Chapter Twenty One: Ghosts

It's here. It's a start. We'll see.
YOU are all wonderful by the way. I adore you all.
You can find me on tumblr at sorryXDbarefeet if you want to be my friend. Reviews are appreciated, and I'm hoping to have the next chapter out in about 2 weeks.
I just need to find a good soundtrack. Oi. Good writing music is hard to find. Love you all! –TH

He fumed, silently, while putting books away, slamming them onto shelves with purpose, and ignoring the glares and pointed sighs by Irma from her office.

This was entirely his fault.

Of course, Hermione would be dating George. He had left things far too long, now. He had left things to the last minute, never bothering to ask, never inquiring into that point of her life, and on purpose, as well. Of course she would've picked George, charming, funny, likeable, brilliant, damaged George. He was just her type- athletically inclined, popular, and smart to top it all off, and not in the bossy, annoying way he was. And, a snarky part of his brain reminded him nastily as he slammed Which Witch: A Guide to Spells in Multiples onto the shelves, she had already shown a clear preference in Fred all those years ago. George was probably even better, and a catch to boot.

This one hurt, and he clenched his stomach reflexively, trying desperately not to double over. He shouldn't think things like that, ever, but he couldn't help it. When it came to Hermione his brain was a cloud where normally things were pristinely clear, and witnessing their stolen moment of happiness left him feeling like there was scum under his skin that he couldn't get rid of.

It all made sense now, all the jokes and tricks she had been playing recently just reeked of the twins, sometimes literally. He had thought it might be a misguided attempt for her to cheer him up, but now it was clear- she had done it because of her brother's influence on her. He supposed it was better than her running back to Ron, but not by much. No, not even by a little bit, he realized, as he threw himself into his favorite armchair.

He tried to refocus, tried to think about his different words, tried to pinpoint in one specific word, but nothing came. All he could picture was Hermione warmly encircled in George's arms as he pressed his lips against her forehead, and the beaming smile she threw at him as a reward.

It made him want to be physically ill, which made him feel even more ridiculous. Hermione being happy should make him happy, but instead, it made him want to sink into the chair and forget everything that had happened since he came to this destitute little camp. He wanted to go home to his pristine, picture-less flat in London and feel as empty as he had for the past two years working for the ministry.

"Thank you." Her soft voice startled him out of his misery, and he gripped his lip between his teeth, taking off his glasses to polish them on his shirt. "I love this one."

"I thought you might." He cleared his throat and heaved himself out of the chair, scurrying to pick up a stack of books and make himself useful. She was standing between two shelves, the book held pressed against her chest, and Percy's breath caught for a second as he placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. She was framed in the light from the windows, a grey haze backlighting her soft features, skimming over her thighs and curves like velvet. He sucked in a breath and charged past her. Of course, George would've figured this out long before he did. "I'm sorry I interrupted you two."

"You weren't interrupting." Her voice was soft. This is the part where she explained herself, and let him down gently. Caught red-handed, she wouldn't have a choice. "There wasn't anything to interrupt."

"Don't worry about me." He shook his head fervently as he whipped out his wand and levitated a book to a top shelf, avoiding her eyes as she followed him between shelves. He couldn't look at her right now, his pride hurt. "I won't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?" He sighed minutely, dodging around another stack of shelves to find an acceptable place for another novel. He could hear the tense edge in her tone, and kicked himself internally. He should've just let her say what she wanted to say, now she had to lie about it.

"About you and George." He shrugged casually, slipping another book on its designated shelf, and hurrying to find another stack. He only turned when it sounded like Hermione was choking, concerned. "Really Hermione-"

"George and I?" She sputtered out, her face rapidly turning red, cheeks tinged with magenta. "George and I WHAT-"

"That you're seeing each other," He started, trying not to look at her directly in the face. She gasped out a laugh, and his brow furrowed.

"You think we're seeing-" he cut her off, glaring at her.

"Look, I already know you are, I saw you." She outright laughed at him, a little shrill and out of control, losing some of her composure.

"Saw me what, HUG a FRIEND?" She was outright screaming at him now, furious enough to start pulling at her hair with her fingers, shaking with the effort to calm herself. He picked up a stack of books and charged around another book shelf, desperate to shield himself from her rage.

"I saw him kiss you." He mumbled, more to himself that to her. She had followed him, her knuckles now white as she gripped the book in her fingers. "I already promised not to tell anyone what more do you-"

"He didn't kiss me!" She gasped out, looking like she was having difficulty breathing. "That wasn't a kiss-"

"I don't really care what it is, you can kiss whoever you like." His fingers were trembling as he jammed two books onto a shelf that it clearly didn't belong to.

"I haven't kissed anybody but you." She was suddenly deathly quiet, and Percy's heart stopped in his chest.

The silence was deafeningly loud, roaring in his ears. They had so carefully darted around this issue, side-stepped this boundary for so long that talking about it felt taboo. But he saw it, in her face, the color quickly draining, that she had meant it.

He took two quick steps towards her, his heart going from perfectly still to ramming against his ribs, slamming against his chest in a pattern that had no rhythm, as his fingers traced her cheekbone, her lashes fluttering as she blinked rapidly. Lately he had been so absolutely piss poor at reading Hermione. This time, he absolutely had to get it right. He swallowed, hard.

"No one." He had meant to ask it, but it came out in a whisper, barely asked, briefly spoken. He was surprised he had even said it, but the silence was too loud, and his voice cracked girlishly around the words. Cursing his apparent relapse into boyhood, he cleared his throat and tried again. "No one?" It came out softer, huskier than he had thought it might, but it didn't matter. He couldn't trust himself to think properly. She shook her head briskly, and he let the palm of his calloused hand slip against her face, holding her steady so she couldn't leave him. He had to get this right- his heart wouldn't stop breaking his ribs into pieces, and he had to know, had to know, had to know, had to know.

"No one but you." She repeated, blinking more, and he watched the careful delicate patter of her lashes shade and color her eyes.

He slid against her in a meld of flesh and warmth, his enthusiasm knocking her against the shelf, their books finally falling out of their hands as his lips found hers, the force bruising and messy. He would feel these kisses in his bones until he died, he thought vaguely, as her tongue slipped in his mouth, twirling against his with desperate intensity, and then he lost the ability to think as her fingers entwined with his loose hand at her side.

"Tell me." He broke away from her, bringing their fingers up to his face so he could kiss each one of them individually, never letting her eyes leave his view. All her Gryffindor heat was there, boiling under the surface, her lips swollen- from him- he thought gleefully.

"I don't want anyone else." She swallowed thickly, and he dug his nails into her fingers, inhaling sharply as he heard it. She shook her head again, and Percy tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, which he took as his signal to capture those precious lips in his again, carefully cradling the back of her head in his hand so as not to slam it against the books in his excitement. She pulled away from him, grabbing the front of his shirt and panting for breath. "You say it."

"Say what." He muttered thickly, placing heavy kisses along her neck and collarbone, and she arched up into him, their hips meeting and grazing against each other.

"Do you want anyone else?" She actually asked, and he noticed the quavering note in her voice. How could she think that? How could she possibly ever?

"No." She sighed and caught his lips again before he could rattle off a speech he was trying to prepare in his mind, but vaguely forgot.

Her tongue slipped between his lips as he pulled her against him again, and fell into a drowning fire of heat and sun and unbearable lightness. Percy had kissed his fair share of women, but never one like Hermione. She moaned lightly into his mouth, and he realized his hands had wound their way the small of her back, pressing her against his hips unconsciously, where he had started to shift uncomfortably.

She gasped into him in a dizzying swirl as he tilted Hermione's head slightly so he could lay kisses against the sweet landscape that was her neck and collarbones, tasting honey and salt. Her fingers scrambled desperately against the planes of his stomach and he bit back a smile as she hit a rather tender spot. She giggled breathlessly against his mouth as she felt his muscles contract. He repaid her the favor by letting his fingers trace against her spine, rewarding his careful delicacy with a gasp that just barely left her lips and inspired him to let one hand leave her tender flesh to cradle her cheek.

He could feel her start to tremble against him slightly and was suddenly brought back to reality of where they were, letting his lips still to tender softness as he placed kisses on her cheek, then painfully slowly on her forehead, claiming the spot as his own with a brash impulse of pride. She laughed breathlessly against him as he held her to him.

"Perhaps we should do this someplace we're less likely to be walked in on." He cleared his throat, and she nodded soberly. He peered at her face, before ghosting a kiss on the bridge of her nose, and pulling her away with him, his arm around her waist as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He could read the expression on her face, and whispered in her ear as they left. "We won't tell anyone till this is… sorted."

The relief on Hermione's face only hurt a little until she pushed herself up on her toes and he felt her warmth against his lips like silk. That took the sting out of it.

"I just don't want Ron to find out without being able to… you know." She whispered against his lips. He nodded, and stole a kiss as they left the library to wander the snowy grounds.

And if Fred Weasley had been alive, he would've high fived his twin, who was watching with a smile from the corner. Instead, Charlie ruffled his hair, slung an arm around his shoulder, and led his brother away as they muttered conspiratorially to themselves.