Author's Note: Last chapter, guys! I know you all are probably ticked I'm ending it, but I like where I'm ending this for them. Never fear! A new story is coming right up! Not Rowling.

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APRIL

"No, you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong."

"Bollocks. You're wrong all the time."

"You just cursed."

"Oh shut up."

"It was really funny. You never curse."

"That's irrelevant! All that matters is that I'm right about this."

"You are the biggest know-it-all, and yet, somehow, miraculously, you are still wrong."

"I AM NOT!"

"YES, YOU ARE!"

"We should move into your place!"

"No! We should move into yours!"

"It's above your shop."

"But we're always at your place."

"So?"

"So why, logically, would we move to my place when I'm always at your place anyways? I'd say it would hardly be considered moving since half my clothes are here anyways, mostly because you keep stealing them."

She waved her hand dismissively, ignoring his last, and very true, comment. "But why would you want to move farther away from your work? It's much more logical to live at your place."

"Hermione, we are wizards. We can apparate and floo and the like. You realize I don't have to take a car or a train to get to work, right?"

"Oh."

"So I'm right. Excellent. That's settled."

"I never said that."

"You just did."

"I said 'Oh.' How is that synonymous to 'Yes, George dear, you are indeed quite correct.'"

"Well, there's no need to be pompous about it. But thank you. I accept your concession."

"But I didn't-"

"I'm so glad we could agree on this." George grinned as Hermione stomped her foot as she made a noise of frustration. He opened his arms wide and, with a roll of her eyes, Hermione stepped into them. "There's a good girl," he laughed.

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MAY

He stood on the stone path that cut through the bright green grass and wound its way through the neatly trimmed rosebushes and the small vegetable plots that were scattered amongst the flowers growing wild in the garden. He looked up at the little white door that was the entrance to the little yellow house and felt his stomach twist. It was not an imposing house; actually, it was welcoming in every way, but somehow his feet were still rooted to the ground and he was utterly terrified. He felt a tug on his left hand and looked to his left to see Hermione looking at him expectantly.

"I can't do this," he croaked.

"Nonsense, you'll be fine!" she said with a smile.

"No, seriously, Hermione. I think I'm going to be sick. I can't do this. Can we come back another day?" he pleaded.

"There is nothing wrong with you, George."

"Hermione, this is a big thing. I'm not ready." He looked nervously at the windows, sparkling in the sun, flanked on either side by white shutters, feeling as if he was about to pass out.

"George," she said softly. He looked back over to see her smiling kindly at him, her left hand on his upper arm, her right hand still in his left. "You can do this. They'll love you."

"But what if they don't?" He knew he sounded like a terrified little kid, but he didn't care – this was legitimately scary for him.

"You're good at making people love you. That's why I'm here."

He smiled softly at her and ducked his head, kissing her softly on the lips as he held her waist lightly. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this." They walked up to the front door and Hermione knocked on it three times.

"Coming!" came a cheery call from inside the house.

George had no idea what to expect when the door opened until it did. In front of them stood a woman, petite in every way, wearing a pair of white trousers and a sunny yellow sweater, an apron tied over her small waist. Her brown hair was tied up in a loose chignon from which a few bushy curls fell, and a bright smile lit up her face. In other words, she looked almost exactly like Hermione except older.

"Mum!" Hermione cried happily, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around her mother's neck, her mother laughing happily as she wrapped her arms around her daughter's waist and hugged her tightly.

"Robert! Hermione's home!" the woman called as she let go of her daughter. She turned to George and smiled as her green eyes quickly surveyed him. "And you must be George! We've heard so much about you."

"Oh, that's usually a really bad thing," he said nervously. She laughed and moved forward to give him a hug.

"Nonsense! Hermione has had only wonderful things to say about you." She stepped back and chuckled. "Oh my goodness, I'm so excited, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Jean."

"It's wonderful to meet you," he said with a smile. 'Maybe this isn't going to be too bad,' he thought to himself as they walked into the foyer. His comfort was immediately sapped, though, as Hermione's father walked in. Robert Granger was, at first glance, a highly imposing man. Tall and serious, his clever brown eyes, framed by thick hair and a bushy moustache, both brown speckled with grey, surveyed George warily for a moment.

"Daddy, this is George," said Hermione, watching her father carefully. Mr. Granger looked over at Hermione, his eyebrows contracting for barely a second. Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly. He looked back over at George, who was baffled by this silent conversation, and nodded. Stepping forward, he stuck out his hand, which George shook. "Nice to meet you, George. I'm Robert. You're staying for lunch, aren't you?"

And George, feeling that the worst was seemingly now over, said with a smile, "If you'll have me, sir."

A small smile tugged at Mr. Granger's lips as he surveyed George shrewdly and replied, "We'll see."

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JUNE

Hermione looked around curiously. "George, why are we here?"

"Because," he said simply, dragging her into the store.

"But we don't need any furniture," she said as she tripped past a display of lamps.

"Oh come on, Hermione. Stop thinking so hard and just enjoy it."

"Enjoy what?"

They stopped at a display of a fully-furnished kitchen and George sat at the dinner table with a grin. "I'm still waiting on my breakfast, dear."

Hermione began to laugh. "You're joking, right?"

"It's fun!" he wheedled. "Just play along!"

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop a grin from appearing on her face. "It's not breakfast time without getting ready first," she said, moving to the next "room," which was set as a bathroom. They both moved to the mirror and began pretending to get ready, Hermione brushing her teeth while George shaved.

"Well, now that that's taken care of, shall we entertain?" George hurried to the next display, which had a sitting room set up. They sat down on the leather sofa rather stiffly. George crinkled his nose. "I don't like this one. It feels like we should be smoking and talking about something pretentious." Hermione laughed and moved to the next couch. As soon as she sat, she sunk down into the cushions by about a foot. "And that one's no good," said George, chuckling. "We'll lose people in that one." They hurried to the next display and sat down. "I like this one," George said rather matter-of-factly.

"Of course you do. It looked almost exactly like my sitting room," said Hermione with a grin.

"Well, shall we check the bedroom?" George said in a deep voice, taking Hermione's hand in his. They moved forward into the next set and jumped onto the bed.

"OW!" Hermione shouted. She stood up immediately and rubbed her backside just as a security person came up.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"I'm sorry, we're just leaving," she said hurriedly, grabbing George's hand and dragging him towards the exit. "Next time, check that there's a mattress under there," she hissed. George chuckled in response.

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JULY

"You ready to go?" George asked her.

"In just a moment," she said vaguely as she searched her room. "I'm looking for my-"

"Shoes?"

"No, my-"

"Hat?"

"Not that; my-"

"Shirt?"

Hermione could hear the wicked grin in his voice and turned around to mock-glare at him, her hands on her hips. "No. I found that a while ago."

"Do you want to lose it again?" he said with a wink, walking forwards and resting his hands low on her hips.

She blushed but maintained her disapproving look. "Raincheck."

"I'll hold you to it," he replied with a cheeky grin. "So what were you actually looking for?"

"My sunglass-" She stopped when she saw he was already holding them, along with the two other things he had mentioned.

"Come on! Let's go!" He hurried forward, dropped her shoes on the floor so she could slip them on, and then, holding her hand, spun on the spot. They landed in the middle of a field and they waded through the tall grass for a few minutes before ending up at a small clearing that had a picnic blanket and basket already waiting for them.

"What is this for?" she asked curiously.

"For you."

"No, I mean, what's the occasion?" There was no answer, as he ducked to spread out the blanket, and Hermione decided to drop the issue, although she was still curious.

They spent the afternoon enjoying their food and admiring the views, but as the sky began to darken, George pulled out a package from basket and began to unwrap it.

"I have some new fireworks I've developed and I wanted you to be the first to see them," he said excitedly as he finally unwrapped the brown paper and began to pull a few fireworks from the box. A moment later, he lit them and they shot into the sky. She ooh-ed and aah-ed as the fireworks went off in spectacular colors and clapped when they had ceased. "No no, they're not done. Keep watching."

She looked back up and gasped. In shimmering letters in the air, she read,

Hermione Granger, will you marry me?

She turned to George, stunned, to see that he was on his knee and was holding a box with a beautiful silver ring with three diamonds in the middle.

"I already got permission from your parents," he said quietly. She burst into tears and threw herself at him, knocking him to the ground as she kissed his cheeks and lips. "So is this a yes?" he asked.

She beamed at him. "Of course."

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OCTOBER

As George stood next to his brothers, who now included Harry, he smiled and tried to breathe normally, though his heart was going a mile a minute. This was it. He heard the music begin and turned to see Hermione walking down the aisle, her arm in her father's. He could not see her face for the veil, but her father raised it at the end of the walk and gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning to George.

"Take good care of my girl," said Mr. Granger quietly.

"I will, sir," George replied. He turned to Hermione, who was smiling nervously, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

"Are you ready?" he whispered as he took her hand, ignoring the little man who was now reading through the typical wedding speech.

"Of course," she whispered back, squeezing his hand.

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Hey guys! Don't forget to check out my new story, "Bert & Ernie." If you know the characters from Sesame Street and you read Chapter 1, you'll see why I titled it as such. Thanks so much for being wonderful readers and supporters!