Okay so this is my new favourite ship and I'm just making up fluff. This chapter is how it gets going. All opinions welcome!

~Phantombookworm

"The library is closed."

"But-"

"CLOSED."

"Just five more minutes!"

"CLOSED, Miss Granger. You've got five minutes until curfew, now OUT."

Sullenly, the bushy-haired witch packed her satchel, pushed her chair in and tucked three heavy books underneath her right arm.

"Goodnight, Madam Pince," she called to the librarian who was extinguishing the lights with her wand.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger. I expect I'll see you tomorrow."

The long walk from the library with a bag full of heavy books felt like ages, and, glancing at her watch, Hermione could see that she only had two minutes to get back to the common room before curfew. She tried to speed up her pace but then-

RI-I-I-I-P-P

"Oh, shoot!" She cried, frustrated. Hermione's satchel had split down the seam under the strain on one-too-many textbooks. All her notes and spare parchment flew all down the corridor, not to mention the books she had just borrowed from the library.

THUNK

She could see that one of the spines had split and pages were everywhere. Even worse, curfew had passed and she could hear the slow, wheezy shuffle of the caretaker, Argus Filch, and the slow padding of his cat, Mrs Norris.

"I'm so dead…" she muttered.

"Hermione!" A voice whispered.

She jumped, her hand flying to her wand, tucked, as always, up her left sleeve.

"Accio!" A different voice whispered, and all her books and parchments zoomed towards, and then behind a tapestry of Ulrica the Ugly.

"Fred? George?" Hermione breathed, barely daring to believe her luck.

A hand shot out from behind a tapestry opposite the one where her belongings had vanished to and she was yanked behind Wulfreida the Revolting just as Filch rounded the corner.

"Who-?"

A hand clamped over her mouth and a voice hissed in her ear "shhhhh!"

And so they waited, barely breathing, cramped into a tight, concealed alcove as Filch slowly, so agonizingly slowly past them. All Hermione could think about was the chest she was leaning against, the arms that wrapped around her, holding her still inside the tiny niche that was only really meant for one person. Who was it she was pressed against?

Inhaling deeply, she could smell the a faint acrid tang of gunpowder underneath the wood-smoke smell that seemed to inhabit all Gryffindor robes; after all, there was a wood fire in the common room and a wood burner in each of the dormitories. Definitely a Weasley twin, as she suspected. Hermione could also smell a light sense of peppermint- Fred? He was much better at potions than George, but then George was better at herbology, and you could tell: Fred smelled like potion ingredients, and George often smelt like the fertilisers used to grow the said ingredients. But she wasn't some weirdo who went around smelling people- if you were in someone's company for a while, like over a holiday, then you get used to their specific scent, especially after a long, warm day.

Her mind was wandering. Had Filch gone yet? She was about to reach for the tapestry when a hand clamped around her wrist. Hermione didn't need to look back to feel Fred shaking his head. Turning just her head towards him, she could see him tap his ear as if to say 'listen!'

A few shuffling steps sounded in the corridor and a door slowly creaked shut.

The relief in the air was palpable.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Hermione sighed.

"I thought he would never leave," George joked, pulling back the tapestry in front of them. He raised an eyebrow at the intimate embrace his twin and Hermione seemed to be in. "Bit cramped, are you?"

Hermione blushed and stepped away from Fred.

"Thank you," she said to both of them honestly. "I really appreciate what you did."

"Well, we couldn't just leave you stranded in the corridor, could we?" Fred said, joining his twin. Hermione couldn't help noticing that he was slightly pink in the face.

"I guess you'll want your stuff back, right?" George said.

"Please!"

George pulled back the tapestry he had been concealed behind, showing her satchel and a neat stack of books piled next to it.

"Oh!" Hermione said, suddenly emotional. "You fixed it!" She sat next to her bag on the stone floor and smiled, a slight tear staining her smile.

"Not just your bag. Madam Pince won't be out for your blood now." George said.

"You-" Hermione picked up the top book from the stack, the one that she had seen split. The spine had been fixed perfectly, and as she riffled through the pages she could see that each was securely attached to its binding. "Guys, they're… they're perfect! Thank you!"

"Well, really it was Fr-" George stopped as he was elbowed by his twin. "Really, it was nothing Hermione. You're most welcome," he said instead.

Hermione stood, tears rimming her eyes. She threw her arms around both boys and hugged them. "Thank you," she whispered.

She took a step back, picked up her bag and books, and turned away down the corridor.

"Fred, why did you not let me-?"

"Let you say that it was my idea? I don't want to tell her yet. It's only her third year."

"Oh, Freddie," George sighed. "You've got it bad, haven't you?"

Fred watched the witch vanish from his sight before replying. "Yeah, I have."