#saentllike

Fred and George weren’t the same.

It wasn’t the first time that Hermione had thought this, in fact she always knew there were things that were different between the twins, differences that were enough to tell them apart. It had taken her an entire year to figure them out, mostly because first year was filled with other predicaments. No need to study the differences between two twin brothers that were two years ahead of her when there was a Philosopher's Stone to discover and detentions in the Forbidden Forest. 

By second year, Hermione had figured it out. Maybe she should have been taking note that she had been staring at George’s face more than Fred’s, as if the secret to this puzzle only laid in him...but, again, there were more things to worry about then boys.

Sitting here now, in fourth year with George Weasley fiddling with his quill across from her, Hermione was reminded of those differences she had picked up on two years ago. He had developed this...new habit of sitting with her as she studied. Different from the company she received from Viktor, George didn’t come with a crowd of fan girls and actually did study instead of just watching her. She felt guilty, that she preferred his company over the boy who had taken her to the Yule Ball.

He would always furrow his brow when a arithmancy question made no sense ( why he still took arithmancy when he didn’t quite love it like she did...hermione would never understand ), before finally huffing and admitting defeat, offering her a sweet smile that screamed of desperation in exchange for help on the problem. 

George was sharp lines and hushed jokes and devilish smiles and it was different from Fred’s more bold attitude when he approached her. Still, she had seen George snap on more then one occasion, the memory of the twins almost attacking Malfoy had replayed in her mind for days after. Hermione had always liked it...would always roll her eyes at the both of them before hiding her smiles behind books. 

George’s hair was a tad longer then Fred’s, a centimeter or two that no one would probably notice but Hermione. His nose was different as well, compared to his twin, and she wondered if he had broken it during the quidditch season and had refused to heal it normally, wondering if the subtle change would be enough for people to notice.

It sounded like a Weasley prank...a longstanding one to see who was the sucker who would finally ask about it. It wasn’t going to be Hermione...no. Hermione was brilliant and bright, a near hatstall between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, yet not even she could pick out the reasons as to why she could see all these differences in George but never Fred.

╰   🧹    @saentllike​ said ﹕ ‘ PATCH. ‘ - [ my / your ] muse starts to heal / bandage [ mine / yours. ]  george to ginny :pleading:

     It was never supposed to be like this.  George was never supposed to be without Fred.  Yes, they were twins and each their own person.  Ginny knew that probably better than most, maybe even better than their mom, but they’d never been without the other — not like this.

     It was this very reason that Ginny found herself visiting the store the two of them were supposed to be running together.  She wandered through the aisles, contemplated getting another pygmy puff and quickly realized George didn’t seem to be his usual self—out and about sharing cheeky comments with customers, restocking shelves, the like.  It seemed quieter than normal, so Ginny decided to slip away to the back room. 

     There she spotted an injured George.  She figured it must have been a failed or in-the-works experiment that likely required two people, rather than an attack by someone else, but it didn’t matter.  She didn’t ask questions.  She knew better after years of growing up together that a mom-like or Hermione-like interrogation (what’s really the difference?) would never work with him.

   ❝ It being the twins’ date of birth is quite enough of an April Fools Day joke, by my standards ... Truly, a hilarious gag. So good, in fact, that I will state very clearly that there will be no need for any further witless ‘ pranking ’ or general idiocy in these hallways, nor in my classroom. The Weasleys have got that covered, simply by existing. ❞

   ❝ ... However ... If anyone feels as though their existential tomfoolery is not enough of a gag, and If they, or any of you feel so inclined to attempt to ‘ prank ’  me today ... It will not end well for you. Happy April the first, ❞  ... and Happy Aging, Weasley demons.

* idiots to lovers romantic starters

"I hope to always be an enigma to you, George Weasley."

Hermione knew what he meant. Or at least, she had heard countless others say those same words to her. Well, the first bit. No one has seemed to ever truly understand her, even Harry and Ron fall short on that. Some days, it still shocks them to hear that she was here for the summer, in the twin's flat over their joke shop. As if the idea of Hermione leaving home to spend the summer with her boyfriend was too rebellious for her, as if she didn't also join them in all of their misadventures.

Her parents never understood her either. Hermione, a young witch to parents who didn't even know magic existed until she was eleven and had already known there was something different about her. Even before the darkness of the future lingered over the three of them, her parents never truly understood the world that Hermione went to for almost the entirety of the year.

George was different. He admitted to not understanding her and didn't care for it. Didn't look at her with pity in his eyes when something she said didn't exactly click with him, didn't assume she was wrong or there was something wrong with her. No, he didn't understand her at times. But he still loved her.

Hermione had been looking up from her book, curled up in the armchair that she had claimed as her own the moment the summer started. George was tinkering with something at the table, a product that had no name yet, just something that he had been inspired to make recently. She slowly got up from her seat, crept over to him before wrapping her arms around him slowly, letting her chest press against his back. She let out a sigh, looking past his shoulder at his work.