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Pranks went wrong, that was tried and true. Products had kinks in the development phase. The Nosebleed Nougat sprung to mind. Almost bleeding out whilst Fred tried frantically to stem the flow. Ending up ten years in the past was a little more than a kink. Ending up ten years in the past with Hermione Granger along for the ride was catastrophic.
They’d just landed in 1995. Landed literally. Falling to the ground, George’s knees and face smashing against the floor. The floor which turned out to be the very floor they’d just left back in 2005. The workshop of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes where he’d been working on the product that’d inadvertently sent them hurtling backwards through time. Only in 1995, 93 Diagon Alley wasn’t Wheezes yet, it was the frankly rundown, almost death trap it’d been before him and Fred moved in.
Which they were set to do in approximately six months if his calculations were correct.
That put a bit of a time crunch on things.
Him and Hermione couldn’t exactly be squatting in the flat when younger George and Fred turned up. That wouldn’t go well. Especially not during the height of the Second Wizarding War. Yeah... catastrophic seemed like the right word.
Hermione got to her feet, rubbing the side of her head where it’d also hit the ground. He’d just explained their predicament. She wasn’t pleased.
“Great,” she said sarcastically.
George followed her to his feet, ignoring how much he hurt from his collision with the floor. “Hermione...” he started, but trailed off. What could he say that’d help? Everything would be alright? They be home before she knew it? His eyes glanced over at the watch that’d brought them here, lying smashed into pieces, no time sand to be seen.
“It’s fine,” she stressed, even though they both knew it wasn’t.
“It was an accident—”
“I know, it’s fine,” she said again, cutting him off.
His heart clenched knowing she was lying. Also knowing he had no idea how to fix it. They were stuck in 1995.
Hermione opened the door and headed upstairs. George wanted to follow, but she wasn’t stupid, she knew to be careful. Instead he went over to the broken watch and knelt down, placing the pieces into his pocket. It was then that he noticed a glinting, the slightest reflection of gold embedded in the grains of wood. He let out a noise of disbelief. It was time sand.
George pulled out his wand and used it to syphon the sand into the palm of his hand. It wasn’t much, not even a handful of grains, but it was something. It was hope.
~
It took George nearly a week to rebuild the watch. It was a bit difficult when he didn’t have access to any of his tools or supplies. Him and Hermione had taken it in turns transfiguring themselves and heading out into the Alley to gather the essentials. They’d found out from the papers that they really were in 1995. November 3rd to be precise. Which meant they had roughly five months to figure out how to get home before young George and Fred came barging in.
George insisted they would manage it easily. That he could fix it, that as soon as the watch was fixed they’d be on their way home.
It was a complete lie.
There was nowhere near enough time sand for another ten year jump. Six months, maybe, at a push. But what good would that do them?
Hermione continued to insist she was fine, but George could see the stress on her. The way she held herself, tense in a way she hadn’t been for years. Dark circles reappearing beneath her eyes.
~
Hermione returned just as he was placing the final enchantments on the watch. She shed the transfigurations to her appearance and pulled out two packaged sandwiches from under her robes. George had stopped asking where she was managing to find them food after she’d gone very quiet and admitted it was easier than when her and the boys had been on the run. She was going into the muggle world, he could tell that. The sandwiches were plastic-wrapped in a way that was clearly muggle, yellow stickers covering them that were stamped with the word ‘reduced’. He didn’t know if she was begging or stealing, or if there was some sort of shelter like the ones they set up after the war, either way he knew it was taking its toll on her even more. But it wasn’t like they’d been carrying a bunch of money when they’d been thrown back in time, and what they did have had gone on parts for the watch.
He took one of the sandwiches as she sat beside him on the transfigured sofa. It was the only piece of furniture they’d bothered making, magicked from his jacket, they had to refresh the spells every day. But it was where they sat and slept. It was pretty pitiful, though George couldn’t help but enjoy the moments before falling asleep, Hermione’s body top to tail with his on the sofa. It wasn’t intimate, not really, and he felt awful for liking it when their situation was so dire. But they’d grown closer in that week than they’d been the past ten years.
“All finished then?” Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose as she picked at her sandwich, eyes glancing to the watch.
“Yep...” he trailed off, not wanting to admit he was still missing the time sand they needed. He should’ve known Hermione was a step ahead.
“But you need more time sand,” she said, surprising him. He nodded though. She looked down, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Do you remember the battle at the Department of Mysteries?” Again George nodded, it’d been not long after him and Fred had left Hogwarts. He’d always regretted the fact they hadn’t been there to help that night. Hermione continued to pick at her food. “Well, something happened that night... a lot of things happened that night,” she corrected herself. “The most important right now is what happened in the Time Chamber.” His heart picked up, already feeling this wouldn’t be good. “On the 18th of June every Time Turner in Britain will be destroyed. I don’t know where you sourced your time sand, but after that date it’s going to be near on impossible to get it again for a very long time.”
The words landed like a bomb.
George hadn’t had much of an idea how he was going to source the sand but that threw even more of a spanner in the works.
“Guess we’ll just have to get some before then, won’t we?” he said with what he hoped was a reassuring grin.
Hermione rolled her eyes but leant her head against his shoulder, and for now that was more than he could hope for.
~
It took a few more days for them to come up with a plan. It was a terrible plan, but what more could George expect from Miss Break-into-Gringotts-and-escape-on-the-back-of-a-dragon?
They were going to break into the Department of Mysteries – a lot of breaking and entering on a former Prefect’s wrap sheet – on the exact night of the battle. Remain hidden until the fight was over, and scoop up enough sand before the clean up crew got there. Or the Aurors. Preferably.
Terrible. Completely barmy. Also the only plan they had.
What followed was hours of calculations about how many of their remaining grains of time sand to use to make the leap. Not enough and they’d have to somehow scrape by for months. Too much and they’d overshoot the date and be stuck living in the past. Luckily for him Hermione had extensive knowledge of Time Turners. Apparently someone had thought it was a good idea to give that power to a thirteen year old. Learning all about her third year had him rethinking this product idea entirely. All the ways kids could abuse the power of just a ten minute jump that he hadn’t considered before.
By the time they actually made the jump they we as certain as they could be they’d land in the right time. They left the flat together for the first time, taking everything with them. With a bit of luck they wouldn’t have to return. And if their calculations were off they would need to find somewhere else to stay anyway.
Once George had mentioned trying to contact someone, Dumbledore maybe, but Hermione had shut the idea down, reminding him that they mustn’t be seen. Everything that happened in the past always happened, there was no way to change things, and to try had consequences that didn’t bear thinking about.
So they walked towards the Ministry, hands joined, the watch safely in George’s pocket with his hand around it. They slipped into a nearby alleyway and George pulled her in close, like any other couple taking a private moment. Instead he whispered into her hair, “Ready?” She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. They’d learnt from last time they needed to hold tight to each other.
George took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Hermione in his arms, and pressed the button on the watch.
~
Their timing was as exact as they could’ve hoped for, landing on the very day they needed. The landing itself wasn’t as rough as last time, though they both clung to each other for longer than was strictly necessary.
They stayed close to the Ministry, waiting until it was time. It had to be after everyone left for the day but before all the Death Eaters turned up. Hermione being a Ministry worker did give them an edge that the teenager DA members wouldn’t have had, and once they were inside she easily led them to the Department of Mysteries avoiding seeing anyone. From there they relied on her memory to navigate their way to the Time Chamber.
George thought about suggesting they just take some sand now and be done with it, but he knew what Hermione would say. Everything that happened that night had to happen exactly the way it had then. Fixed points and all that. So they found a spot and they waited.
By the time teenage Harry, Neville, and Hermione came racing into the Time Chamber Hermione’s hand was in his again. Two Death Eaters followed and Hermione had to squeeze his hand hard to force him to stay put, though his other hand remained tight on his wand. George glanced away from the fight to see her face, pale and terrified, watching intently.
Harry hit one Death Eater in the head with a stunning spell and rendered him unconscious. But what happened next explained the look on Hermione’s face. Harry tackled the other Death Eater just as he attempted to use the killing curse on her teenage self. George’s breath left him in a pained gasp, watching just how close she’d come to death. He couldn’t just stand there, he needed to protect her. He went to move but her grip tightened on his hand.
“You can’t,” she hissed.
“I’m not going to stand here and watch you die,” he snapped back quietly.
“I’m not going to die,” she whispered fiercely, as Neville disarmed both Harry and the Death Eater.
Before the Death Eater could retrieve his wand teenage Hermione stunned him, sending him tumbling backwards into a bell that made his head turn into that of a baby, then back into an adult, continuously ageing and de-ageing. It was horrifying. But the trio didn’t spend time hanging around, they continued on into an office on the right side of the Time Chamber where they were instantly struck with impediment jinxes, separating them.
George raised his eyebrows incredulously at Hermione.
“I’m going to be fine. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m just going to get a bit hurt, that’s all.”
George remembered arriving at Hogwarts after the fact, standing around Ron and Ginny's hospital beds. Hermione had been hidden away behind curtains. He had no idea how badly she’d been hurt. But now he was here he would bet anything it was bad.
From where they were they could just about see the two new Death Eaters who had struck the trio. One George didn’t recognise, but one was Antonin Dolohov. The man who killed his uncles, the man about to attempt to kill Hermione. Harry sent a body-binding curse at the Death Eater George didn’t know as teenage Hermione silenced Dolohov. It didn’t stop him though as he conjured a purple flame-like spell that rushed towards her.
She went down with a scream that had him lunging forwards, ready to murder Dolohov and damn the consequences. But once again Hermione held him back, pulling him further out of sight, their bodies pressed close in the small space.
“It’s almost over,” she whispered, clinging to his shirt, hands fisted in the material over his chest.
Annoyance and hurt rose inside him. “Just let me help! Please. I can’t stand here knowing you’re in agony a few feet away. I won’t mess up the timeline, I’ll just cast something on you. A healing spell, something for the pain, anything.”
“You can’t, George. What happened, happened.”
“You don’t know that,” he hissed. “What about your third year? It being Harry who cast the patronus all along. How do you know we didn’t help the first time? How do you know that by not acting now we’re not putting your life in danger? If this always happened then we were always here! I would have always tried to help you. Please, trust me. Just one spell,” he begged, his face close to hers, eyes pleading.
Hermione’s eyes took on a far away look as the screams of teenage Hermione pierced his heart. “There was some sort of stasis spell,” she said slowly, from somewhere deep in her memory, “something that stopped the spread of the burns... Madam Pomfrey didn’t know it.” Her eyes widened as she gasped. “We were always here,” she echoed, “George...”
He didn’t need anymore permission than that. George pulled out of her grasp and edged closer to the fallen Hermione, aiming his wand and reciting the incantation him and Fred had come up with years ago. Back when they created Fever Fudge and had to quickly stop the rapid spread of literal burning in the early stages of testing. It didn’t cure the burn but it stopped it, freezing it in place. Apparently with curses as strong as Dolohov’s it just slowed the progression.
Teenage Hermione’s screams stopped as she slipped unconscious.
George was pulled back out of sight as Harry and Neville finished off the fight, petrifying Dolohov and grabbing Hermione before racing out of the Time Chamber. Hermione placed a finger to her lips before leaning past him to knock Dolohov unconscious. It wouldn’t do for him to see them there, even if he was petrified.
She then sagged back against him in relief, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed to his chest. He didn’t know what to do, the hug felt different, charged. George looked down just as Hermione tilted her head up to look at him.
“Let’s go home,” she said softly, breaking the trace.
George pulled in a sharp breath, right, the sand. He stuck a hand in his pocket and checked on the watch. Undamaged. He then pulled away from Hermione and they went to collect some sand from where it’d smashed to the floor during the fight. Carefully they measured out what they’d calculated to be the right amount and funnelled it into the watch. Sharing one last look they once again clung to one another, and George pressed the button for what was hopefully the final time.
~
The falling was more controlled than the first time yet still pretty nauseating. Their legs buckled but they both managed to stay upright, and most of all silent. This would be just as tricky as getting the sand. If all had gone well they’d be in 2005... in the middle of the Time Chamber.
They’d tucked themselves as out of sight as possible but it was a risk they’d known they’d have to take. It wasn’t like they could risk trying to leave the Ministry again in 1996, there were too many people who could recognise them.
George checked the watch, which, miraculously, still functioned as an actual watch. 6am. Hours before anyone was due in the Ministry. He breathed a sigh of relief and felt Hermione do the same. She smiled up at him before stepping back.
“You really did save me back there,” she admitted, “thank you.”
He smiled back, resisting the urge to pull her closer, “Anytime.”
It being early morning made the next part easy. They made their way out of the Department of Mysteries and through the halls to Hermione’s office, both praying her name would be on the door.
They saw no one as they made their way there and to their relief Hermione’s name was embossed on the little gold plaque on the door. They entered the office and Hermione went to her desk, pulling open a notebook. She let a out laugh, beaming at him.
“We really did it. The last entry is the day we time travelled, it’s the last thing I wrote before I came over to Wheezes.”
“Told you I’d fix it,” George said with a wink.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I never had any doubt.”
~
George had fixed it.
Mostly.
Relying on Hermione’s diary entry as an accurate account of the date might have been a slight oversight. As George snuck into Wheezes, planning on hiding out until he was certain his counterpart had gone back in time, he was met head on with Fred who had a face like thunder.
“Look, I’m happy for you and all, but you can’t just up and leave in the middle of the workday. It’s coming up to Christmas, we’ve got owl orders coming out our ears – excuse the metaphor – and you leave for the entire weekend. I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off, surely there’s only so many times you can fu—”
“Wait, what?” George interrupted Fred’s rant, heart hammering.
“You and Hermione,” Fred said like it was obvious. “She came over after work on Friday. You two – poof – disappeared. All weekend. I know you’ve been pining after her forever, and thank Merlin she decided to make the first move because Godric knows you wouldn’t have. But a little advanced warning, an owl to you dear twin who was slaving away doing the work of two. I had to call Ron in to help.” Fred pretended to gag but George was still caught on ‘she decided to make the first move’.
“How do you know? That she was going to make a move?” he asked trying to keep his pulse from skyrocketing.
“Ron told me. Proper smug about it, that he knew something before me.”
A grin broke out on George’s face. He’d tell Fred the whole story, the time travel, all of it, but right now he had a witch to see. He turned on the spot calling, “I’ll be back before we open,” over his shoulder.
“Oi!” Fred shouted after him. “You can’t seriously need to see her again. Mate, you’re whipped!”
George only laughed, gleefully making his way back the way he’d come, straight to Hermione’s office where she’d decided to wait out the intervening time.
She stood up as George stepped into the room. “George? Is something wrong? Did we mess up?”
He shook his head, walking slowly towards her. “No, well... yes, we missed the weekend. It’s actually Monday morning. And Fred thinks we’ve been holed up somewhere shagging for two days.” Her cheeks flushed and George grinned widely, stepping so close she had to back up against the desk. “Apparently Ron has it in his head that you came to Wheezes to make a move on me, is that right?”
He almost expected her to stammer instead she met his eyes, her pupils blown wide. “And if I did?” she asked, voice sultry in way that sent a thrill through him.
He let out a breath, hand tracing the curve of her hip. “I think those weeks curled up on the sofa in 1995 could’ve been a lot more fun if I’d have known,” he quipped with a lopsided smirk.
She smacked him lightly on the chest before letting her hand trail upwards, fingers winding in the hairs at the base of his neck.
“I wasn’t fine. Being back there. Back in the war. Knowing everything that still had to happen. But you made it bearable.” She looked away then, shyly. “I think... even if we hadn’t made it back, if we’d had to find somewhere to wait it out, I think I’d have been happy. Doing it together.”
George’s chest tightened as he leant forwards, letting his nose brush hers, revelling in the hitch of her breath. “Me too,” he breathed out before finally closing the space between their lips.