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Wands and Wheezes	By : auntlynnie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40170 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Anti-Litigation Charm: Sadly, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. Nor do I own any canon characters, locations, or situations. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Much gratitude to my splendiferous beta, LiteraryBeauty. She's amazing... and makes me a better writer. :)
Anti-litigation charm specific to the images of the tats: I absolutely did NOT create the images, but I did slightly manipulate Hermione's tattoo to add the runes. I took Hermione's tat from rapidcow[dotcom] and George's from aa-tatto.blogspot[dotcom]. If you do a google image search for "phoenix tattoos", you will pull both of them up.
George, smiling but serious,walked over to the dancing couple and tapped Dean on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in, mate?" Dean graciously stepped aside and joined the rest of their friends on the sidelines to find another partner.
As soon as George stepped up to dance with Hermione, the song changed into a slow romantic one - At Last by Etta James - and he seemed to hesitate. Hermione looked up at him, waiting for him to take her in his arms. "Hey, George, fancy meeting you here. Shall we?" she suggested, trying to lighten the mood, unsure as to why her dear friend was acting so awkward.
George shook his head and put his arms around Hermione's waist. "I'm not as good as Thomas is at the Muggle dances, but I think I can handle this one."
Hermione grinned and wound her arms around his neck, enjoying the simple rocking rhythm George had established. "This is nice," she said.
"Mmmm..." was all George could muster, coherent thought being driven from his mind by the presence of the girl in his arms. After a few moments, Hermione rested her head on George's chest, and his breath hitched. As they danced, his hand drifted slightly lower on her hip, but never to the point of impropriety. He waited for her to scold him, but she never did.
Emboldened by their dance, when the song ended, George turned to her and asked, "Do you want to get something to drink? It's awfully warm in here."
"Yes, thank you. I think a butterbeer is in order."
Feeling a hint shyness he had never felt with her before, George led Hermione off the dance floor by the hand.
"George, are you okay?"
"Right as rain, love."
"Let's take a seat. There are plenty of pitchers of drinks on the tables."
"Sounds good." George looked at the area Harry had reserved and tried to choose one of the more secluded sections, but the music was so loud and the lights so dim. It took a moment, but they were able to find a fairly private booth in the far corner with a single guttering candle on it. George let Hermione slide in first, and instead of sitting opposite her, he slid in beside her.
Hermione felt his thigh press up against hers and a warm flush bloomed on her cheeks. She only hoped that it wasn't too easy to see in the dark club. She wasn't so lucky.
"Hermione, are you feeling all right? You're looking a bit flushed."
"Oh, er, yes, I'm fine. Just a bit overheated from dancing so much. Would you be a dear and pour me a drink?"
"Are you sure you're just overheated, Hermione?" George asked, pouring Hermione a glass of butterbeer from the pitcher next to him. He handed her the glass, not releasing it when her hand closed over his.
Hermione looked at him questioningly. "George? Are you all right?"
George leaned in and whispered huskily, "I'm right as rain, remember?" To Hermione's great surprise, he nipped her earlobe, and she gasped in response.
Did George just... could he...
George looked into her whisky eyes, an unspoken question in his deep blue eyes. She smiled tentatively at him, which seemed to answer his question, and he gave a goofy grin in return. Before she was really ready for it, he was leaning in. Was he... Suddenly, George was kissing her... At first, she wasn't sure how to react. Then, he started to move his lips gently against hers. Oh! Before she knew it, his tongue was running along the seam of her lips, begging entry. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue dipped in experimentally. She placed her hand on his chest and slid it up to his shoulder, the other hand tangling in his hair. The kiss was sweet and intense... surprising and wonderful... and arousing... and it was over all too quickly.
She bit her lip and blinked owlishly at George, but he turned to his brother and best mate who had just unceremoniously plopped down in the seat across from them; his approach had been the impetus for the cessation of their kiss.
"Hey, Forge!"
George groaned in exasperation at his brother's impeccably bad timing.
"Hey, Gred. What's up?" George grumped.
"Oh... nothing much. Dancing a bit, although I'm not as good at the Muggle dances as Thomas and Granger. Oh, and I caught the big gossip of the night!"
"Gossip? Really, Fred. Do you think we're interested in random gossip?"
"I think you'd be interested in this gossip, George."
"Oh, do tell, then."
"Well, I heard that Granger and Weasley - George Weasley, that is - were seen snogging after quite an intimate stroll around the dance floor."
Hermione's hand flew to cover her mouth. "What? People are already talking? But..."
"Hermione, he's winding you up. He's probably the only one who noticed. Anyway, it wasn't that bad, was it?"
"No, George! It wasn't bad at all. In fact, I rather liked it," Hermione said, blushing furiously, voice only barely louder than a whisper so only George could hear.
This inspired the biggest, goofiest grin on George's face. "Well, I've heard that there are more where that came from, and I would be only too happy to oblige all your snogging needs."
"George! You sound like you're selling U-No-Poo!" This merited a mirthful chuckle from the twin across the table.
"Nah, that stuff sells itself! Doesn't need any sales pitch! Look, this place is hot, stuffy, and crowded. Would you like to go get a quiet cuppa? We'll have to ditch this sod, but I think we can manage it."
Hermione pondered his offer for a brief moment. She hadn't dated anyone since Ron, and it had been years. George knew this. She was nervous about dating yet another friend. Her friendship with Ron had barely weathered their breakup, and she desperately didn't want to lose George as a friend. But that kiss had ignited a fire that had been dormant for much too long, and when she considered it, she realized that she and George were both more mature than she and Ron had been when they had broken up. She decided to take the dragon by the tail.
"Love to. Bugger off, Fred."
George's laughter erupted from his throat so quickly he almost choked. "See you later, brother of mine." With a grin worthy of the cat that got the cream, he followed Hermione to the door.
George heard Fred saying something to the effect of 'cheeky minx' between bouts of laughter.
~*�*~
"So... now what?"
"Well, there's always that cuppa. We could just... talk."
They strolled down Diagon Alley with no clear destination in mind. All the caf�s on the Alley had closed hours ago. After about five minutes, he felt her hand slip into his. He grasped it and smiled at the lovely witch beside him.
"Looks like the caf�s are closed, and I don't know that I feel up to wandering Muggle London to find an open shop. I've got plenty of tea, milk, and sugar. I might even have some biscuits. Would you like to come by my place?"
George's grin broadened as Hermione realized that she had just asked a wizard to come to her flat at the end of the night. What would he expect?
"Don't worry, Hermione. We won't take this any faster than we're ready to, okay?"
"Okay."
"It's just... well... you're bloody brilliant, and getting to know you better these past few years has been great, yeah? And... well... I like you, rather a lot."
Hermione's mind reeled a bit. She knew she liked George, but had had no idea that he reciprocated her feelings. She had gotten a tattoo... partly to catch his attention, but hadn't had a chance to formulate a plan, and now everything was working out the way she wanted, even without a strategy.
"God, Hermione. Say something. Say anything."
"Oh! George! I'm sorry... I was just... surprised. Yeah... I rather like you, too."
"Yeah?"
�Yeah."
"So..."
"So let's get some tea." Hermione said decisively, ignoring the slight waggle of brows she detected on George's impish face.
~*�*~
George and Hermione walked to her shop, where she unwarded and unlocked the door. Once safely inside, she reset her wards and locked the door. They made their way through the shop, past the counter, and through her workshop. She was extremely thankful that she had put her broom project away rather than leaving it out when she had closed up shop for the day.
They made their way upstairs and into the comfortable kitchen, unchanged since she had first moved into the flat with its lovely dark wooden cabinetry, ancient stone countertops and sinks, tin ceiling, and relatively modern cooker that Ollivander had had installed less than ten years prior. She moved to put a fresh pot of water on the cooker to heat while George leant against the counter, intently watching her every move. She dumped out the old water and refilled the kettle with fresh water from the tap and placed it to heat, turning on the flame.
"Hermione, why do you never use magic to warm the kettle?"
"George, why do you ask that question every single time I make tea?"
"Because it's ever so much fun to hear you admit that you prefer to do something without magic rather than with."
"Cheeky man. You know that I feel that I have greater temperature control over the flame than with warming charms. Perfect tea requires a precise temperature - only just shy of boiling. If you allow the pot to reach a full boil, the tea tastes too flat."
George smirked at her predictability. "Thank you, love. That explanation was perfection. I love when you get all professor-y on me. I do wish, however, that you would give me all your secrets to brewing tea. Your tea is better than anyone else's, and you jealously guard your secret. Doesn't it bother you that the tea we serve you is inferior to the tea you serve us?"
"Not in the least, my dear Georgie. It just means that the two of you still need me for something, at least." Good Lord, was she flirting with George?
She was flirting - flirting - with George Weasley. Lord help her! Here she was, bookish Hermione Granger... flirting with one of Diagon Alley's most notorious bachelors. He could have chosen almost any woman in that club tonight, but here he is, sitting with Hermione Granger, discussing how to make tea.
Oh, God. She suddenly realized... even her flirting was boring! A topic change was definitely called for. Hermione panicked.
"So, George, what do you think of tattoos?"
"Tattoos, you say? I suppose it depends."
By now, Hermione was well and truly nervous. She hoped that George's prevarication didn't mean that he disliked tattoos, because that would mean that her entirely-too-lame plan was in vain. However, since she had no other plan, she forged ahead.
"Well, on a girl, let's say."
"A tat? On a bird? Where?"
Hermione visibly fidgeted, and George smirked.
Hermione dug deep for some Gryffindor courage, however, and answered the question. "On her hip." Her voice came out much more breathy than she had anticipated, and the smirk on George's face disappeared as his Adam's apple bobbed with his heavy swallow.
"Oh. On her hip. That's a nice spot for a tat. Not a slag tag or anything, right?"
"No! Not that. Just something personal, where no one would ever see it... unless she wanted them to."
"Do you have a tattoo, Hermione? Something tasteful... on your hip, perhaps? Something personal, yet concealable?"George baited, knowing all the while that she did, indeed, have a tattoo.
"Maybe..." Hermione stood, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The kettle started to sound and her attention was drawn back to the cooker.
"Damn!"
"What, George?"
"Hermione, do you have a tattoo?"George asked, pressing her to answer.
Hermione bit her lip nervously, still slightly unsure if she should admit to her tattoo yet. George hadn't yet said whether he liked them or not.
George noticed her unease and decided to give her an out. "Hermione, I'll show you mine if you show me yours." The line was delivered with a wink and a smirk.
Hermione was visibly flustered, but she had gotten the tattoo to pique George's interest, so what was the point in being her normal, awkward-with-men, shy self at this point? Clearly, her half-baked quasi-plan had worked, so now isn't the time to revert to her normal persona. Now would be the time to summon her inner siren, if she even existed, and call his bluff.
"All right, George. Let's see it."
George smirked, again. He slowly pulled the tails of his shirt from his trousers and then reached for the buttons of his shirt, doing a bit of a strip tease for her. He slowly unhinged each button, sliding it through its corresponding hole, working his way down. When he reached the last button, he winked and fluidly turned around while dropping the shirt to the floor.
On his right shoulder was a large, bold, black phoenix that spanned more than half of his back. It was amazing.
"George! It's huge!" As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione's cheeks flamed yet again at the double entendre, and she quickly added, "When did you get this?"
"Shortly after leaving Hogwarts. It was in honour of Dumbledore and the Order."
"Well, isn't that ironic?"
"What's ironic?"
"I got my tattoo in honour of Dumbledore and the Order, too." Hermione began to unbutton her blouse from the bottom. After opening several buttons, she then reached for the buttons of her trousers and released it slowly, pulling the placket aside to reveal her tattoo, low on her hip.
"It's beautiful. What runes are those?" George asked softly, his finger almost tracing the letters.
"Oh, they're Kenaz and Wunjo." Hermione's voice was betraying her, breath hitching with his proximity.
"Kenaz and Wunjo... isn't Kenaz the rune for passion? And isn't Wunjo the rune for ... happiness? I wasn't always the best at runes, but those are two interesting choices, Granger, especially in tandem."
"You think so?"
"Absolutely. They're positively... naughty in the right context."
"Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd think that." Her voice low and husky, but he was standing so close that he heard her as clearly as if she had declared it from the rooftops.
"Really? Hermione, did you want me to notice your tattoo? Did you... did you get the tattoo for me?"
Hermione couldn't meet his gaze. She kept her eyes pinned to the belt of his trousers. But George wasn't about to let her avoid the question. He used one forefinger to gently lift her chin until they were face-to-face.
"Did you get your tattoo for me, Hermione?"
In her endeavour to avoid his gaze, her sight locked on his lips. Her voice was failing her, so she nodded her head mutely, her eyes still struggling to avoid his.
Because she wasn't looking at him, she didn't see the enormous grin he flashed just before he claimed her mouth again.

Mention of the song title At Last was for FoggyByTheBay. I figured it's a classic, very romantic song, and the meaning isn't lost on our protagonists. :)
Links for tattoos - just take the spaces out:
George:
http:// img.photobucket. com/albums/ v623/AuntLynnie/ GE/George-Tat-GE.jpg
Hermione:

http:// img.photobucket. com/albums/v623/ AuntLynnie/GE/ Hermione-tat-GE.jpg
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Wands and Wheezes