Unknown Halves

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Chapter Four


It turned out that Bill had broken into the room in order to get the two over for the latest Order meeting. True the war was over, but they wanted to keep in touch with the others at least once a month. Hermione could feel George fairly vibrating next to her he was so tense. Absently, she excused them and pulled him back upstairs.


Once back in the room, she sat him down before he could say anything she had the room warded, locked and a silencing charm up. George was staring at the ceiling, pain clear in his eyes.


“George?” she asked him.


“What?”


“What I’m about to do is called avoidance,” she told him. “It doesn’t mean that the pain or the grief will go away in a heartbeat, but it will give you some minor respite.”


Confused he looked over to her. “What are you going to do?”


“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied, and proceeded to go over to him and undo his pants. “Lift your hips, please?”


Absently he did as she requested of him and felt as her nails raked over his thighs, tugging down not only his pants but his boxers as well. Licking her lips, she looked down at his hardening cock. It was thicker than she had thought it would be. It was longer as well.


“So am I bigger than Ron?” he asked.


She leaned down and licked the tip, warning him, “If you ever mention him while either one of us is naked again, I’ll do something unpleasant.” She lapped at the seam of his now straining erection. “The only thing that matters is this beauty.” Hermione looked into his eyes. “Just relax and enjoy.” She grinned. “I know I will.”


***


Twenty minutes later it was a much relaxed George that joined the meeting again. Hermione followed down a few minutes later, curling up in George’s lap once she joined them. It wasn’t until the meeting was over that she made it a point of pulling Percy away from the others.


“I need to ask you a favor,” she told him.


“Anything,” he murmured. “What is it?”


Pursing her lips she whispered, “I need to…” This was turning out far more difficult than she had thought. Taking a deep breath she rushed out with, “I need to ask you about what happened with Fred.”


He lost his coloring.


“If you can’t, I understand. You see I’ve a bit of a situation of my own.” And she proceeded to explain to him exactly what George had asked of her. “I don’t know what to do, Percy.”


Nodding slowly, he whispered, “I know I’m going through hell, but I’m not his twin. How is he holding up?”


“He’s asked me to find a way to resurrect his twin brother, what do you think?” she inquired with mild sarcasm.


“True,” he muttered. “Can you…”


“You know as well as I do the percentages involved,” she cut him off. “But if it means helping him take away even a fraction of the pain just by trying, I’ll look into it.”


He nodded to this with understanding. In the end Percy gave her the memory. She rushed the memory over to her pensive upstairs that she had cleared out specifically for this purpose. If she couldn’t help George, what would she do then? The question continued to nag at her like a postage bird at the window. George needed help. More than she knew how to give, she knew that with certainty.


She had no sooner placed the memory into the bowl than George came rushing into the room.


“Well?”


“I haven’t looked at it yet,” she murmured, turning to look over to him. “We need an amendment to our original agreement.”


Frowning he whispered, “And what would that be?”


She went over to her purse, pulling out a card, handing it over to him. “He’s been counseling people who were at the Battle of Hogwarts. I won’t look at the memory until you go to see him…” He looked at her in alarm, followed quickly by anger. “…I’ll go with you.”


George blinked at her in shock. “What do you need to speak about?” He snorted. “It wasn’t as if you’re missing an ear or a twin!”


Sighing, she whispered, “No, I’m just scarred from being tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange, the Dark Lord, and Greyback. And goodness knows that nearly being raped by the last didn’t leave me feeling clean either.” Shame washed his features. “Hell is a commune, George, and we both took the ride down to it along with more than a few others.” She took up his hand, slamming the card into it. “Please do try to remember that the next time you feel like being a lecturing sanctimonious ass?”


***


George walked into the room, watching as Mrs. Weasley rubbed the special healing potion into Hermione’s back. Seeing the scars there, made him wince. How could he have been so idiotic? It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that she was on the front lines of the battle. No, on the contrary, it was just the opposite. He recalled seeing her in the hospital at the end of her fifth year. She had a scar from that as well, but this...this was different. He could tell from the way Hermione lay and the way his mother wept without letting out a single sound.


Wiping her eyes and clearing her throat, Molly asked, “Now how is that, my dear?”


“Better,” she slurred. “Hurts so much sometimes…I…can’t think.”


“No need to,” Molly assured her. “You need to rest. Stress makes the pain worse, remember?”


“Yes, Molly,” she whispered. “Do you think Bellatrix LeStrange is being hexed in hell?”


“That and worse,” Molly told her tightly.


“Mmm, George is so upset,” she breathed. “I want to help him. Molly, what he has asked…I don’t know if I can do it. I’m scared. So very scared of what he’ll do if I can’t do it.”


Frowning Mrs. Weasley asked, “What has he asked you to do?”


But before Hermione could say anything George cleared his throat loudly as he stepped fully into the room. “So this is where you are hiding?” He frowned and looked around. “I think this is the first time I’ve been in your room, Miss Granger.”


“Stop being a pain in my arse and hand me my top,” Hermione told him.


He did so, turning around not to see her. Mrs. Weasley frowned at this. She thought he might be watching her from a mirror, but saw that his eyes were closed so he couldn’t.


Once Hermione was done getting dressed, she leaned over and kissed Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. She breathed, “Speak to Percy. I’ll talk to you after.”


“We’re having Sheppard’s pie,” she told her, knowing that her son didn’t want his mother to know about what was happening. “Your favorite.”


“Everything you make is my favorite,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Come on with you, George, I want to take a nap.”


“I’m not tired,” he muttered, even as he went with her.


“You will be.”


***


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