Clever Mischief by inell
Summary: The year is 2005 and the Weasley twins have just returned to England after years away to buy the business from Zonko in Hogsmeade. As their products begin to flood the halls of Hogwarts once more, they realise that the Hogwarts Librarian is Hermione Granger. Sparks fly as the twins and Hermione encounter each other. Challenges are made, risks are taken, and relationships change. Co-Written by rose_whispers
Categories: Harry Potter > Hermione/Fred/George Characters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Hermione Granger, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Neville Longbottom, Oliver Wood, Other Canon Character, Seamus Finnigan
Warnings: Abandoned Fic
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 27 Completed: No Word count: 67485 Read: 59369 Published: 22 Aug 2014 Updated: 22 Aug 2014
Story Notes:

November 12, 2005 to September 21, 2006. Unfinished series.

1. Chapter 1: The Scent of Old Books by inell

2. Chapter 2: Setting Up Shop by inell

3. Chapter 3: All Work and No Play by inell

4. Chapter 4: A Modest Proposal by inell

5. Chapter 5: Maturity is Overrated by inell

6. Chapter 6: The Welcoming Feast by inell

7. Chapter 7: The Advantage of Surprise by inell

8. Chapter 8: Are You Stalking Me? by inell

9. Chapter 9: I Am Not Paranoid by inell

10. Chapter 10: Up To No Good by inell

11. Chapter 11: Friendly Competition by inell

12. Chapter 12: Subtlety by inell

13. Chapter 13: Distracted by inell

14. Chapter 14: You Must Remember This by inell

15. Chapter 15: Doomed by inell

16. Chapter 16: Chocolate and Seamus by inell

17. Chapter 17: Just a Kiss by inell

18. Chapter 18: Face Off by inell

19. Chapter 19: Distractions by inell

20. Chapter 20: Gossip Central by inell

21. Chapter 21: A Gentlemen's Agreement by inell

22. Chapter 22: A Proposal by inell

23. Chapter 23: Where the Not So Wild Things Are by inell

24. Chapter 24: Past History by inell

25. Chapter 25: Keeping Up Appearances by inell

26. Chapter 26: Winter Wonderland by inell

27. Chapter 27: Seriouser and Seriouser by inell

Chapter 1: The Scent of Old Books by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 1: The Scent of Old Books
Date: Thursday, August 18, 2005
Location: Hogwarts Library
Character: Hermione
Rating: Any Age
Complete

The scent of old books was comforting. They smelled of old parchment, worn and aged by history, a true testament to the lives they’d touched and years they’d aided hundreds of students. Hermione loved feeling worn parchment beneath her fingertips, turning pages she knew had been turned many times before her. It was an echo of what once was that she always enjoyed.

However, she knew there was nothing quite like opening a parcel and finding new books. Fresh off the presses, the pages white and the words crisp. She was the first person to ever read them, the spines unbroken and untouched. Any student who read them after would be following in her footsteps. She was the first one down the path of learning that the books had created to aid.

She had always loved books. From an early age, she’d found delight in school texts while her classmates treated the books as if they were worth nothing. They’d toss them around, drop them on the dirty ground, tear the pages. Hermione had always treated them well, knowing they were full of knowledge and that knowledge was important. While others thought she was crazy or just plain foolish to appreciate words written on paper, she didn’t care and had delighted in devouring every one she’d gotten her hands upon.

That love of books should have told her years ago what she should do with her life. She’d never considered it, though. There had been dreams of being a solicitor when she was a child or perhaps a doctor like her parents, though she’d wanted to help children instead of working with teeth.

When she’d gone to Hogwarts, she’d imagined a career at the Ministry making big changes and helping those in need gain acceptance or possibly work at St. Mungos. She’d even considered being a teacher for a short time before realizing that she liked far too many subjects to actually choose just on for a focus and apprenticeship. Then there had been the war and thoughts of possibly becoming an Auror had been at the forefront of her mind.

It wasn’t until the war was over that she’d given thought to an actual future. She’d hoped they’d win, had had full confidence in Harry, but she’d known that every day could be her last so it seemed a waste of time to focus on a future that might not even exist when she needed to research to help Harry. By the time Voldemort was dead, she knew she wanted nothing to do with being an Auror or a Mediwitch, having enough of both those things during the fighting that had occurred for well over a year after she’d left Hogwarts to help Harry find the last of the Horcruxes.

She’d missed her last year at Hogwarts and been unable to take her NEWTs, which had been a huge blow for her. It had limited her possibilities greatly and she’d really had no idea what she could do, though she’d thought of nothing else during those weeks she’d been in St. Mungos to recover from injuries she’d obtained during the final days of the war.

There had been no big final battle and Voldemort’s end had actually been rather anticlimactic considering all the battles they’d had to fight during the years leading up to his demise, but she’d suffered from several curses that had finally taken their toll and resulted in three weeks of observation at Mungos, which had given her far too much time to think.

Minerva was the one who had changed her life. Hermione had been eighteen without any idea what do with a life that she could suddenly actually make plans for when her former Head of House had visited her to make an offer. Madam Pince had been a casualty of war, as had many friends and acquaintances by the time it was all over, and that left a reopening Hogwarts without a librarian. The position wouldn’t require NEWTs and Minerva had been willing to give her a chance. She’d accepted and was now about to begin her seventh year as the librarian at Hogwarts.

Of course, she’d worked at night and on weekends to complete her studies and taken her NEWTs the following year, but she’d remained in a position she’d grown to love. Hermione lived at Hogwarts, visited Hogsmeade most weekends, and lived a quiet life that suited her well enough. She met Harry and Ron for lunch at least once a month and had several friends amongst the staff of Hogwarts. It was a nice life and she really had no complaints over all.

Today she had received her shipment of new books for the approaching school term. It was only a few weeks before the students arrived and the school was becoming active as preparations were made for the new school year. She’d received an owl just the other day from Neville, who was returning once again to teach Herbology, and she knew Kingsley would be back for another year as the Defense professor, making it his third year at the school. Hermione had taken a month during summer to leave the school, spending a week with her parents, a week with Harry and Pansy, one with Ron and Luna, and one with Ginny, returning just a few weeks ago, herself.

She finished emptying her box of texts before she sat down and began the process of preparing them for student use. She’d seen the list of students, their largest class yet since the school reopened, and was as excited about a new school year as she’d been while a student herself.

Rosmerta had even given her great gossip when she’d gone into Hogsmeade earlier in the week. She’d said several new businesses would be opening in town, which was wonderful news. Hogsmeade had suffered a large loss during an attack by Death Eaters and many businesses had never reopened. She was pleased, as were they all, to see the town beginning to rebuild and flourish once again. She was particularly excited about the rumor of a new ice cream store and possibly a bookstore.

Hermione sat back in her chair and looked around her library. In a few weeks, the empty tables would be full of students studying and researching. She could practically hear the whispers and excited chatter of students who had begun to use the library as a meeting place for study groups or simply just interacting with those in other houses, something that made her bite her tongue to stop from scolding them if they did happen to get a little loud at times.

As she sat there looking at her library, she realized that she felt even more excited about being back at Hogwarts than any other year. It was just something in the air, she guessed, a feeling of anticipation that had her eager for change and a new school term to begin. Hermione smiled as she went back to work. She just knew this was going to be a great year.
Chapter 2: Setting Up Shop by inell
Clever Mischief: Chapter 2: Setting Up Shop
Date: August 22nd, 2005
Location: Zonko's Joke Shop
Characters: Fred and George Weasley
Rating: Any age
Complete



"It's really quite different," Fred Weasley said, leaning against the counter. The wood, once red and shiny, was dull and cracked in a number of places. Dust reposed thickly upon the empty shelves and the stained floor.

George glanced at his twin. "What is?"

"Standing on this side of the counter." Fred waved around the echoing space. "We used to come in here when we were kids."

"And try to nick things."

"And we always failed. Zonko must have had eyes like old Alastor Moody."

George chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day he'd sell his business to us."

"Never thought I'd see the day Diagon Alley bit it."

Bit it wasn't the half of it. Death Eaters had decimated the magical corridor long before Harry had finally gotten rid of Voldemort, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes razed to the ground with all the rest. The twins had spent months at the Burrow, irritating their mother and entertaining everyone else who stopped by. The twins believed in keeping people happy no matter what the circumstances, no matter how dark their collective future looked. As long as you could laugh, they argued, you had a reason to keep on fighting.

And then threat was over and everyone set back to rebuilding. But Fred and George didn't want to rebuild their shop. They didn't want to watch as a once great part of their world was remade from rubble. Instead they volunteered their services to hunt down the remaining Death Eaters, vowing that this time none would slip through the Ministry's fingers. There would be no obsequious Malfoys buying their way into respectable society once again, no malicious MacNairs performing barbaric jobs with sadistic glee. Fred and George weren't heroes. They would never have made it through Auror training. But they were determined, willful, and damned near encyclopedic when it came to a working knowledge of practical potions and hexes.

And so the years went by and the Death Eaters were discovered and turned in one by one until at last the twins had retired to Canada. They settled into the West Coast wizarding scene there, doing absolutely nothing more than was necessary to keep them in food, clothes, and entertainment. They'd seen too much badness, they told themselves. They didn't want to live in a world haunted by memories of fallen friends and horrors witnessed that they still had nightmares about.

Buying the shop in Hogsmeade had been a spur of the moment decision, but they both believed it was a good one. George had still insisted on subscribing to the Daily Prophet while they were in British Columbia, and once a week the previous seven days' papers would arrive through their transatlantic Floo Network for them. When Fred had seen the advert for shop space in Hogsmeade he'd been intrigued. When George realised that the shop space belonged to Zonko, they'd looked at each other significantly. The Weasley twins knew a sign when they saw one. They'd packed up their life in Canada, said goodbye to their friends, had a last tumble with those they were on friendlier terms with, and headed back to England. Back home. They'd spent all summer squatting at the Burrow, rebuilding their stock from scratch and from memory. And now they stood in the shop, the keys old Zonko had handed over that morning in their possession at last. They had just enough time to refurbish the shop and restock its shelves before school began once more. Tall and lean, with red hair pulled into ponytails reminiscent of Bill's and a certain grimness underlying their easy expressions, the twins were twenty-seven now and undeniably grown up.

"It'll drive the professors spare, knowing we're right in their back garden," Fred said with a smirk, levitating the first stack of paint tins into the shop.

"Certainly. Especially since they haven't any idea we're back."

"Or even that the shop has been bought by those with Zonko's mission near and dear to their hearts."

"Pity Dumbledore isn't about, though," George said quietly. "I rather think he would have approved."

Fred saluted with his wand, for once not entirely joking. "Good man, Dumbledore," he said, unconsciously mimicking one of Hagrid's favourite phrases. "We should design a prank in his honour."

"He would have liked that."

"Excellent."

"D'you have anything in mind?"

"Don't I always?" Fred said in a wounded tone.

George laughed and cuffed him across the ear as he walked by. "Silly me. Scourgify."

Dust flew into the air and the twins choked simultaneously, sneezing and hacking as the grime from months of neglect exploded all around them.

"Mum makes this look so much easier," Fred wheezed, flapping his hand in front of his face.

"Open a window!" George gasped.

It took them the better part of the day to clear away the dust and repair the broken floorboards and shelves, preparing the shop for a thorough repainting in the morning. And then they would start to bring in their stock. Soon they would be ready for business once again, though in an entirely different place, with a new clientele of eager students sneaking down from Hogwarts.

Fred collapsed dramatically, sliding down one scrubbed-clean wall as he wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. "I quit! That's all a man can do in one day."

"Absolutely," George sighed, sitting down next to him.

"Tell me the shipment arrived from BC."

George cleared his throat and assumed his most-practiced Canadian accent. "A two-four each of clear, cold Keith's."

Fred laughed. "One thing I'll give Muggles- they know beer."

"And how."

"Come on then. Homeward bound." Fred sprang to his feet again, offering George his hand and hauling his twin to his feet.

George looked around once more. It was so strange being back after all this time. Back to England, back to Hogsmeade, back to the joke business. "It's really quite different," he said as he followed Fred out. "But I think it's going to work."
Chapter 3: All Work and No Play by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 3: All Work and No Play
Date: Thursday, August 25, 2005
Location: Hogwarts Library
Character: Hermione, Seamus
Rating: Any Age
Complete

“Now really, Miss Granger, I’m most disappointed in you! Did you not receive the memo or did you just decide to ignore it?”

The familiar Irish lilt disturbed the quiet of the library. Despite the disruption of silence, Hermione’s lips twisted into a welcoming smile as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked up from her book. She carefully schooled her features before she saw the mischievous blue gaze she knew awaited her and dryly asked, “And what memo would that have been, Mister Finnigan?”

“Tsk, tsk.” He clucked his tongue as he walked into the library with a purposeful gait she recognized all too well after five years. “What memo, she asks with that innocent tone that completely hides the wicked vixen within. You know very well what memo of which I speak, Miss Granger.”

“Tell me something, Mister Finnigan. Do you ever stop and actually listen to yourself speak?”

“Now why would I do something stupid like that?” He arched a sandy brow and smirked. “I make perfect sense to me so bugger anyone else.”

“Wicked vixen?” she repeated with a snort and roll of her eyes. “Have you been eating pure chocolate straight from the bowl again, Finnigan?”

“Oi, Hermione,” he gasped and clutched his heart before he practically fell on top of her desk, deliberately pushing her book away with his theatrics, “your words strike my heart as surely as poisoned arrows-” Seamus looked at her and his lips started to twitch. He finally started to laugh. “Okay, I can’t go on. This is too over the top - even for me. See what you do to me, Granger? You make me…dramatic!”

“So what’s your excuse for the other twenty years of your life?” She smiled as she shoved him off her desk. “Stop disrupting my desk, you dramatic prat.”

“If you keep being mean to me, I won’t give you your pressie,” he taunted as he opened a small square box to show her fresh chocolate covered cherries. “The chocolate is still waaaaarm.”

“I’m going to tell Ambrosius that you’re being evil and force him to revoke your chocolate privileges,” she warned as she looked from the chocolate to Seamus and back again. “You don’t play fair!” She stuck her tongue out at him before she snatched the box away. “You know my weakness for chocolate covered cherries.”

“Of course I do,” he said smugly. “Why do you think I brought them with me? Bribery is the only way to ever get any time with you once term starts. And that, my girl, brings us back to the memo.”

Hermione pursed her lips and opened her top desk drawer. She withdrew a piece of parchment and held it up. “This is your memo?” Before Seamus could reply, she adjusted her glasses and read, “’All work and no play makes Hermione a very dull bird. First, Finnigan, calling me a ‘bird’ is a definite indication that you wish to be hexed. I’m considering boils on your bum just because of the humor of watching you try to sit properly but your bribe may save you from that fate. Second, such silly distractions to my preparations for the new school term merely succeed in causing me to work longer hours to make up for the time it takes to read the silly missives in the first place. Third-”

“Oh please,” he groaned and shook his head, “don’t give me a third. Do you have any idea how annoying your blasted lists are, much less when you actually number them? It‘s another level of Hell, I‘m sure. Beyond Inferno rests ‘Hermione Granger‘s Endless Numbered Lists‘ and it‘s worse than purgatory, I’ll bet. You’re very fortunate that I adore you anyway and bring you chocolate.”

“Are they?” she asked innocently. There had been a time when Seamus’ antics had been an annoyance. While they were in school, she’d often found them bothersome and had never been particularly close with him. That had changed after the war, though, as had nearly everything. When Voldemort was gone, it seemed that nothing was really the same anymore. People were gone, familiar places were left in ruins, relationships had ended while others had just begun. Her friendship with Harry and Ron, by that point, had transcended mere friendship; the three of them were family regardless of parentage and blood.

Hermione watched Seamus roll his eyes and make a face at her before he stole one of her chocolates. There were many people in her life that she considered ‘friend’ that she’d honestly have never considered more than a passing acquaintance years ago. Other than Harry and Ron, she was closest with three men she’d barely known prior to the war. Well, she’d known Neville more than Seamus or Kingsley but they’d never been really close until he’d come to Hogwarts for an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. When she’d retired, Hermione was glad that he’d stayed on to fill the position. Kingsley was quiet, moody, and bluntly honest.

She’d actually been friends with Seamus longer than the other two. He was flirty, liked having fun, and needed her more than even Harry and Ron. He’d lost Dean in the war, an event that caused such sadness to fill his eyes when he didn’t think he was being observed that she couldn’t help but want to cuddle him and make things better. She understood what he felt, in a way, and she knew that understanding had helped bring them together as friends. They’d talked about Dean several times, usually when he was drunk and just needed to talk or cry or be hugged or often all three, and she knew that it had helped but there were still times, not so often as the years had passed, when she’d notice him grieving.

More often than not, when he felt melancholy or depressed, he’d put on a big smile, owl her some silly note, and then come visit her or insist she visit him at Honeydukes or his flat in Hogsmeade. When she’d received the owl from him early that morning, barely an hour after dawn, she’d known to get her work done early because Seamus needed a distraction and he enjoyed attempting to make her relax and have fun, which rarely ever worked but it did, at least, cheer him up.

A loud snap in front of her face caused her to blink and focus on Seamus. He was smiling but she saw the concern in his blue eyes. “You okay, Hermione? You drifted off there for a bit and didn’t even scold me for stealing a second piece of chocolate.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him before she glared playfully. “Don’t steal my chocolate, you git, or it won’t be considered a bribe since there won’t be any left!”

“I’ll just make you more,” he promised before he attempted to get another. He glared at her when she slapped his hand and gave her his best pout before he realized that wouldn’t work and tried the fluttering eyelashes. “Please? I need chocolate.”

“Why didn’t you bring a box for yourself, then?” she asked as she grudgingly handed over a chocolate covered cherry. “There. That’s it, though. The rest are mine and you owe me peanut butter fudge, Finnigan.”

“Hmph. I think you only keep me around for the free candy,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “The ability to make delicious confections is a talent that I should require from all of my friends.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Hermione Granger.”

“Yes, but I’m also the cruel woman with the rest of the chocolate,” she reminded as she held up one of the chocolate covered cherries and smirked.

“Did I say cruel? I meant generous and sharing.” He grinned as he held out his hand. “You know you finished your work ages ago. You’ve probably got things ready for students despite it being a couple more weeks before they get here. Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

Hermione tidied her desk and stood up. “We can stop by the kitchen on our way,” she decided as she took his hand and tucked the box of chocolates into the pocket of her robe. “I’m sure Dobby would help us make a picnic to take down to the lake.” She smiled at Seamus and bumped his hip with hers before they walked out of the library.
Chapter 4: A Modest Proposal by inell
Clever Mischief: Chapter 4: A Modest Proposal
Date: Friday, August 26, 2005
Location: The Three Broomsticks
Character: Fred, George, Madam Rosmerta
Rating: Any Age



"Another round, ducks?"

Fred and George Weasley shot Madam Rosmerta identical looks of pure adulation. "Would you, Madam R?" Fred asked.

"We'd be ever so appreciative," George added.

Rosmerta ran a hand through her mass of unkempt hair, summoning a tray laden with lager over. "Appreciative, eh? If I were a decade or two younger, I'd ask you just how appreciative either of you could be."

She winked at them playfully and Fred caught her hand with a laugh. "Dearest Rosie."

"Such a tease."

"Making our little hearts beat double time."

"Besides," George laughed, "you'd need our undivided attention and loyalty, wouldn't you?"

"And us? We have the attention spans of drunken diricawls."

Rosmerta patted them each on the cheek. "The marrying kind you're not, are you, boys?"

"Never," the twins said in unison, and then toasted each other.

She chuckled. "Surprised us all to see you back here after so many years. Just here for a visit, are you, or are you making more permanent plans?"

"As permanent as ever we get," Fred said, taking a sip of his lager.

"And might you be the reason behind the noise coming from old Zonko's place?" she asked shrewdly.

"You know we can't reveal trade secrets," George said, a gleam in his eye.

"The students will be thrilled," she laughed. "And then there are the professors."

"Rosie, don't tell any of the professors we're back," Fred pleaded. "We want it to be a wonderful, wonderful surprise for them when our products start flooding their unsullied halls." George snickered.

"So you've not been up to the school, then?" she asked, one hand on her hip. She wasn't making any promises as to what information she divulged and what she held onto. "But aren't some of your friends working up there?"

"Sure," George said breezily. Honestly, neither of them had any idea who was working at Hogwarts these days and who wasn't. "We'll head up as soon as we're open for business."

"And until then, we have a little proposal for you, Rosie," Fred said, fluttering his eyelashes.

"Do tell."

"We are-" George began.

"Homeless," Fred finished, his tone one of utter tragedy.

Rosmerta rolled her eyes. "Oh?"

"Mum tossed us out, the ungrateful old cat," Fred sulked.

"Too many explosions coming our room, she said," George explained.

"Wanted peace and quiet."

"As if our sunny dispositions and sterling conversation skills-"

"-not to mention our winning good looks-"

"-weren’t enough to make up for a few loud bangs."

"And the occasional puff of smoke."

"And bit of purple fire, here and there."

Rosmerta watched the conversation fly back and forth between the two of them, feeling as though she'd sampled the brew herself a bit too much tonight. The Weasley twins were dizzying.

"Can't you help us out, Rosie?" Fred asked at last.

"Is there a reason you boys didn't just come out and say 'we need to rent a room'?" she said with a dubious laugh. They were now entirely too innocent looking.

George drew a slow circle around his coaster with his finger, intensifying his angelic expression. "Just the tiniest problem, Rosie."

"We're having certain cash flow issues, you see," Fred put in.

"Ah," Rosmerta said, finally understanding. "You want a room but you don't want to pay me for it."

"We do want to pay you for it!" George protested.

"We just can't."

"Not yet, at any rate."

"Not until the business is up and running."

"But trust us, once we get going, money will not be an issue."

"You could put us in your worst room."

"A broom cupboard."

"A dustbin."

"An enlarged shoe."

She couldn't help but laugh and hold her hands up. "All right, all right!" she said, capitulating as much out of self-defense as anything else. "I will put you in my worst room next to the loo with the leaky roof. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," they responded together.

With an eyeroll, she made her way back across the pub to a group of angry goblins. What a night!

Fred and George smirked at each other. "A place to call home," Fred said, toasting his brother again.

"Temporarily," George agreed. "Until we can set up our own flat above the shop."

"So who do we think is working at the school, then?"

"Didn't we hear Oliver Wood had taken up the Quidditch coaching position?"

Fred grinned. "Oh, I hope so. Wouldn't it be great to take a little jaunt up for a pick-up game with the old captain?"

"It's been far too long since we played," George agreed.

"Who else? McGonagall still rules with an iron fist, doesn't she?"

"Of course. Mum would have told us if someone else had taken over."

"We should head up soon, then. Say hello."

"Drop a swamp in the middle of the Great Hall as a way of announcing that we're back."

"Unleash a quintaped on the Quidditch pitch."

"I do love how you think."

The twins settled back to finish their drinks, mischievous thoughts flitting through their mischievous brains. It was definitely good to be back.
Chapter 5: Maturity is Overrated by inell
Clever Mischief: Chapter 5: Maturity is Overrated
Date: Monday, August 29, 2005
Location: Hogwarts grounds
Character: Oliver, Fred, George, Hermione
Rating: Any Age



Oliver Wood bounced on the balls of his toes exuberantly, almost as if trying to get airborne even without the aid of a broom. "I was down the pub this morning and Rosie told me I'd be over the moon about the new proprietors in town."

"Incorrigible gossip," Fred laughed, not indicating entirely whether he meant Rosmerta or Oliver himself.

"Told us she'd keep it to herself," George put in.

Oliver shook his head. "She didn't name names. I thought maybe it was a new Quidditch shop. I need a new broom and it'd be perfect timing."

"You hear that Fred?" George asked, tone mortally offended. "He doesn't want us. Wants another ruddy Quidditch shop."

"One track mind, Ollie, that's you," Fred teased, leaning casually against the base of one of the spectator boxes.

"I was just going to nip back to my office," Oliver said, ignoring them. "Unless you want a little scramble?" His eyes shot upward, indicating the air above the Pitch.

"Don't have our brooms with us," Fred said sweetly.

"Else we'd take you up on that."

"And clean your clock while we were at it."

"You wish," Oliver shot back, and his voice was so reminiscent of when he'd been their fanatical and at times commanding Quidditch captain that both twins shivered. "I do this for living, ladies. And you couldn't take me on your best days."

George slung an arm around Oliver's shoulder. "Come on, mate. Let's go see your office. It gives you such respectability."

"And be sure to regale us about tales from Puddlemere and Wimbourne while you're at it," Fred said with an exaggerated sigh. "That way we'll be sure to sleep well tonight."

Oliver rolled his eyes and set off at a brisk pace toward Hogwarts proper, the twins following easily. It was eerie how little the castle and grounds had changed since the twins' tenure there. The Whomping Willow still swayed on the horizon with gentle menace, and a curl of smoke meandered skyward from the gameskeeper's hut. The Forbidden Forest hemmed them in on one side, the lake bracketing the other, its surface glassy and calm.

"It'll be a madhouse here in a couple days," Oliver commented idly. "Train arrives September 1st, just like always."

"Things really don't change, do they?" George asked.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Most of the staff is new. Minerva's still headmistress of course."

"She still as scary as ever?" Fred asked.

"Please," Oliver sniffed. "She is my colleague and my employer. She's even scarier."

The twins burst out laughing as Oliver opened the door of one of the many back entrances. Through a dimly lit corridor that made them squint after the intense late August sunshine, they made their way to the Quidditch coach's office. Oliver had plastered the place with posters and the zooming, discordantly coordinated movements of dozens of Quidditch teams made the walls look as though they were undulating. Fred grinned, though the costant motion+ it made George feel a bit sick.

"So. Any special ladies in your life, Ollie?" George asked as they settled themselves into comfortably smushy, mismatched armchairs.

"McGonagall?" Fred asked, staring at the tartan fabric covering the chairs.

Oliver shot him a confused look. "I'm not dating Miner- Oh. The chairs. Right. No, I got engaged to, um."

"Lovely girl, Um," Fred commented.

"Know her well," George agreed.

"Actually, you do," Oliver said, blushing furiously. "It's, well. You remember when Percy was dating Penny Clearwater, right?"

The twins did a double take. "You and Penelope Clearwater?" Fred said incredulously.

"Does Percy know?" George asked with an insidious smile.

"He does indeed, boys, so don't even think that breaking the news to him would be a fun thing to do."

Fred smiled sweetly. "Would we do a thing like that?"

Oliver didn't even dignify that with a response.

They chatted for a while about family and old friends until Oliver glanced at the battered grandfather clock in the corner. "Nearly dinner. You two want to join me in the great hall? It's just staff but-"

"No, no, no," the twins said at the same time, waving their hands before them.

"We're swearing you to silence, Oliver," Fred said in his sternest voice.

"The rest of the professors absolutely cannot know that we're back. We want them to be..."

"Surprised," they finished together, sharing a look.

Oliver shook his head. "That's just evil."

"Does Filch still work here?" George said sweetly.

Oliver nodded, covering his mouth as he started giggling in a most unprofessor-like way when the twins' smiles turned absolutely wicked. Oh, the problems they were going to cause Filch.

"What about Pince? Nothing like a good loud BANG in the library to shake things up a bit," Fred said.

"No, she died a few years back now," Oliver said, opening the door and ushering the twins out. "Hermione Granger took over from her."

Fred and George both paused and for once in their lives didn't exchange a swift, meaningful glance. Fred was caught up in a single, potent moment of memory. Hermione saying that their original Patented Daydream Charms really were extraordinary magic. He'd never told anyone, not even George- not even George!- that he'd found himself with something of a crush on the officious little swot that year. It had passed of course. Crushes always passed. Always.

George, meanwhile, was lost in a sudden reverie, images of Hermione Granger, bookish, bossy serial-studier, on the battlefield, hair whipping around her and looking for all the world like a seasoned hit wizard, backlit by killing green light.

Oliver glanced at both twins, surprised by their sudden and complete lack of banter. "Er. Well. This is my turn, lads," he said, nodding toward the entrance of the Great Hall. "You've got my word as a Gryffindor that I shan't tell a soul you're back."

Fred and George came back to themselves, laughing at Oliver's mock seriousness. "Better not," Fred admonished, wagging a finger at him.

"Enjoy dinner, Ollie dear," George said, sounding rather like Molly Weasley.

The twins waved their friend off and glanced at each other at last.

"You know," Fred said as casually as possible, "it might be fun to swing by the library."

"See if the eminent Miss Granger remembers us," George said thoughtfully.

"Maybe drop a batbomb in the Restricted Section."

"Oh, I like that. Have her cleaning bats out of the rafters for days to come."

"A good way of making certain she keeps on remembering us, to be sure."

With twin nods, they set off toward the library at an entirely slow and nonchalant pace, heads swiveling to keep an eye out for any passing teachers.

***

There was still so much to do to get ready for the first day of school. With Diagon Alley destroyed and no attempt to rebuild, as it had been with most towns hit hard during the war, the basic supplies for all students were sent to the library. It had been that way since the school reopened. That meant that Hermione had half of her library filled with large boxes until September 2.

Over the past couple of days, she'd sorted and organized most of the supplies. Luckily, Seamus had become quite good at sorting over the years he'd helped her with that huge task and she'd also had help this year from Neville and Kingsley, who had both dropped by at various times when they'd had a break in their own preparations for the school year.

The boxes were now organized alphabetically by house and year for the second through seventh years while the first years still had to be sorted alphabetically. She'd put standard charms on everything so she'd be able to call the necessary items to her upon the student's signature on the parchment and now only had a few minor things left to arrange before Thursday.

Her plan was to sort the first year supplies after dinner so she'd be able to spend tomorrow getting the stacks cleaned and in excellent shape for the students. She always skipped lunch and usually dinner the three days prior to the start of the year so Dobby had brought her a sandwich and pumpkin juice and left it on her desk shortly after noon. She considered finally stopping to eat now, as it was nearly dinner time, but she'd just found a box of 'Properties of Arithmancy' texts that had been misplaced and now had to sort them and find the correct boxes to group them in with the students' other supplies.

It was one time when magic could not take away the sheer time the task would take. She pulled her hair up into a messy pony tail, kicked off her shoes to get more comfortable, and leaned over to reach into the large box to find the student list for the text.

As she worked, the twins made their way through the castle with the ease of practiced pranksters. This was their turf after all, their training ground, and they could move as silently through this space as their own shadows. They slipped into the library with comfortable familiarity, whispering through the bookshelves until they came across its sole occupant.

The shoeless young woman was in her mid-twenties, with riotous hair and a quietly determined expression. Two things slammed into both Fred and George, though neither shared it with the other: Hermione Granger was somehow just the same and completely different than she'd been so many years ago, and she was beautiful. Beautiful in an unaffected, unintentional kind of way, beautiful in a "no I'm not, don't talk such rubbish!" manner.

Hermione huffed. Where was the bloody list? She planned to find out who had packed this box and send them a howler. They were expected to always put the student list and paperwork on the top of the books but it wasn't there. They obviously hadn't been paying attention or the list had slid between the books and the box.

Hermione cursed under her breath as she leaned over further to slide her hand down into the small gap. She reached with her fingertips to feel the parchment but couldn't feel it. If they'd put the parchment beneath the books, she was going to include a hex with that howler.

"Yes!" she murmured with a hint of triumph as she felt parchment finally. She bit her lip when she felt the parchment cut her forefinger but was able to get a good enough grip to pull it out.

Fred glanced at George just in time to miss the fact that he stared at her a bit too long and they exchanged a nod, splitting up and circling deftly around Hermione, moving from shelf to shelf on either side of her until they were standing behind her. They tiptoed ahead, completely silent until they were only a pace away and then leaned forward, one head near each of her ears. She'd just straightened up when she suddenly heard someone whisper.

"Hallo, love," Fred murmured.

"It's been ever so long," George added.

For a moment, she thought Seamus was teasing her but soon dismissed that notion as the voice wasn't at all like Shay's nor was it Kingsley or Neville. Warm breath against her other ear and a mention of it being too long. Two voices, so alike, whispered against her ear. With sudden clarity, she placed the voices.

She hadn't heard that the twins were back. She'd just had an owl from Ron on Monday and he'd not said a word about his brothers returning from North America. Hermione was a bit annoyed at there being knowledge she'd not received about people she'd considered friends for several years. It had been far too long since she'd seen them and, to be quite honest, she'd missed them.

"It's nice to know that those six and a half years at Hogwarts did teach you boys something, after all," she said as she unfolded her list and pretended to read it. "I never thought I'd see the day Fred and George Weasley were not only willingly visiting the library but also actually following the rules by keeping their voices in a whisper."

Identical grins crossed their faces.

"Barely a flinch in surprise," Fred said. "I'm impressed."

"And a witty comeback to boot," George pointed out.

"What can we say, Hermione?"

"We've changed."

"Repented."

"We'll never break another rule again."

At the top of his lungs, Fred bellowed, "NOT EVER!"

"You've obviously changed quite a bit," she said smoothly, a smirk crossing her lips as Fred, she was certain it was Fred on her left, yelled into the silent library. "After all, I sincerely doubt many men your age behave like first years. I'd imagine there must a lot of de-evolution to achieve that feat."

She licked her finger and primly turned the page of the booklet that had accompanied her books. She didn't look at either of them as she perused the list. "Breaking a rule somehow loses its affect if it is merely done for theatrical reasons, Fred," she mused thoughtfully.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling as she slipped easily into the banter that had become a comfort during the latter months of the war. She wanted to put down the list and take a good look at them as it had been five years, at least, since she'd last seen them. There were questions she wanted to ask, too. Were they visiting? Why were they at Hogwarts? Were they staying in Britain or going back to Canada?

Instead, she offered helpfully, "It is far more daring if it happens spontaneously and is not simply intended as an attention-seeking device. If you're having issues with craving attention, Fred, I'm certain I've seen a book around here that you might find beneficial. Although, I do not, of course, encourage the breaking of rules as they are made for a reason."

George laughed in utter delight. Hermione Granger was all grown up and she could definitely take care of herself. "Yeah, Fred," he said. "You should really stop acting like an infant. I'm the mature one," he told Hermione with a wink.

"Are not," Fred pouted.

"Am too. Tell him, Hermione. I always have been."

"Just because you're two bloody minutes older-"

"Three and a half, thank you-"

"Doesn't mean I'm not just as adult as you." Fred leaned in close to Hermione. "Come on, love, tell us what you think. Been a few years since you saw us last, you'll be able to tell better."

George rolled his eyes. "And while you're at it, tell us what you've been up to. Been quite a while, and last time we were all in the same room, I don't think Hogwarts librarian was on your agenda."

"Though I suppose being illegal aliens in Canada wasn't really on ours, either."

Listening to them took her back several years, to a time before war became reality. There had been so many nights when she had sat in the common room reading by the fire and listened to the twins volley back and forth over everything from homework to chess to Quidditch.

It hadn't been until sixth year, after they were gone, that she'd realized how much they'd become a part of her environment. During the months of the war when she, Harry, and Ron had been at Godric's Hollow, Fred and George had again become a familiar part of her life, even if mostly on the peripheral.

Hermione finally put down her list and smiled as she looked up. She carefully concealed her reaction to their appearance, as that was something that had certainly changed since she'd last seen them. Their hair was longer than she'd ever seen it and complimented the angles and length of their faces extremely well. They were still so very tall and lean, shoulders broad and arms developed in a way that caused her gaze to linger for nearly a moment too long.

It wasn't just physical, however. She really couldn't care less how they looked. They'd always been attractive, after all, so that wasn't a change, though the hair did actually make them more appealing if you happened to like that sort of thing, which, judging from her slight reaction to said hair, Hermione did. No, it wasn't their looks that had changed, really. It was something she couldn't quite place, which she found rather annoying. In the end, she knew it was most likely war that had changed them, as it had everyone who participated and survived, and the years since as they'd lived lives she knew nothing about.

"As the definition of mature is 'to reach full development, either mental or physical', I refuse to choose one or the other as it fits neither of you. Theoretically speaking, I don't think anyone actually reaches true maturity ever because we learn every day so life, in itself, is a constant growth process and full development is never reached," she declared. "However, I will say that it would not be an issue that could be decided based on the behavior I've witnessed this afternoon so I'd need far more evidence to make such a determination. Maturity is highly overrated, though, so I don't foresee a true need for continued observation in that regard."

Fred laughed, nudging her with his elbow. "What you say makes sense. Can hardly tell if we're more mature than we once were during one little afternoon. We'll have to make a point of showing up here more often."

George looked at Fred surreptitiously. Since when would he volunteer them to haunt the library to prove his maturity of all things to Hermione Granger? Still, George wasn't about to contradict him. He was... intrigued by the young woman before him. Hermione reminded him of the girl he'd known all those years ago at Godric's Hollow but she'd changed too. She was tougher, maybe. Not as easy to stir up.

" I think I'd like you to put that in writing as I think it's the first time in the fourteen years that I've known you both when you said I made sense. Now if you'd only admit that I'm always right, I can finally sleep well at night. And you want to show up here more often? So you are back to stay then. If you were simply visiting while on holiday, you'd not make such a firm statement," she mused thoughtfully as she looked from Fred to George, trying to decide what they were hiding.

They hadn't decided beforehand if they were going to tell her they were back for good, so Fred decided that distraction was the best technique for answering. "I'm not sure if I agree with you about maturity, love," he said, flexing a lean but well developed bicep at her. "I rather think we're physically developed, at any rate."

"Do try not to scare the lady, Fred," George laughed, a rakish smile turning his lips upward as he smoothed a hand over his hair, pulled into a loose ponytail just like Fred's.

Hermione allowed her gaze to move over Fred's bicep and Fred grinned, flattered. While she had to admit that their bodies were easily worthy of a second glance, she had no intention of telling them that. Instead, she yawned theatrically and shrugged. "At least you're both no longer so skinny that a strong wind might knock you over," she finally relented with a mischievous smirk. With a wry smile, she remembered, "I think the last time we were all in the same room, George, the only thing on my agenda was getting out of St. Mungos. I can't believe it's been that long. Ron told me you'd moved to Canada, but I didn't know you were back. Just visiting or back to stay?"

George opted for evasive tactics as well and pointed at his left eyebrow, where a scar scythed through it, a crescent that curved from the middle of the brow down toward his eye, stopping dangerously close to the eyeball. "Easier for you to tell us apart now, yeah? Though you always could, couldn't you?"

"I noticed that," she told George softly. She reached over and gently brushed her thumb over the scar. "That wasn't there when the war ended so I assume it was obtained afterward."

"No, it's newer than the war. You know we spent a bit of time helping with clean up," George smiled at her, surprised by the cool brush of fingers. He didn't bother to mention just how much death and pain had been involved in that "clean up".

"Clean up. Right," she echoed quietly. She knew what 'clean up' had basically consisted of and had a good idea what the twins had spent that time doing. She shuddered slightly as she recalled those darkest days during the war, when she'd hardly slept at night and it had been a struggle to maintain the confident optimism and strength that Harry and Ron had needed from her. She didn't ask for the details. Neither Fred nor George were likely to share anything overly personal with her despite the friendship they'd developed during the last months of the war. If they wanted her to know, they'd tell her. If not, it wouldn't matter if she asked a dozen times, they'd never say a word. Besides, why would they share with others when they'd always had each other?

"Yeah, that's always been really annoying, Granger. When no one else could tell us apart, not even Lee or Mum or Ollie." Fred looked thoughtful as he sat down on a table next to Hermione.

"It was never difficult to tell you apart," she said as she dropped her hand and moved to lean against the table too. She looked from one to the other. "You're not identical, after all. Oh, you may be physically, or were before that scar, but I always knew the difference somehow. Still do, actually, scar or no scar."

"Though of course," Fred said, leaning forward and passing his hand over George's face, murmuring a word softly. The scar disappeared. "It can be hidden with a small glamour should we have need of being physically identical at any time."

"Or," George added, mirroring the motion over Fred's face and whispering a word of his own, "we can do it this way." Now Fred seemed to sport a scar through his own eyebrow. With a grin, they dissolved the faa33;ade, and it looked as though the scar leapt from Fred's face to George's.

Hermione smiled as they displayed their charms skills. "It's nice to see you paid attention in at least one of your classes," she observed dryly. "You two were always excellent at charms, though. You know, I rather envied your natural ability in that class when I was younger."

Had the twins been the blushy type, they'd probably have blushed at that. As it was, they hid their identical shock that she'd been envious of their scholastic skills behind amused expressions instead. George changed the subject, deciding that a certain amount of information was all right to impart to her. He didn't want her knowing they were back for good yet. It would be easier to sneak their products in if none of the teachers were watching the students vigilantly for pranks and gags. "We were just down visiting Oliver," he said.

"Yeah," said Fred, cottoning on. "Haven't seen him ages."

George's words actually made her smile fade slightly. She had missed them over the past far too many years and it was enjoyable to banter with them once again. To know it was just a one time visit was rather disappointing. She nodded. "Of course. You were visiting Oliver. I'd forgotten you lot were friends while he was at Hogwarts. Did you enjoy your visit?"

"Yeah, it was good to see Ollie. We'd heard he was slaving away here," Fred laughed. "We've been... out of touch. Didn't know who worked here and who didn't."

"Yes, Oliver has been here for a few years. He's taken over as Gryffindor Head of House, if you can imagine that. It surprises me that he doesn't force them to wake at dawn for two hours of flying every day, but I suppose he saves that for his Quidditch players," she said with a laugh. "There are still some familiar faces from our schooldays here, but a lot of the staff is new. We lost several people during the war and a few retired after surviving. I'm not sure who you might know." She grew thoughtful and then smiled. "Oh, Neville is teaching here now. He's been the Herbology professor for the past few years. Kingsley has broken the Dark Arts curse, as well. He's back again this year."

George grinned. "Oliver caught us up on all the gossip."

"Who's wearing what, who's shagging whom."

She snorted. "Oliver a gossip? Surely you jest," she said sarcastically. "It's fortunate for him that no one would ever guess he gossips more than any third year girls. And as to clothing, I imagine that was a brief conversation," she declared with a laugh. "Everyone is wearing school robes except on weekends when some of them get daring and wear casual clothing."

The twins exchanged a grin. They hadn't actually asked him about the latest fashions. "Please, everyone knows that Oliver's the biggest gossip around," Fred said with a snicker.

"Used to hide it well enough behind ardent and at times pathological Quidditch fanaticism, but he always was."

"Used to drive Percy mad, you know."

"Made him even more secretive than having us as brothers had already done."

George said, "He told us all the news. We didn't even know you were here 'til he mentioned it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm still undetermined whether or not I'm glad he mentioned I was working here," she teased as she smiled at them. "Seriously, I'm glad you've stopped by to say hello. It's been far too long."

Fred leaned to the side and nudged Hermione in the ribs with his elbow. "Now, now, play nicely. Of course you're beyond thrilled to see us. Who wouldn't be?"

"Filch, perhaps," George suggested.

"Mrs Norris," Fred agreed.

"Is that manky little psychokitty still about the place? Possessed thing."

"Stop fishing for compliments, Fred," Hermione said as she nudged him back with her elbow. "And she is not a psychokitty," she defended automatically. "She's just a bit misunderstood. Since Crookshanks died a few years ago, she's taken to coming in here when I work late to keep me company. She's actually quite sweet beneath that gruff and hissing exterior. She always knows when I'm feeling lonely, it seems, and curls up by my feet."

"Just making sure you meant it," Fred said with a wink.

"She is too a psychokitty," George sniffed. "Took a piece out of my calf in third year. I was just a wee young thing, innocent as the purest of... lambs. Or..."

"Doves," Fred supplied helpfully.

"Doves, thank you," George said with a nod. "And for no reason she swiped her evil little kitty claws through my robes and sunk them into my flesh."

"Did the same to me in fourth year, only she jumped off a statue and attacked my shoulder," Fred added.

"Oh, I'm sure she had no reason at all," Hermione drawled. "She just attacks random innocent students for fun. I can't believe I was ever fooled by her deceptively sweet behavior around me when she's really a sneaky evil kitty."

"At any rate, after Ollie mentioned you, we simply couldn't resist popping by to see our dear comrade-in-arms. Even if it meant avoiding the psychokitty in the hallways." Fred flicked his wand and plucked a single yellow rose out of the air. George laughed and wound his wand in a complicated little way until a black satin ribbon appeared and tied itself elaborately around the stem of the rose.

"And it was lovely to see you, Miss Granger," George said.

"Or should we say Madam Granger now?" Fred said, batting his eyelashes sweetly at her.

"Yes, Madam Granger is my formal title." She took the rose from them and gave it a skeptical look before she determined it was safe. "Thank you," she said with a real smile as she touched the rose petals. "It's lovely. I can't recall the last time I've been given a flower."

The twins exchanged a glance at her comment about the flower, making mental notes of it. Information was always a good thing to have stored away. One never knew when it might be advantageous.

"If I'd been aware that you were on holiday and planned to visit Oliver, I'd have even bought you both a drink down in Hogsmeade. As it is now, I've still got to sort this box of books and then organize the first years' supplies. Since Diagon Alley...well, we get the basic supplies for all students here now. There is a shop or two down in Hogsmeade with some items that are more class specific, but the majority of supplies they'll need are sent to me here," she explained as she stretched and rubbed the back of her neck. "I've been organizing and sorting everything for several days now, but the end is finally in sight."

Fred fished into the open box closest to him, immediately curious. "What's in here?"

"That's a box of Arithmancy texts that were put in the wrong place," she said with a wry smile. "I thought I had all the supplies for years two through seven sorted and then I found this box. Now I have to check the list and put them in the right students' supply area, which means I'll be working most of the evening."

She was reluctant to tell them she had work to do, uncertain if it would be another seven years before she'd see them again. "I suppose I'd better get back to work. Dobby brought me that sandwich for lunch and here it is dinner."

She finally stood up and hugged Fred and then turned and hugged George. "It was nice seeing you both. I'm glad you decided to stop by and say hello after your visit with Oliver." She smiled as she picked up the list and went back to the box. "If you happen to find yourselves back up this way before you go home, let me know and maybe we can have that drink. I'd tell you both to stay out of trouble but I doubt that's possible so I won't bother with the warning."

Fred blinked, surprised that he was suddenly enveloped in a hug, but it was over before it started and he'd barely wrapped his arms back around her before she'd moved on to George. George was equally startled but returned the embrace a little more fully.

"Yeah, it was good to see you too," Fred said.

"I'm sure this isn't the last you'll hear from us," George said with a wink. Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes.

They began to stroll out of the library when Fred leaned over and whispered to George. George whispered back, and they turned again toward Hermione. Swishing their wands and muttering a complex incantation at the same time, twin jets of crackling blue light careened into the box of Arithmancy texts, sending them flying into the air in a whirling chaos of flapping pages. The sudden flash of blue light caused her to close her eyes and step back. Her pulse was racing as she had visions of an orange light hitting her and heat spreading over her chest. The twins didn't notice, though. They both bowed low to the ground, nearly doubling over completely, and then fled the library at a dead run.

It took her a moment to notice the twins fleeing the library with their long hair flying out behind them. The air was full of textbooks and she cursed them both as she ran a hand over her face as she tried to collect herself.

Thankfully, their spell didn't last long. She was relieved to see the books go back towards the box. Before they got there, however, they suddenly moved into various stacks and other boxes while she stood there wondering what the bloody hell they'd done. She walked to the nearest box and found a copy of the Arithmancy text near the top. The name of the student was familiar and she frowned as she reached for the list. There it was, at the top.

She checked several more names on the list and slowly shook her head. She laughed softly as she looked at the door they'd run out of, torn between curiosity of what charm they'd used and admiration for them knowing one she hadn't known. The list was put away and she found herself looking at the closed door with a smile on her lips. She really hoped she'd have the chance to tell them thank you.
Chapter 6: The Welcoming Feast by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 6: The Welcoming Feast
Date: Thursday, September 1, 2005
Location: Great Hall
Character: Hermione, Kingsley, Neville
Rating: Any Age

There were more students this year than any other since Hogwarts reopened six years ago. The Great Hall was crowded, full of laughter and conversation. The last of the students had just been sorted and now everyone was eating and talking to new and current classmates.

Hermione was seated at the back of the hall. Normally, she’d sit at the front with the professors, but she never did for the welcoming feast. Tradition stated that only professors should be seated at the main table and, well, she wasn’t a professor. It was a tradition she didn’t mind overlooking the majority of the time. For the welcoming feast, however, she liked to follow the old ways that she’d read about during her multitude of readings of Hogwarts: A History.

Besides, it had been a busy week and tomorrow would be the busiest day of the year for the library so she liked having the opportunity to eat quietly without having students stare at her. She hated the attention she received simply because of her name. She was proud of her actions during the war and the support she’d given Harry in his fight against Voldemort, but she couldn’t stand the notoriety that being Harry Potter’s best friend seemed to bring.

Thankfully, the interest in all three of them had faded over the years. Once the press realized that they were living normal lives and had no interest in interviews or photographs, they’d found a new flavor of the month. Harry still had problems and always would, but he’d gotten accustomed to the attention and tried to ignore it. Ron had welcomed it, at first. However, he’d quickly grown tired of it all and now loved his quiet life with Luna. She’d been fortunate to go almost directly from St. Mungos to Hogwarts. There’d been very little written about her after the war.

There had been enough, though, that people knew her name and most recognized her face. The new students would usually come by the library a lot for the first week. Then they’d realize she was just a boring librarian and not some daring heroine like the papers had often made her out to be in various articles in the Daily Prophet. Since she really hated when people stared at her, especially when they added whispering and, more often than not, disappointed sighs, she was always glad after the initial ‘she helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort’ awe faded.

For the first meal of the school term, she was eating roast beef, peas, and potatoes. The food was delicious but she never had much of an appetite the first day of school. More often than not, she felt as nervous and excited as she had her very first day at Hogwarts so many years ago. During the entire sorting ceremony, she could feel butterflies in her tummy and remember her fear and anxiety when the hat had first been placed on her head fourteen years ago.

The sorting hat had been the first person, not that you could really call it a person, who had seen more to her than simply books and intelligence. She’d desperately wanted to be in Gryffindor because she wanted to be brave and wanted to be more than just the annoying know-it-all she’d always been in primary school. Before she’d gone to Hogwarts, she’d read about all four houses and had worried she’d simply be put in Ravenclaw without hesitation. While she would never speak against any house, even Slytherin, she’d wanted more than just being the quiet bookworm with no friends.

It had taken others longer to see what the hat must have seen that first night. For months, she’d felt just as she had in Muggle school. No one spoke to her, no one wanted to be her friend, and they made snide comments about the fact that she actually listened in class and studied. Before Ron and Harry had grudgingly, at first, become her friends, she’d often hid in the library or studied around the school in quiet places where people would leave her alone.

She didn’t fail to see how easily she tended to slip back into that behavior even now. When she felt nervous or awkward, she tended to lurk in shadows or hide. Seamus usually forced her to stop hiding. Kingsley and Neville, however, tended to hide with her. Perhaps that’s why she got on so well with them both. She glanced at the head table and saw that Neville was talking to Oliver. Well, Oliver was talking and Neville was nodding occasionally. If Oliver’s hand gestures were anything to go by, he was talking about Quidditch. Again. Poor Neville, she thought with a slight quirk of her lips.

Her gaze scanned the length of the table until she found Kingsley. She did grin when she saw that he’d seated himself with no one on his left and Sybill on his right. Sybill was talking on and on, still completely oblivious after two years that he probably couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Dark eyes looked up and caught her stare. She winked at him and he glowered at her across the distance of the great hall. He looked to his right and then back at her before he quickly made a face that was so fleeting most would have missed it. She giggled and picked up her glass of pumpkin juice to conceal the fact that she was laughing at seemingly nothing.

If she kept that up, the students would decide she was a dotty old spinster who heard voices and wouldn’t care that she was only twenty-five. True, if she kept going in the way she was headed, she would be a dotty old spinster in a few more decades, but that didn’t mean she wanted them thinking she was daft. Hermione focused on her food and began to eat while she mentally planned the rest of things she needed to do before bed and what had to be done in the morning.

After Fred and George had assisted her by charming the Arithmancy books into their proper places, she’d been able to finish all the first year supply sorting sooner than anticipated. She really had more done tonight than she had during the previous years. There was normally a few last minute things she somewhat deliberately left to be done after the welcoming feast so she’d be tired enough to sleep soundly. Tonight, there was only reviewing the lists and ensuring that nothing had been misplaced.

She considered owling them a brief note to scold them for playing such a prank before thanking them for the help, but they could very well be back in Canada by now. There was a chance they’d stop in to say good-bye since they’d taken the time to see her after their visit with Oliver, but she’d never dare to predict what they might do. When she’d asked Oliver if he knew if the twins would be back to see him before they left Britain, he’d choked on his milk and just gaped at her before he’d quickly stammered that he had no idea and changed the subject to Quidditch, which was a surefire way to get her to leave him alone.

“The roast is already dead,” a deep voice said quietly from behind her.

“I like to make sure,” she said as she looked up and gave him a serious look. “You never know if the roast will suddenly sit up and attack.”

He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at her plate. “I’d be more afraid of those potatoes if I were you,” he told her in a hushed whisper.

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’ve mashed them already so I assume that means I’m safe,” she declared before she scooted down to give him enough room to sit down. She watched as Kingsley carefully sat down and then she took his cane to rest against the free bench beside her as she had more room than he did at that end. He put down a bowl of pudding and she grinned. “You even brought dessert. I knew you were my favorite Darts Art professor for a reason.”

“Touch it and I’ll hex you, Granger,” he grumbled as he pulled the bowl towards him and gave her a warning look. “I know hexes that even you wouldn’t know, young lady. The pudding is the best part of these bloody meals.”

“You don’t enjoy the sorting ceremony?” she asked with a hint of amusement as she tucked in to her meal.

“Hmph,” he grunted and gave her a look that suggested she might want to check her head for fluffy bunny ears for even daring to suggest he might enjoy something as silly as a sorting ceremony. “How are your preparations for the students coming along?”

“I’m actually slightly ahead,” she admitted after she finished a bite of roast. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and smiled. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that I won’t be triple checking everything before I retire for the evening, but it’s rather nice knowing things are caught up. I couldn’t have done it without the help of my friends, though, so thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said firmly as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “And I mean that. Don’t. I do not require a thank you for helping a friend, especially one who has helped me quite a bit.”

“Don’t mention what?” she asked with an easy smile.

“I hate Quidditch.”

Hermione looked up and watched Neville sit across from them and run his fingers through his hair. “Here, have some pudding,” she offered as she pushed Kingsley’s bowl of pudding towards Neville. Before Kingsley could voice his objection, she requested another bowl for each of them.

“He doesn’t shut up,” Neville muttered as he gave them a pained expression. “I don’t care what Quaffle or Bludger hit which player during his first year with Puddlemere. I don‘t even ride a broom.”

“Stop whining. You’re ruining my dessert,” Kingsley complained as he glared at Neville.

Instead of simply smirking and ignoring Kingsley’s grousing, Neville flushed and looked as if he was about to apologize. Hermione kicked him under the table and shook her head once. Kingsley hated apologies unless they actually meant something and there were very few events that he deemed worth wasting words to say ‘I’m sorry’.

“Are you both ready for tomorrow?” she asked her friends. Neville shook off Kingsley’s growling and began to excitedly tell them about his plans for this term. Kingsley spoke quietly and added his own plans to Neville’s in between bites of his pudding. She listened to them, to the laughter and conversation at the tables around them, and smiled as she began to eat her pudding.
Chapter 7: The Advantage of Surprise by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 7: The Advantage of Surprise
Date: Friday, September 2, 2005
Location: Three Broomsticks, Secret Passage, Hogwarts Castle
Character: Fred, George, Peeves
Rating: Any Age



"I don't know if this is such a good idea."

Fred turned to stare at his twin incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"This," George said vaguely, waving his hand at the large crimson banner between them, the colour of its shining letters constantly undulating and altering itself so that the banner was a tumult of ever-changing colour.

"The banner? The shop? The move back to England?" Fred asked, leaning against the counter and looking aghast.

"The grand opening," George clarified.

"Ah," Fred said with a knowing nod. "Had it been the shop or the move back to England, I'm afraid I'd have had to murder you quite painfully."

"Nonsense," George laughed. "What would you do without the brains of the operation?"

"The brains? The brains?"

"That's right."

"What the hell am I, then?"

George shrugged. "The lackey?"

"The brawn, more like," Fred said, flexing his biceps.

George rolled his eyes. "Could you not point those things at me?"

Fred grinned. "What on earth is your problem with the grand opening? Not enough confetti?"

George nearly choked. Fred, after all, had order ninety-five pounds of glittering, multicoloured confetti that just happened to stain clothing and skin. "Trust me, it's not that."

"Our stock is ready," Fred said, trying to sound patient.

"Yes."

"The store is exactly, exactly, exactly the way we want it."

"I agree- it's perfect."

"What, then?" Fred asked, exasperated.

"I don't think we should lose the advantage of surprise."

Fred shot him an incredulous look. "Huh?"

"The teachers. Filch. They haven't a clue we're here yet." An evil grin split George's face. "Wouldn't it be better to get our products into the school first and confuse the hell out of them before they hear we're in town and ban the little buggers from visiting our shop on Hogsmeade weekends?"

The grin that spread across Fred's face matched George's in its evilness. "You're a genius."

"I told you I was the brains of the operation."

"Well, Brains, just what did you have in mind?"

~*~

"I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?" Fred scowled. His face was covered in a fine layer of grime. His eyes were stinging from thousands of tiny rock particles that hung suspended in the air. His muscles ached.

"You do not," George said dismissively, frowning at the solid barrier in front of them.

Fred looked at his bleeding hands. "I'm quite certain I do."

"Shut it a moment."

Fred stuck his tongue out, but George ignored him as they looked over the mountain of rock in front of them. The only way, they had reasoned, to get their products into Hogwarts without any of the staff finding out that they were back in business, was to bring the products into Hogwarts themselves. And who knew the secrets of the castle better than the Weasley twins? Well, Ron and his friends, maybe. Harry. And Hermione Granger.

"Look, you know we can't use Honeyduke's," George reasoned as he sat down on the cold rock floor, Fred following suit. "It'd be a bit suspect, two of us disappearing into their cellar all the time."

"I don't see why we can't make it through the Shrieking Shack," Fred said. "Ron told us how to immobilize the Whomping Willow."

"I don't fancy sneaking across the grounds for everyone to see, arms full of packages," George said patiently. "Unlike Mister Potter, we haven't an invisibility cloak in our possession."

"We bloody well should."

"Yes, well."

"What about through the-"

"We're not swimming through the underground passages from the lake."

Fred sighed, shoving his sweaty, filthy fringe out of his eyes. "So this is our only choice."

"If we want to peddle our wares directly to the students? Yeah."

They were silent for a moment, the stone passageway lit by Fred's wand, cool blue light flickering across their faces and casting distorted, twisting shadows on the walls. "Just have to keep blasting at it then, I expect," Fred said after a time, looking at the blockage.

"Just have to," George agreed. He shoved himself off the floor, offering a hand to his brother and pulling him up as well. "You know, we should owl Harry, see if he still has our map."

"Not like he needs a map of Hogwarts these days, is it?" Fred said thoughtfully.

"Much easier for us to evade The Man with it, that's certain."

"Oliver better not have said anything about us being back," Fred said, aiming his wand and starting the loosening charm again, trying to make the rubble in front of him budge. It seemed quite bent on staying precisely where it was.

"He promised he wouldn't," George said, focusing a more concentrated attack on the top lefthand corner of the blockage. "Solvum! Solvum!"

"I wonder if Hermione said anything," Fred said. He winced slightly at the odd strain in his tone. He hadn't been expecting to see her that day, after all. And really, it wasn't as though he still had... not feelings, no. Once there had been a crush, just a small one. Hermione smiling up at him, looking almost perplexed as she complimented them on the daydream charms... God, that'd been so long ago. They'd all been so much younger.

At any rate, the war had moved him on, if nothing else had. And there'd been other women since. He just hadn't expected to see her there at Hogwarts, hard at work in the library and looking so determined and casual and lovely all at once. He swore under his breath.

"Not budging?" George asked, hearing the muttered curse.

"Huh? No. Not at all."

George chuckled. "Keep at it, brother. We shall prevail. Just think about what's on the other side- unlimited access to Hogwarts, day or night, and a captive audience for every trick in our admittedly large repertoire."

"Do you think Peeves is still there?" Fred asked, deciding to direct the conversation away from strangely persistent thoughts of the librarian with the distinctive hair.

"Hope old McGonagall hasn't exorcised him," George said with a laugh. "Really, he's almost an ally, isn't he?"

"Except for when he decides to pelt you with eel scales," Fred agreed.

"Or chuck opened ink bottles at you."

"Or make you slip on jellied squid excretions."

"Actually, I could do without meeting up with him again."

"Too right."

~*~

They almost met up with Peeves after all that night, just after nine. It had taken the better part of six hours to get through the caved in tunnel, and another two to rebuild the rock ceiling and reinforce it so that it wouldn't collapse again.

They returned to their room at the Three Broomsticks- truly the worst one in the establishment, just as Madam Rosemerta had promised- cleaned themselves up, and then made a pit stop at the shop. They loaded themselves down with price lists and catalogues, along with samples of their most beloved products, as well as some of their newer ideas. And then back through the tunnel and into Hogwarts proper.

They hustled from shadow to shadow, avoiding the torches bracketed to the great stone walls and the moonlight streaming in through the windows, doing their best not to make a sound.

"How are we going to get in?" Fred mouthed. "No password."

"Must be Quidditch related," George whispered back. "If Oliver's setting it."

"Predictable little bugger. Good point."

Around the corner along the quickest route to Gryffindor Tower, they heard an unmistakable cackle.

"Naughty, naughty Natey Jones
Wicked to his very bones
Smashed the windows with some stones
Hes going to be caught by McGonagall's drones!"

"Peeves! Shut up!" a small voice cried desperately.

"Naughty, naughty, little Nate," Peeves crowed. "Going to be expelled, I expect. Expect expulsion, old Peevsie does. Shall I call Mr Filch for you?"

"Don't! I didn't mean to- It was an accident!"

"You broke Hogwarts! Broke the castle, down it falls!"

Fred and George exchanged a look. Poor kid. Reaching into one of his bags, Fred withdrew an Insta-Flare and chucked it as hard as he could into the hallway. It sailed passed Peeves' ear, spinning his orange bowler around on his head and smashing into the wall in a shower of flame-retardant sparks. Peeves twisted around, distracted by the light and hissing at the insulting attack upon his person, and the twins took the opportunity to dash into the hall, snatch the kid, and bundle him out of sight. They didn't stop running until they were halfway to Gryffindor Tower.

The boy, who looked to be in his third or fourth year and most certainly out of bounds at this time of night, stared at them wide-eyed. "Thanks!"

"Any time," Fred said with a grin. "What'd you do?"

"I was trying to knock Peeves out of the air," the boy said with quiet but amused determination. "He keeps making fun of how short I am. But he caused my rocks to go wide and they broke a window."

"Ouch," George said sympathetically. "Look, lead on to your common room and maybe we can help you out with Peeves."

The boy was looking between the two of them, realisation dawning in his eyes. "I know who you are! You're the Weasley twins! You're bloody legends in my house!"

The twins exchanged pleased grins. "Gryffindor, are you?" asked George.

"Legends, you say?" asked Fred.

"The things you've done! The swamp that took up the entire fifth floor! The time you tamed that rabid hippogriff!"

Both twins were mightily pleased that they had such excellent poker faces. Apparently stories of their past exploits truly had grown into legend over the years. "That's us," Fred said.

"In the flesh," George added, sketching a showy bow.

"I'm Nathan Jones," the boy said. "C'mon, then. Hey, can you tell me about the time you flushed that ghost down the toilet and she ended up at the bottom of the lake all winter?"

The twins enjoyed exaggerating their various pranks in hushed voices until they reached the Fat Lady. She eyed them both with barely disguised interest. "You two look familiar."

"Returning students," Fred said.

"Just found out we never passed Potions," George explained.

"Wronski feint!" Nathan chirped, and the portrait swung open. George sent Fred a 'what'd I tell you?' look and they clambered through the portrait hole and into the inviting, familiar warmth of the Gryffindor common room. A babble of voices greeted them, though the din gradually dropped off as the children realised that something was up.

"Hello, hello, hello," Fred said, beaming at the curious students.

George pulled out a Headless Hat and popped it on, his entire head disappearing. The students gasped.

Ah yes, Fred thought, knowing that George would be thinking the same, this was definitely going to work.
Chapter 8: Are You Stalking Me? by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 8: Are You Stalking Me?
Date: Saturday, September 3, 2005
Location: Three Broomsticks
Character: Fred, George, Hermione, Rosmerta
Rating: Any Age

Fred nearly always woke up earlier. He tended to have more energy in the mornings, his head full of ideas from dreams the night before. He woke with his hands itching to get to work and his mind full of mischief. Not to mention a rumble in his stomach.

George, on the other hand, liked to sleep late. He rolled over with a groan as he heard his twin bustling around their horrid little room at the Three Broomsticks. They'd transfigured the one moldy, lumpy double bed into two equally moldy, lumpy twin beds, set them up against opposing walls, and tried not to drive each other spare. They'd had separate rooms for years in their flat in British Columbia, and it was odd to have to share such a small space again. They'd done it for a long time growing up, of course, but they were grown men in a cramped room, and it was easy to get in each other's space.

George pulled the pillow over his head. "Oi. Keep it down. Not all of us like to rise before the sun."

Fred pouted. "I slept in. It's past 8. Come on, George, get a move on. Plenty of orders to fill, and products to sneak up to the castle."

George grunted and rolled over, mumbling something that sounded like, "One more hour, if you have any pity."

Fred snickered. He checked the mirror, smoothed his hair into a ponytail, and exited, but not before he shot a lumos maximus over his shoulder, a sunburst of light catapulting into the room behind him. He shut the door to George's muffled cursing and wandered out to the pub proper.

~*~

It was a beautiful morning. Hermione always woke around dawn, sometimes even before the sun lit the morning sky, and considered early mornings one of her most productive times. On this particular morning, she'd woken shortly after dawn and written her weekly letters to her friends. After they were written, she showered and dressed and then went to the library to do a little paperwork before she took her usual trip to Hogsmeade.

Every Saturday and Sunday morning would normally find her at the Three Broomsticks having breakfast before she'd meet up with Seamus, meet Ron and Harry for lunch, run any necessary errands, or whatever else happened to fall on her weekend chores list. This weekend was actually relatively empty. She had made plans to stop by and see Shay before returning to Hogwarts to get some work done in the library.

She would probably also have Kingsley around shortly after she returned as he'd decided that the students were a bunch of miscreants this term who were determined to make his life hell because he'd caught two attempting to play pranks on their classmates during his class. He'd entertained her during dinner with his paranoid decision and had been unhappy with her for not supporting his suspicions. She'd buy him some white chocolate, his favorite, before returning to school.

The Three Broomsticks was quiet when she stepped inside. She loved coming here early in the morning, before it became more crowded around lunchtime. She had never been particularly fond of crowds and was even less so than before. "Good morning! A glass of orange juice, please, Rosie," she requested with a friendly smile as she sat at a table near the back and out of the way. She removed her book from the pocket of her robe and began to read.

Fred was about to grab their usual table when he heard the familiar voice. He first grinned, and then frowned at himself for grinning. He shouldn't be quite so happy that Hermione Granger was here, should he?

He looked around. There was no way to sneak up on her so he decided for the direct approach, striding over to her table and sitting down across from her without being invited.

"Why Miss Granger, are you stalking me?" he asked in mock outrage, winking at Rosmerta, who just rolled her eyes.

"One could evaluate the situation and possibly draw the conclusion that you are stalking me, Mister Weasley, and not the other way around," she informed him crisply as she looked up from her book and arched a brow. Her lips quirked in amusement but she managed to conceal her surprise at seeing Fred sitting across from her. "After all, you've come to my place of my work and now my table. Are you plotting nefarious schemes in that brilliant mind of yours, Fred?"

"Always," Fred said winningly. He was happy that he didn't blush easily- brilliant mind? Who was she kidding? He reached out and snatched her book from her. "And what are we reading?"

"I am reading a detective novel," she said as she reached across and snatched the book back. "Hasn't anyone ever told you how rude it is to take someone's book while they're reading it? It seems you've lost your manners while off in the wilds of North America."

"You weren't reading it, you were talking to me," Fred reasoned. "My dear Hermione, are you implying that I had manners to begin with? I've always done my utmost to appear the complete pig. I guess I'll have to try harder."

"I was reading through osmosis, which could not occur when my book was being manhandled by you," she replied promptly. "Unfortunately, I've always had this need to look beyond the piggish exterior in the hopes that I'll be pleasantly surprised and see a hidden treasure beneath the ill-mannered façade. Perhaps I was mistaken in doing so."

Fred snickered. "Sure you don't see anything you like?" he asked playfully, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Hermione deliberately allowed her gaze to drift over his face, keeping her expression neutral even as she admired the angles of his face and confirmed that he was still handsome even if age and life's experiences had given his face a slight harshness that he shared with his twin. She met his gaze and smirked. "Not at the moment, no."

He feigned his best hurt look, the one that he'd shown to his mother so many times. Maybe it would go over better with Hermione. "Miss Granger, first you accuse me of stalking you and then you insult my winsome good looks? You'd better buy me breakfast or I'll just have to turn tail and go straight back to Canada."

"Perhaps I am merely toying with you and believe an insult will confirm whether or not you are, indeed, stalking me," she mused thoughtfully. "However, your company is proving to be somewhat enjoyable, I suppose, so I guess I can buy breakfast as I'd hate for you to return to Canada believing I've lost my manners."

George wandered out of their room, bleary-eyed and in desperate need of coffee. He scanned the pub quickly, his eyes settling on one redhead and one brunette with her wild hair pulled up into a bun but doing its best to escape. He prowled forward and dropped into the chair next to his brother.

"Well look who's here," he said, voice still raspy with sleep. "Hallo Hermione. Come here often?" To Fred he said, "You do realise that I'm going to have to kill you, yeah?"

Fred smiled sweetly. "Whatever for?"

"For burning out my bloody retinas."

"Nonsense. You needed to wake up."

"I was up until three a.m.," George muttered. "Unlike some of us who are snoring like a hippogriff by eleven."

He turned his attention back to Hermione. "Did I hear that breakfast was on you? Excellent. We'll need to start with very strong coffee."

It was quite obvious that George was not a morning person if his appearance and raspy voice were anything to go by. Hermione picked up her glass of juice and took a drink while she looked back and forth as the twins bantered, relieved that she was alert enough to actually follow them without developing a headache. "Yes, I'll buy breakfast. I did say if you two happened to return to Hogsmeade before you went back to Canada that I'd buy you a drink, after all." She signaled to Rosmerta to bring a cup of coffee for George. "Fred, what would you like?"

Fred smirked. "Too early for beer, yeah?"

"You did say you wanted to prove that you were a complete pig and butterbeer on your breath before noon would do wonders in achieving that goal." She rolled her eyes. "Rosie, make that a cup of coffee for the early riser here and a glass of orange juice for the smart arse across from me."

Rosmerta nodded. "You got it, honey. Either of you want any food to start?"

Fred nodded enthusiastically. "I'm famished. Bangers and mash, Rosie? Extra greasy?" He batted his eyelashes at her, which she seemed to be immune to.

"Just a pot of coffee," George said, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Got it, boys. Are you ready too, Hermione? Want your usual?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, the usual, please. And can you add pancakes and ham with plenty of syrup? Once this one over here," she motioned to George, "is awake, he'll be hungry."

George mumbled something that might have been thanks had he not been falling asleep again, head drooping toward the table.

Fred leaned back in his chair, looking Hermione over. Well, not looking her over, not like that. "First day of classes yesterday, Madam Granger. Any children defacing your books yet?"

"They wouldn't dare," she said smugly as she put her glass back down on the table. "I've let the rumor get out over the years that I've put charms on all books, you see, and word of mouth has embellished them so much that most first years hear that daring to drip even one drop of ink in one of my texts will result in hexes that even St. Mungo's won't cure. That's one rumor that I don't bother to discourage." She tucked a stray hair back into the messy bun she'd fixed earlier.

The twins exchanged impressed glances, though Fred's was decidedly more awake than George's. "Why Hermione," Fred laughed, "that sounds like something we'd do."

"That reminds me, though, that, while your method lacked finesse, I am most thankful for your assistance with the books the other day."

Rosmerta reappeared before either twin could reply, arms laden with breakfast dishes, and she set the appropriate plate in front of each of them. George reached for the coffee automatically, blowing on it twice and then downing half of it despite the fact that it was steaming hot. A lazy smile spread across his face. "Thank you, love," he said, not indicating whether he meant Rosmerta for bringing him the coffee or Hermione for buying it.

Fred grinned. "Oh look, he's going to turn into a human now."

George sipped his coffee a bit more slowly, his eyes opening a little wider. "You're welcome, for the books."

"I thought we finessed just fine," Fred said.

"It's all in the presentation," George agreed. He finally looked at Hermione. "And a proper good morning to you at last."

"Good morning," Hermione said after she swallowed her bite of bacon. She reached across the table for the syrup and poured it over her pancakes. "I'd debate the presentation but it's far too early in the morning and I'd much rather eat my pancakes and find out why you're both lurking around the Three Broomsticks."

"They have an excellent breakfast spread," George said cryptically, taking the syrup from Hermione and pouring himself a small puddle of it on the side of his pancakes before picking up knife and fork to cut them into ragged squares.

"Plus, we're crashing in Rosie's worst room," Fred said.

George rolled his eyes. "And there's that."

Fred shrugged. "Not quite ready to leave yet, you see."

"Tell us about the first day, Hermione," George said, changing the subject before shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

She watched George cut his pancakes and smiled as she realized she'd missed seeing him methodically cut them and dip them into a pool of syrup. He was the only person she knew who ate his pancakes that way and it was nice to have that familiarity back, even briefly. She smothered hers in syrup and cut them as she ate them, licking the syrup from her lips before she asked, "You're staying here? I assumed you were staying at the Burrow. Why Hogsmeade?" She glanced at George and smiled. "The first day is always rather magical, you know? There are actually more students this year than there have been since Hogwarts re-opened, which is very exciting. It was a bit of a madhouse, though, and the library was crowded all morning."

Fred attacked his own breakfast with gusto. "Mum likes her space, these days. Hard to believe, I know. This is fantastic!"

George finished his first pancake and moved to the second. "We always thought it was magical."

"New pranks on the horizon."

"New teachers to terrorize."

"New rules to break."

"Definitely magical."

Fred polished off his juice and stole the remainder of George's coffee. "What kind of insane students are in the library this early in the term?"

"I was always in the library on the first day of school," she pointed out with a slight frown. "As soon as classes were over, I'd go to my favorite table in the back and start my schedules for the school term. By the time I went to sleep on the first day of school, I'd have all known projects for my first classes plotted out for the term and I'd add the others as I learned them. I don't think wanting to gain knowledge automatically means someone is insane." She impulsively stuck her tongue out at them before she took a bite of her pancakes.

"Right, but you're you," Fred said philosophically. He and George stuck their tongues back out at her at the same time.

"Honestly, how many other people were there with you?" George asked.

"Other than Ron and Harry, if you dragged them with you."

"Actually, they never let me drag them there the first day of school," she muttered as she stabbed her pancake with her fork. "Always claimed they had better things to do but they'd certainly be there when they needed help with their assignments."

"Of course," George said with a shrug. "Knew you were both an excellent student and an excellent friend who would never leave them in need."

"Ron groused often enough that you never actually let him copy, though," Fred pointed out.

"Yeah, you helped but you didn't let them cheat."

"No, I most certainly did not," she said firmly. "If they were too lazy to do their own work, they could suffer the consequences. It was most fortunate for both of them that they had me around to make sure they didn't spend all their time on the Quidditch pitch or sleeping all hours of the day. They'd have never passed their OWLs without my guidance." She took a drink of her juice. "Regardless, that was years ago and there are actually some students who care about their studies and visit the library on the first day."

George held up his mug in toast. "To the students!"

"The students!" Fred chorused. They smirked at each other. The students were indeed worth toasting- they'd bought a ridiculous amount of product yesterday. Soon enough Hermione and the other staff members would feel the effects and know that the Weasley twins were back for good.
Chapter 9: I Am Not Paranoid by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 9: I Am Not Paranoid
Date: Sunday, September 4, 2005
Location: Kingsley’s Room
Character: Hermione, Kingsley, Neville
Rating: Any Age

The owl arrived as Hermione was getting out of the shower. It was a school owl and seemed most annoyed to be sent out so early in the morning. She wrapped a towel around herself and took the parchment from the owl. He didn’t even wait for treats before he flew away. “Well, good morning to you, too,” she muttered as she glanced at the parchment.

She recognized the scrawl of her name, brisk and sloping to the right, and tossed the parchment on her desk before she went back into the loo to dry off. She hung her towel up to dry, put lotion on, and went back into her room to find something to wear. Sundays were her lazy days. She normally went into Hogsmeade for breakfast or occasionally just stayed at school, and then she took time for herself to read or visit with friends if plans were made. She’d woken earlier and read a little before she’d gotten out of bed and taken a shower.

A note from Kingsley this early on a Sunday morning meant he intended to reach her before she left for Hogsmeade but it wasn’t an urgent matter that required him to come upstairs to the fourth floor to speak to her directly. He would usually just floo if it was something important and preferred to send an owl. She thought he rather enjoyed summoning her with an owl because he probably missed that aspect of commanding a team of Aurors back when he’d worked at the Ministry. Of course, he knew better and she deliberately took her time brushing her hair and braiding it before she finally picked up his note and sat in her desk chair.

My room. I am NOT paranoid!
Please.


“Well, at least he’s learned how to say please,” she murmured as she folded the note and put it down.

When she and Kingsley had first begun their unexpected friendship, she’d discovered that he could be quite demanding and rather sulky. She liked to tease that it had been his work as a Muggle secretary that had given him such impatience and that particular snarl but she knew those particular traits had been present from the time she first met him. He was still quiet and moody more often than not and no one would ever accuse him of being falsely friendly or social but he had finally learned over the years that friends usually follow up demands with ‘please‘ and ‘thank you‘.

It amused her greatly that he and Neville had become close because Neville was warm and open around most people whereas Kingsley had spent far too many years in the Moody School of Don’t Trust Anyone Constant Vigilance. Neville believed the best in all his students but he was by no means naïve, not after everything they’d faced during the war, and wasn’t a gullible passive pushover like some seemed to think. Kingsley was imposing and didn’t trust any of his students as far as he could toss them until they’d proven they were worth a knut, but he was an excellent teacher and had a calm patience that let his students learn without being scared of him. Well, not too scared, at least.

Kingsley’s comment about not being paranoid intrigued her so Hermione didn’t procrastinate any longer. She tucked a bit of money into her pocket in case she did go on down to Hogsmeade for a possible brunch, which would have nothing at all to do with the fact that Fred and George might still be in town. True, their possible presence would be a nice addition to her normal routine as it had been the previous day, but she had no idea when they actually planned to leave so she didn’t give the possibility of them joining her for another meal much thought during the trip downstairs to Kingsley’s rooms.

Breakfast yesterday had been very enjoyable. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed Fred and George until recently. She’d not seen them hardly at all after the war was over and the friendship they’d developed during the final few months before Voldemort’s defeat had just gradually faded away as time passed. Now that they were back for their visit, however, she was reminded of things forgotten over the years. She was thankful she’d run into them again before they left. They’d had a nice visit over breakfast and she knew she would need to make an effort to write them once they went back to Canada because she really had missed having them in her life even in a small way.

When she arrived at Kingsley’s room, she smiled at the Minotaur in the painting and gave the password. She stepped inside when the painting moved and was surprised when she saw Kingsley smiling smugly in his favorite chair. Well, Kingsley smiling smugly wasn’t anything particularly shocking but the long white hair currently atop his bald head was a bit startling.

“Preparing for Halloween already, Kingsley?” she asked with an arched brow and glance at the bright white locks.

“I was right,” he said simply. He tugged at the long hair that was actually very realistic and showed signs of being a very good charm. “Do you see? Now admit that you were wrong.”

“I actually don’t recall ever telling you that I preferred the natural smooth look to long white hair,” she said matter-of-factly, easily concealing the fact that she didn’t quite know what he was right about. “It actually brings out the shade of your skin quite well.”

“I didn’t do this!” he suddenly sputtered before he glared at her. “You’re a brat, Granger. I told you that those miscreants were up to no good this year and you didn’t believe me. Well, here’s your proof.”

“The students gave you long flowing locks?” she asked with a slight twist of her lips. She would not laugh. She would not laugh. Oh, God, like she could help it! She giggled and tried to look serious.

“Go ahead and laugh, girl. We’ll see how you’re laughing if they do this to your precious books,” he replied knowingly.

“I can’t foresee even a first year attempting to give books hair but, well, that’s what counter spells are for, I suppose,” she mused, trying to imagine her favorite copy of Hogwarts: A History with long hair and not succeeding at all. “Besides, if they dare bring such tricks into my library, they’ll suffer from a dozen hexes that even St. Mungos won’t be able to locate. Do you really think that rumor is unfounded?”

“You wouldn’t!”

She gave him an innocent smile and shrugged, neither confirming nor denying that she’d placed strong wards and protection hexes on her books and her library. “To look at the bright side, it is a very developed charm so Flitwick should be very pleased that at least one student in the school has mastered such a complicated charm,” she said helpfully, no longer bothering to hide her smile. “Come on, Kings. You have to admit it is rather clever.”

“It most certainly is not,” he denied sharply. “It is disrespectful and they should have done this to that barmy Wood so he’d be distracted by his hair and be quiet about Quidditch for awhile!”

“Yes, well, there was a time when I would have been quite irritated to see such a thing and would have promptly found the culprit, removed points, and probably sent them to Filch for detention,” she admitted as she sat opposite him and leaned forward to touch the hair. She tugged and it remained in place, attached to his head as if it was natural. It really was a complex charm and not one taught in school by any means.

“Filch? If I find out what foul child did this, I’ll force them to have detention with me,” he said with a slightly evil smile. “They’ll think twice before playing such a prank again. You can trust me on that one.”

“It’s been years since I’ve seen anything like it,” she said softly. “After the war, no one thought about laughter or tricks. That first year was so difficult, for everyone, and it’s taken them this long to finally start being children again. I don’t approve of pranks by any means, of course, and think they’ve got no place at school. However, I suppose mischief and pranks is part of being young and it’s nice hearing them laugh and seeing them actually enjoying themselves.”

“If they’d chosen another professor to torment, I might possibly agree that it is a nice change over the past couple of years to see them being children again. I am hypocritical enough, though, to detest the little pests for choosing me as their target for this particular prank and believe that a certain librarian would feel the same way if she were currently hexed with this ridiculous hair,” he muttered.

Before she could reply, the door opened and Neville hurried inside. He looked agitated but did a double-take when he saw Kingsley’s hair. “Uh, white is a lovely color,” he stammered as he gave Hermione a look that said ‘what the Hell is up with that?’.

“I need new friends,” Kingsley murmured as he shook his head and pulled the hair away from his face with a scowl.

“You know you’d miss us,” Hermione told him with a smile before she looked back at Neville. “Is everything okay, Nev?”

“No, everything is not okay!” he declared as he seemed to suddenly remember why he’d come to find them. “I checked your room first and you know how I hate trying to get past that one staircase that seems to hate me. Anyway, it seems one of my students has decided that all of the Abyssinian shrivelfig should be airborne. I went by the Greenhouse this morning to water a few things before breakfast and found them all floating above the tables. I tried finite incantatem and a few other things I remember from charms but nothing got them down. Help?”

“These are those lovely students of yours, Hermione, whose laughter and pranks make you smile,” Kingsley said smugly, obviously pleased that he wasn‘t their only target.

“If you don’t shut up, Shacklebolt, I’ll turn your hair bright green,” she warned as she stood up, thinking about the complex charm used on Kingsley and now one used on the Greenhouse. There was something nagging at the back of her mind that involved two particular redheads whose middle names should have been Mischief arriving in town for a visit right around the same time two very involved pranks happened, along with a few minor things she remembered hearing Filch grumbling about during the past two days. She wasn’t one who particularly believed in coincidence but was it really possible?

“Thanks for coming to look, Hermione. It won’t hurt them to float, thankfully, but that doesn’t mean I want to dodge flying plants,” Neville said as he made a face. “I was always pretty good with Charms but whatever they’ve used isn’t anything I’m familiar with.”

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts of mischievous redheaded twins and smiled at Neville as she pushed her suspicions from her mind for the time being to focus on helping Neville and then Kingsley. “Well, I’m not sure I’ll know what it is but maybe we can figure it out without having to bother Flitwick,” she told him as she stopped to wait for Kingsley.

“This is bloody ridiculous.“ Kingsley scowled as he stood up and gathered his long hair in one hand.

Neville and Hermione exchanged smiles and Neville managed to bite his lip before he laughed when Hermione suggested, “Perhaps you should put it up into a nice ponytail or something. I can braid it later, if you’d like.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Neville said helpfully as he transfigured a chair pillow into a nice hat. “You can tuck it beneath this until we figure out how to get rid of it.”

“Oh, that is a good idea, Neville,” Hermione complimented as she took the hat and walked over to Kingsley. She slapped his hands out of the way and proceeded to twist the hair up into a bun and then put the hat on his head. “There. All better.”

“Hmph.” Kingsley snorted in the closest they’d receive to a thank you at the moment. He picked up his cane and walked to the door. When he opened the portrait, he looked at them and smiled smugly. “I told you I wasn’t paranoid.”
Chapter 10: Up To No Good by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 10: Up To No Good
Date: Saturday, September 10, 2005
Location: Hogsmeade
Character: Hermione, Fred, George
Rating: Any Age



It was a lovely Saturday when Hermione left the castle and headed to Hogsmeade. Instead of enjoying the early morning sun on her face and the lovely scenery, she was focused on getting to town to see if two mischievous twins happened still to be staying at the Three Broomsticks.

After the incident on Sunday with Kingsley and then the one with Neville, she had started to pay more attention when she was outside her library. The students were pranking one another as well as their professors. She’d caught a glimpse of Skiving Snackboxes and two students with hair that rivaled Kingsley’s before they’d broken the curse. She had also heard the professors discussing a line of students having to visit Pomfrey after they'd turned into canaries.

The canaries had done it, of course. Her suspicions had been confirmed as soon as she heard Filch mutter about finding Canary Creams in the Hufflepuff dorm. She had known, then, that it had to be Fred and George behind everything. A part of her hoped that meant they were back to stay while another part of her knew she should be annoyed that they were disrupting her school.

With every step closer to Hogsmeade, she tried not to get excited. It had been so wonderful to see them again, though, and the students did seem happier, even if the professors were ready to start hexing them all. Peeves was probably the most delighted with the way the school term was beginning because the past few years had made him rather depressed. He hadn’t needed to see a therapist, he’d just needed Fred and George to come home, where they belonged.

She arrived in Hogsmeade and started towards the Three Broomsticks, hoping to find the twins still in residence and to hear them confirm that they weren’t planning to go back to that Canada place. On her way, she noticed purple smoke. A closer look showed her that it was coming from an abandoned building that had formerly been the home of Zonko’s. A slight smile crossed her lips as she deviated from her routine path for the first time in many years and walked to the half-open door, uncertain what she’d find as she carefully pushed it open.

"For the love of all things mystical, you stupid git!" George gasped, coughing billowing purple smoke out of his lungs as he headed toward the stairs.

"Not my fault!" Fred shouted back, though his shout turned into more of a squeal as hundreds of furry feet scrabbled over his chest. "Oh FUCK, get them off me!"

But George was already running toward the loo just as Hermione entered, leaving Fred to contend with the experiment gone terribly awry. It shouldn't have been so hard to make blocks of cheese turn into live mice, should it have? Fred shuddered. His shirt had turned into a patchwork of purple mice that promptly crawled over him. They migrated quickly to the floor, leaving him shirtless and shivering. He did not like mice.

"Finite incantatem," Hermione said firmly as she aimed her wand at the purple mice. She frowned at the floor when it was suddenly covered with pieces of cheese. She was curious what transfiguration spell they’d used to work on such a large amount of objects but remembered she was supposed to scold them for bringing such pranks back into the halls of Hogwarts, not ask for their trade secrets.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she stepped over the cheese and turned her attention to Fred, she recognized instantly, meaning George had been the one to run to the back. She suddenly noticed that Fred wasn’t wearing a shirt. There was far too much skin, far too many freckles, and the shop was a bit too warm. She blinked as she ran her hand through her hair and took a step back, squishing a piece of cheese beneath her boot heel. When had Fred started looking like that beneath his baggy old T-shirts?

Fred froze, acutely aware of his state of undress in front of Hermione. He ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously mirroring her own gesture. "Fine. Um. Hello."

She cleared her throat and looked away from the patch of freckles on the left side of his tummy above his hip. Goodness, could his trousers get any lower? They were practically indecent, riding low on his hips in a way that was entirely too distracting. No! She meant to say inappropriate. Right. Very inappropriate.

"Hello," she finally stammered even as her gaze went back to those intriguing freckles. She looked up at him and hoped the shop was too dark for him to notice that she was blushing. She tugged on the sleeves of her shirt, glad to have something to occupy her hands as she decided to think about this odd reaction she seemed to be having later. "You do know that breaking and entering, especially to create havoc with moldy bits of cheese, is still illegal in Hogsmeade. I think you can be sent to Azkaban for the use of the cheese, alone."

"We're not-" he caught himself, clearing his throat. "If anyone's breaking and entering here, missy, I think you are." He grinned at her, one hand on his hip as he surveyed her. There was no crime in that, was there? He was just taking a look at her. And if he happened to notice the way her hair framed her face and the way her shirt clung to the soft curve of her breasts, well- No. He was not looking at her breasts. He immediately refocused on her lips. No, wait, her eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with our cheese. I'll have you know that that's high quality brie."

"The door was open," Hermione informed him matter-of-factly. "I believer there is a Cheese Clause in the statute regarding breaking and entering that states a person is exempt from prosecution when purple mice and smelly old cheese are involved."

She frowned as his gaze lowered for a moment and she glanced down discreetly to see if she’d somehow grabbed the wrong shirt from her wardrobe. A quick glance confirmed it was clean so she wasn’t exactly sure what had caught his attention. When he looked at her quickly, she had to admit she was slightly intrigued because there was no possible way he’d just been---no, it was absurd. Fred Weasley had not just ‘checked her out’, as Ron would crassly put it. She was imagining things, obviously. If Kingsley had spiked the glass of pumpkin juice he’d given her before she’d left that morning, she’d hex him so well that he’d only wish he had long white hair again.

"I’d suggest there was something wrong with your cheese if it suddenly becomes awful little mice," she said with a shudder, doing her best to pretend he wasn’t standing there looking far too---naked. "As for not breaking and entering, Fred Weasley, I would assume that means you have permission to be on the premise?"

Fred retrieved his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at the lumps of cheese. With a complicated little flourish, they reassembled themselves into his black t-shirt, and he picked it up off the floor and gave it a shake.

"Cheese?" he laughed. "What cheese? I don't see any cheese."

He slid the shirt over his head and settled it back into place, deliberately avoiding her other question. He and George hadn't officially announced their ownership of Zonko's yet, and he didn't want to tell a member of the Hogwarts staff, even if she was Hermione.

"What cheese?" she repeated in a ridiculous tone that was very exaggerated. She walked over to him after he, thankfully, put his shirt back on and ran her finger along the collar, briefly touching his neck as she removed a remaining bit of the cheese. She glanced up and suddenly realized how close she was to him. She moved back a step and offered her fingers as evidence. "This cheese, perhaps?"

Hermione’s eyes narrowed suddenly as she realized he’d avoided her question. Her mind quickly set all the pieces of the puzzle together as she looked around carefully before she focused back on him. With a triumphant smirk, she said, "You’ve moved back, I see."

He arched an eyebrow at her and leaned forward as if to examine the cheese. Circling her wrist with his strong fingers, he eyed the smear of cheese, sniffed it, and at last brought her hand to his lips. He licked the bit of brie off the pad of her finger, not quite sucking the whole digit into his mouth. "Mmmmm," he said, scraping his teeth lightly against her knuckle before releasing her from his mouth. "It's very good cheese after all."

Oh bloody hell. Maybe Kingsley had spiked her juice with some sort of potion to induce naughty thoughts because Fred Weasley had just not nipped and licked her finger. There was also no way that she was having such thoughts about Fred, of all people. He was just---Fred. The silly infatuation she’d had on him for a very brief time (two months, one week, and four days) during fifth year was a thing of the distant past. Besides, that had never been about him licking fingers or any other body parts, thank you very much.

She was flustered and wished she was even remotely decent at this sort of playing but she wasn’t. Viktor hadn’t played these games, fortunately, and she didn’t know how to combat such a distraction. She was good with her mind and it was failing her at the moment. He was simply doing this because he knew she was unaccustomed to such behavior. She looked from his fingers around her wrist to his lips and then scolded herself for letting him distract her.

"It’s not going to work," she told him matter-of-factly. "I’m immune to such tricks, Fred Weasley. It takes far more than that to distract me. Now stop it and answer my question!"

Her skin felt too soft beneath his fingers, and he let her go. Tricks. Right. He'd been distracting her. "Really, love, you've become so suspicious. What on earth could you possibly think we're up to? When have we ever been up to anything?" He batted his eyelashes at her, thankful that his circulation seemed to be getting back to normal and providing his head with more oxygen. What was with these weird reactions?

Hermione was glad when he released her wrist. It was much easier to think when he wasn’t touching her. And he was dressed. Right. She tugged her sleeves down again until they were around her palms and looked at him suspiciously. "Fred, anytime you or George attempt this innocent act, it’s simply confirmation that you are up to something" she told him with a roll of her eyes. "If you want to be deceptive and convincing, I’d suggest admitting you are up to no good so people then believe you’re simply lying."

She looked around the shop again and met his gaze. She asked once more time as she mentally ran through a variety of hexes she might use to get the information she wanted if he gave her another vague answer. "Have you and George moved back home?"

"We are up to no good," two voices chorused, and Fred turned to see George re-entering the store proper. They exchanged a grin as George came to rest against the counter. His hair was wet and rivulets of water were dripping onto his shoulders.

"Hello, hello," he said, flashing Hermione a smile. "Good to see you again, love. This one caused me to inhale a cloud of purple smoke that stained my whole head mauve."

"It wasn't my fault," Fred insisted.

"Of course not," George smirked.

"You're the one who added the diricawl feathers at the wrong time!"

"It would have been the right time if you hadn't been saying the muris mutatium spell."

Fred stuck his tongue out. "At least you didn't have mice crawling all over you."

"Back to the drawing board," George sighed. "And how are you, Madam Granger? Students behaving themselves?" He couldn't quite keep the flash of mischief from his eyes.

"You know they’re not," she snapped as she glared from one to the other and resisted the urge to stomp her foot and demand they answer her. She noticed that George’s hair was a shade or two darker when it was wet and the length was something she still hadn’t quite gotten used to even if she did find it attractive, in a purely platonic observance, of course. "Personally, I could care less what mischief the students get into outside of class as long as they’re careful and nothing is dangerous.

"However, the first time one of them brings one of your pranks into my library, I’ll be holding you both responsible," she said with a firm threat that she fully intended to keep. "You can attempt to distract me all you want with shirtless poses and licking and long wet hair but it won’t work. I’m on to you both now, boys, and I’ll not have you disrupting my school no matter how pleased I am that you‘ve obviously moved home. Are we clear?"

The twins exchanged resigned looks. It was rather difficult to deny that they were back in business when they were in a shop whose shelves were lined with their products, and when the witch before them had seen their pranks firsthand at the school. George cleared his throat. "It's not official, you realise."

"We haven't made any announcements that we're back yet," Fred added.

"And of course we can't make promises about just where your students use any product they might happen to pick up."

"They're responsible for their own actions, after all." Fred smirked at her. "So. Do we get a 'welcome home' hug?"

George laughed. "Or better yet, a drink?" He rather liked the way she said "home" so easily. Hogsmeade had never really been their home, after all.

"You may not be able to control how they use what they buy, but I’ll still hold you both responsible when it comes to my library. Understood? I will not hesitate to use hexes that you two only wish you knew," she warned as she looked from one to the other.

She stepped forward and hugged Fred, lingering a bit longer than she had planned once she had her arms around him. She brushed a kiss beneath his ear before she quickly turned to George and gave him a hug and a kiss on his jaw. "Welcome home, boys."

"I’ll have to owe you both a drink," she said with an apologetic smile as she moved away from them. She darted a glance at Fred, studying him curiously for a moment to see if she could tell if something was different to cause such a confusing reaction before she finally decided she was just glad they were back in Britain where they belonged. Right. That’s all it was because she certainly was not attracted to Fred Weasley no matter how good he looked without his shirt and how tempted she had been to count the freckles above his hip.

What had she been saying? "I’m meeting a friend for brunch and he’ll probably wonder if I’ve forgotten to deviate from my normal routine as it is," she said with an affectionate smile as she thought about Seamus. He’d probably gone to the Three Broomsticks already to make sure she remembered she’d agreed to try some new recipe he’d found for chocolate tarts.

George snorted. "So what was I hearing when I walked out here? Licking and shirtlessness? Just what were you up to before I came out, children?" He winked at Hermione and returned the kiss on her cheek.

Fred flushed with something too strange to understand. How could he be attracted to Hermione Granger again after all these years? It had been a schoolboy crush, nothing more. But when she touched him... oh dear. This needed some serious contemplating. And Fred had never been good at serious. "Oh yes, it was a veritable love fest you broke up, George."

"Figured as much," George laughed. "I suppose we mustn't keep your friend waiting, Hermione."

"Yes, it was a regular old orgy of sin and debauchery. You really should have been here," she said dryly before she laughed. "I had better run, actually. I planned to stop by the pub to see if you two happened to be around to confirm my suspicions but my friend gets rather disgruntled when I’m late. He can be quite fussy when he chooses to be, you know? However, he’s promised me chocolate so I can’t complain."

"I’ll owe you both a drink," she told them as she realized she’d not stopped smiling since she’d learned they were actually not only back in Britain but moving to Hogsmeade. She had missed them and looked forward to seeing them more often as well as thwarting any attempts they made to disrupt her school.

She walked to the door and glanced over her shoulder. "You might try using jobberknoll feathers instead of diricawl. The latter reacts badly with dairy products and might be one reason your experiment had a few problems," she told them before she smiled and left the shop, humming to herself as she tried not to dwell on a patch of freckles on golden skin as she walked to Seamus’ flat.
Chapter 11: Friendly Competition by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 11: Friendly Competition
Date: Sunday, September 11, 2005
Location: Hogsmeade
Character: Fred, George
Rating: Any Age



"I think we should give serious consideration to setting a grand opening date," George Weasley said as the twins ransacked their store room. George held an inventory parchment five and a half feet long, ticking off items as Fred heaped them into two bottomless satchels.

"You think Hermione's going to blab?" Fred asked.

George paused, an amused, knowing expression creasing his features. "Not what I was thinking at all, actually."

Fred glanced at his brother. He didn't like that look one bit. It was the same one both twins wore when they'd caught one of their siblings or friends doing something absolutely blackmail-worthy, like the time they'd found out that Oliver had had a crush on Percy for half of his sixth year. Fred had never been the focus of the look before. It was disconcerting.

Clearing his throat, he snatched up a half dozen fake wands. "What were you thinking, then?"

George smirked, adding three Tickling Feather Dusters to his bag. "I was thinking that it's very interesting that the first thing you were thinking about was a certain messy-haired librarian."

Fred could feel himself blushing from his toenails upward. "I don't know what you're on about, mate. Just seems to me that if people who work at Hogwarts know what we're up to, it'll spread through the school and our secret'll be blown anyway."

"And yet you're not worried that Oliver might spill the beans."

"He told us he wouldn't."

"He's also an incorrigible gossip."

Fred closed his satchel and turned to his brother, hands on his hips. "So what?"

"So I know what's going on."

The twins eyed each other warily, and at last Fred said, "And just what does that addled brain of yours think is going on, George?"

George tucked both satchels under the counter, ready for them to sneak up to the school that evening to distribute the students' orders. "Your little crush that no one was supposed to know about has come back full force." He winked and strode out the back door, leaving Fred spluttering behind him.

"Wait just one second!" He scrambled out after his twin, barely stopping to lock the door behind them. "You're out of your mind! I have a crush on no one!"

George didn't stop walking, and Fred had to run to catch up. "Do you really think I haven't noticed the way you stare at her, dear brother? The way you turn red as a bloody beet when anyone mentions her name?"

Fred shook his head. "You're imaging things. You've been sampling Rosie's grog again."

"I have, but that's not the point. The point is that you have a crush on Hermione Granger."

They arrived at the Three Broomsticks and George held open the door with an ever so courteous tilt of his head. Fred shoved him into the wall and sneaked through the door, George hot on his heels.

"Denial, denial, denial," George singsonged.

Fred bypassed their usual table, storming right to their room and slamming the door. He threw himself onto his bed and turned to face the wall, his cheeks burning. George, thankfully, took the hint and didn't follow. And just who did George think he was, anyway? Just because Fred showed interest in Hermione, just because he enjoyed talking to her, spending time with her, that didn't mean he wanted to bloody well marry her! Prat. He just wanted to get to know her again, that was all. So what if he enjoyed being in her company? So what if every trip up to Hogwarts or out to the pub proper was a chance that she might be there, smiling at him the way she did... Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who was he fooling? Certainly not George. And, if he really wanted to be honest, certainly not himself.

Fred rolled onto his back and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. One, he decided, looked like a dragon eating a hippogriff. He smiled grimly and shot a few sparks upward, smacking into the plaster. It flaked off and crumbled to the ground, leaving the hippogriff headless. Fucking George. Fred knew he'd never live this down.

~*~

George sat at their usual table at the back of the pub, licking foam off his upper lip from his first swallow of grog. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Fred had it bad, and it was funny to watch him. Fred Weasley, like George, did not blush. Ever. So when he started blushing over Hermione Granger this week, well, it was all George could do not to have it published in the Daily Prophet.

It wasn't that the twins never dated. And it wasn't that they hadn't had their fair share of casual relationships over the years. More than their fair share, depending on who you talked to. But Fred's infatuation with Hermione had been rather more than a passing fancy the last time, and George wondered just how far it would go now. Hermione was a nice enough girl, after all. And George would be there to take pictures to show to everyone if Fred did anything terribly stupid in the name of love.

He looked up when the door to their room opened and his determined-looking twin appeared. George pushed the second stein of grog toward him as he sat down, jaw set, eyes ablaze.

"And do we feel better after naptime?" George asked sweetly.

"I haven't fallen for her," Fred replied, not answering the question.

"Oh, of course not."

"I haven't!"

George sniggered. "Fred and Hermione, sitting in a tree."

"Stop that!"

"F-U-C-"

"GEORGE!"

Heads turned their way, and under a quelling glare from Rosmerta, the twins quieted down. George reached across the table and patted Fred's hand sympathetically. "It's all right. You'll make an adorable househusband. Do you think you can stay at Hogwarts with her? Or should she come live at the shop with us?"

"George, please, she's just a friend, nothing more," Fred said hotly.

"I know that look in your eye, Fred. You looooove her."

"I do not."

"You'd do anything for her."

"I wouldn't!"

"You'd give up pranks and mischief for her!"

Fred slammed his palm against the table, wincing as a sliver slammed itself right back up into his skin. "That's not true. In fact, I'd wager with you that I could prank Miss Granger better than you could."

George's face lit up. A gamble mixed with a bit of mischief? How excellent. "Name your terms."

"I'm thinking about something like a campaign," Fred said. "You and I. We'll see which of us can make her lose her temper last."

"Last?" George hadn't been expecting that.

"Yes, last," Fred said. "I mean, walking into the school and, I don't know, turning her into a goldfish would piss her off. But it lacks art."

"It does at that."

"So I propose something with a bit more subtlety," Fred said, an evil glint in his eyes. "A series of pranks to goad her or catch her off guard, but nothing overdone enough to have her march down her and hex us. And whichever of our pranks finally makes her lose her temper, the other one of us wins."

George cradled his stein in his hands. "I like it."

Fred did too. It meant not being mocked for thinking about ways of spending time with Hermione. It meant getting her attention the best way he knew how. And it meant... "It's an excellent advert for our products, too."

"Don't think that didn't cross my mind," George said. "What happens when I win?"

Fred snorted. "You won't. Let's say... whoever wins gets top billing under the shop name."

"And a new broom of their choice," George suggested.

"Done."

"Excellent."

George extended his hand and Fred shook it heartily while they shared a thought, as they often did without realizing it: Let the games begin.
Chapter 12: Subtlety by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 12: Subtlety
Date: Saturday, September 17, 2005
Location: Hogsmeade
Character: Fred, Hermione
Rating: Any Age



Subtlety, Fred Weasley reflected as he surveyed the selection critically, was an art form. For instance, he could have chosen the massive peacock feathers on his left, and charmed them to tickle Hermione until she lost control of her bladder. But then she'd kill him. Dead. And that was not the point of this exercise.

He wandered down the aisle of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, looking for something familiar. He wasn't entirely sure what style Hermione used, but he'd seen several of them over the years that looked the same, so he could only assume that, at least at one time, they'd been her preferred choice. He moved past the exotic section, ignoring the fwooper and griffin feather quills, when something on the opposite wall caught his eye. The feather was black and trimmed with gold, and the sign beneath it said that it been taken from a pheasant. This looked just like the quills he'd seen Hermione use in the past, and he couldn't help his devious smile. He chose the straightest quill in the box and, looking around to make sure that old Mr Scrivenshaft wasn't watching, performed the complex little incantation that he'd worked out and tested that morning. An aqua aura surrounded it momentarily and then disappeared, and to the eye Fred could see no difference. But he knew that if his charm worked as it should, the quill would leak on every word she wrote that was more then two syllables long. Aggravating, but not enough for her to suspect that it had been tampered with, and certainly not enough to make her lose her temper with him.

He paid for the quill and tucked the small parcel under his arm as he threw the door open, squinting into the early autumn sunlight. Now all he had to do was find a way to get it into Hermione's library without her wondering where it came from. He set off down High Street, pondering what he should do with the rest of his glorious Saturday. Maybe pop up to the school to visit Oliver? Of course, if he happened to see Hermione too, there was no harm in that. It wasn't as though he'd gone looking for her, right?

~*~

Breakfast at the Three Broomsticks had been quiet. It wasn't as if Hermione had expected to see Fred or George or both of them, but they were staying here and it had been a logical assumption that they'd eventually appear for breakfast. True, she had come at the pub just slightly earlier than her normal Saturday arrival time, which wasn't unusual. She'd just been awake for longer and hadn't wanted to start another chapter in her book. That was the only reason she'd hurried to town for breakfast.

The fact that it took her nearly twice as long to eat was understandable. It was her monthly, after all, and she never rushed through her food when she was having cramps. It certainly had nothing to do with the hope that one of them might wake early and keep her company while she ate. Definitely not. Such a thought was ludicrous and she refused even to consider the possibility that she had been looking forward to seeing them again this weekend.

Her disappointment at finishing breakfast without seeing shoulder-length red hair, as she had seen one bloke with short red hair, was nothing more than indigestion caused by the spicy sausage. She paid her tab, told Rosmerta she'd see her tomorrow, and left the Three Broomsticks. Well, there was no use dwelling on her quiet breakfast and how much more interesting it would have been with a bit of company in the form of one or two mischievous redheads.

Instead, she headed towards the bookstore to see if there was anything new to keep her busy during the evening and then she thought she'd stop by and see Seamus. Kingsley and Neville were both becoming a bit stressed dealing with the more lively students, courtesy of a couple of pranksters, so she thought a nice surprise of chocolate might cheer them both up.

Fred's eyes widened as he saw Hermione walking up the street toward him, and without thinking, he ducked into the nearest shop entrance and stuffed the quill parcel into his pack. If she saw him with it first, he could never use it for a prank on her. He glanced around. He was in the bookshop. Oh hell. Where else would Hermione be headed on a Saturday morning?

Rather than wait for the inevitability of the librarian appearing in the bookshop door, Fred stepped back outside, arms extended and a wide smile plastered on his face. "Hermione! Come here often?"

"Fred, don't do that!" she scolded as she jumped in surprise. It didn't even occur to her that she knew it was Fred without even looking closely at him. He smelled of mint and slouched slightly to the left so she knew it was Fred. George, on the other hand, smelled of coffee and slouched to the right when not standing up straight.

She tried to remain stern because, really, she could have stumbled backwards and hurt herself, but he had his arms open and a smile on his face. She wished she hadn't noticed the way his white T-shirt rode up a little from the position of his arms and the glimpse of freckles she saw on his belly, the same damn freckles that had been on her mind more than she'd ever care to admit since seeing them last weekend. Unfortunately, she did notice but quickly told herself that it was not appropriate to drool on one's friend just because he had sexy freckles on his stomach. She moved forward and gave him a hug before she stepped back. "I stop by here most weekends, actually."

Fred blinked, surprised. Not even his mum knew just by looking at him if he was himself or his twin. Maybe it had been a lucky guess.

"Nice try, Hermione," he said as he hugged her back. Damn it, he was not lingering a fraction of a second longer than was appropriate. And he certainly didn't stop to breathe in the scent of her hair, like apples and the parchment from her library. "But I'm George, not Fred."

"Aren't you too old to be playing those switching games?" she asked as she rolled her eyes. "You're Fred so do quit lying. George smells like coffee and doesn't wear white. I'd hate for your nose to grow as I might be forced to freeze it that way so George could make fun of you."

Fred shook his head. "How do you know things like that? No one knows how to tell us apart- half the time when I wake up in the morning I don't remember which one I am." All right, maybe he was exaggerating just a little. And smiling a bit too much- but he couldn't help it. The smile wouldn't leave his face.

"My brain has a high capacity for useless information," she informed him loftily before she grinned. "Actually, it was a self-preservation technique. Back at Hogwarts, I watched you and George my first few weeks at Hogwarts so I'd have an advantage should you decide to make me the brunt of your pranks. It always flustered you both if I greeted you in the morning with your name so I had to make sure I knew which was which. Are you on your way in or out?"

"In," he said a bit too quickly.

"I'm on my way in, too. Would you like to join me or did you have other people to harass by attempting to be your brother?"

He held his arm out to usher her into the shop. "Looking for anything in particular, love?"

"I'm just browsing for something to entertain me this upcoming week at school. The evenings get rather dull sometimes," she told him before she continued remembering first year, smiling as she recalled a particular memory. "I remember the first time you attempted to prank me. I believe it was a month after school started and I was just a defenseless ickle first year. You tried to distract me so George could do something to my book, but I said in a very matter-of-fact tone, 'Hello, Fred, may I help you?'. You both were completely disconcerted, so my plan worked. George gawked and forgot all about the prank."

Fred laughed appreciatively. "One should never underestimate the importance of survival skills. I think we were trying to slip a dead spider into your book to see if you were as frightened of them as Ron was."

Although, he reflected, that wasn't a bad idea. If he could distract her while she was shopping for books, he could slip the enchanted quill into her bag and she'd never be the wiser. Hopefully she had a couple of them in there already and wouldn't notice the new addition.

"A spider? You weren't particularly creative at age thirteen, I see," she mused as she scanned a shelf of books for anything that caught her attention. "I think I'm glad you didn't prank me, then, as I'd have surely been disappointed that that was the best you could think up. Fortunately, I've never had a particular fear of spiders or crawly little insects and the like."

Fred smirked. "Sure, a dead spider doesn't sound like much. But it’s worse when it comes back to life and engorges to five times its normal size the moment it touches your skin, though."

"Oh, that's a new one," she said, ignoring him. She set her bag down and reached up for the red binding that caught her attention, frowning as her fingertips barely reached the bottom of that shelf. She normally didn't mind not being very tall since she wasn't particularly short, either, but she did hate that she always seemed to want the book that required an extra two or three inches to reach. She was about to step up onto her tiptoes when a sudden warmth pressed against her from behind. She watched a large hand reach above her head and easily grasp the book. The twins weren't very tall but the few inches they had on her gave Fred the extra height needed to reach the shelf. She refused to consider the reasons why her face was flushed from feeling his rather strong and muscular body- as she had seen him without a shirt and knew that statement to be fact- pressed casually against her. They weren't even touching but she could feel his presence and body heat nonetheless.

It wasn't until Fred turned his attention to her that he realized how little space was between them, and the fact that he was still stretched toward the top shelf wasn't making the situation any better. He held the book up between them and didn't his best not to blush and stammer like an adolescent. Cool, Fred, be cool, he thought.

"Anything else I can reach for you, love?" he asked, leaning in just a little.

She turned to face him, somewhat trapped between him and the bookshelf, and hoped he didn't notice the pinkness to her cheeks. If he did, she'd claim the bookstore was too warm, which wouldn't be a lie because it really was now that she thought about it more clearly. She took the book from him and her gaze most certainly did not wander down to look at his lips when he leaned forward a little. "I think this will do it. Thank you, Fred," she said as she looked down at the title and frowned when she saw it was a book on the Goblin Rebellion that she already owned. They had just redone the cover, obviously, which was really quite annoying. "Actually, could you please put this back? I already own it."

Fred wondered why the shop owners had turned the heat up so much. He felt flushed and unfocused and really, did her chin have to tilt up quite so fetchingly?

Oh bloody hell. She was going to have a word with Mr. Zawnhopper because he needed some cooling charms during this time of year. It was even warmer in here today than during the height of summer. Perhaps he had a cold and was suffering from a chill? That would explain the accelerated temperature. She'd have to bring him some soup. Soup was a good thing to think about when Fred was standing so very close and she was far too aware of the muscles beneath his T-shirt and those bloody freckles on his belly. Tomato soup or chicken, she decided.

He took the book back from her, his fingers brushing hers and he suppressed the little electric shock that thrilled through him. His eyes widened- God, he hadn't been expecting that.

All thoughts of soup left her mind at the shock too. Static electricity. That was the only explanation for the slight spark she felt when they touched.

"Of course," he said, reaching up to return the book, which brought him deep into her personal space again. He replaced the book and his hand, with a mind of its own, skimmed down her arm on the way down. "Can't say no to a librarian, can I?"

The scent of mint was stronger and she thought she smelled vanilla beneath it. If she raised her head just slightly, she could have sniffed his hair to see if that was where the vanilla was coming from. Instead, she licked her lips and ignored the tremor that passed through her when his hand trailed down her arm. She tugged on her sleeve until it covered half her hand just to keep her fingers busy so she wouldn't reach up to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. Stop it. She smiled at him, giving her best unaffected 'we're friends and I really am not thinking about kissing those freckles on your belly at all' smile. Of course, she'd never had to use that smile so she was pretty certain she probably looked odd.

"You shouldn't say things like that, Fred, or I might be forced to take advantage of you," she teased casually as she sidestepped him and moved to another bookshelf. "After all, I might put you to work helping me clean the library if you can't tell me no."

Fred massaged the back of his neck as she stepped away from him, suddenly grateful for the space. Fuck. He'd been about to- Damn it all to hell, he had wanted to kiss her. Would have done, if she hadn't stepped away from him with that odd, tight expression on her face. Clearly he was out of his mind, because she had no interest in him that way. She never had. He had to get it together and get over this bizarre infatuation, or it would drive him mad.

"Be happy to help out, love," he said, a bit too genially. His gaze alighted on her abandoned bag, and while her back was to him he fished out the new quill and tucked it inside. Mission accomplished. "Though I'd rather expect payment of some kind. Don't you think I'd deserve it?"

Hermione ran her fingertips over the books in front of her as she tried to focus on finding a new title. It was rather difficult to focus when her mind was currently far too interested in thinking about Fred to focus on something other than his eyes, his smile, his muscular build, and those blasted freckles on his belly.

She found a title that seemed interesting so she removed it for review. It was actually intended to be a distraction from the handsome man beside her but it didn't look too bad. His words brought her attention back to him, however. She quickly closed the book and turned around to face him. She looked at him suspiciously after he agreed, rather happily no less, to help her clean the library. Even with his additional statement, his easy acquiescence was somewhat intriguing.

"The question as to whether or not you would deserve a payment would be dependent on the work you did while cleaning and overall satisfaction of said assistance," she told him matter-of-factly. "It would also depend what manner of payment you had in mind. What exactly did you have in mind, Fred?"

He waggled his eyebrows as he ran his hands over the book spines, not even looking at what he was pulling off the shelf. "I think you'd find your overall satisfaction rate very high indeed, Madam Granger."

"Would I?" she drawled as she arched a brow and gave him her best 'prove it' look. "That is either justifiable confidence or smug arrogance, Mister Weasley. The former can be an attractive quality while the latter is quite unpleasant."

He was about to question her on just how attractive when he jumped back with a startled yelp. "That book bit my finger!"

She moved forward to check the book, her wand in hand without even thinking about it in case she had to perform a counter-curse. Fortunately, it was just a copy of What Big Teeth You Have: Magical Creatures Throughout the Last Century. She put her wand down and looked at Fred, unable to conceal her grin. "Did the big bad book bite your ickle finger?" she asked teasingly as she reached for his hand.

She studied the bite, determined that it would be fine in no time, and then brushed her lips against the faint pink welt in a soft kiss. "There. It should be all better now," she told him as she looked up and met his gaze.

Fred managed to swallow the surprised noise that nearly escaped him. Her lips shouldn't have felt so soft against his skin, especially when the contact was so brief. "All better," he echoed, looking down into her brown eyes. He remembered that exact shade from their Order days. He thought he'd forgotten...

"You, erm," he began intelligently, and then shook his head at himself, a sardonic grin gracing his features. "You could have been a healer, Madam Granger."

"No, I couldn't," she murmured as she released his hand. She was only flushed because the store was so bloody warm. It certainly wasn't because she realized she'd just kissed his finger and held his hand, his large, strong hand. "I didn't have the qualifications or the NEWT scores to get into a program at St. Mungo's. Besides, I dealt with enough death and injuries during the war. I had no inclination once it was over to choose such a life as a career, unfortunately."

She knew that he'd only been teasing, of course, but she was flustered and instantly became this awkward creature who hid behind odd facts and logic to protect herself from appearing foolish. "There was actually a study performed in a Muggle hospital regarding whether or not a kiss on such an injury provided favorable results," she informed him as she recalled more random knowledge while she grabbed the first book she'd not read. "The study showed that it did improve the mental outlook of the patient and was 93% effective in recovery."

"Must be magic," Fred said, pleased that his voice sounded like his own again, not strained and tense. Fuck. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to show her just what kind of sparks could fly from the right kind of kiss. And she clearly had no interest whatsoever.

"Yes, it could be magic," she mused as she considered the effects of a simple kiss of affection on the mental well-being of a person suffering from a small injury such as a scratch or book bite. She wondered if Fred had any idea that his lips were very kissable. Not that she thought such a thing as it would be entirely inappropriate for her notice that a friend's lips were perfect for kissing. A friend, she reminded herself as she looked away and handed her book and her money to the clerk. A very masculine friend that she'd once been infatuated with many years ago, though he'd never noticed, despite her rather foolish habit of staring at him during that brief time and listening to every word he said in hopes he'd look at her and speak to her. He certainly wasn't interested now so it would be ridiculous to spend time thinking about his lips, kissable as they were.

He had to get out of here as quickly as possible. And then he needed to get very, very drunk. With a wink, he scooped up his pack and said, "Well, best be off. George should be arriving back with a new shipment of billywig stings any time now."

"You have to leave?" She looked at him as she collected her change and hoped he hadn't noticed how disappointed she had sounded. "I actually should probably finish my errands and go back to the castle. Neville is working on an experiment this weekend and can't leave the greenhouse until tomorrow night so I need to take him some lunch or he'll forget to eat."

"Hasn't changed much, then," Fred laughed, holding the door open for her.

"It was nice running into you, Fred," she told him as she stepped outside. She faced him and smiled before she gave him a hug. "Take care and give George my best. I'm going to stop by Honeydukes and then get back to school. I'll be seeing you, I'm sure."

"Good to see you too, Hermione," he said, wishing he could hold her just a little longer than a friendly hug goodbye permitted. "Stop by the shop any time to say hello."

He walked down the road in the opposite direction from her for a few paces, then turned and glanced over his shoulder, watching the sunlight glint of her hair. God, he was in serious, serious trouble here. And he hadn't any idea what to do about it.
Chapter 13: Distracted by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 13: Distracted
Date: Sunday, September 18, 2005
Location: Hogwarts
Character: Hermione
Rating: Any Age

This was ridiculous.

Hermione could make a list of every reason why she should not be thinking about Fred Weasley in the way her mind seemed determined to think of him. Well, she actually had been making a mental list since he walked away from her yesterday in Hogsmeade but that was beside the point. She could actually write them all down and have several inches of parchment easily. True, that list might have to include every single freckle listed individually but it was still a long list.

It was annoying that she had spent so much time with her mind on Fred and what hadn’t happened yesterday. Furthermore, it was unproductive to spend her spare time in the evenings thinking about her recent meetings with Fred and George in a way that was not at all beneficial to her mental health. Her books had recently remained open in her lap as she scratched Mrs. Norris behind her ears and thought about feelings buried long ago.

The most important thing that she needed to remember was that she was far too old be infatuated with a handsome man, especially a mischievous redhead that she had fancied years ago for a brief time.

Unfortunately, spending her time thinking of reasons why she shouldn’t be thinking about Fred simply resulted in hours passed with him as her focus of concentration. The list of reasons why it was okay to think about Fred Weasley was possibly longer than the reasons why it was just a bad idea, which was rather infuriating.

She should have kissed him yesterday.

When they were standing in the bookstore and he was leaning over her, she should have leaned up and kissed him. That would have solved her current problem because she’d have been stinging from his rejection and that bloody parchment would have been longer than her Transfiguration essay she’d turned in for third year that had Minerva muttering under her breath that she needed to learn how to say what she wanted in fewer words. After all, if he’d even thought about kissing her at some point, yesterday was the perfect opportunity. She could even have blamed it on clumsiness if he was so outraged or disgusted at the kiss that things became really awkward.

The shower was becoming cooler and she hadn’t even washed her hair yet. Another reason to add to that list, she decided with a frown as she picked up her new shampoo. Reason number 15: Distracts you until the hot water is gone. She flicked the tab on her shampoo and inhaled the scent of mint. She blushed slightly at the knowledge of why this particular shampoo had caught her attention while she and Seamus had been shopping in Diagon Alley yesterday afternoon.

The aroma was light and fresh as she poured a bit into her hand. She lathered and then began to work it into her thick hair, closing her eyes as she just enjoyed the familiar scent. Once her hair was washed, she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She dried off and then looked in the mirror, her gaze moving over her nude body and lingering here and there before she looked away.

It didn’t matter if she was attracted to Fred or even if he might ever possibly reciprocate the feelings. When it all came down to it, he’d never want her in that way so it was pointless to continue examining one moment at the bookstore that had probably just been her imagination. He hadn’t seemed fazed at all and certainly hadn’t given any indication that he’d even thought about kissing her. It may have been many years since someone had given her that sort of look but Hermione was pretty certain she’d remember it.

Before she allowed herself to become melancholy over something as silly as what appeared to be a renewed unrequited crush on Fred Weasley, she pulled her robe on and tightened the belt. She got her brush and walked back to the mirror. Her hair was a bit of a mess after being washed, sticking up in several directions from where she’d worked to get the shampoo out and very close to resembling the bird’s nest Ron so often compared it to. She made a face at herself in the mirror and then set to work.

A short time later, it was brushed and somewhat under control; well, as much control as she normally managed without potions or charms she didn’t bother with unless it was a very special occasion. She put her brush away and continued with her morning ritual. She picked up a bottle and rubbed lotion on her legs, arm and chest. She brushed her teeth last and then went back into her room.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed. Sensible white cotton briefs, practical brassiere also in white cotton with just a hint of lace, dark blue shirt with sleeves that ended just past her wrists, and a pair of faded blue jeans was her customary ‘staying at school’ weekend attire. She slipped on track shoes and then put on a robe over her casual clothing just in case she ran into any students on her way to the library.

Today, she planned to get some of her paperwork done for the upcoming week, have mid-afternoon tea with Kingsley, and then go visit Neville while he sat in the Greenhouse. There was quite a bit to keep her busy so she should have no problem at all in not thinking about Fred Weasley.

The walk to the library was rather uneventful. She was nearly there when she noticed a student with yellow feathers and bit her lip to keep from laughing when he flopped his arms around and pretended to fly for his amused friends. Hearing laughter in the halls of Hogwarts was worth accepting the pranks that she knew the twins would ensure were harmless fun.

Her intentions to focus on work didn’t seem to go very well. After two hours, her parchment was covered in ink spots from where she’d drifted into thought and let her quill drip and she had spent more time thinking about freckles on a firm belly than getting ahead for the week. It was rather frustrating because she wasn’t used to this sort of thing. She didn’t allow these sorts of things to distract her. Not even when she’d had brief infatuations in the past had she been this preoccupied.

She finally just gave up for the time being. It was Sunday, thankfully, so she didn’t really have to get any work done. Maybe a cup of tea with Kingsley would clear her mind of things she shouldn’t be thinking about. Then she’d go check on Neville, maybe take a book and spend some time in the greenhouse with him. If Kingsley was bored enough, he’d probably go with her and play chess with Neville while she read.

With that thought in mind, she tossed the ruined parchment into the rubbish, put away her quill and ink, and straightened her desk. The book she had bought yesterday was in her room, which was on the way down to Kingsley’s suite, so she’d just stop on the way. A cup of tea, her friends, and a good book. Surely that was enough to keep her mind off red hair, freckles, and mischievous smiles.
Chapter 14: You Must Remember This by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 14: You Must Remember This
Date: Monday, September 19, 2005
Location: Hogwarts
Character: George, Hermione
Rating: Any Age



The package was well-hidden in George's satchel as he skirted along the shore of the lake. It amused him to enter Hogwarts grounds through the front gate rather than illicitly through their secret passage, but he wasn't on a mission of mayhem today. Well, not really. He had a trick or two to set in motion, but nothing that could be tied to this little visit.

No, on this sunny afternoon, he was hoping to find Hermione so that he could deliver to her the straightforward and not-in-the-least-bit-booby trapped package that he and Fred has created, much to George's amusement. George had always been better at remembering dates, after all, and when he'd mentioned yesterday that September 19th was Hermione Granger's birthday, Fred had blurted just a little too quickly, "We should get her a gift."

"Should we, now?" George had chuckled.

"Yes. Neighbourly thing to do. From the two of us."

"In between trying to drive her slowly mad."

"Precisely."

George hadn't bought it for a second. He wasn't sure how Hermione felt, but it was fairly obvious that Fred was infatuated once more. Maybe he would drop a few hints to the Hogwarts librarian and see what kind of response it garnered. After all, if Fred was happy, George was happy. And when they were happy, they were productive, which meant they were also profiting and able to renovate the horrid little flat above the shop that much quicker and move out of Rosie's even more horrid little room. At any rate, the twins now had a birthday gift for Hermione, and George had a lifetime's worth of blackmail material because Fred had avoided his eyes and muttered something about being busy, suggesting that George should deliver the present today alone. George had performed a wide and impressive range of chicken noises before setting off for the school.

He thought about Hermione as he strolled across the lawns. It wasn't that difficult to understand what Fred saw in her, after all. She was beautiful in an unassuming, self-possessed kind of way, and she was fiercely intelligent. George and Fred had spent enough time with her during the war to get to know her more than as their little brother's friend. George liked to think he'd known her well back then, and as much as he enjoyed mocking Fred and competing with him in a contest of pranks against Hermione, he truly did enjoy her company and he hoped to get to know her again.

He was just about to head up to the school, guessing that between the final class and dinner, Hermione would probably be unoccupied, when he saw a familiar figure heading in his direction.

~*~

Twenty-six didn't feel any different than twenty-five, Hermione mused as she left the castle and started to walk toward the lake. She hadn't given particular thought to her birthday since she was younger, appreciating any presents or birthday wishes but never going out of her way to remind anyone or to do anything to celebrate. After a certain age, it was just the same as any other day, really, so why bother?

However, she had to admit that it was always nice when someone remembered. Harry and Ron had, of course, sent her owls that morning and made plans to meet her for lunch on the upcoming Saturday. Kingsley and Neville had surprised her the previous evening with a book they'd chipped in together to buy her, one she'd been thinking of purchasing for several months, and they'd all had ice cream and tarts for dessert in the greenhouse. Shay had stopped by for breakfast, awake far too early and ending up falling asleep beside his plate of eggs, and she knew from years' experience that Ginny would send her something entirely inappropriate by the end of the day, accompanied by a cheeky note designed to make Hermione blush and mutter.

There had been tea with Minerva where not a word was mentioned about the significance of the date. But there had been a hug at the end, which only happened on her birthday and Christmas, and a kind smile from her favorite professor as she was told to go enjoy the remainder of her day with the threat of being hexed if she went back to work. She doubted Minerva would actually hex her for working but, well, it was better not test the Headmistress.

So she had gone to her room, picked up a book, and was now on her way to the lake. It would be quiet this time of day as most students were finishing their last class and doing homework before dinner. There was a particular spot that was a favorite for reading and just relaxing whenever she felt the urge, so she immediately headed there.

She was nearly there when something caught her attention. She was surprised to see red hair shining in the afternoon sun and had to admit she was curious when she realized it was George, the confident way he walked slightly different from Fred. "Afternoon, George," she called out in greeting, smiling as she pushed her hair away from her face and studied him with just a hint of suspicion.

"Ah, good afternoon to you, Madam Granger," George said, sketching out a formal bow to her. Well, she was certainly making things easy for him, wasn't she? It was odd to see someone that he'd grown to adulthood with looking so, well, adult after all. He actually had to suppress the immediate urge to prank her on the spot because she was an authority figure.

With a wink, he said, "And how are we today?"

"My day has been good, actually. Not quite my typical day, which explains why I'm on my way to the lake with a new book. I plan to enjoy the sunshine and just relax for a little while before dinner. And what brings you to my school, Mister Weasley?" she asked rather bluntly, though her smile softened her words.

"Your school?" George teased. "I hadn't realized the deed had passed into your delicate hands, Madam Granger."

"Oh, you wouldn't have heard. It was listed in the Daily Prophet after you and Fred went to Canada," she said matter-of-factly, nothing in her tone betraying her lack of sincerity or her amusement. She held up her hands and noticed ink stains on her fingers. "Alas, my hands are far from delicate, Mister Weasley."

"Lovely hands all the same, though," he teased. He flicked his wand and a blue-and-white checkered picnic blanket flew out of its tip and wafted on the breeze to settle beneath a rather comfortable looking old tree that many a student had reclined beneath over the years. "I'm here for a little relaxation too."

Hermione smiled as she watched the blanket land on the ground near her favorite spot. "A little more to the left and beneath the older tree between the two very large roots," she informed him with a slight smirk as she walked past him. "That is, if you were planning on joining me for the moment of relaxation. If not, do keep the blanket where you have it, but I must warn you that the sun will shine directly in your face in another half hour."

George tilted his head to look at the sun before he flicked his wand, directing the blanket to the spot in question. "I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon. Is that better, fair lady?"

"I don't recall being asked if you could join me," she teased as she unbuttoned her robe and slid it off her shoulders. "I simply observed that your blanket was in the wrong place if you wished to join me. That was nothing but a reflection on the location of the blanket and not an invitation, dear sir."

George followed the path of the blanket, picking his way over the ancient ruptured roots of the trees, and sprawled across it inelegantly. "Too true, Hermione. Then again, maybe there isn't enough room for you here anyway. You could just sit next to the blanket on the cold, hard ground and we can have two separate moments of isolation. Now, now- no talking to me, and I won't talk to you." He nearly managed not to grin.

She arched a brow and deliberately spread out her robe beside his blanket. A wave of her wand and the robe expanded to an adequate size for one person. "Perhaps I don't need your blanket, George," she mused thoughtfully. "I dare say that you might have to be nicer if you wish to enjoy my company this afternoon. After all, I have this entertaining book and you've nothing but the thoughts in your head. I do think that I've the advantage in that situation." She winked at him and grinned in a cheeky manner that she usually only displayed with Seamus before she looked pointedly from her robe to the blanket and waited for his invitation.

George looked up into the overarching branches above them. "Was that the wind? It couldn't be Hermione talking, as she didn't invite me to share her private moment." He counted three beats before glancing at her slyly. "Though of course, should she wish to share my private moment, she's more than welcome to..." Was she blushing? How odd.

It was only after she'd winked and grinned that Hermione had remembered that this was George Weasley and not Seamus. Well, she'd known all along, of course, but there was a huge difference in winking at Shay and winking at George. Even though it had been intended in fun, she felt heat cross her cheeks as she suddenly found the stitching on the blanket interesting. "The wind is a nagging swot now, is it?" she asked as she repeated one of George's favorite comments to her during those days at Godric's Hollow. "If I were the wind, I might be offended at being compared to me."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her skirt up to her knees so she could sit down comfortably on the blanket. "I am merely taking pity on a young man with nothing to keep him entertained but his own thoughts, which we know are few and far between," she declared loftily as she transfigured her robe into a comfortable pillow and leaned back against the tree before giving George a smile. "How has your day been, George?"

Nagging swot. George smiled in remembrance. Yes, that's what he'd called her back then. Affectionately, of course. He scooted over as she made herself comfortable.

"Oh, you know, keeping busy," he said dismissively. She didn't need to know that he'd been designing several deceptively elaborate pranks to play on her, of course. "A little product testing, a little shopping. And you?"

"It's always busy when the students are here," she told him. "I was actually able to order a few new texts for the library this year so they're coming in sporadically, which is nice. I have a bad tendency to read just about anything I receive before placing it on the shelves, you know? I've been accused of doing so because I have no life by a well-meaning friend but I prefer to think of it in terms of making sure I know what is on the shelves of my library."

She blew on a stray lock of hair that seemed determined to keep falling from her messy knot and looked at him curiously. "What sort of products are you testing? Or is that a secret and I've not got the clearance to know? It seems several of your newest products are keeping the professors quite busy, especially the hair product. You'll have to tell me the secret of how you manage to make the color last so long and change the locks so thoroughly. It was quite fascinating."

"Top secret, that," he agreed. "Though I'm delighted to hear that the hair charms work so well. We spent quite a bit of time on those- drove our neighbours absolutely batty when we first developed them."

"Top secret, huh?" She resisted the urge to sulk at not finding out what series of charms they used but it made her more determined to analyze it herself just to show him she'd found out. It was comfortable sitting here with company, a fact that was somewhat surprising. While Hermione had several close friends, she appreciated her privacy and enjoyed spending time on her own. It was a welcome escape from the sometimes tediousness of her days to just sit by the lake and lose herself in a book.

Hermione watched as George plucked a fallen twig off the ground by the blanket and with a whispered enchantment and a flick of his wand, he transfigured it into a purple tulip. She had to admire his skill at transfiguration. There had been a time years ago when she'd been young and believed knowledge came only from books and had to be practiced a certain way to be valid. The Weasley twins had managed to blow that theory out of the water by the time she was sixteen. She'd had to acknowledge that they were both skilled wizards and far more intelligent than she'd ever given them credit for. It had been rather predictable, she saw looking back now, that she had developed a crush on them both eventually, though her infatuation with George hadn‘t lasted very long (one month and twenty-four days, to be exact) and was, she thought, possibly caused by the tension of OWLs and Umbridge in the latter half of her fifth year, though she knew it had nothing to do with her previous crush on Fred, thankfully, as neither infatuation was quite the same.

George watched her curiously as she seemed to lose herself in memory. "You weren't kidding about that private moment thing, then?" He leaned over and tucked the tulip behind her ear to help hold that pesky stray bit of hair in place.

"There we are," he said. "A birthday flower for the birthday girl." He sat back again, looking up at the patches of sky visible through the branches above them.

When George tucked the pretty tulip behind her ear, his fingertips casually brushing against her cheek, she decided that thinking of past crushes was not anymore wise than considering herself possibly currently infatuated with George's brother. His twin brother who happened to look very much like him in that identical-twin-sort-of-way. She was only belatedly beginning to remember how similar in appearance they were. It was fortunate that Hermione had firm control on such silly things as hormones and idle thoughts. "Tulips are my favorite," she told him as the awkward feeling quickly passed. "Wait, you remembered it was my birthday?"

He winked and settled back on his elbows, breathing in the fresh autumn air. "'Course. Never thought I'd be back in this place, you know? When Fred and I made our escape in seventh year, I thought that was it. There we were- clear career path, enough capital from Harry to start a business, more than enough product ideas between us to keep that business going... It's odd how life seems to bring you back where you never thought you were meant to be, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm prattling on like some poncy philosophical bastard. What about you, love? You must be happy to be ensconced in the Hogwarts library. You always spent so much time there when we when we were younger."

"Prattle on all you'd like. I find it interesting, actually. I agree about life. I honestly never imagined coming back here. When I was younger, I had clear ideas. I'd work at the Ministry and actually make a difference somehow. Then I learned how corrupt it was and realized that I could never play those sorts of games, the lying and kissing arse to get agendas approved and such. It's just not me."

"We used to joke that you'd be Minister for Magic by the time you were twenty, whether the rest of the world liked it or not," George said. "'Course, we could have told you about the corruption. Dad used to come home with horror stories, but optimistic bloke that he always has been, he never let it get him down. I think half the reason he loved his department was how free of all the rest of it he was."

She laughed as she moved to lie on the blanket and look at the pretty afternoon sky. "I'm far too blunt to have actually done anything except perhaps get my arse tossed out of the wizarding world," she said with a smile that faded as she thought back through the years. "After the war, I had nothing save for unwanted press coverage and an Order of Merlin, neither of which helped me think of a possible career."

"We use our Order of Merlin medals as coasters," George interjected.

She choked back laughter. "Minerva gave me a chance when no one else would, let me have this opportunity, and it turned out to be something that I dearly love. However, it was never anything I considered doing before I actually accepted her offer. I might have enjoyed learning and the library, but I had grandiose dreams of doing something important and it took several blows from reality before I actually found somewhere to belong."

"It's odd to hear you call McGonagall 'Minerva'. Don't know that we could ever get around to that. She used to let us get away with far more than she ever punished us for, though. Crafty old cat, that one. I wouldn't doubt if she'd been a prankster in her own right when she went to school here."

"Minerva has become a good friend over the years. She's very crafty and there are times I could swear she was actually in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor because she's quite cunning and manipulative when necessary," Hermione said with a fond smile. "I daresay she'd be a formidable opponent when it came to subtlety and pranks so you boys better be on guard once she finds out, if she's not already, that you're both causing trouble in our school."

He turned onto his side, propping his head up on one hand. The breeze riffled through Hermione's hair, and the sunlight filtering through the trees seemed to infuse her with a strangely calming glow. "You do seem happy here," he declared. "And I rather think you're doing more for the future of the world by helping these little blighters out than we do. Though of course, we do keep life interesting for you lot who have to look after them."

She rolled her head to the side and smiled at George. "It's nice here," she told him honestly as she reached up to brush a leaf away from his long hair. "Still can't get used to this." Her fingers ran through his soft locks as she smiled. "I didn't know what I was going to do when I was in the hospital and now I've found somewhere that I seem to belong in a place I never really expected. I am happy, actually. There was a time when I---well, I wasn't sure if happy was in my future. Now, though, I have great friends and a job I love, plus I enjoy watching the students grow up and become young men and women. It's rewarding even if all I do is give them books to help them on their journey. And yes, you and Fred are certainly helping make this school year an interesting one."

"We were worried about you when you were in the hospital," George admitted, leaning into her touch a little so that she could free him of whatever had nestled there. He frowned a little as he remembered. "But you got back on your feet and we on ours- albeit on a different continent. I don't regret that we made a life there, but you've no idea how good it is to be home. Even we didn't have any real idea..."

"That's all you can do after something like that," she said softly as she thought back again to those days. "You have to keep living and move on, even if that just requires taking it one day at a time. I'm glad you and Fred have come home. I hadn't realized just how quiet life was with you two on another continent."

He shook his head, not willing to lose himself in reminiscence just now, neither about their shared wartime experiences nor about his time in Canada, far away from the life he and Fred had grown up with. With an impish grin, he twined his fingers with hers where they played with his hair. He gave her a friendly squeeze. "Do you approve of our flowing locks?"

Hermione laughed. "I'm getting used to it," she admitted as she tugged playfully on his hair. "I think it suits you, actually. Tell me more about Canada. I must admit that I know very little bit about the country at all. What did you both do there?"

"Canada was excellent. We settled in a small wizarding enclave on the west coast. Almost like Hogsmeade, but- well, you grew up as a Muggle, love. You know what hippies are, right? It's like Hogsmeade meets Haight-Ashbury. We learned a lot about Muggle culture, and a lot about Muggle spirits." George dropped their hands to the blanket between them, not really aware that their fingers were still twined.

She rested her cheek against her palm and listened to him, hearing the enthusiasm in his voice as he spoke of their former home. "I know hippies," she told him as she rapidly ran through her knowledge of Muggle culture. "Free spirits, and I seem to recall something about peace and love. It sounds like a fascinating place. Do you plan to go back or are you home to stay?"

"We think we're back to stay. We're pretty solidly set up at Zonko's, and we're nearly done refurbishing the flat above the shop. Just like old times in Diagon Alley, wouldn't you say?"

"Better times, I think. Have you decided when you're going to have an official opening yet?" she asked curiously as she tugged on a loose thread on the blanket and lightly stroked a cut on the back of his knuckle.
George had forgotten the way he and Hermione had always been able to converse so easily and naturally. She'd been a treasured friend during the war, and they'd often sat up late into the night after Fred, who always retired earlier than George, had gone to sleep. They would strategize or just talk about life, their friends and family, and the future or the lack thereof. She was so comfortable to be around.

"We haven't settled on a grand opening date just yet, love," he said. "But trust me, you'll know when the time comes. It'll be very hard to miss."

"I'll expect an invitation, of course," she informed him firmly, her smile softening her words. "I'm sure you'll both be glad to be finished with the flat. I adore Rosmerta but I'd not want to spend an extended period of time at the Three Broomsticks."

"Well, I for one definitely won't miss the 3 B's. Our room is really rather squalid. Ron would be terrified of the spiders we've had to shoo out. I take it you frequent Rosie's place on the weekends?"

"I usually go to Hogsmeade on Saturday and occasionally on Sunday depending on what I have to do for the day. Sometimes I just stay here and get a little work done for the upcoming week or nag my friends. I enjoy the walk to Hogsmeade, though, and it helps me get a bit of exercise, which is good considering my fondness for chocolate.

"You know, Mister Weasley, you never did answer my earlier question," she reminded him in her most stubborn tone so he'd know that a distraction wouldn't be likely to work a second time. She met his gaze and gave him her most stern ‘your book had better be back on time or else' look. "What brings you to my school this lovely afternoon?"

The question hovered before him as George pondered how best to answer. He couldn't very well say, "Well you see, I'm going to set several elaborate, time-delayed pranks for you to drive you out of your tree", could he? No. He could say... oh, right! He didn't have to make up an excuse, he had a built-in one just laying there in his satchel. "Funny you should ask, love. We just happened to remember that today is your birthday, so we got you something. Accio Hermione's birthday gift."

A package wrapped in shiny red foil floated serenely out of George's bag and wafted through the air, landing in his outstretched hand. "Here you are, then. Happy birthday!"

"You brought me a present? Thank you, George." To say she was surprised was an understatement. Shocked might be a more appropriate word. Hermione sat up and pushed her hair away from her face where it had fallen from the tulip and the clip that held it in a messy bun. She stared at the gift and then looked at George before she smiled. "Should I open it or should I check for hexes first?" she asked only somewhat jokingly. She pulled her legs up and took the package from him, balancing it on her knees as she touched the bow before she slowly began to unwrap it.

George could read the shock in her expression and was secretly pleased. He and Fred had decided upon what they hoped was the perfect gift, and working from memories and old product designs, they'd created and charmed the gift themselves, just for her. "What do you think?" he asked as she unwrapped the foil.

Hermione was one of those people who was careful when unwrapping a gift. She didn't rip or tear the paper. Instead, she gently broke the seal in each place and unfolded the paper until she saw a small box. All she could do was stare inside when she saw Crookshanks. Well, it wasn't him, of course, but it was a perfect replica of him as a kitten right down to the whiskers.

The plushie was soft to touch and she smiled as it began to purr when she removed it from the box. "How did you---" She looked from the kitten toy to George and smiled. "It's perfect," she told him before she impulsively leaned over to kiss his cheek. She wasn't expecting him to turn and smile right before her lips brushed against his.

He couldn't help but share her delighted smile. So their choice of gift had been the right one after a-

A thrill of unexpected warmth tingled through him when her lips met his and his eyes widened. They both pulled back immediately, shock hanging in the air between them. He meant to apologize, really he did. He could even feel the words sticking oddly in his throat.

Oh. Hermione blinked. That had been most unexpected. She licked her lips and considered making some sort of joke to laugh it off. Instead, she swayed slightly and unconsciously leaned forward, her eyes fluttering closed as their lips met again. They pulled away and she met his gaze as she opened her eyes.

For the life of him, he didn't quite know why he was leaning forward again, only that it seemed like the right thing to do. After all, she was leaning also. The next press of lips against lips was tentative, explorative, and his eyes closed as he savored the warm friction of this one spot of connection. Her lips parted as she reached up and moved her fingers into his long hair, her tongue brushing against his lips as she kissed him or perhaps he kissed her.

George's breath caught at the twin sensation of her fingers and her tongue, and with a low, unconscious growl he slipped his tongue between her parted lips, tasting her in an embrace that was now anything but hesitant. He cradled her face in his hands, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. This was too good, deliriously good.

His fingertips were rough against her skin, she noted idly before he growled and deepened the kiss. Hermione shifted on the blanket and pressed closer to him, her free hand resting on his broad shoulder as she kissed him back. It had been far too long since she'd been kissed like this and she responded eagerly as she tightened her grip on his soft hair.

She was warm and alive beneath his touch and he ran his fingertips along the curve of her neck, groaning a little at the softness of her skin. She felt so irresistibly good in his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to lower her back down against the blanket, to taste her everywhere and-

He pulled back sharply as his questing hand grazed the soft swell of her breast. Fuck. This was Hermione. Hermione Granger, erstwhile friend, Hogwarts librarian, and current object of his own twin brother's affections. What the fuck was he doing? "Hermione," he breathed, brushing her cheek with his thumb again.

Hermione whimpered softly when she felt his hand lightly touch her breast, warning bells going off in her head as her eyes opened. It was too much, far too much, and she was relieved when he raised his hand from her chest to touch her cheek. What the bloody hell was she doing? She couldn't do this. "George," she whispered in a breathless tone she couldn't remember ever hearing before. "I---I should go. It's nearly dinner."

George blinked. "Dinner, right. I..."

But she'd already scrambled up, clutching the Crookshanks replica and her book. He watched her hasten resolutely back to the school with a "thank you" thrown over her shoulder, unable to form a more articulate sentence.

Fucking fucking fuck. What the hell had he done? He and Hermione had never had a thing like this before. Never. Friends, yes. Good friends, even, in the end. But she was Fred's girl, not his. It had never even occurred to him that he himself might find her attractive, nor that, given the way she'd just responded, she'd return the feeling. But no- no feelings were involved here. This had been nothing but the heat of the moment. Lovely day, lovely companion with whom he shared nostalgic memories, and the fact that he hadn't kissed anyone in far too long. That was it. It had to be. He couldn't be longing to touch her again. It was unheard of. Part of him wanted to head straight back to Hogsmeade but he would not run from this. He was here for a reason- he had pranks to pull and a bet to win with Fred. His stomach did an embarrassed back flip. What the hell kind of brother was he? Fred would kill him.

He banished these thoughts as best he could as he stood up and made the picnic blanket disappear with a wave of his wand. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he set off toward the Quidditch pitch, trying to focus on his plans and not on the way Hermione Granger tasted.
Chapter 15: Doomed by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 15: Doomed
Date: Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Location: Three Broomsticks
Character: George, Fred
Rating: Any Age (adult language warning)



Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. George rolled over for the umpteenth time, groaning. He flung his pillow over his face, thinking without any real hope that he might accidentally suffocate himself. Tragic, yes, but then he wouldn't be in this mess. He wondered if Fred would be the one to deliver the eulogy. It would be fitting, after all, the hundreds of people gathered to see him off murmuring to each other how well Fred was holding up, though inwardly Fred would be a wreck. Fred would mourn the loss of his poor, dear brother who never once hurt him, never once betrayed him...

Bloody hell. Maybe if he slammed his head into the wall it would make things better. Fred, after all, had been up ages ago, popping into the pub proper for scones and coffee and flirty repartee with Madam Rosmerta, leaving George to sleep in as he usually did. Yesterday evening had not been fun. As far as George could remember, he had never deliberately lied to his twin, nor concealed something that Fred had the right to know. But nothing like this had ever happened before. Hermione had always been a friend. Smart, yes. Attractive, sure. But attractive in that little-brother's-best-friend kind of way. Hell, he hadn't even really noticed that she had breasts until he'd nearly touched one yesterday and- No. Mustn't think about that. Mustn't think about the taste of her lips against his, of the breathy little moan/growl that escape her throat as he'd deepened the kiss. Mustn't, mustn't, mustn't.

He was fucking doomed.

Giving up trying to get an extra hour or two of sleep as a bad job, George rolled out of bed, his hair tousled and his jaw covered in stubble. Blearily, he picked up his robe and wrapped it around himself. He'd barely slept last night. In his mind he'd scolded himself the way Mum used to do, bawling himself out for moving in on Fred's territory. He'd known Fred liked her. He'd sodding been planning to drop hints to Hermione that his twin might like to take her out some time but was too much of an idiot to do anything as simple as ask. And what happened? He'd snogged her senseless instead.

Or been snogged senseless, more like. How else to explain his complete leave of sense, reason, and rationality? Because during the gaps between his internal tirades, his imagination had gleefully reproduced the afternoon, playing up the way the sunlight had glinted off her hair, the soft fall of wispy hair about her face from where it had escaped her bun, the way she smiled, the way she'd kissed him back, the kiss itself. And then his damned imagination had gone a step further, spinning him fantasies where neither had stopped the kiss and Hermione had confessed her long-buried feelings to him. And there by the lake, beneath the trees, he'd unbuttoned her blouse and-

FUCK. He had to stop that. He didn't want her. He couldn't want her. Even if she wasn't interested in Fred, it just wasn't right. As he cast about for slippers, a bit of memory caught him. He and Fred- they couldn't have been much more then thirteen or fourteen, and Charlie and Bill had both been home to visit for a week in the summer. They'd both wanted to ask out the same girl in the Muggle village, and Bill had ended up hexing Charlie's hands into a permanently obscene gesture. Charlie, of course, couldn't go down to the village in such a state, especially not when Mum had seen him and threatened to paddle his backside, no matter that he was nearly twenty, leaving Bill free to sneak off to see the girl.

"We'll never do that," Fred had said, shaking his head in disgust as he and George peeled potatoes in the kitchen sink.

"Never," George had agreed. "Stupid waste of time and energy, fighting over a girl."

"Doubt it'll ever come up anyway."

"But if it does, let's agree right now."

"Right- if we both like the same girl-"

"Then we both back off."

"No sense pissing each other off like those two prats," Fred said sagely.

"Fred! Language," Molly had chirped as she moved through the kitchen on the way out to feed the chickens.

George shook his head as he shuffled out of the room in the Three Broomsticks. He needed coffee, preferably enough to drown himself in.

When Madam Rosmerta caught sight of him, she nearly dropped her pitcher of orange juice. "Oi!" she called, marching over to him with a swish of her hips.

George grunted.

She shook her head. "How hung over are you, Fred-or-George Weasley? You need something very bitter and very caffeinated."

"Not hung over," George protested. "Though I won't say no to the second thing."

"You do know you're in a robe and slippers?"

"I do." George spotted Fred laughing at him at their usual table. Oh god. He'd managed to avoid much mention of Hermione yesterday, despite Fred's insistent questions. He was afraid his twin wouldn't let his evasion slide this morning.

"Girl troubles?" Madam Rosmerta asked, handing him a mug that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

George sputtered. "Girl... No! I- No!"

"Boy troubles, then?" she asked shrewdly.

George patted her on the cheek. "None of those either. I'm holding out for you, Rosie."

"With morning breath like that, you'll be waiting a long time," she muttered, giving him a gentle shove toward his table. He stumbled and sloshed coffee down his front, yelping as it burned his skin. Bloody hell, he wasn't usually this clumsy.

"You're up early," Fred said, far too chipper this morning. Just like every morning. Okay. Natural. George just had to act like this was any other morning and he'd be fine.

"Couldn't sleep."

"You look exhausted. Tell you what, I'll finish those orders for the Hogwarts students and sneak 'em up myself."

Oh, he just had to be nice today, didn't he. "I'm capable of doing it myself."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Yes, but we don't need you biting the head off a customer or knocking into a singing suit of armour and causing Peeves, Filch, and McGonagall to descend upon us. Besides, maybe I'll swing by to see Hermione."

George would not blush. He wouldn't.

"You never did say if she liked the gift." Fred chewed on his bottom lip, looking worried. "Didn't she?"

"She liked it fine," George grumbled.

"Really?"

"Yeah, teared-up and everything."

Fred beamed. "I'm glad. I knew she'd like it."

"Sure you did." George stole a piece of Fred's toast and began to eat noisily.

"What's wrong with you today?" Fred asked, watching George closely. "You're a bit of a bitch."

"Told you. I couldn't sleep," George snapped. He immediately felt sorry, his raw guilt rearing up inside him. This wasn't Fred's fault. "Sorry. I am a bit like Mum when she started hitting menopause today, aren't I?"

"You are. Keep it up and I'll have to throw you out of the business," Fred teased.

"You wouldn't last a day without me." George pointed at his head. "I'm the brains, remember?"

"Well, Brains, you might consider getting dressed before you exit our room next time."

All right. This was better. Bantering George could handle. "Maybe I'm trying to start a new trend. Fashionista that I am."

"At least we don't wear dragon skin trousers anymore."

"Thank god our taste has matured." George raised his mug in a mock toast, and Fred clinked his juice glass against it, looking less bewildered.

George sighed. Maybe letting Fred do the orders today was a good idea. It would give George time to think and to sort out his muddled feelings. Maybe he could just obliviate himself. Surely without his memories, the sharp ache of want in him would die out too?

"You go on," he said to Fred.

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah. Just... indigestion last night. Kept me up." George winced. Thoughts of Hermione had kept him far more up than was entirely proper. But Fred did not need to know that. "Look, I'll clean myself up and then wander down to the shop, all right?"

"All right," Fred said, scooting his chair backward. He tossed a wink at Madam Rosmerta and disappeared out into the too-bright morning. George caught his head in his hands and moaned pathetically. Maybe being drunk would help.

"Rosie, is it too early for a large vat of alcohol, enough to go swimming in?" he asked hopefully as she passed him.

"Far too early, honey," Rosmerta said sympathetically. "Though I do have something that can help."

"Give it to me now, if you have any mercy."

"Go back to bed," she ordered. "I'll fish out one of my best pleasant dream potions. It'll put you right to sleep and you'll wake up refreshed, I promise you."

"Saint. Angel," George praised, catching one of her hands and kissing her knuckles enthusiastically.

"Enough of that, young whelp! To bed with you!" She leered at him playfully.

"Goddess," George affirmed, staggering back to his room. He sprawled in his bed and waited patiently for Rosie, trying with all his might not to think about a shared picnic blanket and a shared kiss.
Chapter 16: Chocolate and Seamus by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 16: Chocolate and Seamus
Date: Friday; September 23, 2005
Location: Honeydukes, Seamus' Flat
Characters: Hermione, Seamus
Rating: Any Age

For seven years, with only a handful of exceptions, Hermione could always be found in her suite on Friday nights. She took dinner up there and spent her evening writing owls to friends and reading whatever book she hoped to finish before the end of the weekend. Even Kingsley and Neville rarely disturbed her on Friday nights as they had their own routines set into place over time. It was well known by any who knew her that Hermione enjoyed schedules and plans. She liked routine, even if she could adjust reasonably well to surprises and could adapt quickly when necessary.

The people who knew this about her, who knew that she’d rather fly than deviate from a comfortable routine that had become habit, would be shocked to see her at the moment.

It was Friday evening and she wasn’t in her room. She wasn’t even in the castle. Instead of lounging in her most comfortable chair with an open book in her hands, she was walking down to Hogsmeade with one thought in mind: I need chocolate. Chocolate would make everything better because it always made everything better. Once she had a box of chocolate covered cherries, things would make sense once again. Hermione was quite confident about that. Well, somewhat confident. All right, slightly hopeful but not holding her breath.

The past week required an unexpected trip to Hogsmeade and a break in her routine. Work had been fine, actually, and there were no complaints really. No, what had disturbed her week was that kiss. A simple kiss should not have such an effect on her schedules or her mind. After much analysis and thought, she had decided it was an accident. Not an accident in terms of ‘oops, I slipped and my lips now happen to be against yours, George’ but an accident in terms of it being a surprise and not at all planned.

Perhaps that wasn’t the right word but it was the best she could do, really. It had left her feeling far more confused than she’d thought possible and she wouldn’t even think about the dreams she’d had that certainly hadn’t ended with just a kiss. There hadn’t been those sort of vivid dreams in quite a long time but she supposed they meant she’d at least not forgotten what sex was like despite the number of years since she’d experienced it. Not since Viktor, which meant it had been long enough ago that she wasn’t entirely sure she could remember much beyond what part went where.

Thinking about sex was not helping, she decided with a scowl as she scolded her brain. Why couldn’t she ever stop thinking? It was a curse, really, to have such an active mind. There were times she almost envied people who were vapid and didn’t seem to understand the process of thought. The envy didn’t last long, of course, as Hermione was proud of her intelligence and ability to think outside the box when the situation warranted such behavior.

Until Monday afternoon, she’d thought her infatuation with Fred was coming back. She knew it had been, actually. After their visit to the bookstore, she’d regretted not kissing him even if it would have been risking humiliation should he be disgusted. If she was developing a small crush on Fred, though, why had she kissed George? It wasn’t logical at all.

Well, it made sense with regard to the moment and feeling as if there had been no way she could move again until their lips pressed against each other. It had started accidentally, a missed kiss to the cheek landing on his lips, but the other kisses had no such excuses. Kisses. God, she’d snogged George Weasley to a point where she didn’t even know how many times they’d kissed and there had even been groping. She was thankful that she’d stopped it before it went further because there was a moment when his lips were against hers and his body was pressed close that she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop.

The only possible justification might be that she had somehow mixed up George and Fred since they looked alike, but that was ridiculous and an insult to all three of them. She knew fully well that it had been George beside her and she’d willingly kissed him despite possibly having a renewal of feelings for Fred. Now she was all mixed up and confused, unsure why a woman her age would even develop something as foolish as a crush in the first place and not certain whether it was Fred or George she might fancy and wondering if it wouldn’t be better for her mental health if she just stayed away from both of them until she could think clearly once again.

Chocolate would help.

When she saw Honeydukes, she seriously considered bouncing with glee. Of course, she didn’t as that would be immature and embarrassing but the temptation had been there. Hermione discreetly made her way to the shop, not wanting to risk running into Fred or George when she was still confused and unbalanced due to needing chocolate. The store was about to close when she walked inside, which meant her timing was perfect. Already chocolate had started to improve things and she was on some sort of schedule once again.

“I’ll be right with---Hermione?” Seamus stopped counting money and gaped at her.

“It’s okay. I can wait,” she said pleasantly as she went to the display counter and started making a mental list of what she wanted to buy.

“Oh no,” he interrupted her perusal as he shut the register. “It’s Friday night, sweetness, and you’re here, in my store, which means I want to know what’s going on!”

“I have a craving for those chocolate covered cherries you’ve gotten me addicted to so I came to get some, though these Peanut Butter Poppers looks good, too,” she mused.

“Hermione,” Seamus whined as he pouted, “you don’t come visit on Fridays. I wanna know why you’re here.”

“You sell chocolate. I wish to buy chocolate,” she said patiently in a teasing voice. Seamus looked like a whiny puppy when he behaved like this and she was torn between humoring him to make him smile or smacking his nose and telling him to hush.

“Fine. Be that way then, see if I care,” he declared loftily as he stepped out from behind the counter and went to lock the door and remove the open sign. “I just won’t tell you the latest gossip I’ve heard.”

“That’s not much of a threat since I don’t like gossip and think the entire practice is ridiculous,” she reminded him as she went around the counter and got a handful of ‘won’t melt in your hand’ choco-bites, white chocolate with a creamy texture that was just delicious.

“Oh please. You like gossip as long as it isn’t mean or malicious. Besides, I know you’ll like this gossip,” he taunted with a cheeky grin as he joined her and sat on the counter, kicking his feet like a child as he practically bounced. “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

“You’re really quite annoying sometimes, you know?”

“Yes, yes, you’ve told me that before. You’re a stubborn bitch sometimes.”

“Hmph. You’ve told me that before, too. These are really good, Seamus. You should make some with peanut butter in the middle, though, as chocolate and peanut butter are a heavenly match.”

“You think peanut butter would be a compliment? I thought about it but the texture is so creamy that I wasn’t sure if the consistency would be any good. And stop that, you wench! You’re trying to distract me.”

“You’re just too observant, Shay.”

“Damn right I am when it comes to your diversionary tactics, Hermione.”

“I just felt restless and wanted a walk. Chocolate is always nice and I was actually out of everything except some plain strips of milk chocolate,” she told him, wondering if she could adequately blame him for the extra weight she’d gained over recent years. It was certainly his fault for making such delicious candy and supporting her chocolate-habit.

“You’ve not been sleeping, have you? There are circles beneath your eyes. It’s not---the nightmares aren’t back, are they?” he asked with concern.

“No more than usual,” she replied softly, feeling guilty for making him worry about her. “It’s just been a thoughtful sort of week and I can’t sleep well when my brain is working so fast all the time. Now what’s this gossip?”

“Oh, the gossip!” Seamus grinned smugly before he teased, “It seems Hogsmeade has two new residents.”

“Really?” she asked even though she suspected who he was talking about.

“A certain pair of twins who are, I must say from the glimpse I caught of them the other day, absolutely scrumptious! We’re talking high priced dark chocolate with almonds here and maybe even a bit of coconut,” he told her before licking his lips. She wasn’t entirely sure it was caused by thinking about Fred and George or imagining the chocolate.

“I knew Fred and George were here,” she said even as she cursed her pale complexion that made her blush obvious. “I’ve run into them several times in the last few weeks.”

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” Seamus gasped and looked horrified before his gaze narrowed and he started to smile a smile that let her know he’d noticed. “What’s this now? A blush? When does the fair Miss Granger ever blush? I can’t seem to remember a time, in fact.”

“It’s warm in here,” she replied dryly, knowing that Seamus would be like a dog with a bone if she let on there was anything to her blush.

“Piffle,” he declared with obvious glee. “You blushed after mentioning the hunky Weasley twins so there must be something there. Shall we let me make a variety of suggestions, most of which would probably shock you in a most amusing way, or will you just tell me, which isn’t nearly as fun but saves time?”

“I want wine and chocolate,” she told him stubbornly, relieved that she would be able to talk to someone about this. If chocolate couldn’t help, maybe Seamus could.

“You’re so easy to bribe,” he said with a laugh as he slid off the counter. He handed her a clean plate. “Fill it up with whatever you want and I’ll finish closing.”

Seamus rarely ever let her pay for chocolate, which was surely another sign of enabling the addiction, but she had no complaints tonight as she put several candies on the plate and then followed him to his flat upstairs. He got wine and she took over the sofa, leaving enough room for him to lie beside her. She loved his sofa. It was huge and comfy and transfigured so they could each lie side by side without someone’s arse nearly hanging off.

“Wine for you, platonic love of my life.” Seamus bowed and winked before he settled beside her, sitting the opposite way and leaning against a large stack of pillows. “Now, blushes! Tell me!”

“Harry and Ron are taking me out tomorrow night for dinner,” she told him idly. “They’re taking me to some restaurant in Aberdeen for my birthday that Ron said is good, which is always a favorable endorsement as he knows good food, and Harry told me he’d heard they had a sinful triple chocolate cake for dessert. With all of you boys trying to feed me sweets, I’m surprised I’m not unable to make it through the door by now.”

“I’ll love all of you, sweetness, even if I have to charm the doorways bigger,” Seamus promised with a mischievous smile.

“I kissed George,” she blurted and watched him choke on his wine. “I think I might possibly, in a very very small way, fancy Fred and I kissed George.”

“Wait, you fancy him?” Seamus blinked as he gaped at her before he squealed, “Wait a minute! You fancy one but kissed the other? Hermione! You minx!”

“It’s not like that,” she muttered and scowled. “It just happened! I didn’t plan to snog George.”

“Goodness. Wow. This is…fuck.” Seamus shook his head and then smiled. “Was the kiss good?”

“Better than good,” she whined and covered her face. “Now I’m so confused.”

“You didn’t…that is to say, you didn’t get caught up and maybe think he was Fred instead of---“

“No,” she said firmly. “I knew it was George and I wanted to kiss George. Maybe I’m wrong and I wasn’t getting a crush on Fred. I’m far too old for infatuations, after all.”

“Oh yes. You’re absolutely ancient. I can see the wrinkles from here,” he murmured as he rolled his eyes. “We are never too old for silly infatuations. How is that gorgeous hunk of man, my dear Mister Shacklebolt, by the way?”

“Still grumpy, snarling, and straight, unfortunately,” she replied with a smile, watching Seamus sigh dramatically.

“Alas, I fear that latter will never change,” Seamus bemoaned in a theatrical way. While he did find Kingsley attractive and enjoyed flirting mostly because Kingsley was fun to tease until he threatened to get his wand, then it was better to run and hide, she knew he didn’t actually fancy Kings, not in a serious way. If she thought he did, she’d have been concerned but she knew Shay wasn’t ready for anything like that yet and, even if he was, Kingsley wasn’t his type.

“Probably not.” She commiserated before eating one of the popping peanut butter bites. She wasn’t fond of things like chocolate frogs that actually moved before you ate them but these were quite delicious. “Though I’m sure you’re the first bloke he’ll owl if he ever wakes up gay.”

“That’s something, at least,” Seamus said with a wink before he snatched a piece of chocolate from her plate. “So you kissed George and it was good enough that you just started to drool a little and got this dopey look on your face, which is a bit unsettling, I must admit, so I’m not entirely sure I condone the pursuit of either of the delicious but dopey-look-causing Weasley twins.”

“There is no pursuit. It was just a kiss that neither of us expected. I doubt he even felt anything anyway so I’m sure I’m being foolish for giving it so much thought,” she admitted before she took a drink of wine. “To be perfectly honest, I’m happy and content how I am now. I don’t need or necessarily want that sort of relationship at this point, you know? I thought my former crush on Fred was coming back and I shared a kiss with George. That’s all it is. See? Chocolate and Seamus have made it all better.”

“Chicken,” Seamus teased softly as he wiggled his toes. “I need new socks. These have a hole on the toe part. Anyway, you’re confused and that scares little Miss Must Have a Plan at All Times and Have All the Answers or She’ll Go Mental. You know what you need to do?”

“I don’t have to always have the answer,” she grumbled before she arched a brow and debated whether she actually wanted to hear Shay’s suggestion or not. “What do I need to do?”

“It’s so easy,” he taunted with a cheeky grin, “you need to kiss Fred, of course.”

“What?”

“You need to kiss Fred. It’s the only solution. You can find out if there are any squidgy feelings for Fred or if there was more squidgy for George. Then you’ll know everything and things will be all sense making again.”

“First, squidgy feelings? That isn’t even something the first year girls up at school would say, I doubt. Second, I can’t kiss Fred! And especially not so I can compare his kiss to George. That’s just utterly ridiculous!”

“I think it’s a good plan,” he defended before he shrugged and leered. “Besides, you can’t say kissing Fred would be a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible,” she finally decided before she tossed a popper at him and rolled her eyes. It was the silliest idea ever, or, at least, the silliest one she’d heard lately. She was relieved when he let the subject drop and they started to talk about the weekend and her upcoming dinner. Thoughts of Fred and George were soon pushed to the back of her mind for a bit as she giggled over Shay’s whining for her to bring him back a piece of the cake Harry had talked about.

She’d been right. Everything might not make sense yet, but chocolate and Seamus definitely made her feel better.
Chapter 17: Just a Kiss by inell
Clever Mischief #17 Just a Kiss
Date: Saturday September 24, 2005
Location: Weasley joke shop
Characters: Hermione, Fred, George
Rating: Any Age

Hermione woke to the smell of fresh coffee. It took her a moment to remember where she was as she blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling. The sound of an Irish lilt singing some very inappropriate song, especially for this early in the morning, was all she had to hear to remember. She rolled out of bed and stretched, wondering if she should tell Harry and Ron tonight that she'd woken up in some strange man's bed this morning wearing nothing but her bra and knickers, just to see their reactions.

She pulled on her jeans but bypassed her shirt to pick up one of Seamus' that was clean and comfortable. She had a bad habit of stealing her male friends' shirts, though she liked to think of it as borrowing without intent to return. There were shirts from Ron, Harry, Kingsley, Seamus, and even one she'd swiped from Neville hanging in her wardrobe at home. A quick stop at the loo and then she was seated at the table with fresh scones and coffee as Seamus continued singing dirty songs while he got ready for work.

When he started to dance, she couldn't help but laugh. He shook his finger at her and proceeded to roll his hips in a suggestive way while singing about some bloke who was looking for love in wrong places, including an alley and a pub loo. The morning passed well as they debated how unlikely it was that anyone would go to a pub loo to find love. When he had to get downstairs to start work, she cleaned up the kitchen and then left.

On her way back to the castle, she had to pass by George and Fred's store. She shifted her bag on her shoulder and stared at their shop. After stealing one of her chocolates from the bag, despite it being far too early for sweets, she impulsively decided to stop in and say hello. She thought that seeing them would prove that it had just been a nice but unexpected kiss and that nothing had changed.

Fortunately, it seemed they were already in the store. Hermione opened the door and walked inside, wondering why she felt nervous at seeing Fred and George. It was just a kiss, she told herself when she saw them working. And you do not have a crush on Fred so stop it.

"Good morning," she greeted them as she glanced around to see the progress they'd made. " I was in the area and thought I'd stop by and say hello on my way back to the castle. "

The two redheaded men in the shop froze at the sound of her voice. George, on the left, nearly dropped his phial of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Fred, baiting something that seemed to be an overgrown Muggle mousetrap, nearly snapped the wicked-looking coil on his own fingers, a goofy smile blooming across his face before he managed to school in his expression to nonchalance.

"Ah, Hermione," Fred said, recovering his powers of speech first. "Meant to nip up to the castle to say hello this week, but I didn't manage it." Actually, he had chickened out, because he had not a clue what to say or do around Hermione. He liked her. He'd admitted that much to himself. And he bloody well should have kissed her that day in the bookstore. He knew that now. It was foolish to be shy about these things- either she'd have returned the kiss and they could be onto much more worthwhile pursuits than small talk now, or she'd have shoved him away. At least then he would know where he stood. And as it was, George had been strangely reticent about discussing the matter. Fred had teased him all week about being moodier than Ginny at that time of the month.

George, for his part, felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He tried not to stare at her, standing so casually in their doorway. He ignored Fred's attempts at being cool. He'd managed to avoid letting his twin know what had happened on Monday, but it was gnawing at him, the guilt that he had kissed her and the guilt that he wanted to do so again. He'd been able to think of nothing else all week but the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips and the sound of her breath just as they'd broken apart...

Fuck. And now here she was as if she bloody well owned the place- hell, owned the whole town- as if nothing had happened between them. He grunted a greeting at her, avoiding her eyes, and said to Fred, "Got that jarvey trap set yet?"

"Nearly," Fred said, not really paying attention to the question. "How's your week been, love?"

God, what had she been thinking? She shouldn't have come here. Fred was smiling in a way that made her belly go flip-flop and taunted her that the crush or whatever it was hadn't gone away. As for George, it was taking all of her best efforts not to stare at his lips.

She recovered quickly and smiled pleasantly. "You can feel free to come visit anytime you'd like, Fred," she offered as she walked further into the shop. She glanced at George and looked away before she started to blush. "You too, George."

She leaned against the counter. "My week has been busy. I'm actually pleased that it's the weekend. How have you both been this week?"

"Busy as well," Fred said with a grin. "Getting ready to open up to the public at last." He frowned when George didn't immediately chime in. He was so used to the two of them overlaying and finishing each other's sentences that it threw him off not to hear George's voice.

"Oh, you've finally decided to have a Grand Opening then? Did you think of a name yet?"

The twins exchanged their first shared look since she entered the store, confirming with each other.

"Yeah, we've got a name now," George muttered, looking critically at the dust on the shelves.

"Argued back and forth a bit about it."

Again, George didn't continue the banter, and Fred frowned, picking up his own line. "We're going with Double Trouble." He noticed that Hermione was watching him closely, and couldn't help the way his grin widened, feeling more sure about himself. Maybe he would pop up to the castle tomorrow and ask her out.

"Double Trouble, huh? That seems rather appropriate," she decided as she looked away from Fred and stared at George. He was acting odd, which made her wonder if he was thinking about the kiss and regretted it. It was too confusing. She was conflicted in a way she never had been before and hated it. Logic and order was what she liked, not chaos and awkward feelings.

"Fred, do you have those traps finished yet?" George demanded. A change in subject seemed to be in order.

Fred rounded the front desk to go poke his twin in the ribs.

"Hey!"

"If you're so preoccupied with those stupid jarveys, you set the traps."

"It's not-" George began, but then he shut himself up. If it wasn't the infestation of those overgrown ferrets, then he'd have to explain what it was that was bothering him, and that would be uncomfortable for all of them. He cast a quick glance at Hermione and caught her staring at his lips. Oh god, was she still thinking about the kiss too? His stomach did a strange little backflip while he told himself to calm the fuck down.

"Not what?" Fred pressed.

"Nothing." He finally turned to Hermione and really looked at her for the first time. Was that a man's shirt she was wearing? He couldn't stop the heated flash of jealousy that burned through him. No woman would own a shirt with that logo. "Interesting fashion choice."

Hermione shifted subtly when George looked at her, looking away from him and then realized she was staring at Fred, which didn't help either. She suddenly took an interest in a display on the counter before George's comment registered. She smiled. "I suppose so," she said as she looked down at Seamus' shirt. "It was what I picked up when I rolled out of bed this morning. You don't think it suits me?"

George, meanwhile, was cursing inwardly. She was staring at his twin. She wanted Fred. That... thing on Monday had been a fluke. "Well, you're not a man," he reasoned, "and that's a man's shirt."

Fred hadn't picked up on that fact immediately, but he looked closer and realised that his brother was right. Wait- had she spent the night with someone other man? Had he been imagining the looks he thought he'd been sharing with her this morning?

"I rather like it," she told them as she smoothed down the T-shirt. She hadn't paid much attention to it this morning and now noticed that it was one she'd teased Seamus about before. A large arrow was on the front, one direction pointing up with the words 'The Man' and the other end pointing down with 'The Legend' written in bold letters. It was rather obvious now how they'd known it wasn't her shirt. She laughed as she felt a little of the tension leave her. "It's actually one of his nicer ones. Most are downright filthy or rude."

Both Fred and George did a double take that would have been highly comical had either seen the other. As it was, though, they were both staring at her as if they'd been slapped in the face.

"His?" they demanded in unison, but George snapped himself out of his shock first, his tone dropping at least twenty degrees.

"I didn't realise you had a boyfriend, Hermione. He doesn't sound like your type." He abruptly turned back to the shelves and began to fiddle with the Sunshine Explosions.

Fred was too busy chastising himself inwardly for not guessing that she was with someone to say anything out loud. Of course she had a boyfriend. She was beautiful and smart and witty. And taken. Damn it all to hell, he needed a very big drink.

"Boyfriend?" Hermione sputtered as she gaped at George's back, his tone stinging as he accused her of actually kissing him while she was with another man. "I don't have a boyfriend and haven't in more years that I care to count. This shirt belongs to Seamus. He is a boy and he happens to be a good friend of mine but he's not my boyfriend," she explained with a frown, a bit annoyed with herself for feeling a need to defend her wardrobe to them.

Fred relaxed immediately. Well, that was all right then, wasn't it? George, on the other hand, tensed even further. Damn it, damn it, damn it, he should not be filled with irrational glee at his. It wasn't good, and he knew it would bring trouble down on his head.

"Seamus... the one in our house?" Fred asked, elated by the confirmation that she was single, though he was a little baffled by it. "Is he still around, then? Here in town?"

"Yes, Seamus from our house," she confirmed as she watched George for a sign that he recognized she'd not kissed him on a whim. Of course, then she looked at Fred and felt the butterflies in her tummy and couldn't think about anything except what would have happened if he'd just kissed her at the bookstore when she thought he might.

This had to stop. She was just friends with them both. It was just a kiss that neither had planned and meant nothing to George, and Fred had no idea he was the subject of her current immature infatuation and that was the way things had to stay if she planned to keep her sanity. "He's been in Hogsmeade since the war. He makes me the most sinful chocolates and, thus, I am his willing slave."

Fred's smile grew playful and he winked at her. "So what would happen if I started making you the most sinful chocolates in the world?"

"Oh, I don't know if you'd ever be able to make them as good as Shay," she teased in a way that she suddenly realized could be construed as flirting. She couldn't flirt with Fred! Not when she kept thinking about kissing George. It wasn't fair despite the fact that she was also thinking about kissing Fred, strictly to prove to herself that there was nothing at all happening besides friendship between her and either of the twins.

George slammed his fist against a shelf, two glass bottles toppling off its edge and smashing on the floor. Fuck. He couldn't stand here and listen to this. Not when he wanted her. Damn it, he wanted her, and this had to stop right now. "I'm sorry," he muttered, bending to cast a quick reparo charm on the bottles. "I'll just... things in the back I need to check."

"George!" Fred called, but George all but ran across the shop and disappeared through the door leading into the back room. Fred shook his head, staring after his twin. "I don't know what's wrong with that lunatic, I really don't."

She turned to look at Fred, suddenly aware of how close they were now standing. Without the counter between them. She glanced at his lips and licked her own before she looked up and met his gaze. "Maybe he's just having a bad morning," she suggested softly.

What Fred meant to do was turn around to face her so that he could apologize for George's odd behaviour. Really, that had been his plan. And he did turn, but she was there- right there before him, as close as they'd been in the bookstore. And really, what did he have to lose?

"Hermione," he murmured, and he reached out, suddenly feeling awkward, to brush his fingertips against her cheek. He wanted to give her plenty of opportunity to pull away if she didn't want this. His clumsiness melted away as he leaned forward. "Hermione," he whispered again against her lips before he kissed her at last, asking a question that he didn't know how to put into words.

His skin was warm and his fingers slightly rough against her cheek. She didn't think about walking away, didn't hear a voice tell her this was wrong after she'd just kissed his brother not even a week ago, didn't do anything except sway towards him as he whispered her name.

"Fred," she whispered in reply, wanting him to know she knew who she was kissing, and then his lips were pressed against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into the kiss, her hand moving up to grip his hair as she parted her lips beneath his.

It was just as he'd been imagining it, even better than he'd dreamed it, her fingers in his hair sending tingles through him as his lips moved softly against hers. Not pushing, not yet, but he couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped his throat as it dawned on him that she was kissing him back, welcoming him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, tracing small spirals on her back. Gently, he stroked her lower lip with his tongue, teasing and testing to see how she would react, if she wanted to take it further.

Fred's moan made her press closer and she whimpered softly as he teased her without deepening the kiss. She forgot everything the moment their lips met and could only think about this kiss and how desperately she wanted more. She lightly stroked his tongue with hers before she kissed him back. It was gentle and slow but she could feel past emotions rising up as the kiss became more intense.

Oh yes, Fred thought, parting her lips to follow her tongue with his own, tasting her mouth now, one hand moving to tangle in her hair. Why hadn't he done this last week? Or last month? Or hell, years ago? This was absolutely perfect, and as the kiss heated up, he abandoned conscious thought and let himself be guided by instinct, sucking her tongue into his mouth, rocking her slowly.

He tasted of toothpaste, a soothing minty flavor that she found very pleasant. Hermione pulled his hair gently and pulled back enough to nibble on his bottom lip, rubbing her nose against his before she kissed him again. It was a slow building passion that began to rise as she swayed against him and returned the kiss in a way she hoped made his toes curl.

His toes curled. For someone who hadn't had a boyfriend in years, the girl could kiss, and Fred's need was spiking as he held her, deepening the kiss further, his tongue dancing with hers, and almost unconsciously, he slipped his hand underneath the rude t-shirt, seeking the soft skin of her back.

The kiss deepened even more, if that was possible, but still maintained a tender gentleness that still managed to feel passionate. She was startled when she felt his fingers on her bare skin and pulled back. "Fred." She said his name softly as she felt her cheeks flush with color. She shouldn't have kissed him when she'd just kissed George the other day. God, it had been such a good kiss and she didn't regret it at all but it just made things far too complicated.

"I should go now. I need to get ready for my date with Harry and Ron tonight and things are just too confusing at the moment. Tell George I said good-bye. I need to go. Right. I'm sorry." She ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped around the counter, picked up her bag, and left after taking one last glance Fred, who looked as confused as she felt.

Fred stared at her as she whirled around and left, one hand drifting to touch his swollen lips. What the hell? Only a moment ago she was kissing him back and now...

Shaking his head, he spun around and nearly jumped out of his skin. "George! I didn't see you there, brother."

George's jaw was tight, his eyes blazing, and Fred wondered just how long he'd been there, how much he had seen. But surely watching Fred kiss Hermione wasn't enough to draw out that ugly expression on his face? George had encouraged this, after all. "George, what's wrong?"

George bristled. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I need some air." He pushed past his twin and out the door, leaving Fred thoroughly bewildered. George just kept walking, vibrating with rage and jealousy. He didn't know what to think, either about his own feelings or about the way she had kissed them both. When had life gotten so complicated? Oh yes, the day they'd walked into Hermione Granger's library.
Chapter 18: Face Off by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 18: Face Off
Date: Saturday, September 24, 2005
Location: Fred and George's Room, the Three Broomsticks
Character: Fred and George
Rating: Any Age



Fred Weasley reclined on his lumpy, smelly bed, flipping through an old potions textbook. He had an idea for creating a banana pastie that would caused the unwary eater to grow a monkey tail, but he wasn't sure just how to accomplish it. He needed George's help. George had always been better at Potions than Fred. Fred had always been better at execution and flourish than actual research and design.

But he hadn't seen George for hours, not since his twin had stormed out of the shop. After Fred had kissed Hermione. God. He'd kissed her. And she'd kissed him back. It was almost too much to process. Even though she'd run out afterward, she had kissed him. She'd wanted it just as much as he had, and he felt like he was floating a foot off the bed right now, despite George's odd behaviour. He could still feel her hair between his fingers and her breath on his lips. It was extraordinary. He had no other words.

He was just about to put the book away and head into the pub for dinner when the door flew open and George appeared, his eyes strangely focused and heated.

"'Bout time you showed up," Fred said, jumping to his feet. "You look like you've been chased here by a flock of harpies."

"We have to talk," George said through gritted teeth.

"Sure. What did you want to talk about? The weather? The stock market? The-"

"Now isn't the bloody time for that, Fred!"

Fred's eyes widened at the sharpness of his twin's tone. He couldn't remember George ever speaking to him that way before. "What's wrong?"

"Hermione."

The name hung in the air between them, and Fred struggled to understand just what George was getting at. "What about her?"

George turned away, his expression anguished. "I thought... I thought everything was... Damn it!"

Fred was at his brother's side in a heartbeat, a hand resting on George's shoulder. Something was seriously wrong here. "I thought you were all right with her and me? You've ribbed me enough about my silly crush, haven't you?"

This close, Fred could see how pale George's skin was, his freckles standing out harshly, smudged bags beneath his eyes. George said. "I was."

"But you aren't anymore?"

"No."

Fred's anger flared. "I don't get it."

"I don't know how to say it any differently."

"What, you don't like her? I thought you two were friends!"

George swayed a little and reached out to steady himself against the wall. "We were. Are. Were. I don't know!"

"You're not making any sense! What happened?" Fred ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. "You were fine right up until this morning at the shop. Did she do something to offend you?"


"Yes," George said, hissing a little on the sibilant as if the word or the memory had burned him.

Fred's exasperation soared. "What? Spit it out, George!"

"She kissed you," George growled, fingers curling into a fist.

Fred blinked. "She... well, yeah. She can't kiss me? I'm not allowed to be happy for once in my life?"

George swore colourfully. "Oh, life with me's been so rough, has it?"

"Of course not! But you can't be jealous that I've finally found someone! It's insane!"

"I can be jealous when she fucking well kissed me too!" George bellowed.

The words seemed to echo through the room. The twins stared at each other, identical expressions of shock on their faces. Fred found his voice first, trying to speak over the ringing in his ears.

"She what?"

"Kissed. Me. Too."

"No," Fred said, frowning. "No, she kissed me today, she-"

"She kissed me on her birthday, you idiot," George said, covering his face with his hands. "I gave her that stupid stuffed cat and she just leaned over and kissed me."

"On the cheek?"

"On the mouth. With her tongue," George said viciously. "So don't go thinking that you've found the great love of your life. Not when she prances into our shop wearing another man's shirt, snogging you after she's snogged me."

"What the hell were you doing snogging her?" Fred shouted back. "You KNEW I fancied her! You knew I wanted her!"

"She-"

"I can't believe she just jumped on top of you and started making out with you," Fred hollered. "You took advantage of her!"

"How dare you! I didn't throw her to the ground and ravish her!"

"But you knew I liked her! She was mine first!"

"Hey, I kissed her before you did!"

"Oh, so you kissed her after all?"

George slammed his fist against the wall. "That's not what I meant! We kissed each other."

"So what, then? A beautiful girl kisses you and you decide that no one else can have her?"

"You want a girl who snogs all of Hogsmeade?" George demanded, his cheeks flushed.

Fred flushed too. "I want her! Fuck you, George- you know that. Why would you do this? Why would you try to take her away from me? You always do this! I couldn't have anything to myself, could I?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

Fred glared at his twin. He'd never felt quite so murderous upon looking at his own reflection before. "You're three and a half minutes older and you always think that means you get whatever you want. You don't get to have her by default!"

"Oh, you're so put upon! I'm trying to help you here!"

"By snogging the girl I like?"

"By trying to tell you that she isn't sitting up in Gryffindor Tower dreaming about you!"

"Maybe she would have done had you not gone and tried to gnaw her face off!"

"Fuck, Fred, aren't you paying attention to a word I say?"

But Fred couldn't stand here and listen to this. "Accio trunk!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Fred ignored his brother, his anger bubbling like one of Snape's miserable potions. "Pack!" he commanded, and his items flew into the open trunk, assembling themselves messily. He slammed the lid and clicked the latches shut.

"Fred!" George shouted.

"I'm going to the shop. Don't follow me." Fred stomped out of the room without a backward glance, seething, his trunk floating sedately behind him. George was making it up. He had to be. He was a jealous, possessive prick and he couldn't stand that Fred had finally found someone who could make him happy.

That had to be the case. Because if Hermione had really kissed them both, Fred had no idea what he would do.
Chapter 19: Distractions by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 19: Distractions
Date: Saturday, October 1, 2005
Location: Library, Hogwarts
Character: Hermione
Rating: Any Age

It had been a busy week. Hermione didn’t dwell on the fact that it actually had been rather slow, work wise, and instead focused on all her many projects she’d started to occupy her time. After all, any improvements to her library were work related and considered productive in terms of her job performance.

It was now Saturday afternoon and she was up to her elbows in dust. For the first time in quite awhile, she hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade for breakfast. It had become such a routine over the years that she still felt a bit odd not to have started her day by eating at the Three Broomsticks and sharing conversation with Rosmerta. She had missed a few Saturdays over the past school years, though, due to various reasons so it was silly to dwell on the change in routine. Sometimes change was good, after all.

This morning, she had woken early after another restless night with little sleep and much tossing and turning to shower and dress in comfortable track pants and a comfortable shirt suitable for her plans. She had skipped breakfast, again, and gone straight to work. That had become her pattern during the previous week, it seemed. She’d barely left her library at all, finding comfort in the familiarity of books and the escape in the projects that took her mind off things she needed to stop thinking about.

After she returned from Hogsmeade last Saturday, she’d been confused and felt guilty about the kiss she’d shared with Fred. She’d been able to push it from her thoughts during her dinner with Harry and Ron, which had been very enjoyable and ended with the most delicious cake ever. The thoughts had come back to the forefront of her mind as soon as she’d returned home, though, and she’d realized they weren’t likely to just be pushed into a little compartment in her mind.

It was her fault, of course, for returning Fred’s kiss when she’d just kissed George a few days before and wasn’t sure about anything. The kiss from Fred had just made things even more complicated. If it had been an awful kiss or she had felt like she did when she brushed a kiss against Harry’s cheek, it would have cleared things up. That would have been too easy, though. Instead, she’d felt a fluttering in her tummy and warmth spreading over her body and she’d wanted more.

Perhaps she had just been alone too long. It had been awhile since Viktor and that might be why she’d responded to both George and Fred’s kisses, as neither had been the same yet they’d caused a similar intense reaction. She shouldn’t have kissed either of them, not when her feelings were unclear and especially not when she knew a relationship was pretty much impossible with anyone, much less one of them.

She didn’t feel guilty about the actual kisses because such a reaction would take away from how she felt about each individual kiss. However, she did feel guilty for letting herself get into this situation and for possibly alienating two men she considered friends and enjoyed having in her life. They’d know she’d kissed them both and would probably think she was some cheap slag who made a habit out of kissing attractive men and probably wouldn’t care that it had been years since she’d even felt an inclination to kiss anyone much less two people in the span of weeks. She wouldn’t doubt that they’d either be disgusted with her actions or choose not to have her around for some other reason.

Hermione frowned as she scrubbed the empty shelf before her. It was amazing how organization and cleaning could distract her from those thoughts. She had woken Sunday after a restless night’s sleep with the idea to clean the entire library. Such a task could be accomplished in an afternoon with a couple dozen charms, but she decided to clean the shelves the Muggle way so she’d not risk damaging the books. She had ignored Kingsley’s quizzical look when he’d reminded her that she always cleaned magically, and Neville had just offered to help since he had a free Sunday and cleaning was as enjoyable as sitting in his room.

The library had been thoroughly cleaned prior to the start of school so there wasn’t much dust to wipe away, but it gave her something to focus on and that made it worthwhile. Spray, scrub, wipe, dry. Spray, scrub, wipe, dry. That had become her routine during the hours she wasn’t doing her normal duties. She went to bed in the middle of the night so exhausted and worn out that she slept a few hours before she woke from odd dreams she couldn’t remember but always made her feel somewhat miserable, and only remembered to eat because food would end up on her desk around lunch time and dinner time.

Once she was finished with the library, she might ask Minerva if the unused classrooms on the third and fourth floor needed a good thorough cleaning. Then she’d ask Kingsley if she could clean the dungeons, as that would take a bit longer since not even the House Elves liked going down there much unless required. Cleaning the entire castle would keep her busy for months, probably, and that would hopefully be enough time for the complicated thoughts in her mind to clear up and start making sense.

She refused to acknowledge that she’d let this situation happen, that she’d developed a crush on Fred and had kissed George and then kissed Fred, and was now hiding from it in the way she hid from anything too emotional that scared her. The idea of Fred and George ending their friendship with her because of her foolish decisions kept her hidden in the library. If they didn’t see her, they’d have time to forget all about the kisses. Of course, they might not even have discussed a kiss they might have considered casual and meaningless with each other, in which case it was her own confusion over things that was making her believe they’d hate her.

Regardless, things were too complicated in her mind and she needed a distraction. True, she was somewhat cranky from not sleeping well, sore from doing so much cleaning, and probably wasn’t very pleasant to be around, but she didn’t let that interfere with her job and none of the students suffered from her moodiness. Really, only those closest to her would even suspect she was acting weird as she tended to have a reputation for being focused and doing things the Muggle way even when magic was quicker.

Hermione finished one shelf and moved to the next. Once she finished this section, she might take a short break and eat the lunch that Dobby had put on her desk earlier. She needed a bit of energy as she hoped to finish the next three sections on this wall before bed. She couldn’t help thinking of restless nights during the war when she’d spent hours cleaning the kitchen at Godric’s Hollow in order to avoid nightmares or thinking about everything that could go wrong or that had happened since she’d left Hogwarts.

Cleaning and organizing always worked as a good distraction for her and had since she was a child, which was probably further evidence that she was definitely nowhere near normal. She didn’t mind that, though, because normal wasn’t anything she’d ever particularly wanted to be. Distractions were good, especially at the moment. For now, she didn’t plan to go back to Hogsmeade or see the twins until she could be around them without thinking about crushes or kissing. If that required cleaning the entire castle, so be it.
Chapter 20: Gossip Central by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 20: Gossip Central
Date: Monday, October 3, 2005
Location: Three Broomsticks
Character: Oliver, Madam Rosmerta, George, Fred
Rating: Any Age



The nip in the air suggested that winter was on its way, but Oliver Wood didn't mind. After all, winter was what separated the worms from the wizards, the students who could handle themselves on a broom all right from the real Quidditch players who could continue on through a blizzard. He smiled fondly as he remembered the Gryffindor team he'd captained while at school, perhaps the tightest group he'd ever been with. Maybe after he saw Penny today, he'd swing by to visit the Weasley twins. They didn't see nearly enough of those lads, which was disgraceful considering how close they lived now.

But for now his mind drifted onto other matters, such as the lovely young woman awaiting him at the Three Broomsticks for a clandestine breakfast. It had surprised the world when he and Penelope Clearwater had become engaged, but Oliver couldn't imagine anyone else he would rather be with. Penny was sweet and wickedly intelligent, and she knew how to keep him in line. Oliver needed that. Their rendezvous this past weekend had been cancelled because she'd had a departmental meeting she couldn't get out of, and he was itching to see her. Strictly speaking, walking off Hogwarts grounds on a sunny Monday morning was enough to have him dragged before McGonagall and reprimanded most severely, and that added to the fun of it. A tryst was so much better when it had to be kept secret. Besides, it was good to get away to Hogsmeade when none of his colleagues or students would be loitering about.

Pushing open the pub door, Oliver inhaled the always welcoming scent of ale and cedar. Madam Rosmerta swished up to him almost immediately, dropping a hand onto his shoulder.

"Rosie," he said with a grin, taking her hand and pressing a quick kiss against her knuckles.

"Fancy seeing a nice bloke like you in a place like this," she teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Do you never stop working, woman?" Oliver asked, taking in the rest of the room to see if Penny had arrived yet. He didn't see any sign of her, but he did see one particular redhead he'd just been ruminating about. Whichever twin it was, he didn't notice Oliver. He was too intent on his porridge.

"Some customers are more pleasurable to serve than others," she said with a lascivious smile.

"Ease up, dear lady, I’m meeting my fiancée today!"

"Pity," she said with a pout that was ended by a wink. "Haven't seen her in here yet. Can I get you anything while you wait?"

Oliver considered. What he most wanted before Penny arrived wasn't at all liquid. "Just the latest dirt, lovie. You always have the best gossip. And I suppose it's too early for a pint?"

"Too early by half," she said, summoning a foaming stein over anyway. They leaned against the bar. "Any so-called dirt in particular you're interested in?"

Oliver gulped some of the brew down, wiping the foam away with his sleeve. "There's one bit of something..."

"Is there, now? What'll you give me if I tell you?" She was clearly enjoying herself, and Oliver had to laugh.

"The password to Flitwick's private chambers?"

"Out," Rosie laughed, pointing at the door.

"Fine, fine, how about Kingsley Shacklebolt, then?"

She considered. "Well, go on. Ask."

"I'm curious about one of your usual patrons. Has Hermione Granger been down lately?"

Rosie frowned, one hand on her hip. "Matter of fact, she missed her usual breakfast here on Saturday. She's never done that before- I had half a mind to owl Hogwarts and ask if she was still alive and well."

"Alive, sure, though I don't know about 'well'," Oliver said, his voice dropping conspiratorially.

Something shattered behind him, and he turned to see the Weasley twin he'd noticed earlier, wiping his hands off on his jeans. He'd knocked his glass to the floor, smashing it and spilling orange juice all over himself in the process.

"Spectacular way of saying hello," Oliver called, and he and Rosmerta wandered over to the redhead's table. He looked paler than usual, though Oliver couldn't tell which of his old Beaters he was teasing. They'd always been so hard to tell apart.

"What's wrong with Hermione?"

Oliver was surprised at how sharp the other man's tone was, but before he could answer, another, identical voice cut in. "Oh, bugger."

The twin at the table scowled as his doppelganger hovered ten feet away. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Last I checked, George, it's a free country. 'S'why we fought in the war."

George frowned. Oliver had never seen anything so extraordinary in his life. The Weasley twins were feuding? "I meant in this pub, you twit. Storming off in a huff wasn't enough for you?"

"I came back for the stellar company. Rosie's, that is."

"I'll thank you to leave me out of this," Rosmerta scolded. "Are you eating anything, Fred?"

"I lost my appetite, thank you," Fred snapped. "I'm going back to the shop."

You're not usually in here so late," George said quietly, glaring at his own breakfast. "I thought you'd been and gone by this time."

"You've been deliberately avoiding me?" Fred said incredulously. "What do you do, sit in the room and wait until I've eaten before emerging?"

"Like you'd welcome me to breakfast with you, arms open wide?" George sneered.

Fred ran a hand through his already messy hair. He had dark circles below his eyes as if he hadn't slept well in days. "Look, I need to start the Elbow Itching potion brewing," he said at last. "That is, assuming you still want the Grand Opening this Saturday..."

"Of course I do!" A dizzying array of emotions splashed across George's expressive face.

"I'd better get going, then."

"Fred!"

The twins stared at each other, both looking utterly miserable. "Yeah?"

"I haven't... I can't-"

"After what you did-"

"Oh, piss off," George snarled. "I’m trying to save you some heartache is all. It isn't my fault she-"

"Don't you dare-!"

"ENOUGH!" Rosmerta shouted, watching irritably as several patrons left. "You'll take your quarrel outside or you won't be welcomed back again, lads. I mean it."

The twins lapsed into sullen silence, and Rosie nodded grimly. "That's better."

"I'm going," Fred muttered.

"There's something wrong with Hermione," George said. His brother froze.

"What?"

"Ask Ollie."

Both twins turned to their former captain, and Oliver, having been remembered once more, sat down at George's table uninvited. Fred did not.

"Not anything serious," Oliver said. "At least, I don't think it is. Just, she isn't herself."

"What do you mean?" they demanded in unison, then glowered at each other.

Oliver shook his head. They usually delighted in the fact that they knew what the other was about to say. "The kids are afraid to go near the library. She never leaves it anymore, not even for meals. I hear Kingsley and Neville have been taking food to her. I don't even know if she's been leaving it to sleep. They're calling her the Dragon Lady these days."

The twins exchanged another darkly significant look. "Clearly she's not just a happy-go-lucky little trollop," Fred hissed.

"I never called her a-"

"You as good as-"

"Boys!" Rosie shouted again.

Fred grabbed George by the lapel. "Come on. We've got to talk."

George wrested himself away from his brother's grip but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah we do."

They trooped out of the pub without bothering to say goodbye to either Oliver or Rosmerta. Oliver looked at her, bewildered. "What the bleeding hell was that about, then?"

"No idea," Rosmerta said. "Oh, look. Here's Ms Clearwater."

Oliver waved his fiancée over, a smile blooming across his features in spite of his confusion. This was certainly an interesting morning. Maybe he'd needle Neville a bit for more information when he got back to the school.
Chapter 21: A Gentlemen's Agreement by inell
Clever Mischief, Chapter 21: A Gentlemen's Agreement
Date: Monday, October 3, 2005
Location: Double Trouble Joke Shop
Character: Fred, George
Rating: Any Age



They left Oliver and Rosmerta in the pub and stalked down the street side by side, neither Fred nor George saying a word. Both knew where they were going, though neither had the faintest idea what they were going to say when they got there.

Fred reached the back door first, disarming the wards quickly and stepping through, George on his heels. George flicked his wand to illuminate the backroom, and the brothers stopped face-to-face, really looking at each other for the first time in days.

For ten seconds, neither spoke.

"So," Fred finally said.

George shuffled his feet. "Yeah."

"She's unhappy."

"I heard."

"Can't be because she's toying with us."

George sighed. The alternative was almost as difficult to contemplate. "No. It can't."

Fred watched his brother carefully, eyes wide and pained. "George, we've never gone so long without talking."

"I know," George said miserably, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I miss you." His voice cracked on the last word.

"I miss you too," Fred said. "But..."

"I know. She's between us."

Fred studied his hands, mind racing. "I really like her, George. I've never felt like this about a woman before. This isn't... this is more than the crush I had on her when we were kids. This is the most real thing I've ever felt."

George said nothing, staring at the floor, cheeks burning. Fred really did fancy her. Fucking fuck. What else was there to do? It was the only way. His heart seemed to shudder to a cold, frozen stop in his chest. He felt like ice was flooding his veins, chilling him from the inside out.

"What are we-"

"You fancied her first," George said firmly, his mind made up. God, he just wished it didn't hurt so much.

Fred paused, arms wrapped around himself. "So you do fancy her too!"

"Of course I do!" George exploded. "I didn't fucking mean to! She was just a good friend, right? She was smart and funny, and she was someone who had your back when you needed her to be there, you know? But then there we were with the sunshine and the picnic blanket and the sodding birds singing! I don't know what happened, damn it. I've never felt this way before either!"

Trying to control the way he was trembling, he spun away from his twin. "But you wanted her first- how can I get in your way, Fred?"

"And how can I ask you to walk away?" Fred said softly, laying a hand on George's shoulder.

George took a shuddering breath, laying a hand atop Fred's without turning to face him. "We always swore no woman would ever come between us."

Fred tightened his grip and steered George around. "Look at me. I might have fancied her first, but she kissed you first."

"And then she kissed you-"

"But now she's locked herself in her library."

"And she's not eating." George finally found the courage to follow Fred's earlier order and looked up to meet his twin's gaze. If Fred wouldn't let him walk away, then he knew what had to happen.

"What are we going to do?" Fred asked.

"Only one way," George echoed himself, though now he was thinking of an entirely different solution, resolution blooming deep in his gut.

"What, just stay away from her?" Fred sounded nearly desperate, his eyes wide and searching.

George shook his head. "We've been doing that, haven't we? And neither of us is happy. Doesn't sound like she's happy either."

"What, then?"

"She has to choose."

Fred blinked. "Excuse me?"

"She kissed us both," George reasoned. "To me it sounds like she wasn't sure which of us she wanted- think how clever she is. It's not like she managed to mix us up, no matter how mixed up this whole thing is. But she can't have us both, can she, so she has to choose between us."

"But," Fred said, as though trying to work through a particularly dense logic problem, "that implies that she knows which of us to choose. If she knew which of us she wanted, wouldn't she have talked to one of us by now? She hasn't tried to contact me."

"Nor me," George confirmed, feeling sick again. Fred was right, of course.

Fred ran a hand through his long, unbound hair, mussing it further than it already was. "She really must... fancy us both."

George nodded, smoothing his own tied-back hair down. Fred's argument made sense- how else to explain the complete lack of Hermione in either of their lives this week? How else to explain her self-enforced captivity in the Hogwarts library? "She must be as confused as we are," he conceded.

"Or worse. Look, let's grab some tea, all right?"

"Talk about this like civilized people would?" George said, teasing ever so lightly. He'd missed Fred so much. The pain of separation from his twin had been just as bad as his heartsick, muddled feelings toward Hermione Granger.

"Civilized as we get, anyway," Fred said, tone a bit too light to be completely natural. They walked into the shop proper together and Fred Summoned two mugs. George quickly conjured the tea from his wand, peppermint for himself, oolong for George.

Neither spoke as the liquid steamed, rising between them to create a translucent, mutable wall.

Fred spoke at last. "We had an agreement, you know."

"We've had many," George said carefully.

"The tricks we've been playing on her," Fred said with an air of patience that George thought was probably mostly feigned. "To see which of us can drive her mad the slowest."

"I'd not really thought about it all week," George sighed. "I'd been planning something with fish heads, though it didn't seem quite nuanced enough."

"I was most impressed with the way your rapid fingernail-growth charm worked. How many times did she have to cut them throughout the day, I wonder," Fred said, lips twitching into the hint of a more genuine grin.

George returned the smile gently. "It wasn't as good as your guttering candles."

"Doused themselves if she ever looked directly at them- we should see if there's a market for those."

"Excellent for ruining romantic dinners," George mused.

Fred's face fell. "Romantic. Yeah."

George gritted his teeth, his heart tight. He wondered if their ill-fated romantic attachment to Hermione would ruin their own friendship. "At any rate, our little challenge hardly seems appropriate now, even for us. Maybe if we were still fifteen..."

"I suggest that we alter it a bit."

It was George's turn to stare, his mind working through the implications. He wondered if anyone less in tune with Fred would get where he was going with this. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Fred nodded, something suspiciously close to a mad sparkle in his eye. "I say we make our intentions less... mischievous, though no less competitive."

"You want us to, what, vie for her hand?" George said, nearly inhaling his tea at the thought of it. "Dress in poncy puffed sleeves and duel for her favour?"

"Perhaps not quite that insane," Fred laughed. "Just what have you been reading lately, Mum's old romance novels? 'Gwendolyn and the Muggle Merchant'?"

"The fact that you even know the name of one of those old things-"

"Regardless," Fred said, face heating a bit. "It's not as ridiculous a proposal as you might think. If she doesn't know which of us she wants, we can just make sure she knows what she'd be getting with each of us."

"I suddenly feel like we should just auction ourselves off to the highest bidder. 'Next, ladies and gents, we have the lovely Fred Weasley, whose excellent bone structure makes up for his callused hands and inability to master the simplest cleansing charm," George said, voice deep like an announcer on the wizarding wireless.

"'Followed by his brother George'," Fred picked up, "'a lazy bugger who sleeps late every morning but can warble a mean Celestina Warbeck number in the shower.'"

"I do not warble!"

"You sure don't sing, either. More like yowl."

"I don't sing Celestina Warbeck, either."

"Maybe you should croon some to Hermione. It'll make her choice so much easier," Fred said innocently.

George slapped him lightly on the back of the head. "Does this mean we're going to do this?"

"What? Vie, as you say, for her hand?"

"Yeah."

"I think we should. Well," he amended, "I think we should run it by her first."

"Yeah, this is one challenge she should probably be fully aware of."

"Though I don't think we need to fess up to the slowly-driving-her-mad bit."

"No. Entirely unnecessary."

The twins grinned at each other for a moment, and then Fred wrapped his arms around George in a rib-cracking bear hug. George gasped for breath and managed to wheeze, "Normal people usually shake hands on these things."

"Has anyone ever characterized us as normal?" Fred asked, letting go and stepping back.

"No. Can't say as they have." George drained his teacup and looked Fred right in the eye. "Competition... I don't want it to get in the way of our lives, though, Fred. I say may the best man win and the other one be happy for him."

"Absolutely," Fred enthused. "No hard feelings."

"None. Well then. Shall we figure out just exactly how to approach Madam Granger?"

"Sure, and I want you to take a peek at the biting mouse traps- they're not the most creative idea I've ever had."

George pondered for a moment. "What if you set them out and they actually manifest mice instead of getting rid of them?"

Fred beamed. "Brother, you're a genius. Let's get to work."
Chapter 22: A Proposal by inell
Title: Clever Mischief 22: A Proposal
Date: Saturday, October 9, 2005
Location: Double Trouble
Characters: Fred, George, Hermione
Rating: Any Age



The owl had been unexpected. It had arrived Friday morning before breakfast, and found her in the library. Hermione had finished cleaning the entire library and even reorganized several sections before she finally stopped because she realized she'd been cleaning for nearly two weeks. Besides, it hadn't worked to clear her mind nearly as well as she'd hoped because she still thought about Fred and George and the kisses that complicated everything.

Neville and Kingsley were glad that she seemed to be back to normal. She heard rumors that the students had begun to call her the Dragon Lady, which would have amused her if she'd not had more serious things on her mind. She had almost asked Wood if the twins were doing all right, since she knew they were all friends, but she couldn't contribute to any rumors or gossip he might decide to spread if he found her question odd.

Then, yesterday, the owl had arrived. It was from the two people she had done her best to push from her mind since her last trip to Hogsmeade. As she'd read the brief note, she'd felt guilty for acting so ridiculously. Sure, she had kissed two men. True, they were brothers and friends of hers, but a kiss wasn't something she should freak out about. The confusion and complicated emotions that followed each kiss were another story, of course. That wasn't Fred or George's fault, however, and her sudden withdrawal from their friendship seemed to have left them puzzled and concerned, which wasn't fair to them.

The invitation to attend their Grand Opening was sincere, and each had added a personal note asking her to come by the store in the morning so they could get her opinion on how things looked. Hermione knew that she had to deal with her conflicting emotions eventually because she liked having them in her life, liked being their friend, and a couple of unplanned kisses shouldn't ruin years of friendship.

The first step to proving that each kiss had just been a fluke, that they'd been caught up in a moment, was to be around them and act as casually as possible. For all she knew, it had been enough time for the moment to pass and everything would be back to normal without infatuations, conflict, and desire. It was that hope that led to her decision to go into Hogsmeade that Saturday. She missed them and had to take action to move past her lapse of control.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what one was supposed to wear to a Grand Opening. She didn't foresee the twins dressing up or making the event anything more than a festive occasion with pranks, bright colors, and possibly lots of noise. After debating the contents of her wardrobe, something she seemed to be doing far too often lately, she settled on a skirt that fell past her knees and a comfortable long-sleeve shirt in a pretty shade of blue that matched one of the colors in the skirt. It was a little more than her normal weekend uniform of jeans, but nothing that she'd not wear to work for fear of being too formal.

The general plan she had in mind was to stop by Double Trouble, which she still found a very appropriate name, and then stop by to see Seamus. He had been sending her owls during the last week mourning the loss of his best friend in a variety of limericks, several of which were rude enough to make her blush and make a mental promise to thwack him on the back of his head.

The walk to Hogsmeade was nice, and Hermione could see the signs of autumn in the slight change of color in the leaves and the crisp chill in the early morning air. She smiled as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, feeling far more relaxed than she'd expected. It was nice to get out of the castle again, and she was looking forward to seeing George and Fred.

~*~

Fred and George Weasley would be lying if they said they were surprised by the enthusiasm the Grand Opening was receiving. The shop was positively packed with children and not a few adults. The twins were spending most of their time shouting at various youngsters who were trying to break, pocket, or otherwise damage products, and the rest ringing through monumental sales. They exchanged huge grins every few moments as they glided past each other, helping customers and putting a stop to the general mayhem.

"Save it for when you're back at the school, you lot," Fred told one particularly mischievous group who had been trying to release a box of Weasleys' Wild-Fire Whizbangs in one corner of the store. George was in the other corner, separating the Never-Crashing Kites from the Disappearing Parchment. Fred had to snatch a set of Snapping Cufflinks away from one fifth year while George dashed to the Muggle Toys section to rescue an aquarium of sea monkeys from the questing fingers of a four year old.

In the general ruckus, neither should have had any time to feel nervous about whether Hermione would really show or not, and if she did, what she would think of their proposition. They had talked about it for a long time, and they were both reasonably comfortable with the prospect. And yet, both twins were nervous. Thankfully, they had more than enough to distract them from it for now.

They weren't the only ones with nerves, though. By the time Hermione reached Double Trouble, she felt more anxious. She wasn't entirely sure how to act considering that she'd kissed them both and had hidden away at the castle for the last two weeks. This just wasn't a situation she found herself in - ever - so she was at a loss on the proper behavior to display that wouldn't indicate her confusion.

Keep it casual. No looking at their lips or thinking about those kisses that she'd pushed from her mind. Remember that they were friends, just friends, and focus on that. She could do this. She'd mastered her OWLs and NEWTs, even if the latter had been taken late, so she could definitely handle odd emotional confusion.

The shop was so crowded that there were people standing outside to peer into the windows. She recognized quite a few students, most of whom looked shocked to see her there. She gave them her best 'that better not appear in my library, ever' look and made her way inside. She scanned the shop and found Fred and George near the front.

Hermione took the moment to look at them unobserved. She had missed them more than she had realized, she noticed, and smiled as she watched them work the crowd easily. They were wearing matching purple dragonhide jackets, which reminded her of youth and days long past. It brought about a wave of nostalgia and a gentle smile as she studied them.

George was dealing with a couple of fifth years, his hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and he had the students listening to every word. Fred was at the register, laughing at an older wizard who seemed to be bouncing on the heels of his feet from whatever he'd purchased. Fred's hair was loose, falling around the angles of his face, and he definitely had the 'I'm teasing you' look on his face.

They both looked busy, but happy, and she realized she'd been foolish to stay away just because she'd been confused and hadn't had an answer to her problem of possibly, stupidly, being infatuated with two men who were just her friends. This was Fred and George, she reminded herself as she walked through the crowd. She didn't need to hide from them.

"Now remember," Fred teased Artie McGee, "if you even think about using an incendio, everything goes kaboom!"

The older wizard clutched his bag of purchases to his chest, wiped tears from his eyes as he guffawed. "Such a joker. You two always were."

Fred bowed elaborately to him, and Artie wheeled away to wade through the sea of excited students. As he looked up again, his gaze alighted on someone very familiar. His lips quirked up into a huge smile. God, she was beautiful. He had been utterly mad thinking he could try to stay away from her. He'd missed even the sight of her.

"Madam Granger!" he called, glancing at George to alert him to her presence, but George, it seemed, had already been watching her. The brothers exchanged an excited, nervous smile, and George and Fred both made their way over to her from opposite directions, halting in front of her.

Hermione was relieved that they didn't seem to be any different, which was silly since it had just been a couple of weeks. She didn't look at Fred's lips and remember the kiss they had shared nor did look at George's mouth and think about that day by the lake. Her gaze avoided looking at mouths of any sort as she smiled at them. When they reached her, each took one of her hands and brought it to their lips to kiss her knuckles simultaneously. She wasn't expecting them to kiss her hands. That action flustered her and it took her a moment to recover. She was certain her cheeks were flushed but she sounded normal and casual as she said, "Hello, boys. The opening appears to be going well. Congratulations."

They released her hands simultaneously, and Fred said, "It's been fantastic so far!"

"You'll have to watch out," George agreed, winking at Hermione. "Three quarters of your students have been in here already and we've barely begun."

"I'll warn Minerva when I get back this afternoon," she said primly, giving an exaggerated shudder as she looked at the products. There were a few new ones she hadn't seen before that caught her interest. She'd have to investigate them more closely later, she decided.

"Aw, come on, love," Fred teased. "No warnings- it's far more interesting when the teachers don't know what's about to hit 'em!"

"Besides," George said with a grin, "I think McGonagall always approved of us far more than she let on."

"Approving of you is entirely different than allowing your products to invade her school," she pointed out. "I'd also suggest being very careful accepting any packages from unknown sources. When Kingsley finds out it was you two responsible for his lovely locks, I'd be anticipating payback if I were you. He used to be an Auror, which means he's possibly as underhanded and sneaky as both of you."

"Kingsley?" George asked sweetly.

"No idea what you're talking about," Fred agreed. "It's not our fault if your school is going to be somewhat overrun by our products."

"Somewhat?" Fred snickered. "Flooded, more like."

"Completely swamped, yes."

"Speaking of, George, we're running low on portable swamps."

"Damn. Hang on a titch, Hermione, let me make a note of that." George whipped a long roll of parchment out of his pocket and wrote reminder to himself to have more swamps on hand.

She smiled at the twins. "It doesn't surprise me that you're this busy, of course. The town has needed this for awhile," she said softly. "We've even needed it at the school, though I'll never repeat those words and will successfully evade even the strongest veritaserum."

"We agree completely," Fred said. "This town without a joke shop is just not right."

"And of course we'll keep your secret for you."

"For a price."

They both waggled their brows at her and grinned.

She rolled her eyes at their eyebrow waggle and cheeky grins. She was relieved that they'd slipped so easily into the comfortable camaraderie that had existed before the kisses. Well, considering how she had reacted recently, Before the Kisses might be a more appropriate thought process. Before she got distracted by abbreviations (would it be BK or BtK?), she focused on them. She arched a brow and leered playfully. "A price, huh?" she asked thoughtfully. "What sort of price?"

Fred smirked. "We've never been anything but reasonable, you know."

Hermione snorted and was about to make a remark as to the inaccuracy of that statement, but George spoke instead.

"And we have something of a proposition for you. Care to step into our office?"

"The thought of a proposition intrigues me," she admitted as she looked from one to the other. "I'd be curious to hear what you have in mind, but don't you need to be out here with your customers? It can wait until later, after the store's closed."

"Actually, it can't wait," Fred said.

"It's waited long enough," George agreed.

"OI! You lot!" Fred shouted. "Clear out for a few minutes, yeah? We need to restock!"

A general rumble of shocked discontent rippled through the crowd, and George said, "Come up to the front with your purchases. You can buy what you have in your hands right now, and come back in fifteen minutes to buy more."

The twins' shouts surprised Hermione. She had to admit that she couldn't think what would be more important than sales, but tried not to worry. They didn't seem as if anything was wrong. In fact, they seemed quite happy and content.

"I'm just going to wait over there," she said softly before she walked to an empty corner behind the counter area, away from the crowd that was now trying to make their purchases.

"You do that," George said as Fred made his way up to the counter. They had everyone processed and out the door within five minutes, Fred ringing customers through and George bagging their products and sending them on their way with promises that they would reopen soon.

They returned to Hermione's side, slightly out of breath, and conjured a couple of gawdy folding chairs, one crimson and one gold. They sat down facing her and grinned.

"That was fast," she said hesitantly, worried and curious as to what they wanted to discuss with her. That was not the best combination, she decided, as she looked from one to the other and waited.

The twins exchanged a look, and Fred took a deep breath. "Hermione, I don't know if you know this, but I had quite a little crush on you when we were younger."

George grinned. "Went on and on about you, he did."

Fred punched him in the shoulder. "Did not."

"A crush? On me?" she squeaked before she cleared her throat and tried not to look shocked as she stared at Fred. She blinked and realized she had no idea what to say to that surprising revelation. For a moment, she wondered if he was joking but he looked serious and neither of them was the type to play with emotions. She licked her lips and shook her head. "I had no idea."

"I know you didn't," Fred said, quiet and serious for once.

"And then we went off on our own," George said with a shrug.

"Lived a little, loved a little. You know how it goes."

"Ah. But then we came back." George was watching her closely. "And there you were again, Madam Granger, even more lovely than you'd been then. I was happy to have my friend Hermione back."

"And I..." Fred actually blushed a little.

"He's besotted by you again," George filled in.

"So's he!" Fred said, pointing at George.

Her eyes widened and she looked from one to the other. "I think I need to sit down," she murmured as she slid down the wall that she was leaning against until she was seated on the floor. She ran a hand through her hair as her mind rapidly ran through what they'd just said. "You---" She blinked and nervously tugged on the hem of her sleeve. "What---" She glanced away as she struggled for words, pulling her skirt down past her knees as she bit her bottom lip. She looked back at them. "I don't understand."

The twins exchanged another glance. Okay, Fred thought, time to tone it down a bit. He slid off his chair and settled on the floor across from her. "The thing is, my crush came back," he said, feeling a little silly for being as old as he was and talking about having a crush.

"And I didn't mean for it to happen, but I developed one of my own," George said, embracing Gryffindor fearlessness and laying it all out for her. He sat on the floor as well and their horrible folding chairs disappeared in twin puffs of smoke. "We both like you."

"Like, like you," Fred elucidated helpfully.

"It took us quite a while to figure out what to do about that," George said.

"It did?" she whispered as she looked at Fred, blushing as she saw the look in his eyes. Then George spoke and she was surprised to see a similar expression on his face, though he wasn't as shy as Fred seemed to be. "You do?"

Hermione took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly as she tried to make sense of all of this. "You both like me? But---I mean…what did you decide?"

"How do we put this without sounding like idiots?" Fred asked.

"Or like we're Victorian."

"Or out of some ridiculous romance novel."

One more shared glance, and at the same time, they both said, "We want to court you."

"You want to court me?" she asked as she tried to focus on logic because, right now, she was reeling from their admission and uncertain what to say or do. While she acknowledged that she had developed feelings for both of them over the last few weeks, her infatuations with them rekindling after spending more time with them, she was stunned to hear them confess to having feelings for her. She wasn't the type to warrant a crush by one person, much less two attractive and intelligent men like Fred and George. She didn't do well with surprises and felt herself flailing as she tried to regain some sort of control on her emotions. "What exactly does that mean?"

She wasn't hexing them or throwing things, so that was good, George thought. He cleared his throat. "It means that you seem to like us both, and we both like you."

A cloud passed over Fred's face. "You do like us both, don't you? You kissed us both."

George shot his brother a look. They had never considered the possibility that she regretted kissing them. "True. If you aren't interested in us both, we should probably shut up right now."

"Oh God, you know about that?" Hermione turned bright red and covered her face with her hands. "I didn't mean to kiss you both. It just happened and I wanted to…I'm so sorry." She waited for them to get upset or laugh. When she didn't hear anything, she parted her fingers and peaked at them before she whispered, "I…I do like you both."

They were both smiling at her, Fred's lips curled into a puppylike grin, George looking decidedly more enigmatic.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Fred said.

"We have a plan," George agreed.

"We figure, we both want you, but only you can tell which of us you'd rather be with."

"But the more we talked, the more it occurred to us that you probably don't know, else you'd have told us already."

"So we'll just have to court you, both of us, and give you a chance to see which of us you want."

George smiled at her, showing his hesitation for the first time that day. "How about it, Hermione? Can we compete for your attentions?"

She normally had no trouble following their fast-paced conversations but she was still so surprised that it took her longer to process their words. When they both looked at her with hopeful expressions, she lowered her hands and asked, "You both want to date me so that I can choose between you?"

After a moment of thought, she frowned. "I don't want to risk our friendship. That's why I tried to ignore how I felt, because I didn't want to lose either of you as a friend. What if this doesn't end up being so simple? You might realize that I'm just Hermione and that you don't really have a crush after all. If that happens, I want us to be honest because friendship means far more than any infatuation. Are you both sure? I don't want you to compete with each other or for things to be awkward. I'm not good at this sort of thing and it could be a huge mess and what if you end up regretting ever asking? Is it really worth that risk?"

Fred took Hermione's left hand and George took her right, each of them placing a kiss against her palm. Fred spoke first. "Don't think we haven't discussed all of that, love."

"The problem is, we're both miserable without you."

"At least if we had the chance to date you-"

"-and just spend time with you-"

"-then we can all have a better idea of what we're getting ourselves into."

George brushed his thumb across Hermione's knuckles. "We don't want to lose your friendship."

"And we do want you to be comfortable."

"You have never been 'just' Hermione," Fred said vehemently.

George nodded. "You're more than worth any risk."

She looked from one to the other and then glanced at her hands in theirs. "Promise me that we'll still be friends," she said softly as she met their gazes. "Regardless of what happens, we don't stop being friends. If things become awkward or you realize you don't want more than just friendship, you'll tell me. When a choice has to be made, you promise there will be no hard feelings or jealousy? I mean, it might not even come to any of that as we could find out it's nothing more than a crush, but, if it does, I want to know we'll all be okay.

"I'm not sure I can do this," she admitted quietly. "I wasn't lying when I said I'm not used to this sort of thing, and especially not dating two men or being courted, which does sound rather Victorian. I've been miserable the last couple of weeks, though, and I can't imagine not taking the risk. So, yes."

"We promise," the twins said simultaneously, and then with a joyous whoop, Fred stood up and scooped Hermione into his arms, hugging her fiercely.

"Fred!" Hermione had to laugh when he pulled her off the ground and hugged her. She hugged him back and felt some of the nervous tension fade as his arms went around her. She noticed George over Fred's shoulder and wondered if this was the right decision when she saw him frown as Fred hugged her.

George shunted aside an immediate pang of jealousy at seeing her held by his brother. If this was going to work, he had to learn to accept everything with equanimity. When Fred released her, George hugged her too, and he whispered into her ear, "We'll always be your friends, love."

Hermione tried not to worry. George was there with equally strong arms and an uncanny ability to relax her with a hug, just like Fred. His words were reassuring, and she believed his promise. After he let her go, she looked at them both and smiled shyly as she tucked her hair behind her ear where it had escaped from her braid. "So how exactly does this courting thing work?"
Chapter 23: Where the Not So Wild Things Are by inell
Title: Clever Mischief 23: Where the Not So Wild Things Are
Date: Friday, October 14, 2005
Location: Hogwarts, an evening away
Characters: Fred, Hermione
Rating: Any Age

The week had gone by quickly. Binns had assigned research topics for his lower levels, which meant the library had been full of first and second years searching for everything from the Goblin Rebellions to Grindelwald. There were certain times of the school year when the library was crowded, and it always made the days go by quickly.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, Hermione hadn't had a chance to think about the date, much less worry about it. Now, however, she had time to start thinking. She'd closed the library at six, unusual because she normally stayed late working. Tonight, she'd finished all the closing duties and left shortly after the last student. She knew Kingsley would question her about it tomorrow, but she'd deal with that when it was necessary.

After a quick shower, she stood in front of her wardrobe staring at the contents. That's when the realization of what she was doing finally hit home. She was getting ready for a date. She'd never had an actual date before, as she and Viktor hadn't been afforded that luxury during their brief time together. Not only was she getting ready for a date, but she had no idea who she was going out with tonight.

Well, she knew it would be George or Fred, but nothing had ever been said about which one would take her out first. She still wasn't entirely sure how their plan would work because the pessimistic part of her brain kept worrying about someone (or all of them) ending up hurt when this was all over. The optimistic side reminded her that she was young, even if she hadn't felt like it in years, and that dating two men she fancied should be fun.

The idea that they both liked her in a way that made them want to date her and vie for her attention still surprised her because she just wasn't the type of person who had more than one suitor, to borrow an old-fashioned term. For years, she hadn't had anyone who noticed her in that sort of way so it was startling to have two attractive, intelligent, funny men both interested in having a relationship with her.

The fact that they happened to be brothers, twins even, didn't bother her, oddly enough. She saw them as two separate people beyond their looks so that wasn't a concern at all. It just seemed that, in the end, choices would have to be made that resulted in someone being alone, if not all of them just deciding to be friends. They said they were all right with that and seemed very sincere, though, so she might be thinking about it too much. Besides, she honestly thought that they'd all still be friends regardless of what happened because of the strong relationship they'd all developed during the war.

She needed to stop worrying about the future and just enjoy the present. Easier said than done, of course, because she was a natural worrier, but she'd try. The idea of dating Fred and George was nice, and she looked forward to getting to know them both better. They'd been away for years, after all, and had grown up a lot in the time they'd been gone. She was different, too, so it would be good to have an opportunity for them to discover the person she'd become.

After a ridiculous amount of time staring at the clothes in her wardrobe, none of which seemed very date-like, she chose a favourite skirt and jumper. The jumper wasn't as baggy as most of her shirts and hinted at her cleavage without being too obvious. The skirt fell past her knees and was very comfortable. She brushed her hair and left it down, for once, after determining she looked somewhat pretty that way. It was getting cooler in the evenings now but she wouldn't need a coat since her jumper was warm enough on its own.

Once she'd calmed her nerves and decided to just go with it and enjoy herself, she sat down and waited for her date, whoever that might be.

~*~

Perhaps they hadn't gone about it in the most professional of ways. They certainly would never tell her how they'd come to the momentous decision of just which of them would take her on a date first. It might have involved the flipping of something, and that something might have been a sickle, but if they were ever asked, they would deny it with the kind of vehemence one would expect from the Weasley twins.

In the end, Fred had won the absolutely-not-a-coin-toss and he stood now in front of the mirror in the grimy room he and George shared at the Three Broomsticks, using a brushing charm to comb his hair. He couldn't count the times he'd gotten ready for a date over the years, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd been quite so nervous about one. After all, this wasn't just a date, this was a night out with Hermione Granger. He'd been fantasizing about something like this on and off for years and now it was happening. And the stakes were so much higher than he'd ever dreamed. What if she chose him and it crushed George? What if she chose George instead? Or neither of them? It didn't bear thinking about.

Instead, he took one last look at himself- khakis and a black long-sleeved shirt that was casually classy- and sauntered out the door. George had made himself scarce for the evening, for which Fred was glad. He had no idea what he'd have said to him on the way out. 'Wish me luck' hardly seemed appropriate.

He made his way up to Hogwarts faster than he'd expected, and arrived just outside Hermione's door about a minute before he'd been invited to show up. Making sure his grin was in place, he knocked on her door.

The knock startled her. She didn't know why since she'd been waiting for it for the last half hour. He was right on time, which impressed her. She didn't tolerate tardiness so she was relieved that he proved to be considerate. Hermione stood up and smoothed down her skirt nervously. "Stop this," she scolded softly.

She walked across the room at a faster pace than normal. When she reached it, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she calmed her nerves. She opened the door and smiled when she saw Fred. Her gaze moved over him and she was happy to see that she'd dressed appropriately. "Good evening, Fred."

"Good evening," he said, and then kicked himself mentally. He rarely said anything formal unless it was in jest. "How are you this evening?" Well, that wasn't any better.

"I'm doing well. And you?" she asked as she admired the way the snug black fabric fit across his broad shoulders. She stopped herself from outright ogling but thought a date should allow her at least to enjoy the view. She smiled. "Are you as nervous as I am?"

"Nervous? Me?" he said with a grin, a bit more at ease as he caught her attempt to hide the way she'd looked him over. "Beyond nervous. You look lovely, though."

And she did. She was the picture of Hermioneish beauty. He was sure she had no idea how becoming she looked- modest without being priggish, beautiful without being ostentatious.

"Oh, thank God. I hoped I wasn't the only one," she admitted with a soft laugh. She glanced down at her skirt and jumper, both of which were comfortable and becoming but probably too prudish for a date. She looked back at him and smiled. "Thank you. I wasn't sure where we were going so I hope I'm dressed suitably."

"You're perfect." Fred bit his lip. "Erm. You're dressed perfectly, rather. Shall we?"

She blushed faintly at his blurted comment and smiled at his clarification. "I'm ready," she told him as she walked past him into the hall and performed the locking charms on her quarters. She had hoped he might volunteer where they were going but it was obvious he planned to surprise her. She wasn't particularly fond of surprises but, in this case, she'd make an exception.

Wondering if he should take her hand, he followed her into the hall and settled into an easy stride next to her. He walked close enough to be friendly without infringing on her personal space.

"Care to lead us past the Apparition point?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "Our destination is not in Hogsmeade."

Hermione arched a brow at his words. "Not in Hogsmeade? Well, that's no fair. I can't very well guess if I'm not sure where we're going," she informed him primly even as she smiled to show she was teasing. She led them through the back halls of the castle so they'd avoid any nosy students or curious professors. For now, she wanted to keep the fact that she was dating both Fred and George to herself, though she knew Kingsley would demand answers when he saw that the library was closed and she wasn't at dinner.

They reached the outside of the castle and she shyly held out her hand for his. "It's this way," she told him as she lightly moved her fingers around his and led him to the nearest Apparition point outside the castle grounds.

Fred decided to take the opportunity and twined their fingers together, gentle enough that if she wanted to pull her hand away, she could. But it was absolutely tingle-inducing to be able to hold her hand. Her skin was soft and warm, though chapped a bit. He imagined that was from handling books all day, and it made him like her that much more.

"Hold on," he said, pulling her close. All right, maybe taking her outside Hogsmeade was nothing but a good excuse for Side-Along Apparition, but a bloke had to take what he could get, right? He wrapped one arm around her waist and said, "Ready?"

For some reason, Hermione had assumed that he'd give her the destination and she'd Apparate on her own. Therefore, it was a surprise when he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him. He seemed taller when she was this close and she could feel the muscles of his chest beneath her hands. Her heartbeat sped up for a moment as she tried to control her reaction. While it had been ages since she'd been physically involved with someone, she had better control of her urges than this.

She looked up at him after she was calm and smiled. "I'm ready," she said, thankful that she sounded normal and not as if she were memorizing every change in his formerly lanky frame.

Fred took a moment or two longer than necessary to Disapparate them, savouring the way she fit in his arms and the tangy citrus scent of her shampoo.

God, why was it taking so long? It wasn't very easy to ignore the feeling of him against her when she was in his arms. She could smell the fresh scent of his soap and an underlying aroma that reminded her of pine forests. She moved just a little closer as she discreetly inhaled the smell to see if she could place it.

And then they were squeezing out of the space outside Hogwarts. They reappeared on the outskirts of Lanhamburgh, a small town a few days' walk from Hogsmeade. She held on to him until her feet were once again on the ground.

"All right?" he asked, letting go of her reluctantly but retrieving her hand once more. "I didn't splinch your elbows or anything, did I?"

The way he wanted to hold her hand made her blush faintly. She gave a show of looking around her and checking her elbows. "No, it all looks good."

"Excellent, excellent," Fred said with a grin. "This way."

"Lead on, dear sir," she said with a smile as she shyly entwined her fingers with his. She followed him into the small town and looked around with interest.

He led her down a cobblestone street, sunset oranges and pinks reflecting off darkened shop windows. The town could be Hogsmeade's double, but for the fact that it was all Muggle. They passed an old-fashioned blacksmith, and Fred laughed with delight as he stared in at the forge and bellows, and all of the curious Muggle implements.

"Mustn't ever let Dad anywhere near here!" he laughed. "We'd never get him away again."

"No, you'd better never let him know about this place," she agreed with a laugh. "It's a fascinating bit of history. Have you been here before?"

"Once or twice," Fred said with a wink. "I came on a fact-finding mission earlier in the week, looking for Muggle gadgets to market at the shop. Come on, we're nearly there."

"You're looking to introduce Muggle devices at the store? Are you planning to use magic on them or just leave them as is?" she asked curiously as she followed him around a corner.

Fred shrugged. "We aren't sure yet. We always did solid business with the Muggle magic tricks when we first started the business at Diagon Alley. We're always on the lookout for new ideas."

At the end of the street sat a quaint red barn, complete with hayloft, its doors flung wide open. The gentle sound of small animals floated out to greet them. Anything else Hermione had planned to ask left her mind when she saw it.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. She smiled as they got closer and she watched two baby calves stumbling on long legs while their mum looked on. She glanced up at Fred and grinned. "It's a petting zoo."

He watched her face, pleased when he saw the surprised smile. "It is indeed. I wonder, surrounded by magic all day, if you don't sometimes miss your Muggle roots. Shall we?" He nodded toward the barn, where a baby goat was bleating at its brother to make room at the watering trough.

Hermione looked at him for a moment as she tried to find words to describe how much his thoughtfulness meant to her. For once in her life, words failed her. It was true that she had been a part of the magical world for so long that she rarely interacted in the Muggle world anymore. She did miss it, when she allowed herself to become melancholy and depressed, which wasn't often. She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Fred," she said softly before she stepped back and looked at the farmyard.

"Yes, let's look around," she told him as she took his hand and walked to the entrance of the zoo. They walked inside the pin, and she leaned down to pet a sheep. She grinned up at Fred. "He feels so soft."

The barn was filled with soft baas and bleats and oinks. A half dozen small Muggle children and their parents were scattered throughout, as well as a few other couples who looked like they were on dates too. Fred knelt next to Hermione and tangled his fingers in the sheep's soft wool.

"He's a cute little miter," Fred said, rubbing his thumb behind the sheep's ear. "Look at this little one!" He plunked himself down in the middle of the hay-strewn floor and scooped a baby lamb into his lap. The lamb cuddled into him and sighed contentedly.

"I wish I had a camera," she teased as Fred sat on the ground and snuggled the lamb. She looked at the hay-covered dirt and then her skirt. She definitely wasn't dressed for frolicking with animals. Instead of sitting down there, she pulled a bale of hay near Fred and sat down.

"This is nice," she murmured as she watched him. She looked over as a pig came to investigate her. She scratched it behind the ears and grinned when it wiggled its rear happily.

"I can't remember the last time I was here," she admitted softly, not bothering to elaborate as she knew Fred would understand that she meant the Muggle world. "With work and friends taking up so much of my time, I never really have an opportunity to miss it until I'm here and realize that I do. That makes no sense, does it?"

"I have a better understanding of Muggles and their world than I did when I was younger," Fred said, letting the lamb go and patting Hermione's pig on the rump. "Our community in British Columbia was magical, but we were often over to Vancouver and a few other Muggle spots."

He cleared his throat. "I know just what you mean, though. I hadn't any idea how much I missed being in England again, near Hogwarts and near... old friends until we came home again."

"Do you miss Canada?" she asked curiously. "I know you've only been back a short time, but it sometimes feels as if you two were never gone. I imagine it's different, isn't it?"

"I do miss it," Fred said with a nostalgic smile. "The weather is so different- it's sunnier than Scotland, and much warmer in the summers. And the people. We were there a long time- we made a lot of very good friends. I do miss them terribly." Fred paused. He'd barely spoken with his friends since arriving here. He needed to send some owls when he got home.

"Do you think you'll move back eventually?" she asked softly. It was obvious he missed the country that had become his home and the friends he made there. It was silly to be jealous of a place, but she couldn't help hating it at the thought they might move back some day and leave her all alone again. She was acting selfish and foolish, she knew, but she liked having them back in her life.

Fred shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it. Maybe to visit, but we have the business here now, and, well, other reasons to stay."

"You have the past here and occasionally that can become quite overwhelming," Hermione said. "There are times when I think it might be nice to get away and go some place new where no one knows who I am. I tried, once, after I was released from the hospital. The future looked so bleak that I considered just going anywhere but here. I couldn't, of course. It would have been too much like running away, I suppose. Besides, I'd have missed Harry and Ron even if I do only see them sporadically now that we're all grown up, as well as other people that I care about," she said with a smile. "Well, I, for one, am glad that you two moved back."

He touched the back of her hand gently and then let go. "Where did you go after the hospital?"

She looked at the sky and watched the setting sun. "I didn't really go anywhere," she confessed. "I thought about it while I was stuck in the hospital but, once I was released, Minerva had made me the offer to work at Hogwarts and it seemed like the right choice to stay. I went away for a week on my own because there was something I needed to do and then settled at Hogwarts. Not very exciting, I'm afraid."

"It doesn't have to be exciting," Fred said, shifting to sit next to her on the hay bale. "As long as it makes you happy. Are you happy here, Hermione?"

"Yes, I am," she said sincerely. She looked up at him and smiled. "It's not what I had planned when I was younger, of course, but things change, people change. I have a job that I really love and close friends that I know would risk their lives for me. What about you, Fred? Are you happy here?"

He touched her face, his thumb caressing her cheek softly for a moment. "I couldn't be happier."

Their gazes met and she was suddenly aware of so many things. The beautiful sunset, the feel of his fingers against her skin, the way he seemed to understand things she didn't even have to attempt to put into words. For a moment, Hermione forgot how to breathe, which wasn't good at all. Neither was raising her hand to brush her fingers through his long hair or tilting her head back as she leaned up to brush her lips gently against his. Their lips were dry and she ran her tongue over them to wet them before she pressed her mouth closer.

Fred shuddered, his breath leaving him, and he cupped her face, holding her reverently as his lips moved against hers, sending sparks of awareness and pure, joyous desire through him. One hand slid up to curl into her hair, and his eyes closed, losing himself in the pure sensation of kissing his Hermione.

The kiss was chaste in comparison to the other they had shared, but it felt more intimate as he touched her face and she tangled her fingers in his hair. She sighed softly as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him against her. The kiss deepened, their tongues lightly touching as she felt her tummy flutter and her body warm. She finally pulled back and rested her forehead against his. She didn't say anything, just sat there lost in the moment for a little while longer.

"Hermione," he breathed, his forehead against hers. God, this kiss was so much more than the last one they'd shared. He wanted to taste her again, but he knew he had to stop himself. For once in his life, Fred Weasley would be an utter gentleman. He opened his eyes so he could drink her in. "You're so lovely, did you know?"

The way he said her name made her shiver, and she tightened her grip on his hair before she reluctantly let go and rested her hand on his shoulder. She blushed at his words and bit her bottom lip to keep herself from denying his words. She knew she wasn't lovely, not in that way, but perhaps Fred's idea of lovely differed from hers. "No, I didn't," she whispered as she caressed his cheek. "So are you."

Fred leaned forward and pressed one more kiss against Hermione's lips and then smiled. He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand out to her. "I don't know if I'm lovely, but I'm certainly famished. Shall we pop off to dinner, then?" Before I have trouble letting you go, he didn't add.

"Dinner sounds like a good idea," she said as she pushed the goat that had joined them away and stood up. She unconsciously reached for Fred's hand and smiled. "It's a beautiful night."

"Beautiful," Fred echoed, squeezing her hand playfully. "That's just what I was going to say."
Chapter 24: Past History by inell
Title: Clever Mischief 24: Past History
Date: Friday, October 21, 2005
Location: The Three Broomsticks, Another evening out
Characters: George, Hermione
Rating: Any Age



Just as George had made himself scarce last week, Fred had now disappeared while George got ready for his date. George thought he was probably at the shop, or off to see Oliver. It was just easiest for everyone involved if the twins didn't interfere with each other's time with Hermione. They'd even shaken hands and sworn on their bond as twins, brothers, Weasleys, Gryffindors, and wizards (in that order) not to play any pranks or otherwise mess about with the other's chances. They both knew instinctively that it was the only way they could still remain friends once Hermione had made her choice.

But George didn't want to have to think about her choosing between them just yet. Not when he was about to take her out for his first real date with her. He only hoped that she enjoyed it. Fred had come home absolutely floating last week, and they hadn't talked about what happened. George didn't want to know. Secretly, though, he hoped that what he had planned topped it. Fred was more about action and if George knew him at all, he knew that Fred had taken her somewhere fun. So George would appeal to her intellectual side. His fingers were crossed that he'd remembered her preferences well.

Besides, George was at his best at night. He hadn't had to spend much time on his appearance, throwing on a pair of black trousers that were comfortable but dressy, and a dark blue button up shirt, open at the collar. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail with a dark blue tie to match. He was ready a few minutes early, but he remembered her approval of punctuality. He wandered out into the pub, where they'd agreed to meet, and stopped at the bar.

"Evening, Rosie," he said with a wink as Madam Rosmerta bustled out from the backroom.

"Hello there, Fred-or-George," she said merrily, balancing a tray laden with drinks on one hand. "My, don't you look handsome tonight."

"Don't I look handsome every night?" George said, feigning hurt. For once, he didn't give her some clue as to which of the twins he was.

She pinched his cheek. "Of course you do. Well, if you're George, you don't look so good in the mornings, mind."

George grinned. "If I'm George, I might not argue with that."

"Have you a date tonight, honey?" she asked.

"I do indeed."

Someone across the pub hollered at her for the drinks on her tray. "Keep your shirt on!" she shouted back, then shot the man an appraising look. "Or take it off, if you prefer."

"You're terrible, Rosie," George said with a grin, and not disagreeing, she headed off to deliver the drinks, leaving George leaning casually against the bar.

~*~

It was hard to believe that it was already Friday again. The week since her date with Fred had gone quickly. Work had been busy, with the upper years engrossed in several projects that required her help to find the right books. She had also managed to elude Kingsley's questions about her whereabouts last Friday and the fact she had been caught humming during breakfast several times this week, which made her rather proud. He was a former Auror, a really good one, and he'd been sulking for days over her masterful avoidance of his attempts at questioning.

She knew she'd eventually have to tell him what was happening in her private life, if only because she wasn't ashamed of dating either Fred or George and wasn't keeping it a secret. The reason she'd not wanted to talk about it at this time was because she honestly didn't know exactly what was happening and Kingsley asked too many questions, many of which she couldn't answer yet. Regardless, his attempts had made the week somewhat amusing because she enjoyed evading his 'I'm A Big Bad Auror So Answer Me' routine.

Tonight was her date with George, and, again, she had no idea what they were doing. To be safe, she had decided to wear a dress that was simple yet suitable for going out somewhere. It was a pretty shade of blue with a skirt that fell to her knees and sleeves that ended below her elbows. It was comfortable and made her feel rather feminine in an 'I feel pretty' sort of way, so it seemed a good choice. She left her hair down and lip gloss was her only make-up. Once she was dressed, she left the school and headed towards town.

When she reached the Three Broomsticks, she was on time. She'd enjoyed her walk and taken her time so she'd not arrive too early. It was a lovely autumn evening and the sun was starting to set when she entered the pub. She saw George when she walked in and smiled as she unconsciously reached up to make sure her hair wasn't a mess. "Good evening, George," she said as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

The moment she touched him, he felt arousal flood through him. Oh god, that wasn't good. Well, it was good, but he had to keep himself under control. Molesting her on the first date, especially when she was also dating his brother, was not wise. Instead, he returned the kiss on her cheek, his fingers skimming along her sleeve.

"You look breathtaking, love," George said by way of greeting. Hermione had such an incredible naturalness about her that was more beautiful than any made-up tart could ever aspire to.

Hermione smiled as she moved to lean against the bar near him. "Thank you, George. You look very handsome," she told him honestly. Her gaze swept over his top half, lingering on his lips, and she flushed as she realized she was thinking about kissing him. She couldn't explain, even to herself, what it was about George that caused such a reaction.

Though she tried not to compare Fred and George, as they were two distinctively different individuals regardless of the traits they had in common, she was aware enough to know that things with Fred were like a slow burn with gentle kisses and hesitant touching. With George, though, it was incendiary with just one look. He made her body overheat and her pulse race just from a chaste kiss against her cheek.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," she murmured as she forced thoughts of desire and warming bits out of her mind for now. This was their first date, after all, and it was only fair to focus on what was happening instead of getting lost in thought. "Are we eating here this evening, then?"

George wanted to kiss her. He wasn't about to deny that the kisses they'd shared under the trees at Hogwarts hadn't been a dominant theme throughout his dreams. But he had to be a gentleman about this. So he nodded toward a table and said, "I thought we could grab a bite here and then pop off to phase two of the evening. If that's all right with you?"

"That sounds delightful," she said with a smile as she made her way to a table near the back. "The food here is good, after all, and the company will make any location suitable. However, I am now curious what exactly phase two will be."

"If I told you that, it'd ruin the surprise!" George held a chair out for her at an out-of-the-way table near the back of the pub.

"I don't like surprises," she grumbled good-naturedly as they reached the table. She smiled and murmured a thank you as she sat down.

"Rosie's been making rabbit dishes lately that are to die for. She's really been branching out," George said, taking a seat across from her.

"Rabbit, huh?" she repeated, rather pleased that she didn't grimace at the thought of eating Thumper. Too many childhood memories of watching the movie Bambi on the telly, she decided as she smiled pleasantly. "That sounds interesting. I think I might have roast and potatoes. I'm pretty hungry now that it's dinnertime."

George sensed that she was less than impressed. "No hasenpfeffer for Hermione?" he teased. He was fond of rabbit dishes himself, if they were spiced properly.

"No, I'm afraid not," she said with a sheepish smile. "I'm just not a fan of rabbit or lamb when it comes to culinary delights."

"Perhaps I should give you a hint about the evening that lies ahead of us."

At his teasing, she arched a brow. "You're just trying to tempt me with hints when you probably don't intend to tell me anything ahead of time," she told him matter-of-factly. "Or you'll give me some very vague hint that will result in my spending the whole of dinner trying to figure out the puzzle, as you well know, George Weasley."

"Don't pretend you don't enjoy a good puzzle," George said slyly, handing her a well-worn menu.

"I never said that I didn't enjoy one. I simply said you had the choice between my sparkling conversation or my focusing on a puzzle during dinner," she pointed out with a teasing smile. "Come to think of it, you'd better be off giving me that hint probably."

He touched his chin, regarding her evenly. "Perhaps I enjoy the thought of teasing you."

Her smile faded as she met his gaze. She gripped the menu tightly as her mind drifted toward improper thougths. She flushed and licked her lips before she opened her menu and busied herself reading the choices that she had basically memorized ages ago. She murmured quietly, "Perhaps you do."

"A hint, then," he said, pondering what he could say. "I don't want to give too much away or you'll guess too easily. I will say this: it's something I remember you liking from past history."

"Oh, I see how it is," she drawled, smiling to let him know she was teasing. "You give me the hint so that I spend all of our dinner being silent and contemplative instead of boring you with conversation."

She decided to order the roast and potatoes with carrots and fresh bread for dinner. As she closed her menu, she considered his hint. "That was a very pathetic attempt at a hint," she declared finally. "We've been friends for years and have known each since I was eleven. I've mentioned a great many things in the past that I like. Since I doubt it's a trip to a chocolate factory, however, I think I'll focus on conversation and not try to guess."

George smirked. "That's why it's a good hint. Besides, now I get to tease you and talk to you. Best of both worlds, don't you think?"

"You're incorrigible," she muttered fondly before she brushed her hair from her face and smiled.

He decided not to order the rabbit, in case Hermione was really against it, choosing instead Rosie's wonderful shepherd's pie. "Now then," he said, settling back comfortably and gazing intently at her, "I've been dying to ask. How displeased is the staff at Hogwarts that we've returned?" He couldn't hide the evil pleasure he got from the prospect of a school full of children using Double Trouble products.

"Actually, I've not heard any complaints at all," she said with a perfect note of sincerity. "Minerva doesn't even seem aware that you're both back, I must admit, and Kingsley hasn't grumbled since the hair incident. The students seem to be keeping anything they buy to themselves as there aren't any disruptions at all."

"How tragic," George said with mock despair. "We'd hoped our names were being cursed by the professors. And by Filch." He grinned wickedly.

Before she could answer, one of the staff stopped by the table to take their drinks order. Hermione added a glass of pumpkin juice to her request and then waited until George ordered mineral water before leaning back in her chair and smiling innocently. "I'd say that you've been quite successful in avoiding any notice at all."

He nodded his thanks at the waiter. "Ah, but we don't want to go unnoticed. I suppose we shall have to try harder then, won't we? Perhaps a sale for the more aggravating products- would your Mister Shacklebolt like sprouting a tail, do you think?"

"Would you like being hexed with some charms that you've never heard of?" she mused in reply. "I may have been able to save you and Fred from facing his wrath after The Hair Incident but a tail would mean all bets were off. Do remember that you're dealing with a former Auror who knows more ways to get revenge than nearly anyone I know.

"As for the others, I may have heard a muttering or two from Filch," she acquiesced with exaggerated reluctance. "But he doesn't tend to mutter very much at me for some reason which may or may not include a particular hexing that occurred shortly after I became the librarian when I may or may not have caught him trying to look up my robes."

George collapsed into a fit of giggles. "That's my Hermione! What'd you do to the old perv? I mean, not that he doesn't have excellent taste in who to be voyeuristic toward." He sat forward eagerly, awaiting all the gory details.

"I'm actually not very proud of myself for that lapse in judgment," she admitted with a wry smile. "I don't usually react to such things with a hexing, but it was shortly after I was out of the hospital and I wasn't quite myself yet. My nerves were unsettled so I caught him trying to catch a look and hexed him without thinking. It wasn't any major, thankfully, but I felt ashamed of myself after."

Their drinks arrived and she took a sip before she continued. "I'm sorry to disappoint but it was just a simple hex," she told him. "He spent the remainder of the day having to use the loo a lot, which, considering his job, wasn't very nice of me."

George nodded. It would have been around that time that he and Fred had left the continent, too tired of the deaths they'd caused to stay. He couldn't help his approving nod, though. "No, that's excellent. Good hexes and pranks should always contain an element of irony, and that works beautifully."

Hermione shook her head but had to smile. "All right. Maybe it was well-deserved," she murmured. "I feel honored to have the Weasley twin seal of approval at any rate."

"You definitely have the Weasley twin seal of approval," he murmured, and then looked away before she could see the sudden heat in his glance. He turned his attention to his meal, eating with a bit more gusto than was entirely appropriate. "Still ignoring my clue?"

She was well aware of the blush that crossed her cheeks at his murmured words. They certainly hadn't been said casually, but she didn't dare look up to meet his gaze. Unlike the playful comfort of her date with Fred, this date was already proving to be more intense than she'd honestly expected.

She started to eat her roast and was definitely hungrier than she realized. She swallowed a piece of bread and pursed her lips as she thought about his hint. "Yes, I'm still ignoring it," she told him finally. "I assume it may have something to do with history, since your phrasing was precise and slightly odd. However, that could be any number of places and I assume I'd enjoy it regardless."

He hid a smile behind his fork at her reasoning about the clue. "You'll see when we get there," he said. "I hope you don't mind traveling out of Hogsmeade by Floo?"

He was looking at her from beneath lowered lashes and his lips were curved into a half-smile. Her reaction was instantaneous and confusing, which made her frown slightly as she tried logically to deal with it. That meant, of course, that she tucked it away into the back of her mind to analyze later when she could give more thought to how aroused a half-smile could make her in comparison to years without feeling any sort of desire that both Fred and George seemed to bring about so easily.

"No, I don't mind at all," she replied as that latest thought was ignored for the time being. "How was work this week?"

"Business is booming," George said with a grin. "We're working on setting up the mail order aspect of it, and keeping stock on the shelves. It's insanely busy, and we love it! I can't believe how much I've missed owning a joke shop."

"That's wonderful about the business," she told him. "It's nice to have around. There hasn't been a lot to laugh about in the past few years, but it's time for that again. I'm sure you're both having lots of fun being so productive and being able to think up new ways to torture the professors."

"How about you? How's Hogwarts, besides not being terrorized enough by our products?"

She laughed softly before she ate more of her roast. "Hogwarts is fine," she replied. "The new students are now getting settled in and the projects are starting, so that means things are busier. I've also received two new texts to read and review for consideration to add to the curriculum next year, so I've been taking notes on those during the evenings. It's busy and enjoyable."

Finishing his meal, George sat back and just looked at her for a moment, enjoying the colour of her hair and the softness of her expression. She was so... Hermione. How had he never realized before how much he wanted her? "You must be happy to be able to read so much and get paid for it. Are they worthwhile, the new books? Some of the ones we used to study from were positively dreadful."

"Well, I've only been able to start one," she said with a smile. "It's excellent so far. Of course, I didn't expect anything less, really. It's a History of Magic text by Ariadne Oliver, and she's one of my favorite magical historians. This one is actually about the nineteenth century in Wizarding England with a focus on the spells and charms that were created or became popular during that time. I really find it fascinating to see how some more common charms were created, though I do prefer her text on the Goblin Wars because of the fair view she gave to each side."

George smiled mysteriously. "I'm delighted to hear it. Binns was always so utterly awful- he isn't still there, is he? Tell me they replaced him with someone competent!"

"Yes, he's still there," she told him with a slight groan. "I have to admit that you're right, in this instance, as he made the subject so extremely tedious that it was difficult to find anything enjoyable about it. Fortunately, I have a fondness for history, in general, and magical history, in particular, so he couldn't ruin the class for me."

Rosie passed by and called out, "On your tab, Fred-or-George?"

"You know us so well," George grinned back, still not letting on which twin he was.

After she finished the last of her roast, she put her fork down and smiled sheepishly. "I was hungrier than I realized," she admitted. She finished her drink and listened as he discussed the tab with Rosmerta. "Thank you for a lovely dinner. It was delicious and, as expected, the conversation was enjoyable."

"Absolutely any time, love," George said, standing and offering her his hand. "The feeling is more than mutual. Shall we?"

Hermione stood up and straightened her skirt before she took his hand. She bit her lip when the casual contact sent warmth through her but quickly collected herself. "Yes, we shall," she replied with a slight smile as her fingers entwined with his.

George squeezed her hand lightly, once more doing his best to ignore the arousal sparking through him from wherever she touched. He nodded toward the pub's public fireplaces, and led her over. He took a handful of Floo powder off the mantle and tossed enough in for two.

"McCulloch's and Crake's," he said, hoping she wouldn't recognize the name, as it was quite far from here.

The name wasn't familiar to her at all, which allowed her to stop ignoring the attraction she felt and focus on her curiosity. "Where did you say we were going, again?" she asked casually.

He didn't answer, saying instead, "Hold very tight, love, there isn't a lot of room in the hearth."

He pulled her close as they got ready to go through the floo. She glanced up at him when their bodies pressed together, and her gaze lingered on his lips for a beat too long before she murmured, "I'll hold on tight."

Oh god, all right, not the wisest plan for the cooling of his libido. He wrapped his arms around her as they sidestepped into the emerald flames together, feeling every inch of her that was touching him. He looked down at her, at her lips, wanting to kiss, to claim. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers just as the whirl of the Floo Network grabbed them, spinning them away from Hogsmeade, flashing past a multitude of grates.

When he pressed his mouth against hers, Hermione whimpered softly and parted her lips. She reached up and gripped the back of his neck, feeling his long hair against her skin as she leaned up to kiss him back. Before they could deepen the kiss, the world began to spin. Or maybe that was because of the kiss. She no longer really knew, nor did she care as she shyly brushed her tongue against his lips.

A soft growl of hunger escaped him as he felt the touch of her fingers on his neck and her tongue against his mouth. His lips parted, inviting her eagerly inside as the entire world revolved around them. All he cared about was the way she tasted and how warm she was. Hermione moaned when he growled and moved her fingers into his hair, gripping it tightly as the kiss deepened. He stumbled as they slammed into the correct grate, falling out of the hearth but refusing to relinquish her from his arms. He slid his tongue into her mouth as he fell against a wall, using it for support and balance.

She rubbed against him as they fell through the floo. She smelled coffee and cinnamon as they nearly lost their balance but didn't let go of him as he slouched against a nearby wall. She pressed closer and curled her tongue around his as she moved her hand beneath the hem of his shirt. When she felt warm skin against her fingertips, her eyes opened and she pulled back at the realization that the kiss had gone much too far.

He sucked in a needy breath, the touch of her fingers slamming home the reality of where they were and what they were doing. He stood up a bit straighter, one arm around the small of her back, fingers splayed on her hip, the other reaching up to touch her mussed hair.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, taking in her kiss-moistened lips and wide eyes. He never wanted to let her go.

His words made her blush. They were said with a solemn sincerity that made her unable to ignore them or dismiss them. She licked her lips and shyly reached out to caress his jaw. "Thank you," she murmured softly. She reluctantly withdrew her hand because she knew this needed to stop. It was much too soon for this intensity. Besides, it was just too confusing right now to complicate things even further. Her date with Fred had been amazing and the kisses they'd shared were still fresh in her mind.

"Right," he said, to no one in particular, disengaging himself but leaving an arm around her waist. "We're here. Shall we, then?"

They were in a dusty little bookstore, crooked shelves stacked with heavy tomes towering all around them. Rickety, rusty chandeliers lit with real candles hung from the ceilings. George had hoped it would look a little more impressive.

"Of course," she said after a small shake of her head to end the spell that she'd just been under. George's hand was on her hip and she was highly aware of the warmth of his fingers through the cotton of her shirt. Once she had collected herself, still rather embarrassed that she'd behaved in such a way and gotten so carried away just from a kiss, she looked around. She smiled when she realized that he'd brought her to a bookstore. "Oh, it's charming."

George felt a surge of relief. He hadn't realized he'd been so nervous about her reaction to the place. "We're in Glasgow's Wizarding corridor," he told her. "And we're just in time."

"In time for what?" Hermione asked curiously as she looked at the shelves nearest them. She hadn't even been to Glasgow's Wizarding section and now found herself intrigued.

He pointed to a table at the far end of the shop, where a small, elfin woman sat, stacks of books around her. A sign read, "Ariadne Oliver: Book Signing, 8:45 p.m. today!"

"George, that's Ariadne Oliver! She's the historian that I was telling you about earlier. Do you remember?"

She looked at him excitedly and then felt foolish as she realized that was the reason he'd brought her here. "And you knew she was going to be," she continued before she smiled sheepishly. She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, George. This is a lovely surprise." She smiled at him before she pulled him with her to get into line to meet the author.

George chuckled. " Past history," he said again, reminding her of his clue as he joined her in line. "She writes history, and I remember a time in our own history when you told me how much you liked her."

It looked like a bit of a wait until they would reach the front of the line, but George didn't care. This was the perfect evening, with the perfect lady. He'd never been happier.
Chapter 25: Keeping Up Appearances by inell
Title: Clever Mischief 25: Keeping Up Appearances
Date: Wednesday, November 2nd, 2005
Location: Double Trouble
Characters: George, Fred
Rating: Any Age



George hadn't gone over the sales figures for the week yet, but he knew without looking just how well the business was doing. Their main concern when they'd first talked about buying old Zonko's place had been the lag time between Hogsmeade weekends for the Hogwarts students. They'd thought that the place might be deserted when the students couldn't come to them, but they needn't have worried. Their shop was never empty. Far from it-- the village had embraced them, the mail order business was booming, and people regularly Apparated or Floo'd from all over the British Isles to see them. They were delighted by the range of ages that frequented Double Trouble. Even now, they had an woman easily in her seventies browsing their collection of long distance whoopee cushions (Can't Blame These On the Dog), a pair of thirtysomethings on their lunch break who were positively giggling with glee at the new line of Personal Shadows (Hide in Plain Sight From Bosses, Professors, and People To Whom You Owe Money!), and a witch slightly older than them with a small child in tow. The child, a little boy, looked like, well, a kid in a mischief shop. His head kept swivelling as he took in new delights, and at last he settled on dashing toward the firework kits. Yes, George thought as he moved to intercept the boy, things were swimming along. Fred had said just last week that they should declare 2006 as the International Year of Mischief, and George didn't think it was a half bad idea.

"Hold up there, young sir," George said, crouching in front of the boy before he could get at the Ezee Start Fireworks (No Wand Necessary!). "You wouldn't like these."

"Shiny!" the boy said, reaching for the fireworks anyway.

Something popped next to them, and George looked up to see his twin standing there. Fred had watched the whole scene unfold, and now brandished a fake wand in his hand that had just turned into a tarantula.

"Look at that," Fred said impressively as it reformed into a wand again. The boy squealed and grabbed at it. Fred winked up at the mother as she hurried over. "Only six galleons each, and keeps the little ones occupied for hours."

"Or three for fifteen galleons," George added with a charming smile. The boy scampered off, and George and Fred grinned at each other.

Both paused, their grins going from mischievous to something else entirely, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Fred recovered his equilibrium first and Summoned over a set of the fake wands, in case the mother wanted to look at a few different options. He did his best to ignore the awkward silence. There had been too many of those in the last couple of weeks. He watched his twin straighten from where he'd been crouching, and an image flashed through his mind. It was Hermione, her hair gorgeously messy as it tumbled about her face-- many of his fantasies started this way. God, he loved her hair. But then he saw a freckled hand tucking a stray strand behind her ear, and linger, caressing her cheek. The hand wasn't his own, though Hermione was one of the few people who could tell them apart. He pictured her licking her lips, half in nervousness and half in anticipation. In arousal. Fred imagined her reaching for George and pulling him close, her hands settling on his waist as she stepped into his embrace. He could see the desire there, how much they both wanted each other, how much they both needed this. They were together, and Fred wasn't part of the equation.

With a crack, the fake wand he'd been clutching in both hands splintered in two. He came back to himself and apologized to the surprised witch. George arched an eyebrow at him, but didn't ask him what was wrong. They never asked questions like that these days.

Instead, George moved on to the elderly witch in the corner. "Hallo there," he said, using his most winning smile on her.

She cackled, her long, silvery hair shaking with the force of it. "Might have known a pair of Prewetts was behind this."

George laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been identified as part of his mum's family rather than as a Weasley. "George Prewett-Weasley at your service," he said with a bow.

"Weasley, eh? Molly'd be your mum, then?"

"Indeed she is."

"I used to 'sit for your gran, dearie," she said, a rattling cough derailing her for a moment. Her eyes, George noticed, were two different colours. "Used to watch your mam and all. Your uncles, then, would be Gideon and Fabian. Descended straight from those two you are, if this shop here's any indicator."

Fred joined them, making a little bow to the old lady without realizing that George had done the same. "You knew our uncles?"

"Best of friends, those two, and a pair of bigger rapscallions you never did see," the old witch snickered.

"Just like us," Fred said, and he and George exchanged another grin that immediately went awry. George looked away first as a horrible thought overtook him, one that had occurred to him too many times lately. He'd agreed that no matter which of them Hermione chose, they'd all remain the best of friends. But now, after having had the chance to take Hermione out over the last couple of weeks and sharing with her the most intense kisses he'd ever experienced... he didn't know how he'd ever manage to walk away if she chose Fred instead.

But that wasn't what he was thinking about just now. No, just now, he thought about what would happen if Hermione did choose him after all. What would happen to Fred? George loved Fred so much. How would Fred ever handle being excluded if Hermione didn't choose him? How would George himself be able to handle it? It hurt nearly as much as the thought that Hermione might not want him in the end.

The old woman was squinting at them both, and with a deep breath, George pulled himself back together, dispersing those lethal thoughts as best he could. She clucked her tongue. "Shared everything, your uncles did," she said thoughtfully. Then she waved at the whoopee cushions. "Now these here, my grandkids'll love. Won't know what hit 'em when I get 'em with these, will they?"

"Most certainly not," Fred laughed.

"They're best sellers," George added.

"In fact, we've got a new prototype that's not quite ready to be sold to the general public."

"Makes the windows rattle."

"And the floor shake."

"We could give you an exclusive sneak peek, should you so desire."

"Since you knew our mum and all."

"And can probably tell us horrible stories about her."

The old woman didn't seem to have any trouble following their dizzying volley of conversation. In fact, she cackled again. "Lead the way, my lads. Been some years now since a pair of cheeky redheads got into mischief together on my account. Your uncles would be proud, though I don't doubt you drive your mum to distraction."

Fred noticed that the witch with the little boy was ready with her purchases at the counter. "You two go on," he said. "I'll catch up."

He watched as they disappeared into the back room together, and his stomach tightened unpleasantly. He didn't know how he'd ever get by once Hermione's choice was made. Either way would be difficult-- not to be with Hermione, or to be with her while George wasn't. He loved George, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his twin. But he supposed there was nothing for it but to let it happen. What else could they do?
Chapter 26: Winter Wonderland by inell
Title: Clever Mischief 26: Winter Wonderland
Date: Friday, November 11, 2005
Location: The streets of Hogsmeade
Characters: Fred, Hermione
Rating: Any Age



The town looked like it was made of spun sugar and gingerbread as the early November snow settled gently on Hogsmeade's rooftops. Fred watched his breath crystallize in the air before him, feeling his heart speeding up in anticipation. It was ridiculous, really, how excited he was to see Hermione. She'd become his whole world, and the last few dates they'd shared had been nothing short of real magic. He had almost reached a point where he could ignore that she was also going out with George. It was amazing how much he'd been able to set aside his jealousy, and he was fairly certain George had done the same. After all, they still got on nearly as well as they ever did, minus a few awkward silences every day.

He hoped Hermione would like his idea for a date this evening. As he walked down the street from the shop to the Three Broomsticks, snow sticking lightly in his long hair, he felt another rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He was seeing her tonight. Tonight, therefore, was a good night. Arriving at the pub, he pushed the door open and felt the warmth of the place that had been his home for several months enveloping him. Perhaps an early-season eggnog to shake off the cold.

Hermione had arrived at the Three Broomsticks a few minutes earlier. It was a long walk from Hogwarts to town during the winter, especially after the sun set, so she'd wasted little time enjoying the scenery. It was beautiful, of course, but she was excited to see Fred and had walked a little faster due to her eagerness.

During the last few weeks, she'd managed to avoid any serious questioning from Kingsley, but Neville had actually noticed her disappearances on Friday evenings and the fact she had gone to town several times during mid-week, which was very much not part of her usual routine. She was eventually going to have to explain that she was dating and just hope they didn't ask for specifics. Unfortunately, knowing that they gossiped nearly as much as Oliver Wood, even if they'd both deny it, didn't comfort her.

Contrary to her initial opinion regarding dating both Fred and George, things had been going well. She enjoyed spending time with both of them, had gotten to know them both again after years apart, and ignored the whisper in her mind that she was headed for trouble. There would be time to think about that later, when she was forced to do so. Until then, she was doing her best not to plan ahead, which was extremely difficult for her, and just enjoy the moment.

She saw Fred enter the pub and smiled as she noticed the snow in his dark red hair. He looked very handsome, as always, and she was excited to see where he planned to take her for their date. She got up from her table and walked up behind him. "You look like you had a fight with a snowman and lost," she said as she reached up to dust snow from his hair.

Fred couldn't help himself when he spun around at her touch. He caught her hand as it trailed through his hair and pulled her close, pressing a kiss against her palm.

"You should have seen the snowman," he teased, dipping down to brush his lips against hers. "He looks much worse than I do. Hi."

"You're freezing," Hermione said as her fingers touched his jaw. He also needed a shave, but she didn't mention that because she rather enjoyed Fred's obvious dislike for shaving daily. Which was odd, really, since she preferred George with smooth skin. He kissed her before she could give the matter any more thought. When he pulled back, she smiled against his mouth. "Hi."

"Good week so far?" he asked, not letting her go. It was almost frightening how addictive it had become to be close to her.

"Better now," she murmured, her cheeks flooding with heat. She quickly recovered, as was becoming more common since dating them, and nodded. "It's been okay. Neville assigned a paper for his Herbology first years, though, and chose a few topics that we only had information on in limited supply. I had to referee the use of two texts far more than usual so that wasn't much fun. What about you?"

He relaxed his stance a little, taking a step back from her and dropping his hand down to link with hers. "Sales are soaring. We're getting ready to roll out the Holiday line and a new catalogue. And isn't there another Hogsmeade weekend up coming up?"

"Weekend after next, though I'm sure you knew that," she said. "It's the last one before the holiday break, actually. You'll probably be very busy as I'm sure you remember doing your holiday shopping during that weekend when you were a student."

"Oh dear, poor Hogwarts won't be the same once the kids return from our shop." He smiled as innocently as he could, which wasn't actually all that innocently. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"That innocent look doesn't fool me at all, Mister Weasley," she told him even as she smiled at the compliment. She smoothed down her thick jumper and glanced at her comfortable wool skirt. She had to roll her eyes. 'Beautiful' wasn't a word that came to her mind but perhaps Fred had a different idea of beauty. Regardless, she was flattered and slightly embarrassed. "Were we having dinner here or did you have other plans in mind?"

"Other plans, if that's all right," Fred said. He winked at Madam Rosmerta, who was watching them with an indulgent smile, and said to Hermione, "I need just a bit of a change of pace from here, you know?"

"I don't mind. A change of pace is always nice."

Kissing her hand again, more because he couldn't stop himself than for any other reason, he asked, "D'you need to grab your stuff, or are you ready to go now? No rush, but I want us to have a good view."

"No, I'm all set. My gloves and scarf are in the pockets of my coat so let me just put those on and I'm ready to go. A good view of what?"

"The moon," he said, holding the door open for her. "For once I'm not taking you halfway across Scotland." He grinned, keeping mum about just exactly what they were doing. He didn't know that George often did the same on his dates with Hermione.

"It is a lovely evening," Hermione said as they stepped out into the cold. She shivered as she adjusted to the change in temperature and looked up at the moon. She turned toward Fred and smiled. "Where are you taking me, then?"

Fred slipped an arm around her. Purely to keep her warm, of course. "Somewhere magical," he teased. "It's actually just a quick walk up ahead, and then we can catch a late dinner, if you'd like."

"You know, somewhere magical no longer impresses me as much as it would have before I turned eleven," she laughed as she unconsciously snuggled closer to his warm body. "I'd like dinner after, if you don't mind."

They strolled through the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, and Fred stopped for a moment to tilt his head back and catch a particularly large flake on his tongue, more flakes settling in his hair and his auburn eyelashes.

She glanced up at him and smiled. "You look so carefree and young like that," she said. "I love winter here. When I was younger, I never really appreciated it but now, it's such a peaceful time of year. I prefer autumn, but there's just something about winter at Hogwarts that makes me feel young again."

He laughed softly, something more serious edging his mirth. "We were all young and carefree before the war, for the most part." A shadow flitted across his face for just a moment, speaking of some of the things that had driven the twins from England so many years ago, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"I can't remember the last time that I was young and carefree," she said quietly. "Possibly when I was ten, before my letter from Hogwarts arrived and changed my entire life. After that, I discovered this whole new world that I had to learn about and then I became friends with Harry. That definitely took away any opportunities to be carefree and foolish, not that I have any regrets."

He smiled at her, nodding his understanding. "Just on up here." He pointed to a cul-de-sac a few metres ahead of them, where two large, flat sleighs covered with mountains of hey stood, each harnessed to two magnificent horses. "How does a moonlit hayride sound to you?"

Hermione following his finger and saw the sleighs and horses. "That sounds wonderful," she told him. "It's really a nice night for a sleigh ride since it isn't so cold yet."

He touched her hair softly. "You know, our side was beyond lucky that you turned out to be a witch, Miss Granger. I don't know what I'd-- er, we'd have done without you." He blushed, his cheeks warm in the cool night air.

"Hmm, yes," he said, clearing his throat and nodding to the driver. A few other people, mostly couples, were mingling about.

She saw Fred blush and wanted to look away so he'd not be embarrassed. His words meant a lot to her, though, and were honestly the first time anyone had actually told her something like that. "There have been times when I've wondered how things would be differently if I'd never received that owl but, honestly, I can't even fathom a life without magic," she said sincerely.

Without thinking about it, she leaned up and brushed a soft kiss against his mouth. She ran her gloved fingers through his long hair and smiled. "I suppose we should go over there."

A quick breath escaped him and without thinking he cradled her face in his hands, cold from the early winter air, and returned the kiss. Just a brush of lips at first and then something a little stronger and not quite so chaste. More contact, more movement. "Hermione," he sighed. He could do this forever, hold this girl in the snow and kiss her like this.

She moved closer to him and shyly ran her tongue over his. Her name was a sigh against her lips, which made her close her eyes and kiss him again. He met the tentative touch of her tongue wit his own, one hand curving around the nape of her neck, his other arm around her waist, fingers splayed on her back. His lips opened, encouraging her to the do the same. She was so warm, so alluring. God, he wanted her.

She whined as he deepened the kiss. His hand was on her back, pressing her closer to him. It was the distant sound of a horse neighing that pulled her out of the spell he'd cast over her. Her face flushed when she noticed that her hand was beneath his coat and shirt touching the warm skin of his lower abdomen. She hadn't even realized she'd moved her arm. She pulled her hand back and let go of his hair, which was gripped tightly in her other hand. "We should go over now," she murmured

"We really should," he agreed, though his body and heart didn't agree at all. Resisting the urge to brush one more kiss against her lips because he knew that would lead to more, he stepped back and held his arm out to usher her toward the closest sleigh. Some of the other merrymakers had already climbed aboard, and Fred and Hermione claimed the back of the sleigh, securing a comfortable pile of hey to themselves.

For a moment, she was disappointed that he'd agreed. Then she realized that it was better to step back before things went too far. She took his arm and followed him to the sleigh. He helped her up onto the wagon, and she sneezed as she settled into the hay

"I'm told riding around on straw is charming," he said with a laugh. "I think it might just be itchy, though."

"Itchy seems to be an appropriate description," she said as she made herself comfortable. It was getting colder the later it became, which gave her an excuse to lean against him for warmth. The wagon began to move, gliding through the snow on its silver runners, and she fell against him. She straightened up and brushed hay from his hair before she turned to look upward. "The moon is beautiful."

"It is," he said, not glancing at the moon at all. He was too busy looking at her. Their cozy berth was secluded from the others arrayed around the sides of the sleigh, and it gave him a chance to cuddled closer to her. He entwined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

"You have no idea how good it is to share this with you, love," he murmured. "I never really thought you'd have any interest in me when we were younger."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," she said as she cuddled closer to him. At his confession, she looked at him in surprise. "Did you? That is, have interest in me back then? I never realized."

She became thoughtful before she admitted, "I had a crush on you when I was younger. I didn't think you'd ever consider me more than your younger brother's friend, though, so it didn't last long. I don't know if I'd actually have had interest, though, because so much of my life was focused on other things that I never gave boys much thought."

He froze, a strange shiver passing through him. "You had a crush on me? When?" How on earth could he have missed that?

"Yes, I did," she said, feeling her cheeks warm as she blushed. "It was years ago, when I was sixteen, and didn't last long. This is a lovely night for a sleigh ride, isn't it?"

"Ah, ah, ah, no changing of the subject," Fred laughed.

"I wasn't changing the subject," she protested as she looked away and covered her face with her hands. "This is embarrassing, you know? Can we just discuss the moon or something?"

"I'd rather discuss how completely daft I am! I had no idea. I fell kind of hard for you our first year out of Hogwarts-- that would have been your sixth year, yeah?"

"You're not daft. I was just very good at keeping such things secret," she told him matter-of-factly. She dropped her hands and stared at him as she processed what he said. "Yes, that was my sixth year. You did? Why? I mean, I never knew."
.
He rolled his eyes playfully. "Why? You seriously have to ask that? Hermione, you were beautiful, and so smart, and you just knew how to take charge of situations. You were always so sure of yourself. We all knew you were Ron's girl back then, though. I never would have acted on it, even if I did think you might welcome a come-on from me. Which I did not, in fact, think." He threaded his fingers through her hair. "You're still all of those things, you know. Well, apart from the 'Ron's girl' bit."

"I was never Ron's girl, Fred," she whispered. "He and I just weren't meant to be more than friends, even if we both considered it at one time or another."

"I didn't think boys found intelligence and bossiness attractive," she said as she moved her head into his hand. "I was never beautiful, though, and, no, that isn't modesty or a desire for compliments. I'm not that type of girl, as you should know. I never guessed that you even considered a come-on much less thought of me in that way."

"Hippogriff shit," he said. "You're more than beautiful." He sealed his mouth against hers in a kiss almost frantic with the need to show her how much he desired her, how much he hated the time they hadn't been together. His tongue moved restlessly into her mouth, trying to impart the flavour of his want to her.

Hermione was surprised at the force of his kiss. It was intense and had a passion that the playful kisses they'd exchanged hadn't possessed. She reached up and touched his face, wishing her hands weren't so cold. She would have loved to take off her heavy wool gloves so she could feel his skin against hers. She moved against him as they lay back against the hay and returned his kisses.

He pulled her closer until he was nearly underneath her, supported by the mounds of hey. "How's that for a come on?" he asked when they parted for a breath.

The extent of her arousal scared her because she hadn't felt this way in a very long time, if ever. She hadn't even realized that she was almost on top of him. At his words, she laughed softly. "If you'd tried that back then, I think I would have slapped you for being so daring and then possibly kissed you again."

"Kiss me again, then," he murmured, curving upward to reclaim her lips. He just managed to stop himself from saying "and never stop kissing me." He didn't know what happened when she was out with George or if she had any idea which of them she preferred, and he didn't want to know. Not right now. Now all he cared about was that she was here with him and that this moment, in the clear cool air with the moon shining down on them through a gap in the clouds, was perfect.

Hermione met his lips with hers and kissed him again as a light snow began to fall again. This wasn't how she had expected to spend the evening but she wasn't going to complain. A part of her thought about George and the kisses they shared, which made her feel similar to this but were so different in other ways. She didn't want to think about George right now, though, or the fact that she was behaving wantonly and shouldn't indulge in kissing either of them until she'd made a choice. Instead, she moved her hand over Fred's broad shoulder and tangled her fingers in his hair as the kiss deepened.

He made an encouraging noise, urging her more on top of him. He knew she must be able to feel his arousal pressing against her, but he didn't care. This all felt too good, and god, he needed more. His hands sought skin, moving under layers of cloth to slip beneath her shirt, caressing upward along the curve of her spine as his lips met hers again and again.

The feeling of his erection against her leg forced her to acknowledge that things were getting out of hand. Still, she moved closer as they kissed, reluctant to end the moment. The brush of his fingers against the bare skin of her back, however, made her pull back suddenly. Oh god. She'd let things go too far. She was panting and flushed when she raised her head and reached back to push his hand down.

"We shouldn't," she whispered as she sat up and pulled her coat tightly around her. She glanced at him, worried that he'd think she was some sort of tease who kissed him and aroused him like that only to pull back. "I didn't intend for things to go so far."

He shivered as the cool night air hit him and he came back to himself, aware for the first time that the sleigh was moving through Hogsmeade's streets and there were people not a foot away from them. Good god, had he completely lost his mind? Well of course he had. He swiped the back of his hand against his mouth and sat up a bit.

"I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have pushed." He was mortified that he'd let things get as far as they had. In their rather unique situation, they just couldn't give into urges like this.

"Stop," she said softly as she put two fingers against his lips. "You didn't push nor did I do anything that I regret. Save 'I'm sorry' for a situation when it's actually needed."

She brushed a chaste kiss against his cheek, lingering longer than she should, and then leaned against him. "I think a change in subject would be wise," she murmured as she looked up at the sky.

He kissed her fingers gently and then settled back against the hay. "Tell me about the constellations, then," he said with a smile. "I never did pay attention during Astronomy class. No real prank potential there, beyond the obvious-- you met the business end of our Sock 'Em Telescope once..."
Chapter 27: Seriouser and Seriouser by inell
Title: Clever Mischief 27: Seriouser and Seriouser
Date: Wednesday, November 18th, 2005
Location: Three Broomsticks, London
Characters: Hermione, George
Rating: Any Age

Hermione had a new admiration for Fred and George after this week. She had never realized just how nerve-wracking and difficult it was to plan a date. When she'd received the owl from George a few days ago giving her carte blanche in planning their outing for tonight, she'd been pleasantly surprised and had anticipated thinking of somewhere fun for them to go. Now, after several days of consideration and comparing various possibilities, she had to admit that it wasn't as easy as one might think.
 
Her dates with George tended to be more academic and quiet, in a way, while her dates with Fred were usually more physical and active in ways that she enjoyed. Since George seemed to take her to events and museums that he somehow knew she'd enjoy, she wanted to think of something that he'd like since she was planning this. It wasn't that either of the twins took her out to do things they weren't fond of, as neither would necessarily do something that bored them just to please her, but they did each have their own style, which made each date different and comparison impossible.
 
She was now walking towards Hogsmeade without a definite idea of where they were going tonight. It was cold and snow was on the ground, but the night was clear and quite beautiful. After work on Wednesday, she had taken the Floo to Edinburgh and checked one of the Muggle newspapers to see if there were any activities that she thought George might enjoy. With the holidays approaching, it was mostly an assortment of holiday themed plays and events, or winter festivities, and none of it was quite what she had in mind.
 
By the time she arrived at the Three Broomsticks, she had decided that George would probably enjoy going to dinner somewhere quiet that gave them the opportunity to talk. They could go to London and then possibly take a carriage ride through the park to look at the stars after dinner. With that decision in mind, she entered the pub smiling and took a seat at a table near the door to wait for George to arrive.
 
And George arrived minutes later breathless from the crystalline chill outside. His cheeks were rosy from the quick dash along Hogsmeade's streets and the cold evening air. He'd been quieter than usual all day, lost in thought about seeing Hermione tonight. He and Fred hadn't talked as much as usual. It was difficult when one of them was yearning to see her and the other was trying to ignore that he wasn't included that night. Neither acknowledged it, but they both knew the simple truth: this was harder than either of them had thought it would be.
 
But one look at Hermione sitting in the pub when he slipped inside in a gust of wind, and he knew that every moment spent with her was worth whatever anxiety he might experience when he wasn't with her.
 
"Hello," he said softly, arriving at her table and running a hand through his messy hair. Fucking hell, he wanted to take her in arms right now. He wanted to kiss her and then find some quiet, romantic place and go further... and he knew he couldn't. Putting those thoughts aside, he instead knelt beside her to drop a light kiss against her cheek, lingering longer than he should.
 
"Hello," Hermione said. Her cheek burned where his lips pressed against her skin, and she glanced at him when he didn't pull away quickly. She reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead, letting her fingers graze his skin for a moment of indulgence before she reluctantly dropped her hand. "Would you like a drink to warm up or are you ready to go?"
 
His breath caught and his eyes closed for a moment as he fought off the urge to kiss her. Regaining some level of control, he stood and took a step back. "Whatever you'd like tonight, love. I'm yours." Oh. He hadn't meant to say that exactly, but he didn't regret his words.
 
Hermione blinked and unconsciously licked her lips. Perhaps a quiet meal somewhere wasn't the best idea, after all. Her self control was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain around Fred or George, and her attraction to George had always been more electric, in a way. With Fred, it was a slow burn that was getting hard to stop before they went too far. With George, it was somewhat like a firestorm from the first casual touch, and she was scared that she'd be unable to pull back before long. She didn't want to think about that now, though, because it was something that frightened her in regard to both Fred and George, and she wasn't ready to consider what might have to be done.
 
Tonight would be fun, and they'd enjoy themselves. She'd save serious contemplation for the time when it became necessary. For now, she had a handsome date waiting for her attention. She smiled at George and stood up. "I think we can get something to warm up while we have dinner," she said. "I know a place in London that I thought we might go to tonight."
 
He took her hand, threading their fingers together and trying to ignore how even that small action made his heartbeat speed up. "That sounds perfect," he said. "I haven't been to London in... years." He closed his eyes again, this time for a different reason. Remembering. "Not since the war, since the wreckage of Diagon."
 
Smiling at her as he came back to himself, he added, "I'd love to go to London with you."
 
"I rarely go to London," she admitted softly. "I don't really have a need since Hogsmeade has most everything and, what it doesn't, I can find in Edinburgh easily." After the war, no one tried to rebuild Diagon and now there were numerous smaller Wizarding sections in various areas. Diagon still stood in ruins, which saddened Hermione, both because it used to be such a symbol of this world with so many happy memories for her and because it was a reminder of the destruction of war. "Seeing Diagon the way it is now... perhaps it will force people never to forget, and to prevent history from repeating itself in the future."
 
She shook her head and smiled. "I apologize. I didn't intend for conversation to become quite so serious. The restaurant where I plan to take you is called Façade, and it's a Wizarding place in a little magical community in Notting Hill. I've gone there a few times since it opened and it's very enjoyable. We can take the Floo."
 
They walked to the fireplace, and she led the way. When George joined her on the other side, she unconsciously took his hand and led him the short distance down the alley from the public Floo toward Façade. When they stepped inside, she looked at the glass ceiling and walls, enjoying the view of the winter scene outside the warm restaurant. It was beginning to get crowded, but they'd managed to beat the dinner crowd, thankfully. She looked at George and smiled. "What do you think?"
 
"This is wonderful," George murmured, looking around at the comfortable room and the laughing, happy witches and wizards around them. There was something be said for going to a Wizarding restaurant instead of a Muggle one. You could wear whatever you wanted and you didn't have to lower your voice or hide who you were.
 
A petite brunette witch in black and white robes greeted them. "Welcome," she said in a Ukrainian accent. "For two?"
 
"Yes, for two," Hermione confirmed with a friendly smile. She and George followed the hostess to a table near the far glass wall that looked out onto a courtyard. She was pleased when George held out her chair for her. "Thank you."
 
"Your server will be with you shortly," the hostess said after handing them each a menu.
 
Hermione looked outside and admired the beautiful winter scene. "This is a lovely place to visit in the spring," she told George. "This courtyard is filled with flowers and there are tables outside in little nooks so you can enjoy the scent of the landscaping. I've never been here during winter, but I love their display outside. The fairy lights are a lovely touch."
 
George could visualize it, and he brushed his foot against Hermione's under the table. "I'll bet it's lovely," he said. "We should come back in the spring." He nearly added no matter which of us you choose, but they never talked about that on their dates and he didn't want to bring it up now.
 
"We should," she agreed, glad that he'd mentioned something in the future regardless of her dating him and Fred right now. She shifted in her chair when she felt his foot brush against hers, which only resulted in her leg bumping his. When had the tables here gotten to be so small? She'd certainly never noticed when Harry had brought her here or the time she'd eaten here with Ginny.
 
Glancing at the menu, he said, "Any recommendations?"

"They have really good chicken dishes, and Harry enjoys the fish," she said, fully aware of his leg pressed against hers beneath the table. It didn't matter that she was wearing a long wool skirt because she was certain she could feel the warmth of his body despite the barrier. She was relieved when a young man came over to take their drink order. She ordered warm pumpkin juice, which was a favorite drink during cold weather.
 
George ordered the same, and as the waiter retreated, he was distracted by someone waving at them from across the restaurant.
 
"Look, it's Penny Clearwater," George said to Hermione, waving back. "You know she's Oliver's fiancée, right? I never would have guessed they'd've ended up together."
 
Hermione looked up and waved at Penny before she went back to studying her menu. "Yes, I know," she said. "Penny comes to Hogwarts to visit Oliver occasionally. She's nice as well as smart, but definitely not the person I would have expected to end up with Oliver Wood. For one thing, she's actually a female and not a broom."
 
George choked on a sip of water, spluttering as he laughed. "Good point," he said. "That boy definitely has Quidditch on the brain."

"Well! Trust me, I saw Wood's ridiculous obsession with Quidditch firsthand via Harry during several years, so I'm surprised he stopped playing long enough to let Penny into his life. Of course, you know all about that since he was your captain, too," she said. Her distaste for Quidditch had just gotten worse after the war, and now she rarely even went to Hogwarts matches unless forced.

The waiter arrived with their drinks, and George said to Hermione, "I think I'll get the salmon. Are you ready to order as well?"
  
She nodded. "I'd like the roast beef with carrots and mash. I‘d like the house dressing for my salad, please," she said.

"It's good to be able to get up to see Ollie again," George said thoughtfully after the waiter retreated. "Much as we loved Canada, I've got to say that I missed certain people around here too." He bounced his knee against hers.

"Certain people around here missed you, too."
 
"I don't think we ever really meant to stay away that long," George said, shaking his head. "It's funny how the years can accumulate before you even realize it. I'm so glad old Zonko decided to sell his shop, though. It was high time we came home."

"I'm glad that you found out he was selling and decided to come back," she said, nudging his knee with hers the way he had done earlier. "Life is much more interesting now."
 
He took her hand across the table as they waited for their orders to arrive. "I want to sneak up to Hogwarts some time and watch you at work. You must be a devastatingly good librarian."
 
She moved her fingers to entwine with his. "I think you're crazy if you want to actually watch me work." Laughing, she shook her head. "Trust me when I tell you that my job is fulfilling to me and that I really do enjoy it, but it is not at all entertaining or worth watching. I basically shelve books, fill out paperwork, and help students with research when asked. I am quite good at the job, though, and thankful that Minerva gave me the chance."
 
When their meals arrived, they both ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's company and the soft brush of their feet and knees against each other. George was supremely aware of every movement Hermione made. He could barely keep his eyes off her and on his food.
 
"This is a great place," he said to her, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. He felt warmed to the core, though he suspected it was more the company than the drink.
 
The food was good, but Hermione barely tasted any of it. How could she focus on her meal when she felt George's gaze on her all the time? It was becoming familiar to catch him looking at her, and yet it still flustered her to catch him staring with a certain expression on his face that she couldn't quite decipher.
 
By the time they were finished with their dinner, she was slightly flushed and all too conscious of everything regarding George Weasley. She finished her juice and got herself under control before she smiled at him. "Isn't it? It's one of the few that is worth a trip to London," she said. When her gaze met his, everything else around them faded. She had to force herself to look away before she gave in to the desire to lean over the table and kiss him. Maybe a carriage ride wasn't the best idea after all.
 
"What's next?" George asked, smiling his thanks at their waiter for the cheque and depositing the right number of coins on the table. Besides me trying not to pin you to the nearest wall and snogging you until we've both forgotten our own names, he added mentally. The flush on her cheeks was absolutely enticing, and he wanted to see how far down it extended. Chiding himself for such absolutely inappropriate thoughts, he stood and offered her his hand.
 
That was a good question. Considering her reaction to him under normal circumstances, not to mention how she felt right now after just sharing a meal, she didn't think her original plan was very smart. She took his hand and stood up, rapidly trying to think of something else to occupy the rest of the evening. She decided to suggest the Muggle cinema, so she was rather surprised when she said, "I thought a carriage ride through the park might be nice this evening."
 
"That sounds wonderful," he said, very aware of the way their palms felt pressed against each other. They wandered out the front door into the chilly London evening. George slipped his arm around her shoulder to ward off the cold.
 
Fuck, he was aroused. He'd never reacted so much to someone before, and being so close to her, he could barely think straight. Trying to push it away, he murmured, "Be good to get out of the cold and into a carriage."
 
When they left, it was colder than it had been when they arrived. Hermione shivered as the initial cold air touched her cheeks and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. George put his arm around her shoulder, and she instinctively snuggled closer for warmth. She put on her gloves before they started walking towards the park.
 
"Well, I imagine that the carriage will still be rather cold, but I think you get a heavy blanket for the ride. We might want to stop and get hot chocolate to take with us, so we'll stay warm," she said, trying to ignore just how close they were and not think about how romantic a carriage ride during the winter was going to be because such thoughts just led to things that she was putting off thinking about.
 
Walking by a park, George saw three black carriages, complete with drivers in black tophats. "There we go," he said, pointing to them and steering them both toward it. Selecting the first one, George nodded at the driver and opened the door for Hermione.
 
"Mind your skirt doesn't catch in the wheel," George said as he swung the little door open for her. The carriage was open on top and large enough for four people, with comfortable leather seats. George was more than happy for the two of them to have one bench seat to themselves, leaving the rest of the carriage empty.
 
"I think the door is far enough away that it shouldn't be a problem, but I'll be careful," she said after she studied the distance for a moment. She stepped up into the carriage and sat down, making room for George when he climbed in behind her.
 
On the seat across from theirs lay a green blanket that was slightly scratchy but very welcome on this cold night. She picked it up and spread it over their laps. "There, that's better." She smiled up at George and was unable to stop herself from looking at his lips when they were so close.
 
The carriage started off with a shudder but George didn't notice that they were moving. He was too aware of the line of Hermione's gaze. Fuck it, if she was thinking about kissing him too, he wasn't going to try to stop himself again.
 
"Hermione," he sighed, weaving his fingers through her hair. "Hermione," he whispered again, his lips brushing hers as he pronounced her name like a prayer. He'd never wanted anything so badly in all his life.
 
Hermione reached up and ran her gloved fingers through George's loose hair. She tilted her head back and pressed her lips against his. The way he whispered her name made her tummy tighten and her body heat up. When he pulled back, she murmured, "George," before she leaned up to kiss him again.
 
God, she was perfect, and this moment was perfect, and he never wanted to stop kissing her.  One hand cradled her cheek as the other carded through her hair and he pulled her closer, suddenly unable to breathe.  He decided to steal some of her breath to compensate, and he licked her lower lip urgently, seeking permission and entrance.
 
His fingers were cold, and she idly thought that she needed to knit him some gloves for Christmas. When she and Fred had gone for the hayride, he hadn't worn gloves either. They'd both need a pair, then. She forgot all about cold fingers when his tongue traced her mouth. She parted her lips and moved her tongue against his lightly.
 
His groan might have been her name again, but he was too lost in her to pay attention.  Their tongues met and danced, a fierce, fiery encounter that sent thrills of pleasure racing through him.
 
"Want you so much," he sighed, nipping at her lower lip, his eyes open and watching her as he kissed her again, his arms twining around her back to pull her closer. Somehow, between their movement and the carriage's rocking, they tilted and fell against the seat, Hermione nearly on her back with George leaning over her.
 
The switch in positions brought her back to her senses. There was a moment of panic when she had to fight the urge to just keep kissing him, but it just couldn't go further than kissing. "George, we have to stop," she said reluctantly, pulling him closer even as she tried to resist.
 
"We really should," he agreed, his actions belying his words as he unwound her scarf and kissed his way down her throat, aware that he was nearly lying on top of her.  "Have to stop because..." he sucked at the juncture of neck and shoulder, "if we don't now, we might..." 
 
"Oh," she moaned at the sensation of his mouth on her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut and she tilted her head unconsciously, giving him better access. She moved her hand across his shoulders before she brought it to rest against his chest. "George."
 
His hand moved restlessly down her side, against her ribcage and the gentle curve of her breast. No, he couldn't push. Not in this situation, not with her telling him she didn't want to go further.

Her eyes flew open and she pulled back quickly. He dragged himself away with a gasp and his hand dropped into his lap. They both sat up, unable to look away from each other, frozen for a moment and both aware just how dangerous this was becoming. His


George's eyes were dilated, his breath ragged.  "I'm sorry. I... it's difficult to control myself around you, Hermione.  I want you so badly."  He wondered if honesty really was the best policy.  He'd soon find out.
 
 
She bit her lip and tried to think about things logically. Logic wasn't working right now, and she was worried for a variety of reasons, none of which she could talk about right now. "I, uh, understand the difficulty at keeping control," she admitted finally. "We have to, though. I don't know what to do."
 
"I'm sorry, love," he said, taking her hand, dropping it quickly, and then rolling his eyes at himself and taking it again.  "I was pushing too much.  I'll stop.  Grown man, right?  I should be able to control my own actions. I'll be a gentleman, okay?"
 
"I'm sorry, too," she said, rubbing her thumb against his palm. She couldn't tell him every reason she was hesitant, not the least of which was the fact that she was also involved with his twin brother, but she had to tell him something so he'd not accept full blame and possibly withdraw from her. This was becoming even more complicated than she'd expected. "It's just been a long time since I was intimate with anyone, and Viktor was my first and only, so I'm really not used to these feelings, and I just need time. You weren't pushing too much, George, but we're also in a very complex situation now, too, and it's not fair to Fred or either of us to forget that."
 
Her first and only?  He bit back a "how is that possible?" though really, how was it possible?  She was everything he could ever want, so how had other men been able to stay away?  Well, maybe that was an easy question after all.  She probably hadn't wanted anyone until she'd wanted...
 
Them. One of them. Damn it, this was getting more difficult by the minute.
 
George nodded.  "This situation is... weird," he said at last, "but worth it."  He didn't know what else to say, so he sat back and looked at the passing London streets, trying to ignore the fact that he still wanted her.  He shivered, and it wasn't from the cold.  Things were changing, and he knew that he and Fred and Hermione couldn't go on pretending everything was all right.
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