"Nice work, Hermione," Ginny commented as she surveyed the boys standing before her.
Bill, Charlie, Ron and Harry were lined up in the kitchen of the Burrow, each ready for the Quidditch match that was about to ensue, not without a good deal of humour. Hermione had made sure of that.
"Thank you, Ginny."
"Where's Fred and George?" Ron asked. "I want to get this over with."
"You don't sound as excited as I hoped," Hermione said with a smirk.
"Oh, obviously we should be excited," Charlie drawled. "A bunch of boys, excited at the prospect of play bloody Quidditch with bloody—"
"Language, Charlie," Bill admonished slightly, although he was smiling. "There are ladies in attendance."
"Let me assure you that these ladies have no shortage in their knowledge of cuss words," Ginny stated with her head held proudly in the air.
"You're so proud of that," Hermione shook her head at the redhead female Weasley.
"We're so proud of that," Ginny said pointedly. Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't deny.
"FRED! GEORGE!" Charlie yelled.
"We're coming!" came one of their voices from one of the rooms upstairs.
"You guys ready for this?" the other yelled.
"Pretty sure we're ready for the sight of you in lace!" Ginny responded.
"Alright, boys! You know what day it is!"
Hermione looked away from her conversation with Harry at breakfast to see Ginny standing at the entrance to the crowded kitchen, her hands on her hips and what can only be described as a deviously triumphant grin on her face. A cheer rose from the Weasley boys that were present - Bill, Charlie, the twins and Ron, as Percy couldn't make it home from his flat in London - mixed in with quiet, half-suppressed groans. Hermione smiled slightly, wondering what the redhead was up to.
"What's this about?" she dared to ask, somewhat fearing the answer.
"It's St Patrick's Day," Bill answered her, with a smile on his face that Hermione noticed was slightly wary.
"And that means?"
"It means we play Quidditch," Charlie, who had taken a holiday from dragon-taming in Romania, answered.
"Despite the fact that you play Quidditch every other day anyway?"
"Well, you see, dear Hermione," Fred started.
"It's a tradition we have," George continued.
"That on St Pat's Day— "
"We have a game of Quidditch—"
"With a twist," they both finished with identical excited grins on their faces.
"And what is this twist?" Hermione asked warily.
"Every year the twist is different," Ron explained. "It's set again every year."
"And who sets it, may I ask?"
"Well, Mum used to," Bill said. "She said it was because she was about the only female in the house."
"So Ginny got a few turns," Charlie said while glaring at Ginny, who grinned not-so-sheepishly back. Hermione raised an amused eyebrow. There must have been a tiny sliver of Slytherin in the fierce Gryffindor after all. Not that she ever really denied it.
"Right," Hermione said, standing up. "I suppose I'll go get Molly, then?"
"Actually," Fred said, and the mischievous grin on his face made Hermione feel nervous and yet made her insides flutter at the same time. Yes, Hermione has a crush. "Seeing as this is Hermione's first year of experiencing this tradition, and Mum and Ginny have had countless turns and must have run out of fresh twists by now, why don't we let Hermione set the twist?"
The Weasley clan didn't seem to object to this, if their cheer was any indication.
"Did Fred Weasley just give me control of a Quidditch match?" she asked, eyeing Fred.
"Not entire control, love," Fred said. "Just the power to humiliate us." He winked at her, and her stomach turned into a butterfly house.
"What if I can't think of anything?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione, are you trying to back out of this?" George said incredulously. "Fred had just given you the opportunity to completely and utterly mortify us, and you're refusing?"
"You don't have a choice, love," Fred smirked. Hermione tried not to blush at the endearment. "It would be considered treason if you refuse now."
"And knowing you," Charlie perked up. "You'd be able to come up with something horrible in no time."
"We're not letting you back out, Hermione," George said. Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"You guys realise that I never actually said I'm backing out?" she said. She let her face break into a grin. "I can't wait to do this."
A loud groan broke out around the room.
"Prepare to go through Hell and back, boys," Ginny grinned.
"So who exactly will I be humiliating, then?" Hermione asked.
"Let's see," Charlie said, glancing around the room. "Five Weasley boys, and Harry makes six, so three a team should be fine."
"But I want to play," Ginny pouted.
"At Hermione's twist of peril?" Ron asked.
Ginny seemed to realise this, but after a moment pouted again.
"I still want to play."
"But if you do then the teams won't be even," Bill said.
"I can do simple arithmetics, thank you very much, Bill," Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Unless," he turned to Hermione. "You want to play?"
"No thanks," Hermione said. "And not because I don't want to humiliate myself, but because I am horrible at Quidditch and you all know it."
"Fair enough," Bill said, then turned back to Ginny. "Sorry."
Ginny pouted.
"Don't worry, Ginny," Hermione said, trying to bargain with her. "How about I let you help with the twist?"
The two girls grinned at each other, as more groans filled the room.
"With Ginny's deviousness and Hermione's smarts, this year is going to be the worst," Bill said, shaking his head.
"You got that right," Hermione smirked.
"All right, then, that's settled," Ron said. "What's the twist, then, Hermione?"
Hermione looked around the room. What would thoroughly mortify these people? Well, they were all boys playing. So what could embarrass boys? Something girly? Yes, something girly would work. But what? Hmm, what was girly?
"Hermione?" Fred's voice broke through her reverie. "You done?"
"Give me a minute."
She went back to thinking, but before she could get another thought flying past her brain, she heard Ginny whispering to her.
"What've you got in mind?"
Remembering her promise to Ginny, Hermione whispered back.
"Something girly."
"Something girly, huh?" Ginny smirked. "Good idea. Let's see."
"Bows?"
"Not embarrassing enough."
"Make-up?"
"Nah. Underwear?"
"What? No."
"Lace underwear?"
"Ginny! Although…"
The two girls grinned at each other, the devious conclusion settling in their brain.
"Alright, boys," Ginny called. "We've reached a conclusion."
Hermione surveyed the boys. She was pleased to find they all looked quite scared.
"This year, the twist is," she called. "You all have to play, while having some piece of lace on your body."
The girls could hardly suppress their giggles as they took in the boys' faces. They were all staring in red-faced, wide-eyed disbelief.
"Lace?!"
"Ready?"
Fred's voice broke Hermione out of her reverie.
"Just come down already," Ginny said impatiently.
"Three—"
"Two—"
"One!"
With two identical, simultaneous loud pops, the twins appeared in the kitchen, George sporting a ridiculous lacy skirt (no doubt pinched from Angelina's drawer up in his room at the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes), and Fred next to him, with—
"Fred!" Hermione fairly screamed, throwing herself at Fred in an attempt to remove the offending garment from his body.
Fred laughed, moving back so she couldn't rip the piece of clothing off his body, but placed his hands on her arms to make sure she didn't fall.
"Blimey, Hermione," he said, a mischievous grin on his face. "If I'd known that this was all it took for you to throw yourself at me, I would have done it ages ago."
"How did you—" Hermione was almost speechless. She couldn't believe he had managed to turn the twist into something so embarrassing for her.
He had gotten a piece of lace alright. Her damn favourite black bra.
"I put a dozen wards up around my room," she protested, still trying to yank her underwear off of Fred's chest. It must have been altered with magic, because the garment that was already slightly tight around Hermione's small frame surely could not have fitted that comfortably around Fred's broad (and admittedly very good-looking) chest.
"Ah, but you forget it's me breaking into your room, Hermione," Fred said, the grin turning smug on his face. "I know more counter-warding spells than McGonagall and Dumbledore put together, love."
"Plus, he probably heard you putting the finishing touches on those wards every morning, Hermione," George popped in. "Considering you've stayed with us for the past year and everything."
"Wait, your room?" Charlie looked confused. "Why would he break into —"
His eyes then widened, then narrowed with an amused twinkle in his eyes.
"Unless — that delightful sexy lacy black bra," he said (completely overdoing it on the adjectives, Hermione thought), a ginger eyebrow raised. "Is yours?"
Hermione's face flamed. She half-considered shouting at Fred and storming up the stairs, but decided that anger probably wasn't going to work on him. She could never stay mad at Fred for too long anyway.
"Fre-ed," Hermione moaned. "You can't wear that playing Quidditch."
"Sure I can," Fred smirked. "It's very comfortable. I can see why it's your favourite."
Hermione was pretty sure her face was redder than the Weasleys' hair.
"If it's oh-so-comfortable," she said, trying to plead. "Why don't you give it back to me?"
"I can't even say "nice try" to that, Hermione," Fred shook his head. "That was pathetic. I never thought Hermione Granger would ever use an excuse that feeble."
"Fred Weasley," Hermione snapped, deciding to use a new tactic. "If you don't give my bra back to me, I swear to all the gods above that I will hex you to the next leap year and back."
"Ooh, scary," Fred said, mocking her. "Come on, Hermione. Don't you have any other tactics?"
"Surely you're not going to wear a girl's underwear to play Quidditch." Damnit, she was running out of ideas. "Everyone's going to see you."
"Exactly," Fred winked. "Everyone's going to see this gorgeous bra."
"And I'd love my bra to be put on display," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Of course," Fred replied. "Your underwear collection is quite magnificent to behold, really."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"You haven't," she breathed, her eyes narrowing.
"Oh, yes, I have," Fred challenged. "It was positively splendid. What are you going to do about it?"
"Frederick Gideon Weasley!"
Fred made a run for it, bolting out the kitchen door, and into the back yard, then through to the large field the Weasley youngsters usually play Quidditch in, and then even further to the lake near the Burrow property. Hermione, not being a very fast or practiced runner, came up a good few seconds after Fred. Who was still wearing her bra.
"Fred," she panted. "Give me back my bra, or Merlin so help me I will make you pay."
"Well, I won't," Fred challenged, knowing her limit was just an inch away. When Hermione's eyes started to shoot daggers that have been dipped in Snape's potions themselves (and those were never good, he backtracked. "Well, I might. What will you do for me if I do?"
Hermione cocked her head to one side, thinking. Fred took the time to admire her features, like he had so many times before. Her brown eyes, sparkling like they do every time she thought hard about something. Her cheeks, flushed from the run. Her freckles, splattered across her nose. Her full lips, pink and lodged between her teeth as she bit her lips in thought.
"I give up," she said suddenly, breathing out as if she'd been holding her breath. "I can't think of anything that could satisfy you."
Of course, there was one thing she could think of, but she thought that would satisfy her desires rather than his.
She didn't know he was desiring the same thing.
"Kiss me," he stated.
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Was he messing with her? She realised that at that moment, she really didn't care. He had given her a chance to get what she wanted, and dear God, did she want to kiss him.
Fred watched Hermione, wary tension coiling in his stomach, ready to spring at any moment. He wondered if he had said the wrong thing, stating it so frankly. Was she scared off? She didn't seem like it. Not if she's looking at him with that much passion. Not if she's moving towards him that fast. Not if she's pushing up on her tiptoes, her hands moving up to cup his face. Not if —
Se caught her lips in his, revelling in being able to finally fulfil her fantasies since forever. He tasted sweet and tangy, like lemon juice with sugar and hot water. She moved his lips against his, waiting nervously for a reaction. She let out a small, relieved breath when she felt his lips respond, wrapping her arms around his neck, delving her hand into his hair. He responded just as eagerly, his arms winding around her waist. Her pert, full lips were pressing into his like nothing he had ever experienced before. She tasted like strawberries.
Neither of them knows how long they kissed for, but when they broke apart, they could hear the cheers and wolf-whistles coming from the back of the house. They grinned at each other.
"I suppose that took long enough to happen," Fred said, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.
"What?"
"Merlin's sake," Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't you know for how long I've wanted to kiss you?"
"Why didn't you?" Fred was amused to see Hermione's eyes were accusing.
"I didn't know if you wanted it," he shrugged. "I didn't know if you wanted it just then."
"Well, I answered that question then, didn't I?"
"You certainly did."
He took her hand, and started to walk back to the Burrow. Neither of them talked, each deep in their own thoughts, grins on their faces, hand swinging in hand. They were near the Burrow when Hermione spoke up again.
"Can I get my bra back now?"
A/N: Haaaiii! So this is my first submission to the Twin Exchange Monthly Challenge! *le gasp* I'm a bit nervous.
But anyways. It's nearly my birthday! And I plan to celebrate by giving you guys a feels-tastic fic. It's not a Harry Potter one, but it's a brilliant idea, even if I do say so myself. So look out for that.
As for Demons (if anyone read it), I had to take it down, because of song lyrics. I've posted it over on a site called . My name is iamafangirl. Go read it if you want.
That's all. Byeeeeee!