Hermione often looked up from the book she was currently reading to see a suddenly empty common room. There weren't many who were the correct mixture of bookworm and anxiety-induced insomnia to often be staying there so late. Actually tonight, it was more to do with her fascination with the liberal essays in the volume she was holding that kept her from the dorms so long. The only reason her eyes had pulled away from the pages now was that the fire was burning so low in the the hearth that it was becoming difficult to read by, even for her well-practiced eyes. That and the slight change in the tone of the hushed conversation happening at one of the tables on the other side of the dorm. Not alone then. Hermione blinked to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. Fred and George Weasley. Now, why would they be tucked into a secretive corner of the common room whispering heatedly to each other this late at night? She could almost feel her Prefect senses tingling. She closed the book with a surprisingly loud thud that drew the attention of the twins, who fell silent immediately, their red heads turning to her synchronously.
She watched as George carefully re-relaxed his posture and leant back in his chair, Fred following suit half a moment later.
"Hermione Jean Granger," the latter twin said, like he'd only just seen her after a long separation (and how exactly had he known and remembered her middle name?), "what keeps you out of your bed at this late hour?"
"I was just about to ask you the same question," she replied sternly, "this wouldn't happen to be a meeting pertaining to the illegal testing of unsafe products on minors, would it?" Identical aghast expressions turned up at her before looking at each other with a hint of indignance that was just too innocent to not have been practiced.
"Illegal?" breathed George,
"Unsafe?" gasped Fred, "Now that just doesn't sound like us at all." Hermione glared at them and opened her mouth before being cut off by George's "and even if it was," his face losing its insincerity and becoming sharper, "it's not like theorising has become a crime."
"Theorising?" Hermione forced a laugh, "George, you're not theoretically putting those kids in danger-"
"It's not like they'll die, 'Mione, we have made sure they're not poison." That was Fred of course, the only one of the Weasleys bar Ron to shorten her name like that, and, out of the two of them, the twin who had always seen more fit to attempt to appeal to her better nature.
"Made sure how?" She asked, alarmed at the thought of House elves or mice being forced to eat puking pastilles.
"We test them on ourselves first," George answered, his matter-of-fact tone doing nothing to calm her fears.
"On yourselves?!" He rolled his eyes at her indignation.
"It's extensive enough to ascertain it won't kill the first years, Hermione-"
"And what if it kills you?" She hissed, incredulous at the surprised laugh that her question seemed to provoke in Fred.
"Aw, Hermione, we never knew you cared for us so much!" He said, reaching out and grabbing her hand in a mockery of affection while she felt a touch of blood rise to her cheeks.
"Though we all know you care for one of us in particular." Murmured George mischievously. Two pairs of wide eyes flew to his face instantly, and Hermione wondered to see Fred's own face flame, ears in particular lighting up a violent crimson.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" She asked aggressively, directing her frown back at George. She saw him open his mouth and then glance at Fred a moment before meeting her eyes again. an easy smirk spreading over his face.
"Oh, nothing," He said nonchalantly, shooing the inquiry off with a wave of his freckled hand, "just that I'm pretty sure you're madly in love with me."
She snorted and George arched an eyebrow in response, standing up.
"What, are you trying to say you wouldn't go for this?" She stopped laughing long enough to reply: "I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole, George Weasley - you are nothing but trouble."
He held a pout for the entirety of two seconds before dropping it and leaning in close to Hermione, so only she could hear what he said.
"Yet you're holding his hand…" Hermione looked down to see the truth of his statement and dropped the aforementioned hand like it had burned her, her skin flaming again, "...and you wonder why I think you have a favourite." He tutted before stepping back with a wink.
"Anyway, I think I've had enough theorising for one night - g'night, Hermione, night Forge."
"Night, Gred." Hermione gave him a terse nod as he left and then turned back to Fred, who she was surprised to see staring after his brother with a contemplative look on his face. He seemed to have forgotten about the embarrassment he'd clearly felt a moment ago, although the tips of his ears still evidenced it with a pink glow.
"Here, Hermione…" He said without moving his eyes from the doorway, "do you think we're mad?"
"Yes. Next question." He looked up at her and the lack of teasing in his eyes caught her by surprise; she felt herself unable to hold his gaze for very long, and broke it to seat herself in George's recently vacated chair.
"What do you mean?" She asked in a softer voice, and he sighed, sitting back in his chair again and turning his body to face her.
"I mean the shop. Do you think we're insane to think it could ever work?" She cocked her head, taken aback.
"Why would it matter what I think?" He frowned.
"Me and George, we've been trying so hard for this for so long, I don't think either of us can look at it clearly any more. It's like -" He stopped for a second and she watched him lick his lips, like he was trying to find the right words by their taste, and he continued in a measured voice, "it's like sometimes, it feels like we're just twelve again, having fun fantasising about all the great things we could do and make - but this isn't a fantasy. These are real galleons, real products we're putting out, and if it doesn't happen, we will really be screwed." He seemed to suddenly remember she was there, and traced his own train of thought back to her question: "But you? You're the smartest person we know, and if you think- I mean…" He trailed off, frowning at her.
She paused, considering. She would never have expected to hear him confess his doubts to her, or to value her opinion in any real way. After all, she was just his little brother's friend. Who would expect one half of the cockiest duo in the school to be asking advice of know-it-all Granger? But that was the point, wasn't it? They weren't really what everyone expected. She'd seen it for herself, although she'd never admit it, in the way they guided the first-years through their trials, in the work they'd been putting into this shop. Not many people had the opportunity to see the twins bent over a book in the library, excitedly discussing potion recipes and magical theory, or making notes here in the common room, debating marketing strategies with Lee Jordan. She had though, and the answer to his question was clear in her mind.
"I do think you're mad." She stated, and almost felt guilty at the fall in Fred's face at her words, but she pressed on. "That's why it'll work." His eyebrows shot up as he opened his mouth, question cut off by her pressing on.
"It's mad that if you'd put half the work and effort you've put into the shop into your studies you'd have done wonderfully -" she ignored his scoff, "-and it's insane that you've been thinking about this since you were twelve - ridiculous, even - but you're not dreaming kids any more, Fred. You've put in the galleons, yes, but it's more than that. You've set a goal and you're working towards it with everything you've got. I know how much market research you do and I know how thoroughly you've been studying the theory behind your products. I'm sorry to ruin your self image but you two have been downright studious, and you need to start taking responsibility for that. You are far more intelligent than you let on to anybody and, to be honest, it kind of scares me how brilliant I think this whole thing is."
She stopped, finally, short of breath and rosy cheeked, lips pursed. She registered the expression on his face as he stared silently at her and blushed darker - his brown eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open - she must look a mess. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin in an automatic show of dignity. "That's not to say there are no problems with the enterprise. The experimentation on first years, for example," she hit him with a glare, but he looked so disarmed that she couldn't quite hold it, "is unacceptable. If you want to be a reputable company you have to start acting like one, Fred Weasley. And that means finding a place better than your dorms to work out formulae and recipes too. I'm surprised that boys of your caliber haven't figured out how to sneak into the potions labs after hours yet-"
"Hermione Granger!" He exclaimed, seeming to have suddenly broken from his trance, "are you suggesting that we do something… against the school rules?" He almost purred the last four words and she inhaled sharply at the surprising shiver the tone evoked in her. He blinked and the corner of his mouth twitched up a second, filling her with a strange sort of panic that he might have somehow sensed what had just happened to her.
"If it means you have higher quality products less likely to kill anyone," she admitted, "then yes. If you're serious about this… If this isn't just another game to you, then… well. If there's one thing we're all learning from this year, it's that some risks are worth taking." Fred studied her for a moment.
"Yeah, okay - I take your point, but this is hardly the same as the DA is it? It's just a joke shop."
Hermione laughed incredulously.
"Just a joke shop? Are you a Weasley twin or not?" She paused. "Now more than ever we need laughter, we need some stupid jokes, we need happiness and light." Quietly, she added: "We need you." Their eyes locked for what felt like forever before Fred finally broke the heavy silence with a long exhale.
"Merlin, Hermione, you are doing wonders for my ego tonight." She pursed her lips.
"Yes, well don't get used to it," she said, but there was no edge to her voice, and Fred grinned at her. After another moment of silence she added, "if you need any help with anything…" She trailed off and he stared at her curiously for a second before nodding.
"Thanks, 'Mione."
"Don't mention it." He heard the meaning of the phrase loud and clear - there could be no knowledge of Hermione Granger's belief in or assistance with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes circulating in the school. Her status as a Prefect was too important for one late night admission to him to take it from her.
"Wouldn't dream of it," He assured her, and watched her rise from the chair and head towards the girls' dorms. Something in him ached to see her walk away and he called her name again on instinct, causing her to turn to him with one eyebrow arched.
"Really, Hermione," he said softly, "thanks." She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, and Fred thought he saw something soft and unfamiliar in her eyes, but then she'd pressed her lips together again, and left without another word.
"Had fun then?" Asked George with a knowing grin, as Fred sat down on the bed next to him.
"We talked about the shop," he replied firmly.
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Fred threw a pillow at his ridiculous waggling eyebrows but couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth turn up - just a touch.
"She tell you off then? Gleaming eyes, crackling hair, that sort of thing?" George was trying to sound casual, he knew, but his twin brother was not someone he was going to fool with an act like that.
"No," he said, sounding surprised even to himself, "at least, not much. It was more… insightful, really. And downright complimentary." He looked over and saw the crease form between George's eyebrows. "Not only did she think we can make it work, but she was listing all the things we've been doing, and how we could improve - and she even offered to help herself."
"Well, it makes sense that she'd be paying attention," George said carefully, watching his brother as he glanced up questioningly, "her and Ron being Prefects and all." They shared a look, in which an unspoken understanding was reached, and Fred nodded.
"Yeah. Makes sense."