A/N: I own nothing, and this is all dedicated to Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley and all the lovers of George/Hermione. I haven't done enough of these. *blushes* Enjoy!

Hermione would never forget the bit of owl mail that had started it all.

She had been sitting at her desk, furiously scribbling away at a document that Kingsley had wanted on his desk two days ago when an owl flew in the window and dropped a small package about the size of a wand box onto her desk. It gave a small hoot and then flew away, obviously not having been instructed to wait for a response.

Almost immediately, Hermione's wand was drawn and pointed at the box, in case this was some sort of evil wisher, though those were fewer and farther between now, thanks to Harry. Still, one could never be too careful. Keeping her wand level, she cast a few spells and found nothing to cause alarm, so she cautiously opened the box.

Inside, nestled against gold satin, lay a single orange rose. Frowning, she moved to touch the rose and a small card appeared, causing her to jump in surprise before she gained control of her jerky wand hand. She picked up the card and read the three words:

You fascinate me.

The card was unsigned, and Hermione's frown deepened for a moment before her body caught up with her instincts and her heart began to flutter. No one had ever sent her a gift like this before. Wait, gift? Hurriedly, Hermione ran to her calendar and checked the date. Good grief! It was her birthday! With all of the different events at the Ministry, she'd forgotten what day it was.

But obviously, this person hadn't.

With renewed haste, Hermione quickly finished her report and sent it on to Kingsley's office before letting her secretary know that she was taking the rest of the day off. She grabbed her cloak and strode out of the office, glancing from side to side in hopes that she might see who had sent her the flower, and then snorted. No one would be that foolish as to wait around!

She straightened her shoulders and then headed towards the park that was close to the Ministry. When she had time, she enjoyed eating her lunches there, but now, it was simply a good place to think. As she seated herself on a bench in the sunshine, she couldn't help but lean her face back and bask momentarily in the sweet, freeing glow of the sun.

She was twenty-two.

Honestly, it felt no different than twenty-one, for which Hermione guessed that she should be happy. Since no one had said anything, Hermione assumed that everyone else had forgotten her birthday as well.

"But not the person who sent the note," her mind whispered urgently.

No, not the person with the note. But who was the person with the note? "Surely not Ron," she said aloud. And it was definitely not Harry, since he was too busy sometimes to remember his own name, let alone her birthday, plus, she had never fascinated him. Also, he was married to Ginny.

"Three strikes," she mumbled aloud.

Something bumped into her head and immediately, Hermione whirled around. There, levitating before her, was a box very much like the one in her office. She swallowed hard as her heart began beating faster, but calmly reached out and grabbed the box. With gentle fingers, she pried off the lid and looked inside.

Just like the last gift, Gryffindor colors reigned supreme as a yellow rose lay delicately in the folds of crimson satin. She picked up the rose, smelling its sweet fragrance for a moment before picking up the note that had appeared. Like the last one, this one only had a short phrase.

You bring joy to my life.

Hermione gazed at the rose and the note for a long moment before glancing down to put them back, only to find another note lying there in the satin. She picked it up and read another phrase, this one less serious than the previous one.

Especially when you're angry!

Now who was she normally angry with? Hermione was surprised and rather dejected to realize that the list was rather long with her high strung nerves and her stressful job. She sighed and leaned back against the bench, toying with the rose. She ran her fingers up and down the stem, noticing that the thorns had been pulled off.

A small little box dropped into her lap and Hermione couldn't help but let out a small scream. She hadn't been expecting another gift, and this one had startled her even more than the other two. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm her thundering heart as she untied the orange bow that wound around the square, little white box.

Despite trying desperately not to think about it, the only image that popped into her head was that of ginger hair, almost as orange as the ribbon and the first rose. And no, she didn't mean Ron.

She meant George.

She sighed, forgetting to open the box for a moment as she brought thousands of images of George to mind. Over the years, ever since she realized the crush she had on him, she had stored as many memories as should could, vowing to never give him any hint or clue of her affections, lest she make things awkward between them, or worse, give him something to blackmail her with. But now, now that she was free from all responsibilities for the day, images wafted through her mind as easily as the breeze tugged on her curls.

"Stop it!" she mentally growled at herself. "George didn't, wouldn't, send something like this to you, so just stop it! You're getting your hopes up for nothing!"

But her fingers still trembled slightly as she opened the box. Inside, she found a few knuts inside and another note.

My dear Hermione, I hope you have fun with this little game. Rest assured, dear witch, this is not a trick, prank, or dark plot. I know better than to trifle with you. Head on over to your favorite ice cream shop and get yourself a cone of your favorite flavor. Enjoy!

Perhaps it was a sort of timed Portkey, but Hermione had no choice but to obey as she felt the tugging and then opened her eyes to find herself outside of Fortescue's. She guessed that the knuts in the box were meant to pay for her ice cream, so she headed into the shop with the two roses tucked in her purse and the little box in her hand.

She ordered her flavor and the kind shop owner rang her up, instantly recognizing her and grinning broadly. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said, bending down and coming back up with an identical little white box with an orange ribbon. "Here you are." He winked and took the knuts she handed over, scurrying into the back room before she had a chance to ask him any questions.

She opened the box, tucking the ribbon into her purse along with the other one, and pulling the lid off. Inside, she found another small sum of money and another note.

Hope you're enjoying your ice cream, though it isn't as sweet as you, Hermione. Take a walk down Diagon Alley and you'll find yourself at a place where Madam Pince would have a heart attack if she saw you with your cone. Once inside, find the section that would define Unspeakable curses and add to your knowledge about Remus Lupin's "time of the month." You'll like the gift, I'm sure. Enjoy!

She was actually starting to have fun, so Hermione didn't even bother to stop and think before she strolled down Diagon Alley, happily eating her ice cream and feeling much lighter than she had in months. She arrived at Flourish and Blott's, and was sure that this was where the clue was instructing her to go. After all, ice cream around books would be sure to put Madam Pince in a state of dire shock, at the very least.

Upon entering, Hermione steered towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, remembering her third year class where she had first learned about Remus's secret. Sure enough, she found an entire shelf cleared off in the Defense section with only one large tome sitting on it, almost begging to be picked up. Hermione picked the book up and took it to the register, paying for it with the money from the box, which was (again) just enough.

"Enjoy," the clerk told her.

Hermione smiled. "Oh, I will," she said congenially and then carried the book out of the shop. She paused only long enough to open the front cover and pull out the note that was sitting there. She slid the book into her bag and opened the note.

I hope you like the book. It seemed like something you'd read. Now, time is running out of the day, so head over to a prankster's paradise and see what the owners have in store for you.

Hermione glanced up at the sky and was surprised to see that the sun was starting to set. Diagon Alley was beginning to flow with people getting off from work, and so Hermione set out for the only prankster's paradise she knew of with a fluttering in her heart and in her stomach.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

She entered the store and found it humming with activity, as usual. Yet, as soon as she stepped inside, two identical voices came from either side of her.

"Well would you look what the dog dragged in!" cried one.

"Gred, it's cat. Look what the cat dragged in," said another, and this voice caused Hermione's heart to thump even quicker.

"If you say so, Forge, but I was sure that it was the dog."

"No, no, dogs don't drag anything, they gnaw on things."

"Kind of like what you guys are doing to my nerves," Hermione piped up, effectively stopping their literally over-her-head conversation. She glanced from side to side to see two sets of blue eyes and wide smiles grinning down at her. However, the one on her left was enough to make her catch her breath before she stubbornly pushed that thought away.

"Stop it, George. See what you've done? You've gnawed on her nerves!" Fred accused. "Didn't mum house train you better than that?"

George's lips twitched up into a smirk. "I don't know, Fred. She obviously didn't with you, so she must not have with me either. We come as a package deal, you know."

Fred nodded sagely. "Too right you are. Oh, Hermione, stop tapping your foot like that! We haven't forgotten you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered halfheartedly, "Could've fooled me."

George slung his arm around her shoulder, which made her tense in surprise and then melt into a disgustingly useless pile of nerve endings. Her shoulders felt on fire, but it was delicious fire. "What can we do for you, Hermione, darling," he asked, smile still firmly on his face.

Hermione handed him the note and warned, "Don't laugh at me."

He read it through once, a ghost of a smile crossing his face for a moment before he looked up at her and then read it again. He handed it to Fred and clasped his hands over his heart. "Fred dear, our Hermione's growing up!"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink and she suddenly felt very foolish for having thought that the notes and flowers had been from George. "Shut up," she mumbled unhappily. "I've been grown up before today, you've just never noticed."

Something in George's expression softened and Hermione saw him smile at her. "We've noticed," he said easily. He took the note from Fred's hands and steered Hermione over to a certain section of the shop. "Actually, we do know what this note's talking about, so we'll help you out a bit." He turned her around a couple of times and then gave her a small push. "It's that way."

She nodded her thanks and moved in the direction he had pushed her in, walking slowly until she nearly tripped over a pygmy puff. It gave a squeal of delight and bounced, rolling itself into a ball before scampering away. As she examined the floor further, she founds tons of pygmy puffs scooting around on the floor, their cages abandoned. She was about to alert the twins when she noticed that an orange pygmy puff was waddling around, a box charmed onto its back, standing out starkly against the other pink and purple puffs.

Orange. For fascination.

With careful steps so that she wouldn't squash the other little critters, Hermione made her way over to the little pygmy puff and picked him up. In response, he wiggled happily and gave a cheery squeak. She held onto him with one arm while she grabbed the box with the other. He wouldn't let her set him down, so she cradled him in her arms while she opened the box.

Inside, she found a beautiful, long stemmed violet rose and another note.

It wasn't actually love at first sight like this flower suggests, but the day I recognized you as I young woman, I fell in love with you.I know how much you like pygmy puffs and so I thought I'd get you one since you're too embarrassed to get one for yourself. Let the twins know that you've picked out your puff and let them take you to your next surprise.

Hermione was touched by the person's thoughtfulness, and was yet again curious how they knew so much about her. She had kept her love for pygmy puffs very private, not wanting to be teased by anyone she knew. She snuggled the little puff up to her cheek for a moment and heard its answering noise, a cross between a squeak and a purr. "Let's go," she whispered and made her way up to the twins, bravely squaring her shoulders. "I've made up my mind," she announced, her tone daring one of them to try and laugh at her.

George grinned down at the pygmy puff in her hands. "That's the one you want?" he clarified.

Hermione nodded, and suddenly, the pygmy puff let out a happy little squeal and launched itself right out of her arms and into George's. It began peppering him with fuzzy kisses until he dislodged it with a loud laugh and handed it back to a startled Hermione. 'Wha-?" was all she could get out.

George grinned. "You've chosen a very…enthusiastic little puff." He winked at her. "You'll have to bring him by every once in a while so I can get a few kisses."

Hermione blushed a deep rose color, chastising herself for reading into the nonexistent innuendo that was there in that comment. To her astonishment, the pygmy puff's fur turned a deep rose color as well and it tucked its little face into the crook of her arm. She stared at the little creature, astonishment plain on her features, but the twins were steering her out of the shop before she could muster up a comment.

They started leading her down Diagon Alley and it took a few moments for her to find her voice. "What about the shop?"

Fred shrugged. "Verity's got it. Nothing to worry about."

"Where are you taking me?" she tried.

"Nowhere you haven't been before," Fred responded cheerily, earning a growl from Hermione and a laugh from George.

Hermione started to protest again, but George leaned in close and spoke into her ear. "Just relax and enjoy the suspense, Hermione."

His voice was enough to make her fall silent, and she obeyed while her pygmy puff squirmed happily in her arms, chirping up at George's amused face. "Ah, here we are," Fred said as he paused in the middle of the street and then, without warning, he and George took Hermione by her elbows and apparated away.

She stumbled slightly when they reached their destination, but George held on tightly to her elbow and kept her from falling all over all of the people staying in front of her, currently shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

Hermione gaped at the sight before her. The entire kitchen and the living room of the Burrow had been infused with brightly colored streamers and confetti that kept on recycling itself. Balloons were attached to every chair and there was a huge cake in the middle of the table, along with a huge feast.

Molly was, of course, the first to take charge. "Sit down, everyone, sit down," she ordered. She bustled everyone into their proper chairs and ordered everyone to tuck in. Hermione barely registered that Fred and George were sitting on either side of her before Fred was nudging her and handing her a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes. She accepted eagerly, but as she went to put them on her plate, she gave a start to see yet another box with an orange ribbon sitting in the center of her plate.

Everyone else was too busy to notice, but Hermione's heart began to pound, and the pygmy puff that wouldn't leave her lap started to vibrate in time to the hurried beats. She pulled the ribbon off the box and opened it, finding a pure red rose and a final note inside.

I love you.

The pygmy puff gave a hearty thrum and turned to squeak happily at George. Hermione turned as well and saw him watching her very carefully, weighing her reaction. Before she could even open her mouth, the pygmy puff, turning bright red, jumped into George's lap and began trying to burrow into his shirt. George let out a snort and his smile grew wider that Hermione had ever seen.

Upon seeing her confusion, George explained, "The pygmy puff's charmed to mirror your feelings. You used to tell me that no one understood your moods, so this pygmy puff can not only understand, but replicate your feelings." He glanced down pointedly at the little pygmy puff, which had frozen and was blinking at him with wide eyes, much like its owner. The little creature turned back to the deep blush color and dove under the table while Hermione jumped out of her seat and ran out into the garden, her cheeks burning with mortification.

A moment later, she heard his calm, assured footsteps approaching and almost groaned. She felt his hand rest gently on her shoulder as he turned her to face him. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it," George assured her. "I'd be a whole lot more worried if you didn't react to me like that."

"What, burrowing into your shirt?" she asked, choking out the words, still horrified.

George laughed. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting that. Next time you want me to take my shirt off, just ask me, Granger." He grinned when she punched his arm, but then his gaze sobered. "Did you enjoy yourself today?"

Hermione nodded truthfully. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "Thank you so very much."

George shifted nervously. "So I didn't scare you off?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not if you really mean what those notes and flowers say you mean."

George stepped closer to her and cupped her chin in his hand. "I really mean it," he whispered. "I've loved you for a while, but this was my first real chance to show it."

"I'm glad you did," she whispered back.

He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her the way he had dreamed of kissing her. He held her close as his mouth met hers again and again, his arms coming to wrap around her waist even as he smiled into the kiss. All of his work and planning had paid off. Hermione Granger loved him back.

Hermione Granger was his and his alone.

Under the table in the Burrow's kitchen, a little pygmy puff turned a rosy pink and squeaked, hugging itself into a ball as it mirrored the love and contentment its owner now felt.

A/N: *claps hands* This was so much fun! I really hope you guys enjoyed it! Those are the actual "muggle" meanings of the flowers, in case you're wondering! Please review!!