Wide Awake and Dreaming

She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a dark smear as she wiped away the sweat that was gathering along her hairline, before it could drip into her eyes. Her cooling charms were no match for the heat up here, and took too much energy to maintain. As she hauled another dusty box out of the way, trying to find Ron's old school trunk somewhere in the cramped, dusty attic of The Burrow, she blinked and tried to resist the urge to sneeze. She almost started cursing his absence before she reminded herself that this would go a lot faster without his 'help'.

She finally found the battered trunk she was looking for, with its familiar worn bindings and 'R.W.' painstakingly etched above the clasp in a childish scrawl. She sent a silent prayer heavenward that Ron had known what he was talking about when he assured her that she would find what she was looking for in his old school trunk, and began tugging it across the floor along the path she had cleared to the middle of the room. She stopped next to the low, scarred and misshapen table that she had earlier charmed to have four legs of the proper height to serve as a convenient working surface. She had sat on the floor working through the first few boxes, and the top of her makeshift coffee table was covered with neat piles of photographs, both magically charmed and stills. Now, though, her back and legs were feeling the strain, so she moved them aside and grabbed one of the tattered homemade quilts that were in abundance, tossed it onto the end of the table and added a quick cushioning charm, sacrificing space for comfort.

She leaned back, sighed, and poked her foot at the clasp on Ron's trunk as she tried to summon the energy to complete her task. She debated the wisdom of pushing on ahead, or stopping to take a break and go downstairs and get a nice cold drink, and having to return later, when the attic would only be hotter and more humid as the day wore on. Having to once again wipe the sweat from her brow decided her, and she was about to head downstairs, when George bounded through the low doorway trailing a fresh pitcher of Molly's summer punch, two ice filled glasses and a tray of tea cakes and fresh fruit.

"I come bearing gifts." He smiled charmingly and she felt her heart flutter in her throat. She mentally kicked herself and tried to swallow the excitement that his thoughtful gesture had evoked, while she struggled to summon the answering banter that had been a trademark of their conversations the last few months.

"Not to look a gift horse and all that, but I'm not likely to suddenly sprout wings, or scales, other untimely side effects from a dastardly - though no doubt ingenious" she hastily added, only to ruin the sycophantic effect by snorting, "Weasley prank, am I?"

George raised a hand to his chest, in mock offense and gave her an exaggerated look of innocence that was anything but, as he arranged their impromptu tea picnic-style on another of Molly's quilts. "Did you just insult me - and call me a horse? Really, I should just take my tea and find a more appreciative wench to share it with." He waggled his eyebrows in a manner suggestive of just how 'appreciative' she could be.

Hermione once again snorted, as she struggled not to laugh, and found herself tumbled to the floor with a quick tug as George decreed it was time to join him for tea. "Time and tea waits for no witch. Now stuff your gob, haven't got all day you know, some of us work for a living."

"Hey, I work very hard, I'll have you know, those Wheezes of yours don't sell themselves, and my boss is an absolute brute to work for."

"Sell themselves - check. I'll work on that. And you know you fancy the pants off that handsome bloke, that's why you show up so early and leave so late."

Hermione laughed it off and busied herself with selecting a tiny cake with lime green icing, because for once, she didn't have an answer, and with George, the best non-answer was always a good laugh. She actually enjoyed her job very much. She had been at loose ends about what to do after the war, especially after Harry and Ron had taken themselves off to the Auror Academy and
George had been foundering a bit at running the business without Fred. Someone had made an off-hand remark about the shame that Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes would probably close before the end of the year, and suddenly she had a new cause. She had walked into the shop the following Monday and confronted George immediately, "You need help with this place and I could use a good laugh. Show me your books."

With only a startled blink, he seemed to understand her brusque manner well-enough, or had been beyond caring at the time, because he done exactly that, and other than occasionally turning her hair green, or giving her purple and orange spots, they worked well enough together. She had refused his offer of partnership, unsure if she wanted this to be a permanent vocation, and because she still privately though of the store as Fred and George's, and knew he did too, but she took a healthy salary and helped him to price and move products while making a healthy profit. He told her that her bossy attitude helped to increase sales because the youngsters got an extra thrill from being naughty when she was around to be disproving. She just laughed and told him that he could keep his naughty schoolteacher fantasies to himself and get back to work. Ron and many of their friends thought she had gone round the twist, but it was a relationship that worked well, and was quite profitable, as they competed to see who could be made to blush the most or laugh the hardest on any given day, and the pranks practically flew out the front door.

"Explain this to me again? Why are you crawling around in my Mum's dusty attic instead of buying Harry a proper wedding gift, and why isn't my oh-so-unattractive younger brother helping you?"

"Harry will love this. He doesn't have a lot of family or real friends and he loved it whenever Hagrid or Remus would give him pictures or share memories of his parents with him. I just thought that now that he's starting his own family with Ginny that he would like an album of his own that he can show his kids. I've got it mostly done. I went though Grimmold place looking for anything Sirius might have had, Harry's vaults, even contacted the Headmistress to see if there was anything in the archives. I got some pics of Ginny and your family from your Mum and the albums that were up here, and Colin gave me a bunch from school. Right now, I'm looking for a few more photos that Ron said are buried in his old school trunk, including that one of the time Ginny dumped her butterbeer over Harry's head at the Leaky Cauldron, during winter break in her seventh year. Harry's face is priceless."

"He was so clueless, poor thing. She really put him through it. She's probably known since she was eleven years old that she was going to marry him, and she still made him wait three years to put him out of his misery."

"I think she was right, though. They've both grown up quite a bit, have gotten their careers started. I think she wanted Harry to chase her a bit instead of it always being the other way around. It's better they waited anyway, people can change a lot in a few years. Look at Ron and me. I wish him the best with Hannah, but if we were still anything more than friends, he would probably drive me spare."

"That's because my brother is an idiot."

Hermione felt the skin of her cheeks and neck flush and wished that she hadn't been so diligent about taming her hair into a messy bun at the base of her neck. She couldn't hide the telltale blush that came from his words, even though she tucked her chin toward her chest and looked down to attempt just that. She didn't see him move.

The next thing that she knew, he was touching her face, lifting her chin to face him, as his thumb traced a lazy pattern over her heated cheek. "An idiot," he spoke in a low, husky voice just before he leaned in and captured her lips with his own.

His skin was warm, everywhere it touched hers and his lips were firm and slightly chapped as he coaxed her to respond to the kiss. She was a bit surprised, but quickly gave up any pretense of resistance and followed his lead, parting her lips to his and tentatively meeting his tongue with firm strokes of her own. He slid the tea tray away, while his other hand slid down her back to her hip, pulling her closer to him, and laying her down on the soft quilt. She moaned into his mouth as she felt the evidence of his arousal against her thigh.

She flung her arms around his neck and stretched toward him, trying to get closer, arching against his body and begging for more with her kiss, completely wanton, though unable to give voice her need. He gently turned them so that she lay on her back and he hovered, half over her, half beside her, and she responded by lifting her hips to grind against his thigh, as he began to kiss his way down her throat, to where her summer robes were open just above her breasts.

"George..."

"Tell me this is okay. Tell me you want this, Hermione."

"Yes. Please, yes. I want you; don't stop."

"Say my name again. I want to hear you."

"George. George. Geo-rge." The last was broken by a moan as he closed his mouth around her left nipple through the layers of her robe and bra, and sucked hard. He slowly opened the fastenings of her robe and spread it open, revealing her brief bra and panty set, the only other clothing she could bear to wear in this heat. He sucked in a breath in appreciation, and carefully ran his calloused fingertips over her stomach, in a way that made it clench and flutter in response to his caress.

"Merlin, but you're beautiful, Hermione. Good thing I didn't know what you were hiding under those robes, or I've had you shuck them a long time ago."

"Is that so? Well, just because you've seen me now, doesn't mean I'm about to start prancing around without my clothes. It might give the customers the wrong idea about what exactly we're selling."

"True. No naked workdays, then. We'll just have to take a lot of holidays, where I can have you all to myself. Nobody else gets to see you with your kit off." The last was said with a possessive growl that made her glow.

"Claiming exclusive rights, already, George? We haven't even done anything yet. I could be rubbish at it, and then you'd be stuck with me." Her bravado didn't completely cover the nervous tone of her voice.

"Impossible. We're going to be brilliant together; just you see."

"Is that so?" Her smile was pleased and slightly daring, and he took her challenge.

He placed a quick kiss on her lips and then began leaving a trail of teasing kisses - some open-mouthed, some caressing pecks - down her throat and over her shoulders to her breasts. He mouthed each nipple into sharp relief and the continued teasing them with his fingers, rolling and pinching the tips as her covered the slight roundness of her belly. He sucked a small bit of skin at the top of her hip, just above the edge of her panties, and left a small red passion mark on her fair skin.

He leaned back away from her for a moment, and she felt bereft of his touch until she locked eyes with him and saw the passion burning in his gaze. He watched her face as he slowly grasped the edge of her panties and slid them down her thighs. When he got to her knees, she bent her legs to speed him along, and her nipped at her calf, as he tossed her panties aside, and settled between her legs.

George began at her hipbone, covering her belly with kisses, and the tops of her thighs, before nuzzling the soft hair of her pubis. She inhaled sharply as he parted her inner folds, because no one had ever done this to her before, but the anticipation was overwhelming. Then she stopped thinking, and only felt, as he dipped his tongue into her sex and tasted her arousal. Her hips jerked as his tongue found her clit and lingered there. She flung one arm out wide and grasped the leg of the table, while the other fell to his shoulders and tugged at his hair. She lifted her hips to him, squirming for more, and he feasted on her, dipping his tongue down into her hole and back up around her clit, as she moaned and breathed heavily under his onslaught. She started to tremble and he grasped her ass, holding her in place until she shuddered and cried out her release.

He eased his hold on her, then, and the tempo of his intimate kisses eased toward soothing, as he carried her back from the edge, relaxed and liquid in his arms. He leaned back to shed his own robes, his face damp with sweat and her fluids, and she reached for her wand, struggling to clear her head enough to coherently cast the necessary charms. His face was a picture of possessive desire as she performed the charm, and then he was back with her, the thick head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

She welcomed him into her arms and into her body, urging him inside of her with her legs against his hips. They flowed together, moving as one, as they succumbed to the pleasure of their joining. He slipped one hand against the small of her back, as he kissed her deeply, lifting her to meet his strokes as he thrust deeply into her. Hermione could feel her desire cresting again, as he stoked their passions higher and higher, and she responded with feverish enthusiasm.

Her thighs tightened around him, and her inner walls clenched, as she cried out and raked her nails along his back. The pulses over Hermione's orgasm drew George's forth as well and he spent himself in her depths. They rode out their aftershocks together, until he collapsed on top of her, a heavy, but comforting weight. He wiped the sweat from her forehead, pushing back the tangles of damp hair that now surrounded her face, and kissed her sweetly, before moving to lie beside her.

They were quiet for a few moments and in the silence, the magnitude of what they had just done began to overwhelm her. The he handed her a cold glass punch with a goofy smile, and it was all right, because they were just George and Hermione, and now maybe just something a little more as well.