clicking shut behind him, and the telltale muffled sound of a silencing charm falling over the room. He might as well have hung a sock on the door, a massive bloody sign, Georgie’s getting lucky.
“Hermione?” George asked softly. Oh, right, actually asking him. But her mouth couldn’t seem to form the words. “Do you wanna sit down?” he asked, taking pity on her.
Hermione nodded, stepping further into the room. She was going to take Fred’s vacated spot but when she got close George shuffled over slightly, making space for her beside him. He looked almost shy, picking at a thread on his shorts before saying, “I didn’t mean to pressure you, y’know? With what I said before, about kissing me.”
“I know,” she breathed out a laugh at how far from the truth it was. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about. Well I suppose it is in a way.” Hermione frowned, she probably should have practiced this. “I wanted to ask you something actually. A favour.”
“Anything,” George replied immediately, his face turning to hers earnestly.
“You don’t even know what it is yet,” she laughed again nervously.
“How bad can it be?” he smirked, reaching over to take her hand.
Her heart was pounding, her words faltered yet again but she persevered, forcing them out anyway. “I want to lose my virginity... with you... if you want... to take it.”
George’s hand tightened around hers, “You were actually serious when you told Fred not to come back tonight? I thought you were joking.”
“Yes, I’m really known for my jokes,” Hermione frowned, trying to pull her hand away, to retreat from the mortifying situation, but he wouldn’t allow it. Holding her tight.
“Wait, come on, talk to me. Explain to me how you came to this conclusion,” he said, gently lacing their fingers, squeezing until she met his eyes.
She looked up, and there he was, the boy – practically a man – she couldn’t stop herself thinking about. Who’d wormed his way into her heart with a kiss when she was fifteen.
“We’re leaving,” she whispered, reminiscent of when he’d tracked her down in her fifth year, “after the wedding.”
“I figured,” he said with a wry smile.
“It’s going to be dangerous. I don’t... I don’t know what will happen. But if we get caught... it’ll be bad. I want... I want to experience this. Just in case.”
George huffed slightly, “I suppose there’s no use telling you not to go?” He didn’t wait for her response, already knowing the answer. “Hermione, I want you to be honest with me for a sec,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “are you asking me because of me, or because I’m here?”
Her breath faltered, how could he even ask that? “There’s no one else I’d trust,” she said honestly, “no one else I’d... want.”
George was silent a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
Hermione let out a shaky breath, not quite able to process that it was actually going to happen. “Yeah?”
“I mean, we’re both legal now, right?” he gave her a grin that wasn’t quite as confident as usual. She huffed in response but her heart was pounding, nervous but... underneath it all, excited. The idea of George kissing her again, touching her, doing more than pressing his knee between her legs? It set her nerves on edge in the most wonderful way, anticipation drowning out the fear.
So she moved first, tugging his hand, pulling him with her as she shifted, laying down on the bed. George’s breath caught in his throat as he followed her down, half leaning over her, hands still linked above her head. That little noise had her thinking that maybe he wasn’t as experienced as she’d assumed. Maybe he hadn’t done this before either. But then... then that’d be him giving this part of himself to her too, it’d mean so much more.
“Have you done this before?” she asked, unable to help herself.
George blushed above her, free hand gently touching her hip. He shook his head no, “Does that matter?” he asked shyly.
She shook her head too before reaching out to him, pulling his lips down to hers. The kiss was everything she remembered and more. Her hand pulled free from his to wrap both around his neck, careful of his bandages, pulling him closer, wanting to feel the weight of him. Her legs opened on instinct as he shifted between them, hovering over her completely as they kissed.
Hermione felt the sharp inhale of his breath matching her own gasp as she felt him through their pyjama shorts. Hard against her, the thin material doing nothing to hide the shape of him. And when he rolled his hips her entire body flushed, this was so much more than grinding on his thigh. She let out a moan, thankful the room was silenced. She hadn’t known she could make those types of sounds.
But then George kissed her harder, his tongue brushing against hers as he rocked his hips again, and she whimpered into his mouth. Body moving on instinct alone as they rocked against each other.
His mouth moved down her neck, pushing the strap of her vest aside and following the exposed skin to her breast. His eyes lifted to meet hers before he continued, pushing her top down completely and kissing a path across her breasts. She squirmed beneath him, arching into his touch, his tongue swirling around her nipples until she was gasping. Hands gripping his bare shoulders, urging him on.
He slipped further downwards, dragging her vest and shorts off. She missed the feel of him over her. Her eyes locking on the tented fabric of his shorts, wanting to reach out and touch him properly. To see him. Before she could think any further though George’s hands were on her thighs, tracing higher and higher, upwards until one brushed between her legs. She inhaled roughly as it came to rest on her lower stomach, splayed out so his thumb rested on her clit. A slow rhythm that let her know he at least had some experience.
Then his other hand moved too, a single finger tracing her entrance, circling, spreading the moisture that had already gathered, before pressing inside. Hermione moaned again. Her hand desperately wanted to go to his hair but she was too cautious of his injury. Instead she gripped the sheets below her as he steadily worked a single finger in and out of her. Slowly pumping as he rubbed her clit with his other hand.
“George please,” she whined without ever planning on speaking, “I’m ready.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her stomach, “I’m glad you’re ready, love. But let me get you there first, yeah? At least I know I’m good at this bit.”
She rolled her eyes but she could see behind the bravado, that he was concerned he wouldn’t be any good at sex itself. She wanted to reassure him it didn’t matter. That she wanted him anyway. That she didn’t care. But then he was adding a second finger, thumb rubbing faster circles, and the ability to speak left her entirely. Reduced to moans and whispers of his name until she shattered around him. Body arching, release washing over her as he held his fingers deep inside her, riding the waves of climax with her, pressing firmly on her clit to prolong the pleasure.
He was right. He was good at that bit.
He shifted to kiss her fully as she came down from the high of her climax. Slowly, thoroughly, until she felt desire begin to curl inside her again. Her hands ran down his body to push at his shorts.
“You’re sure?” he asked, breaking away from her lips.
“I’m sure,” she assured him, “are you?”
He let out a disbelieving breath, “Hermione, I’ve wanted this for—” he cut off with a shake of his head. “I’m sure.”
She wanted to question him further but she didn’t. Mainly because he took off his shorts and her brain short-circuited. Seeing him was so much different than feeling him. Her hand reached out of its own accord, gentle fingers brushing down his length. George groaned, eyes falling shut.
“Do you... do you know the contraceptive charm?” she stuttered, hand pulling back. “I know the theory but I’ve never—”
“Cast it. Me either.” He reached across for his wand on the bedside table. “I’m sure we can figure it out between us, right?”
“That’s very reassuring, George,” she said sarcastically. “I do have a condom, that might be more reliable than hoping we get the charm right.”
“When have you ever got a charm wrong?” he smirked at her. “A condom, that’s muggle contraception, right? Why're you carrying that around?”
Hermione gestured for him to pass her shorts where she’d stashed the condom. Pulling out the foil packet she held it out. “When I turned sixteen my mum gave me a whole lecture about never leaving it up to the boy to remember protection.”
“Fair point. So how about we do both? I’ll help you with the charm, and you can help with however that works,” he said eyeing the condom suspiciously.
In the end she let George cast the charm over her, feeling something like fluttering in her stomach when he did so. And then she opened the condom, carefully making sure not to tear it and rolling it over him. His breathing stuttered as she did so, watching her hand intently as it touched him.
There was a moment, a pause, heavy with anticipation, this was it. Then George was kissing her. Pressing her back into the bed. Her legs went around him and he lined himself up with one hand. The moment his skin touched hers was electric, a jolt going through her as the blunt head of him pressed against her entrance, feeling impossibly large. His breath caught, a gasp leaving him as he pressed forwards, just an inch, barely even inside but their chests were heaving. George leant up on his elbow, enough to look her in the eyes as he continued to press into her. Slowly, carefully, taking her virginity but giving so much more than she could have imagined.
By the time their hips were flush he was moaning into her neck. Holding steady as she adjusted to the stretch of him. By the time he pulled back, thrusting slowly back in, Hermione was moaning too. Their bodies rocking together in a slow rhythm, trading kisses, breathing into each other’s skin. And when George found his release Hermione felt it too, riding it out with him the way he had with her.
~
They slept curled around each other that night, naked bodies pressed together under the thin blanket.
It was the first time Hermione considered what would happen if she didn’t go searching for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron. She let herself dream, just for one night, what it would be like to stay.
But of course, that dream couldn’t last. Fred snuck back in just before the sun rose, averting his eyes and telling them they should probably get up before Molly. Hermione pulled her pyjamas back on with blushing cheeks, ready to hurry back to Ginny’s room, when George caught her hand, pulling her back to him.
Fred kept his back purposefully turned as George leant in close, “If I don’t get a chance to say it... just... be safe, yeah?”
Hermione nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she gently touched his bandaged lack-of-ear. “You too.”
He smiled sadly, pressing a kiss to her cheek and echoing his own words, “See you around, Granger.”
~
They weren’t words of comfort exactly, but they were the words that got her through. When they had to apparate away, her eyes not even having a chance to check if he was okay, she consoled herself with those words, he’d see her around, he’d see her soon.
Then as the months passed, and the reality of the hunt kicked in. As the Horcrux whispered insidiously in her ear. But it couldn’t take that from her. He would see her soon.
As her mind threatened to break under Bellatrix’s torture she withdrew into memories of that night, his lips against her skin. Gentle touches, reverent words. And a promise, he’d see her soon. She would make it back to him if it was the last thing she did. Because hearing his voice over the wireless was the only thing that had made her truly happy in months, and she was done doing anything that wasn’t what made her happy. She’d given too much, sacrificed too much.
She would make it out of this war alive. For him.
~
The battle was hell. Death and bloodshed. They lost people they shouldn’t have. People that broke her heart. But somehow, they’d won.
Yet all Hermione could think about was finding George.
She made her way through the crowds of people rejoicing, people mourning, until she saw him. Kneeling over Fred’s body, and her blood ran cold. No. No, that couldn’t be right, that couldn’t...
She was running before she could think, shouting his name. His head whipped around, relief on his face as he saw her. She collapsed next to him, knees protesting being smashed into the stone floor. “Is he...?” she trailed off not even able to ask.
“Alive? Just,” he smiled shakily. “Gonna lose the leg though.” He nodded at the mangled sight of Fred’s leg.
Hermione’s stomach rolled over but she grabbed George’s hand and held him tightly. “He’s going to be a nightmare now. He’ll never let you let live it down that he’s lost a bigger appendage than you.”
George let out a watery laugh of surprise before pulling her in, arms going tightly around her. “I told you I’d see you around,” he whispered thickly in her ear.
“Could have picked a better place,” she joked, clinging to him just as tightly.
“Then let me?” George pulled back just enough to look in her eyes. “Let me take you out. Once the dust settles. Give me a chance to make this something real.”
“This has always been real, George,” she breathed out, letting her forehead rest against his. “From that first kiss I’ve wanted more.”
“Me too,” he agreed softly, pressing his lips briefly to hers.
“Took us long enough,” Hermione breathed out a laugh.
George smiled, the devastation around them fading away as she got lost in the way he was looking at her, “Some things, are worth the wait.”