don't you know you've got the best of me?

by raquians

A complete rework of the series from Hermione's POV in which she and the twins are fast friends (and maybe something a lil more with one of them). Some things change, some things stay the same, some things... do a little bit of both. Canon rewrite Fred Lives AU FW/HG

1. i don't know where it starts

I post more in depth notes on AO3 (I like that it doesn't inflate the word count, I go by the same user name over there if you'd like to read more in depth notes) but here's the jist of it:

This fic will not be abandoned—it is already about 75-85% finished and means the world to me. My goal is to have it completed by June.

Fred Lives!

Some bigger changes will be made, some smaller changes will be made. This is an AU but it sticks CLOSELY to the plot of canon. Ron will not be bashed, but don't think that means I'll ignore his childishness, jealousy, and over reactions. He's still got to grow up in this fic, just like he did in canon. I also don't rewrite all the scenes from the books—I gloss over A LOT of it, and just mention it summarized. If I rewrote it all, these would end up being LONGER than the books and I'm not for that hahaha.

Fic title is from Since We're Alone by Niall Horan. Chapter titles also are all from his lyrics! I feel his songs are very good for this ship.

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any associated characters, plots, settings, or the likes.

---

book i.

"So I'm a witch?"

"Precisely," the woman—Professor McGonagall she calls her self—nods. "You've noticed odd things happening around you?"

"Yes, I have. Making people trip or items come to me or—"

"Hermione," her mother cuts her off, voice high and tight. Panicked.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Professor McGonagall smiles at her mum. "When children find out they're not alone it's a relief and it all comes out at once."

Her parents eye the woman suspiciously, but Hermione is ecstatic. "So when can I go?"

"Now, Hermione—" her dad begins.

Professor McGonagall holds up her hand. She smiles at Hermione. "You'll be joining next years class—so next September you can join us." She turns to Hermione's parents and pulls out a stick? Or—a wand! She flicks it and one of the items she had set on their table transforms into a book. "This is for you two. It's a brief guide explaining what Hogwarts is and what we teach and the issues that can arise if your daughter does not learn to control her magic."

And so begins a whirlwind of a year—reading every book her parents allow her to buy that first day at Diagon Alley, waving her wand about, ignoring her classmates since she doesn't need them to like her anymore—not when she is going to have friends that appreciate her by this time next year.

So months pass. Christmas passes with even more books that McGonagall helps her parents find, Valentine's passes with her receiving only the worst of Valentine's cards from her classmates ("my parents made me" Ashley Dune sneers, handing her a crumpled card, and the piece of candy that's attached to it is clearly pulverized beneath the wrapper), and a tearful good bye to all of her teachers in June passes when she tells them she'll be going to a gifted school next year (none of them are surprised, but they don't know what kind of gift).

Summer seems to go by too quickly and too slowly all at once until finally (finally!) she is boarding the Hogwarts Express, barely even remembering to look back to say good bye to her parents.

She steers clear of everyone for the initial boarding, choosing instead to observe and find people to avoid. She's read about the Houses—she's not looking forward to seeing any Slytherins, not with her lineage. She finds a compartment with one other boy, around her age, and another girl either her age, or maybe a year older.

When they're about halfway through the journey, the boy sitting next to her starts looking around the compartment frantically. "Oh no," he moans.

Hermione frowns. "What? What's happened?"

"Did you notice Trevor leaving?"

"Trevor?" she asks. There hadn't been another boy in the compartment with them, had there?

"My toad! Oh, don't worry yourself with it, I've just got to—"

"No! I'll help look! Trevor, you say?"

She helps the boy who tells her his name is Neville, despite being laughed at and picked on in half of the compartments she enters.

"Excuse me, have you seen a toad, by chance?"

The entire cabin looks up at her. There's two identical red headed boys, a black boy with dreadlocks, a pale girl with short, shiny black hair, a girl with her hair pulled in to a pony tail framing her olive-toned face, and a black girl with voluminous curls. They all look settled in a way that every other first year has decidedly not, so she decides they must be second years or above. They don't look terribly old—perhaps second or third years?

She entirely expects them to ridicule her, just like the last few compartments, particularly the one she stopped at just before—a silver-haired boy who had asked if she'd known who he was. (He had told her right after, and she had left right after.)

"A toad you say?" one of the red heads asks.

"Yes," she nods, her tone defensive. "He's called Trevor. I'm not sure if that's important; I can't imagine a toad knowing its name, so it's not as if it'd be able to tell you his name or as though you can call to it…"

"No, I don't imagine you can," the ponytail girl says, a small laugh escaping. Her eyes remain kind, thankfully. "Have you lost yours?"

"Oh, no. Neville has."

"Sorry," the shorthaired girl apologizes. "If he comes in here we'll come find you, alright?"

She smiles and nods in thanks. "Could I possibly ask what House you're in?"

She directs the question at the girls, but one of the red-headed twins answers with a quick "Gryffindor." The other one looks up at her. "Why?"

"I'm just trying to get an idea of what kind of people belong to which House."

The olive-skinned girl grins. "Are we a good or bad people?"

"Good," Hermione smiles. "Thank you, and please do find me if you see Trevor."

*\

The rest of the train ride passes quickly—she meets Harry Potter but he and his friend seem like they don't care to talk with her. She's learned well enough when she's not wanted, and Harry may not have been giving off the signals she knew, but Ron certainly had been.

Less than an hour after pulling up at the Hogwarts Station, she was sitting on a stool place before the entire Great Hall eagerly.

"You think you could do well in Gryffindor?" the hat asks as it is placed on her head.

She frowns, both at the immediate intrusion in to her mind and at the question asked. "Do you think I would not?"

"I think you'd be welcome in Ravenclaw," the hat says.

"I don't want to be where I'm welcome, I want to be where I'm meant to be."

She feels the hat shift on her head—actually shifts, like it's uncomfortable. "I didn't mean it quite like that…"

"Then why did you say that?"

"Hmm," it deliberates. "You're smart—intelligent beyond your years. You have more of a thirst for knowledge than for adventure. But, oh, that courage. You may not seek adventure but you wouldn't turn from it, would you?"

Hermione doesn't say anything directly to the hat, though she knows it will still hear. She just—isn't sure about what she'd do if adventure crossed her path. She thinks she might run from it. She thinks she might run to it. She thinks it might depend on the circumstances—what if running to it got her in trouble?

"So worried about self-preservation? My, my, how very Slytherin of you…"

"No! Well, yes, but… But what if… what about the others getting in trouble, too? I would never want to get another in trouble or be the reason they're hurt or punished or anything of that sort," Hermione ponders.

"… very Hufflepuff of you, now, that loyalty, and wanting to keep things just."

"Oh, please, stop joking around, you know you're not going to sort me in to Slytherin or Hufflepuff."

The hat makes an amused noise. "And why is that?"

"I'm not patient, I don't welcome everyone in—"

"Ah, but you're passionate and committed and loyal, are you not?"

"You're the one inside my head," she snaps, starting to lose her cool, "you tell me."

"I would, but we don't have time—you have a myriad of qualities within you, Hermione Granger. That loyalty I mentioned is not out of place in Gryffindor, either. But such talent... It'd be a shame for Ravenclaw to miss out on your abilities."

"You're deciding where I'm going to sleep, not who gets to use and control me! Ravenclaw wouldn't miss out on anything because my abilities are mine alone, no matter where I go, even if you put me in Slytherin where I'll be an outcast because of my parents."

The hat was silent for a long moment. "You're an interesting one," it admits, "but I am not just deciding where you sleep."

"Yes, I understand, you're deciding what my values are—bravery or creativity? Am I chivalrous or wise? Where I'm meant to be like I told you before. That still doesn't mean that those Houses get to use me."

"Do you know of the House Cup?" the hat questions.

She scoffs. "Of course. I have read Hogwarts: A History."

"Then do your House points you earn mean nothing to you? Do you not think they should count—you should not contribute to your House by using your knowledge and wit?"

"Well… that's not the same as using me—that's benefiting from me."

"You do like to get technical, don't you? Not everything has to be taken so literal. Tell me, in the end, would you rather be left with your bravery or mind?"

Hermione scowls. "But how can that be answered? If I was left with bravery I'd have my mind to help me make decisions because bravery isn't the same as stupidity. And if I had my mind I'd be able to choose when to be brave."

"My, my, my," the hat grumbles, "you're the trickiest one I've had to sort in two decades. What do you feel in your heart is the right choice for you?"

Without her permission, Gryffindor floats to the top of her mind. She tries to back track—she wants to consider her choices. Ravenclaw wouldn't be bad at all, what if that's where she's meant to—

"I did not want you to think on it—thank you for not thinking 'both' like the last person I asked that question to—your answer is clear enough, you will be—"

"GRYFFINDOR!" She realizes suddenly that the voice hadn't come from inside her head this time—it had been shouted clear across the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall lifts the hat from Hermione's head and smiles down at her. Hermione is just relieved that it's over. She smiles back at the professor and rushes over to the cheering table.

She takes a seat and frowns, watching the student after her being sorted before she's even sat. She looks to the red head across from her. "Does all the conversation in your head go much faster than it seems?"

The red head looks from the unsorted group to Hermione. "What d'you mean?"

"Well… they're all being sorted so quick… I hadn't paid much attention to the time going by while I was waiting my turn, but I feel like I was up there forever!"

"You were," a voice chimes in from her left—multiple spaces for other students to sit between them. She looks at him.

"You're one of the boys from the train."

He cocks an eyebrow. She looks past him to see the other identical boy. She realizes the entire group from that compartment is in that area. From a ways down the table, the girl with the pony tail spots her and smiles. Hermione smiles back, but they're too far apart to speak with each other without causing a scene. The twin that hasn't spoken yet laughs quietly. "Normally I'd point out that every bloke in here was on that train so that'd be a vague statement, but I'll allow it—yeah. Did you find Trevor?"

Hermione nods. "Yes! Right as we were unloading, Hagrid found him for Neville!"

"That's good," the first twin smiles. "I'm George, by the way."

"Fred," the second one greets. "And you, Hermione, were up there for almost four and a half minutes. That's not quite common."

"At all," George adds.

"Oh, hush," the older looking red head sitting across from her snaps at the twins. "Don't mind them—it's not common but it's not unheard of. They're called hatstalls when you're up there for over five minutes. There hasn't been one in quite some time."

"That's what it said! Two decades!" she cries in a hushed voice. "Is there something the matter with me?"

"No, not at all," the red head says. "It just had a hard time putting you in a House, didn't it? It happens sometimes if a person has qualities for multiple Houses. I'm Percy, by the way, pleasure to meet you." He sticks a hand out and Hermione shakes it.

"So where did it want to put you?" George asks.

Hermione grimaces. "It mentioned every House as a possibility, but I think it was only really considering Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."

"Every House?" Fred says, and his eyebrows disappear beneath the hair falling over his forehead.

"Yes, but I think Hufflepuff and Slytherin were just in passing. Actually, I think the Slytherin was a joke—it must have been—there are no other witches or wizards in my family and I hear they don't like that."

"Thank Merlin you're not in Slytherin, they're horrid—"

"Oh, quiet," hisses Percy. "We don't have to go around advertising what they make clear on their own and risk losing House Points before we even have any!"

"This one is taking a while, too," George says, looking up at the stool where the Sorting Hat was perched on a boy's head. "Just over two minutes, now."

"Blimey, what's with Ol' Sorty? Is he losing his touch?" Fred says.

"Think he'll take more time to sort than our lovely Granger over here?" George asks.

"Not a chance," Fred shakes his head. "That kid has Hufflepuff written all over—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting Hat actually sounds a little huffy; she wonders if the Hat deemed the boy up there now as difficult as her, or even worse. Professor McGonagall lifts the hat from the boy's head and he looks terrified. It's Neville, the boy with the lost toad. Hermione feels relief at having at least one friend in her House.

"Think you're better than the Sorting Hat, do you?" Hermione quips, and Fred looks at her challengingly while Neville scurries to the table and takes a seat on Percy's side.

Professor McGonagall calls up a boy called MacDougal and Fred glances at him. "Ravenclaw."

"Second that," George nods.

Hermione looks up at the boy. "Gryffindor," she decides.

"There are no wagers involved here, correct?" Percy asks from across from her. "Because if there are—"

"Not at all!" Hermione frowns. "I would never."

Percy eyes her, but seems to accept her answer, just as the Sorting Hat calls out "RAVENCLAW!"

Fred and George grin at her. She scowls.

The next boy up (Macmillan, Ernest) sits down on the chair, his head high. "Slytherin," Fred and George say simultaneously.

Hermione studies him as the hat is placed on his head. His shoulders are tight, and his fists clenched—he's very nervous. "Hufflepuff," she guesses, mainly to spite them, but she also thinks it's a possibility. She starts sliding down the bench, closer to the twins, feeling bad for the others around her having to listen to them talking. Once she's seated next to George and across from Percy, the hat decides.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it cries. Hermione bites her lip to stop from smiling too wide when the twins frown at her.

When Professor McGonagall calls up Malfoy, Draco, she scowls when she sees the silver-haired boy. "Slytherin," she says with no hesitation.

"No doubt," the twins agree. When the hat barely touches the boy's head before calling out the green House, they all grin.

Malone, Roger was up next. "Hufflepuff," Hermione says.

"Gryffindor," Fred says.

George frowns. "I'm going with Hermione on this one."

Fred gasps, and throws his hand over his heart. "How could you?"

(They're all wrong, he's Ravenclaw.)

They carry on like that for the rest of the sorting. Once the sorting is done and Dumbledore has spoken, they turn to the black girl from the train that had started keeping tally of who had correctly sorted the students; Hermione has beaten them by a hair.

"Rematch, same time, same place, next year," Fred demands.

She rolls her eyes. "You're on."

"We'll have the entire year to sort," George says. "Not just everyone you got to know while you were waiting."

"I did not cheat!" She doesn't say that others don't want to talk to her so she couldn't have cheated, but she thinks it. She isn't in the habit of fooling herself.

"Guess we'll find out next year, won't we?" Fred grins.

She nods. "We will."

Across from her, a ghost tips his head off his shoulders, until it's hanging on barely more than a string. She stares, then looks to the twins, Percy, the girls she met on the train in confusion. Is this normal? Is this common? She thinks it must be.

This is her new world.

*\

It is Wednesday—three days in to term, four days since she had arrived—when she first makes her way up to the Owlery. McGonagall had given her a map of how to get there, but she'd still had to work up the courage to venture out on her own. The letter she had written has been taunting her for over 36 hours at this point, so she dug the map from the trunk and wandered out of the castle towards the Owlery.

"—shrink it then we'll have to wait until we're seventeen to unshrink it!"

"If we leave it normal Mum is going to see it for sure and we'll be done for."

"… alright, then. Reducio!"

Hermione peaks around the corner. One of the twins (George, she thinks, since his robes are actually buttoned up) picks up an object off of the window's ledge and holds it up. It looks like a white, mini horseshoe. "Maybe we could get Bill to put it back when he comes to visit?"

"Brilliant," the other one nods. He looks around, up at the owls. "Now where's Thief? He's always been Ginny's favorite."

Hermione thinks it's safe to go in now. She reaches in her bag for her letter and grabs a treat from the bowl to lure an owl towards her. A medium sized tawny owl swoops down to her and perches on the stand in front of her. She feeds it the treat and smiles when it lets her stroke its feathers.

"That's Gwen."

Hermione yelps and jumps. The owls around her all fluff their feathers in surprise. She looks over her shoulder. One of the twins is grinning at her. She turns around to face him. From where she is now, she can see both of their faces, their shoulders, their nuances. Her eyes flick between them for a moment before she settles. Fred. Fred is the one standing next to her. She looks back at the owl, and then to Fred again. "Gwen?"

"Yep," he says. "She's not as quick as some of the others, but she's much nicer. Likes people quite a bit. You're a Muggle-born, right?" She nods, wary of where he's going with this. "I'll bet your parents will appreciate her. She's rather underwhelming. Doesn't demand treats like some of the others, is patient—lots of Muggle parents need that because it can take them hours to find where the tapping is coming from."

Hermione smiles at the owl. "You sound lovely," she tells Gwen.

"Why thank you," Fred smirks.

Hermione scowls at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Fred, I actually wasn't speaking to you."

"Right, that," George joins the conversation from across the room. There's a screech owl perched in front of him. "That was clearly directed at me."

"She wasn't even facing you," Fred argues.

"I wasn't facing you either," she says. Her voice doesn't sound as defiant as she'd like because, well, she's quite proud of herself for correctly identifying the twins.

"You weren't facing away from m—"

"Gwen," Hermione says, cutting him off. "Can you deliver this to my parents? I appreciate it."

Gwen fluffs her feathers and clicks her beak a few times before hopping to the window and out, spreading her wings as she jumps. She's gone.

"Now that she's out of our company we can get back to my loveliness," Fred says.

"My loveliness!" George yells.

"Neither of you are lovely," she says. "What've you got there, anyway?"

Identical grins grow on their faces. "A gift for our little sister. She'll be here next year, you see, but we wanted her to have a little piece of Hogwarts with her," Fred tells her.

"So we stole a toilet seat," George says.

"You what?"

"From one of the old, run down bathrooms that hasn't been used in ages, yeah. It's not that hard," Fred laughs. "You just—"

"But you stole Hogwarts property!" she gasps. "And why on earth would you send a toilet seat to your sister?"

"Because we told her we would." George says.

"Why would you tell her you would?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

Hermione opens her mouth—but she can't come up with anything. Stealing was her only actual defense but if they'd gone to a dilapidated, unused bathroom for it… she really didn't have an objection. Though it was still stealing. And why a toilet seat?

"Why a toilet seat?"

"Why not a toilet seat?" Fred counters.

Hermione frowns.

That's one way of looking at it.

Fred and George have a lot of ways of looking at a lot of things. She doesn't know most of them, because she doesn't know them, but she thinks she can appreciate what she does know.

*\

Meals aren't anything special. She sits just separated from the first years with a book sitting open next to her plate, picking at the variety of food that shows up on the tables and drinking out of her unnecessarily fancy goblet. Depending on where her classmates sit, she either gets to listen to Ron and Harry complaining, Neville worrying about something with someone, Dean and Seamus bickering, or Lavender and Parvati gossiping. (Her other two dorm mates—Sally and Sophie—don't seem to sit at the Gryffindor table too often. She thinks Sally has a sibling in Hufflepuff, but she isn't certain.) Other times she'll sit nearer Percy. When she does, he's always happy to speak with her about her classes and reminisce his own first year.

Sometimes, though, she skips meals all together in favor of spending time at the library. After the night she had last night—the late night rendezvous with Harry, Ron, and Neville that she had little to no say in—she had no desire to take part in any social activity today.

No such luck.

"Heard you think getting expelled is worse than getting killed, Granger."

Hermione looks up from her books and frowns. One of the twins stands in front of her, leaning his hands on the back of a chair. He's rapping his fingers against the wood—not anxiously, not nervously, just… restless, like he has too much energy stored up in his body and needs an outlet. She stares up at his face for a moment. Merlin, she can't for the life of her tell which one is which unless they're both in front of her. She needs to work on that.

She turns back to her book and shrugs. "Most people might if their choice was dying in this world or getting sent back to mine."

There's a punch of air from above her, and the finger drumming stops. "Well that's one way to look at it," the twin says, shifting awkwardly. He pulls the chair out and takes a seat across from her. "Muggle life is really that bad?"

She considers. "Well, not exactly. It's actually quite better in some areas."

"So why—"

"If you think I'm an outcast here, this is nothing compared to my—my Muggle school. I'm not sure if you're aware, but know-it-alls typically aren't liked anywhere," she explains. "On top of that, I was a 'freak' there because strange things always happened around me when I couldn't control my magic and the teasing got particularly bad. But at least at Hogwarts I have professors that like me—for the most part—and new things to learn," she gestures around the library, "and. Well. Percy talks to me."

"What are George and I doing, then?" he asks. Fred, then.

Hermione shrugs. "Indulging me?"

A grin stretches across the boys face. "So talking to us is something you find pleasurable?"

She frowns and bites out a quick "no."

"Ah, but Granger," Fred sing-songs, "isn't that the, let's say text book, definition of indulge? And we know how you love your text books…" He turns to a row of shelves behind him. "Georgie! Come back me up!"

Another ginger head pops out, three rows down. He's balancing three books in his arms and nods at Hermione. "I agree with Fred."

Fred turns back to Hermione with a smug look on his face. "See?"

"First of all, George didn't even know what he was agreeing to," she points out. "Secondly, talking to anyone is nice, as I don't get to do it much. I'll settle for anyone, I'll have you know. Third, how do you even know the text book definition of indulge?"

The grin slips off of Fred's face, only to be replaced by something that looks like pity. Oh, no. That is the last thing she wants, because the twins have always spoken to her by their own choice, and she can't have it that they only do so because they feel bad. It was meant to be a joke anyways—surely he didn't think she'd settle for anyone, not when cruel kids like Draco Malfoy roamed the halls.

"Well, you guys at least talk back," she shrugs with a clearly sarcastic grin, hoping he'll pick up on her attempt at another joke. "And people think I like the sound of my voice. Merlin, have they met you?"

Fred still looks upset.

So. Jokes. Not her strong point.

Fred opens his mouth, but Hermione holds up a hand. "I don't care what you've taken from whatever I just said. I'm happy here, Fred Weasley. Don't feel the need to indulge me." She closes the book she was reading. "Now, if you don't mind terribly, I think I'm going to go finish this book elsewhere."

Fred nods and offers her a smile. Against her better judgment, she returns it.

Fred gets up while she's packing up her books, and turns to leave. He hesitates. "Hermione?"

"Hm?"

"They can't just send you back to your old world. This is your world, too. It's not… temporary." He shifts his weight and stares at her with a meaningful look in his eye. "Hogwarts or no Hogwarts, you'll never just suddenly belong in the Muggle world, because it was never yours. The Wizarding world has just been waiting for you to arrive."

Hermione stares at the teenager, shocked in to silence. She's not sure what to say, or if she should say anything at all. She's touched, of course. It's the most blatant acceptance in to the magical world—in to any world—that she's received, excluding only her Hogwarts Letter. This might even beat that. Even while she doesn't quite believe it and worries that the next time she doesn't know an answer to a professor's question they'll dub her a failure and kick her out, she's still thankful for it.

Instead of trying to put that in to words, she smiles at him. Her smile stretches across her entire face until she's beaming—like a ray of sun finally finding a path through the crowded foliage to the forest floor, spreading warmth as it goes.

He offers one back, and then he's gone.

She belongs.

*\

See, the thing about Fred and George is that, well. She lets her guard down around them. She's not quite sure why—it might be because they take so little seriously and she feels they won't take her problems seriously, either. That's clearly not the case.

It's the second Saturday in the semester, the day after their talk in the library, that they claim her. She is walking in to the Great Hall for lunch (she hadn't gone to breakfast so she could get a head start on her essay for Professor Binns that was due next Thursday) when, half way down the Gryffindor table, a hand shoots out to pull her in. She squeaks as she stumbles towards the bench and collides with a hard body. She opens her mouth to scold her attacker, but freezes when she looks up and finds a red-haired twin grinning down at her. She looks behind the twin and finds the other, who she immediately identifies as Fred.

"George!" she huffs angrily, ripping her arm out of his grasp. This causes her to fall closer to the bench, landing uncomfortably on the corner of the seat. She glares up at the boy. "What do you want?"

"Your company," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione turns her glare on Fred. "I told you—"

"We're indulging ourselves," he smirks from behind his brother.

She turns to see who is around them, and relaxes when she finds only Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. All of them have either been completely nice to her, or simply ignored her. Alicia even goes as far to offer her a kind smile right now, even though Hermione is fighting down the urge to rub her bottom, where she's quite certain a bruise is forming.

George reaches down and lifts her legs, spinning her around on the bench so they're tucked under the table and she's left staring at the food in front of her.

"But—I had a question for—"

"You can talk to Percy another time," George waves her off.

Fred nods. "All you have to do is spin three times in front of a mirror and say 'perfect prefect Percy' and he'll appear."

Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes. Accepting her fate, she starts reaching for food to pile on her plate. "Did you know that that tale actually got passed to Muggles?"

"What tale?" Alicia wonders from across the table.

Hermione startles. She hadn't expected the others to actually engage with her. "Well, the Bloody Mary tale. It started out with seers, they could look into a mirror and see either their husband's face or the grim reaper if they'd die before they married. It then became more wide spread, and used to see the general future, not just future spouses. Sometime in the 19th century Muggles, started using it, though they obviously couldn't actually see anything or anyone. It was just tricks of the light. Only true seers can perform that ritual, anyways. In Muggle culture today it's a game of sorts, to scare people by telling them she might scratch their eyes out. It's just curious as to how it transferred over to Muggle culture."

Katie grimaces. "Well let's hope Percy doesn't show up in your mirror then," she says. "You deserve better than him."

"What's wrong with Percy?" Hermione frowns. Percy is smart and focused and determined and not that Hermione likes him likes him and would want him to be her future spouse, but if they don't like Percy… how could they possibly like her?

"Can't take a prank," Fred tells her.

"Doesn't know a joke," George chimes in.

"Cares more about the rules than Dumbledore."

"May not know how to smile, research on that one is still on going."

"Cares more about the rules than Mum."

"Smells a bit weird, that one."

"Probably sat on his wand, if the stick up his a—"

"Alright," Alicia cuts Fred off, ignoring a cackling Lee next to her. She turns to Hermione. "Percy is smart and helpful, but he cares more about himself than anything else. That's his prerogative, but as Gryffindors we all have a habit of reckless loyalty to our closest friends, and sometimes strangers. His extreme self-preservation is not something we personally appreciate; it's not a common trait in this House." She takes a bite of her chicken and points her fork at Hermione. "He's not like you, for example. Ron and Harry have been utter prats to you, and you still tried to help them."

Hermione's face goes up in flames, thinking about how she would have ratted them out had they been caught. Sure, it was mainly to stop them from losing House Points, but she wouldn't have hesitated. "Well—"

"She's right," Lee grins. "Me? I appreciate what Ron and Harry did—even if it was a stupid idea. But I'm good at stupid ideas, personally. I excel at them. Now, if I had someone like you to help me out? Maybe I wouldn't land on my arse as much."

"Lee!" Katie huffs. "Language!"

"Oh—c'mon, she's eleven, for Merlin's sake! I don't think arse is going to bother her too much."

"I'm twelve, actually," Hermione murmurs, staring down at her plate.

She can see George turn his body to face her out of the corner of her eye.

"Really?" he asks, excited. "Since when?"

"Well, I'm not yet, exactly."

Alicia smiles at her. "It's gotta be soon if you corrected him, yeah?"

"Yeah," Fred echoes. "When is it?"

"The 19th."

"Oi! Why'd you never say?" Fred croons, ignoring the fact that they've only just become friends and she never had a chance to tell them before. "We need to celebrate!"

"No—"

"Shush, shush," George says, waving a hand in dismissal. Her jaw drops at him, half in shock, half in annoyance. She turns to Alicia who laughs and shrugs. It's not a laugh at Hermione's expense. It's a laugh directed at the situation, at George flapping his hand around and shushing the first year. It's friendly, and almost sympathetic. And when Hermione joins in, it's shared. This might be the first time Hermione has laughed with someone at this school, and it feels so incredibly nice. She knows from this one time that she doesn't want to go back to not having anyone to laugh with.

To her right, George and Fred have their heads bent together with Lee leaning over the table to join in the conversation. She feels awkward for just a moment, now that the twins are preoccupied and she's sitting with two girls she hardly knows. The moment doesn't last long, however, as Katie turns to Hermione. "How do you like classes so far?" she asks. "Last year was so overwhelming for me."

Hermione glances down to where Harry and Ron are sitting, and doesn't feel rejected, for the first time. She doesn't need them. She turns back to Katie.

*\

"Hermione," Lavender calls. Hermione looks up. Lavender and Parvati are sitting on Parvati's bed, their heads clearly having popped up from being bent together in their nightly gossip routine. "Did you really sit with the third years today?"

She frowns. Were they gossiping about her? "Some of them, and Katie," she frowns.

"But why would you… Are you friends with them?" Parvati asks.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Lavender gasps. "How did you do it?"

"Pardon me?"

"Make friends with them, how did you? You're not—or, I mean, they're not…"

Hermione scoffs. "Please, just because you two don't like me doesn't mean no one else does. Fred and George sat with me in the library one day and then introduced me to their friends." She doesn't mention that they sat with her in the library yesterday and introduced her to their friends just at lunch today.

Lavender squeals. "They approached you?"

"Yes."

"Oh! Hermione, you must tell us about them," Parvati says excitedly. "Are the twins really as dreamy as everyone says?"

"Is Lee Jordan as charming as they say?" Lavender adds on.

"What about—"

"Enough!" Hermione snaps. "I'm not going to gossip about my friends to the likes of you. Some of us happen to like them because of their hearts and personality rather than their reputations and popularity. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

*\

She spends all of her free time split between the library and her group of friends. They've joined her in the library three times now—once just the girls, once the twins, and once the entire group—but they typically spend their time together in the Great Hall, or the Common Room, or by the lake. She learns more about the wizarding world each day—of the schools spread far and wide, the secrets both pure and dark, the wonders… that are mostly dangerous, but still wondrous.

Each day she fits more and more nicely into this world she's found herself in, and she doesn't ever want to leave.

That Thursday, which she had expected to pass quietly with no more than a note from her parents, does not pass quietly.

Shortly after Hermione has woken up and showered for the day, her dorm door bursts open. From behind their curtains where they had likely still been asleep, Hermione hears Lavender and Sophie screech, and confused mumblings coming from Parvati and Sally's beds. Hermione looks at the door, shocked to see Alicia, Katie, and Angelina standing there. They look just as shocked to see her out of bed.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione," Alicia groans. "What time did you get up?"

"Quarter 'til seven?"

Alicia looks at Angelina and Katie. "She's making us look bad, girls."

"We can't have that, can we?" Angelina frowns. Despite having only met her three days ago (since she'd been working with Oliver and Harry on Quidditch over the weekend), Hermione is almost equally as close to Angelina as she is with Alicia and Katie. Angelina throws herself in to everything she does—including friendships.

Katie gives her a contemplative look. "Well. Maybe today we can. You know. Special occasion and all."

"Right, right," Alicia snaps her fingers. "Myron Wagtail's birthday is a time for celebration, not competition."

Hermione tilts her head. "Myron… Wagtail?"

Angelina gasps, dramatically covering her heart with a hand. "Herms! Don't tell me you haven't heard of The Weird Sisters?"

"Can't say I have," she says with a small laugh.

The girls all stare at her, and then look to each other. "Alright," Alicia decides. She walks over to Hermione and, with a flick of her wand, dries the young witch's hair. "You're not getting all of your gifts today because we hadn't realized you needed The Weird Sisters album. Now get your shoes on, the boys are waiting for us."

"They're actually awake?" Hermione asks disbelievingly. Still, she reaches under her bed and pulls out her shoes to slip on.

"Of course," Angelia says. "We need all of breakfast for you to get through your presents."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," Alicia says. She picks up Hermione's wand off of the bedside table and thrusts it into her friend's hands. "Let's go."

The three of them drag her down to the common room where, upon stepping off the last step to the dorms, an explosion of fireworks goes off just a few meters in front of her. She yelps loudly and stumbles backwards, but Angelina catches her with a laugh. Hermione stares at the fireworks, which are flying around in a two meter allotted area, spelling out a colorful 'Happy Birthday, Hermione!'

She stares at the words for a long moment before her gaze shifts to the three bodies standing off to the right, beaming at her. Fred, George, and Lee look immensely proud of themselves and Hermione really, really wants to cry.

She runs past the firework display and launches herself at the boys, struggling to get them all in to her short, twelve year-old arms. They scoot in closer so they can hold her too, laughing all the while and wishing her happy birthday. That's when she does start crying. Just a few tears, mind you, but she has to reach up and wipe them away, still.

"I think those are good tears," Lee guesses, and Hermione laughs. She nods at him. "Well then I'm glad."

Hermione wipes at her cheeks again, blushing. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm—I'm not usually like this," she tries.

She's not. She's really, really not the type of person to cry at a kind gesture, or in front of anyone at all. But, see, this is the first time anyone besides her parents have willingly gone out of their way to celebrate her birthday—if you don't count her primary school teachers making the rest of her class sing to her, that is. When she was younger she had children from her school and dance classes (for the two years she attended those dance classes, before realizing they were really not meant for her) attend her birthday parties like everyone did. But then, when she was eight, she had asked her parents to not throw a party, as everyone tended to group off in to groups that didn't involve her, and even at her young age it made her miserable.

This group, though… The fireworks can't have been simple magic. She's fairly certain the twins bought them at a joke shop, but to charm them to spell out a message was no simple feat, let alone for three third years. That they had done so in only five days since they learned her birthday made her feel like they truly wanted her to enjoy her day and celebrate with her.

Fred slings an arm over her shoulder. He helps wipe her cheeks of any tears and smiles brightly at her. "Not a worry, we'll get you to cry more tears of joy yet."

They make their way to the Great Hall, Fred's arm remaining around her shoulders the entire way.

"We had the kitchens make your favorite," Alicia grins as they settle at their spot. "Or, at least what we assume is your favorite, since you ate three chocolate chip waffles on Monday when they were out. That's the present that is going to take you all of breakfast to get through."

Hermione blushes when Alicia finishes off with a wink and Fred leans in to her space to nudge her. "Thank you," she says, flustered that they've been paying attention.

"I'm going first for gifts," Lee says. He reaches in to his bag and pulls out a poorly wrapped parcel that he hands to Hermione.

Hermione takes it and stares at it for a long moment. Not only did she just befriend this group five days prior, but out of all of them, her and Lee have interacted the least. And yet, here she is, holding a gift from him in her hands. She looks at him. "Thank you," she says, shocked.

Lee laughs. "Maybe wait until you open it before you thank me," he says.

"Oh," she breathes. Maybe—well, he wouldn't prank her, she knows, especially now that he gave her warning, but what else could he mean? She peels the paper open and finds three quills. She smiles softly at them. "I still thank you."

"They're Sugar Quills," Lee beams. "The best part is, Fred and George helped me charm them so you can actually use them. You work so long on your essays sometimes you forget to eat—now you can just eat your quill!"

Hermione is touched, genuinely. "I love them," she tells him honestly. "Thank you."

"Alright, alright," Katie cuts in. "Ours next."

"You already know about The Weird Sisters album coming—once we get a Hogsmeade weekend, anyways," Angelina reminds her.

Alicia nods. She hands Hermione a neatly wrapped package. "But there's also these."

Hermione takes and opens the package. Inside she finds a scarf, a pair of mittens, thick wool socks, and a hat.

"A lot of us get our House gear sent to us from our parents—or sent with us if they're sure we're going to be in one House, that is," Alicia explains. "Luckily I'm really good at knitting; my mum taught me the Muggle way."

"I'm not as good," Katie grins. "But I still managed the scarf. Took me longer than Alicia took to make everything else, sure, but I think it's better than anything she made."

"Oi!" Alicia crows.

Katie sniggers and scoots away from the girl so she can continue, "we figure you have winter gear, but nothing for Gryffindor. It's a little early, but on such short notice, it was all we could do."

"I wrapped it," Angelina throws in. "I can't knit a bloody thing, but at least I can make it look good as a present."

Hermione tosses her head back to laugh. "I love them. And I loved the wrapping, Ange. Thank you guys."

She's petting the scarf, admiring its softness, when a loud thud causes her to look up. There's another gift sitting in front of her. She looks at Fred, and then past him to George. They're smiling at her. "Our turn," they say in sync.

She takes her time to neatly fold the scarf back up, and piles the other accessories on top. She curls them back up in the paper they came in, and tucks them away in her bag.

She returns to the gift in front of her and eyes it warily. It… honestly, it looks like a book, but she's not quite sure how the twins could have gotten a book as a gift when there've been no Hogsmeade trips yet. She opens it slower than her other two gifts, wary of anything that could jump out at her.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, we aren't trying to prank you on your birthday!" George huffs.

"But—it looks like a book," Hermione frowns.

Alicia snorts. "She's got you there, boys. Any thing that puts you in contact with a book has got to be some sort of prank."

Fred rolls his eyes. "We became friends in the library," he argues.

She can't argue that. She tears in to the paper faster, now, until it falls apart to reveal a battered copy of An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, a book George had mentioned days before and Hermione had said she'd love to read. Tears spring to her eyes against her best attempts to keep them down, and she runs her fingers over the cover while trying to blink them back.

After a few moments, she feels her eyes are clear enough to look up at the twins. Fred is staring at her nervously, and George looks excited. She throws her arms around Fred and pulls him in to a tight hug. "Thank you," she says passionately. She looks to George, then the rest of the table. "I can't reach any of you right now, but if I could, I'd be hugging all of you."

Fred chuckles and it vibrates deep in his chest. "Now, now," he teases as he runs a hand up and down her back, and with her ear pressed to his chest, she hears the words from where they start. "No need for the lies to cover up that I'm your favorite. We all already know that."

Hermione puffs out a breath and moves to pull away. Fred holds her tight to his chest. "Fred—"

"See?" he asks their friends. "She can't get enough." Hermione digs two fingers in to his side and he yelps, releasing her quick. She smirks up at him triumphantly. "Merlin, 'Mine, you play dirty."

"Not until someone else doesn't play fair, I don't."

Alicia looks immensely pleased. "We're never letting you go, Hermione."

She blushes and doesn't say anything in return. She studies the cover of the book, and flips through the first few pages.

"It's second hand," Fred murmurs while everyone else starts eating again. "We couldn't afford a new copy, but—"

"I love it," Hermione stops him. "It's perfect."

"I'm glad."

More people begin flooding in to the Hall nearly half an hour later, by which time Hermione is on her third chocolate chip waffle. Some people give her and her friends odd looks, including Harry and Ron. She's sure it's a scene to see, however. The twins and Lee are usually three of the last people to make it to breakfast, and Hermione is surrounded by torn wrapping paper, quills and a book, and winter gear.

Once nearly three quarters of the school were settled in, owls start swooping in. McGonagall had told her parents how to address any letters they wanted to send, as they didn't have an owl and sent it through the post, but Hermione was skeptical that she'd receive it.

She's happy to be proven wrong when a tawny owl floats down until it's hovering above her and drops a thick package. She smiles at the familiar loops of her mother's calligraphy, and doesn't hesitate before ripping in to the parcel. Several books topple out of the tear, and Fred rushes to catch them before the fall from the table. She thanks him but quickly turns back to the books. All of them seem to be by the same author.

She picks up the envelope the spilled out with the books, and opens it.

Hermione,

The happiest of birthdays to you! We're crushed to not be spending it with you, but we do hope your new school is treating you well. Have you made many friends? Have you learned much yet? Are you missing us yet? We went back and forth over whether you'd even remember us, what with all the wonders you described in your letter! (We hope you both remember and miss us, because we remember and miss you very much.)

Over the summer I discovered a new series that I hadn't seen before. It seems like it's full of magic and adventures; perhaps you can compare them to your real life magic and adventures (hopefully none quite as dangerous as those you'll find in the books)!

We do miss you, dear, and would love to hear from you soon. We even got treats for any more owls you send (that gray one wasn't all that happy with the biscuit we gave her), so send lots of them! We're also going out of our minds waiting to hear how it all holds up beyond your first day. We hope it's well, and we hope there are plenty of people who are able to see what a brilliant addition you are to that school. Write soon, daughter o'Mione.

Love,

Mum and Dad

She places the letter to the side with a smile, and shuffles through the books. The others watch her gather them up.

"What's a scion?" George asks curiously.

"What's an elfstone?" adds Katie.

Angelina smirks and continues, "what's a wishsong?"

Fred reaches over and grabs the top book. "Blimey, you're concerned about all of those, but what in Merlin's name is a sword?"

Hermione laughs and snatches the book back. "I guess I'll have to read and find out what in Merlin's name a sword could possibly be."

Fred leans in to her space. He tilts his head, and she realizes he's looking at the letter from her parents. "Does… does that say 'daughter o'Mione'? That… is the greatest thing that today could have given me. Merlin, I love your parents."

"Oh no."

Fred looks at her, faux concern in his eyes. "What's wrong, friend o'Mione?"

"No."

"Oh, come off it, chum o'Mione, I'm just teasing, schoolmate o'Mione!"

Hermione glares. "Eventually you're going to run out of synonyms."

"Not soon enough for you, darling o'Mione."

"You can't branch off in to pet names like that."

Fred leans in close, grinning wide. "Show me the rule that says that, 'Mione o'Mione."

Hermione huffs. She reaches in to her bag and pulls out one of her ink-filled sugar quills and then tears a spare piece of wrapping paper from her parent's parcel. Fred is watching, smiling all the while.

"'Terms of endearment may not precede "o'Mione" in a given nickname,'" Hermione recites as she writes.

"Darling doesn't have to be a term of endearment," Fred argues. "Neither does love, pet, sweetheart—"

"'The nickname "'Mione" may not precede "o'Mione" in a given nickname,'" she continues.

"No!" Lee shouts suddenly, eyes stuck on the piece of paper as she writes. Hermione looks up wide-eyed. Everyone is staring at her and Fred. "'Mione o'Mione is my favorite, c'mon Herms."

She crosses the rule out as she grimaces. "I'm only taking that rule off because I prefer it over Herms. I take that rule off, there's no more Herms, deal?"

Lee whoops victoriously, thrusting his fists in the air. George cheers as well. Angelina shakes her head. "Shouldn't have given him that. Now they're going to push for more."

"I won't let them," she states. "I can out stubborn them any day."

"That a challenge, darling o'Mione?" Fred asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

Hermione ignores him and goes back to writing her rules. "'Sweet Child may not precede "o'Mione" in a given nickname,'" she adds.

"Sweet child?" Katie wonders, confused.

"Sweet Child of Mine is a Muggle song."

"Sing it for us, sweet child o'Mione," Fred prompts.

"'Failure to comply with these rules may result in punishment ranging from non-responsiveness from Hermione to harmless but humiliating jinxes.'"

Alicia cackles as she watches Hermione write the last rule. "I can help you with the harmless but humiliating jinxes should you ever need help."

"Wouldn't that be better left to us?" George quirks an eyebrow, and there's a smile on his face.

"Not if I'm going to be using them on you," Hermione counters. "And I have a feeling I'm only going to be using them on you. I'd like you to be surprised." She turns to Alicia. "I'll certainly take you up on that."

"Gred? Does the back of your neck feel cold?"

George grimaces. "I think that's the fear, Forge."

Hermione smiles politely, trying to hide the pride she feels. "I've got to run this all up to my room before classes, if you all don't mind. See you at lunch?"

Alicia grins, wide and mirth filled. "See you then, friend o'Mione."

*\

Time gets lost between studying and her friends all at Quidditch practice. There's Lee that she could seek out, but she thinks he's her friend more because all of his friends, rather than actually wanting to be friends with her. Maybe that's a little harsh to assume, but she doesn't want to go where she's not wanted, so she gives him space, only seeking him out when Quidditch practice goes over and they're both waiting on their friends.

They get closer in that time, but never quite as close as she is with the rest of the group, and never quite as close as she wishes they could be. She thinks it's something they need to work on, but it can be put aside for their next four and a half years at school together, that way they don't try and force it.

She grows closer still with the twins, and finds her friendship with Alicia growing faster and stronger that even her friendships with Katie and Angelina. There's something about the older girl—she feels an almost familial bond with her.

That doesn't stop her from realizing its all either fake or pity once Ron points it out—she's a nightmare. She's got no friends.

"Granger!" a familiar voice calls from behind her. She doesn't stop—doesn't even slow down. She needs to be alone, needs to get away.

"Oi! Hey!" the voice calls again, and it's closer, along with the pounding footsteps.

Before she can decide if she wants to take off running, someone grabs her upper arm and spins her around. She looks down to the ground and resists wiping her eyes. They're too tall to see her eyes if she's staring at the ground. Wiping them away will only bring their attention to it and then they'll know for sure that she's crying.

"What's wrong?" the voice asks, and she can't pick it apart, can't tell if it's Fred or George and she's so frustrated by that—

"'Mine?" another, nearly identical voice comes from further away, but it's softer, gentler. It's how Fred talks to her sometimes, with that stupid nickname he's started using, when he's tired or confused or trying to bring her comfort.

"What?" she snaps, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Fred's footsteps get closer, and George is still gripping her arm. When Fred reaches her, he grabs her chin and tilts it up, forcing her to face him. His eyes look sad. "Merlin, 'Mine, what—"

"None of your concern," she tells them.

The sadness in Fred's eyes turns to anger and George's hand tightens on her arm. "None of our concern? Bloody hell, Hermione, you're our friend, what hurts you is our concern," George says.

Hermione snorts and jerks out of both of their grips quickly. "That's brilliant, isn't it? That you're my friends. That you two are friends with me, a know-it-all nightmare. Sure you are, because I'm the person that you guys befriend, is that it?" She looks between them, but doesn't give them a chance to answer. "No. I'm the person you guys make fun of behind my back. I'm the person you guys can't stand. So it's either pity or a… ruse. And I'm not okay with either."

She spins and stalks away from them. Just to make sure they don't trail her, she turns the first corner she sees, and then the next, and then the next. She finds a girls' bathroom then and ducks inside. It's deserted for now, so she curls up in one of the stalls and lets her tears fall.

She loses track of time; only Parvati tries talking her out, but Hermione asks that she be left alone. Parvati sighs but leaves nonetheless.

Battling a troll was not on her agenda—ever. That's part of the reason that she loses any coherent thoughts when she realizes the door is locked from the outside (the other part is that the troll is huge and she is tiny), watching as it stomps towards her as she screams and rushes to the other side of the room, swinging its club all the while. She catches a piece of porcelain that flies from a sink to her shoulder, and thinks: this is it. This is how I die. I'd rather be expelled.

Harry and Ron come bursting in, wands drawn and shouting. They came with the knowledge that they'd be facing the beast. She appreciates that, to say the least, even if she's too shaken to do much to help them out. They manage perfectly fine without her, thankfully.

So she lies to Professor McGonagall and takes the slash in House Points, and heads for the common room. She can see her friends (her friends! she reminds herself, feeling ashamed for how she had treated them this afternoon) eyeing her warily from a corner of the room, and she realizes the twins must have told the others what had happened earlier. She smiles at them and holds up a finger, letting them know she'll be over soon.

It's not too much longer before Ron and Harry enter through the portrait hole. It's awkward, the three of them standing there and looking everywhere but each other. She thanks them, and they thank her (though she's not sure why), and then she takes her leave to get dinner that's been set up along one wall of the common room.

When her plate is full of food, she moves over to sit next to Fred on the floor. "What happened?" he asks. He is looking at her tentatively, eyeing the poor state of her robes, and George, leaning around his brother, is looking at her expectantly.

She grimaces. "They just helped me beat a troll."

"What?" Fred snaps, eyes going wide. He puts his plate on the ground and turns his body so he's facing her fully. He grabs her chin, much like he did earlier, and starts turning her head to examine her features. "You're okay, right?" he presses after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes, Mum," she grunts, her words dripping with sarcasm.

He's seemingly satisfied with the lack of damage to her face and her answer that she was fine, but he still gives the rest of her body a once over. He pauses on her left shoulder. He reaches out. "What's this, then?"

She looks down to his hand where it's lifting up a shredded piece of fabric, the one she had cleaned on her way back to the common room—the one that she knows is hiding a bloodied and bruised shoulder. "It probably just got torn in the fight." Fred doesn't look like he believes her but the conversation moves on before he can press for more information.

"What were you doing taking on the troll?" Katie asks. Her voice sounds worried.

"I wasn't," Hermione shrugs. "I was in the bathroom and then… there was a troll. I'd probably be dead if they hadn't shown up."

"I don't believe that," Alicia scoffs. "You can do much more than those boys."

"Well. I was rather surprised by it—I froze. I didn't really do much apart from maybe keep its attention away from them? And, well. Harry had to stick his wand up its nose and I—I'm just lucky they showed up."

"What were you doing down there, anyway? Why weren't you at dinner?" Lee wonders.

Hermione glances at Fred and George out of the corner of her eyes. They're both watching her intensely. "I was running away from these two?" she tries, with a nod at the twins.

"That was four bloody hours ago," George says.

Hermione nods. "I just… stayed there."

"Gonna tell us what it was about?" Fred asks, referring to her running away.

"Yeah," Katie says in agreement. "They said you were crying? Why didn't you get me or Alicia or even Angelina if you didn't want to talk to them?"

"Er—well. It wasn't them. It was everyone, really."

Lee drops his jaw. "What did I do?"

Alicia is frowning next to him as well.

"No one did anything. Someone just… said something. It reminded me of primary—that's my old school. I took it out on Fred and George, but I wasn't going to take lightly to anyone," she explains. She turns to the twins. "I'm sorry."

"Who?" Fred asks.

She blinks. "What?"

"Who said something?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I'm not telling you that."

"Why?" George demands.

"Because it's not important."

"Hermione," Alicia says, voice hard, "it's not right that you deal with this alone. We're you're friends, we can—"

"As my friends can you just… accept that it's been handled?"

"No," Lee answers easily. "If it wasn't handled the last time you saw Fred and George, and you've been hiding since then—"

"Ron," George realizes.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Yes, okay, Ron and I don't get along, and he said something upsetting. But he just saved my life, if you'll all please rememb—"

Fred cuts her off. "What did he say?"

Hermione shakes her head. "No. I'm not telling you."

"I reckon it must've been something about her not having friends and being a know-it-all nightmare," George concludes. "Well, Freddie, we haven't spent nearly enough time with our dear Ickle Ronnikins lately, perhaps we should pay him a visit?"

"Do not," Hermione snaps, nearly toppling her plate over as she reaches out to clutch their robes in her fists. "I might finally have a truce with him and I don't think he even realizes I'm friends with you. I will not have you ruin it and have him hate me all over again for turning his brothers against him or something painfully stupid like that."

"She's right," Alicia says with a grimace. "As much as I'd like to hex him into next week for making her cry, I think that little greeting they just had by the door is the most civil I've ever seen them with each other."

Fred doesn't look happy about that conclusion, but he seems to accept it.

*\

She spends much of her time studying with Alicia in the common room, sometimes joined by others, sometimes just the two of them, and getting closer with Ron and Harry. Harry mostly, since her friendship with Ron seems to be entirely based on the fact that they're both Harry's friends and he no longer hates her, but she thinks he's warming up to her more and more each day.

She's sitting in the common room Friday morning with Alicia, up early to get a head start on her readings for the weekend. They're waiting for the others to wake up when a rumbling comes from the boys' dormitory steps.

"Are you ready?" George shouts, rushing down the final few steps.

Hermione blinks. "Ready for what?"

"'Ready for what?' she asks," Lee gasps, hand clutching at his chest dramatically.

Fred jumps off the stairs where he had been moments before, on to George's back. "First Quidditch game of the season tomorrow!"

Alicia whoops and jumps out of the seat she'd been in next to Hermione, who shifts awkwardly in her seat. She had almost forgotten that she was the only one who didn't seem to be obsessed with Quidditch. She turns back to her books, and tries to drown them out.

"Hermione!" George whines at her lack of response, as he balances Fred's weight on his back. "Aren't you excited?"

She grimaces. "Not really."

"What?" Fred shrieks. "What do you mean not really?"

She looks between the twins and Alicia, who all look equally as shocked. She hears others filtering in the room, and hears George frantically tell Angelina and Katie that Hermione isn't excited for the Quidditch match.

"I've never seen a game, and I don't really care for sports, muggle or wizard."

"But… but…"

A jolt of fear runs through her. Is this it? Is this going to be what make these people back out of their friendship? It's been odd enough that this group of people that seem so revered at this school have latched on to her despite being older and sharing very few initial interests, but now finding out that she doesn't like Quidditch—a large part of the glue that holds this group of friends together—is that too much for them?

"You'll still come to cheer us on, though?" Alicia asks, wary. Not wary about Hermione not liking Quidditch, wary about Hermione not being there to support them. Relief rushes through Hermione so quickly she can feel it in her toes.

She nods. "Of course. My best friends make up almost the entire team—get me an in with Oliver and I may as well be your mascot. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

George grins. "And by the world you mean extra studying time, don't you, 'Mine?"

"Oi!" Fred frowns, glaring at his twin. He slides off of George's back and lands on his feet with a thud. "'Mine is mine, get your own nickname."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "There will be no monopolies on nicknames."

Fred turns to her. "There will be on 'Mine."

"Fredrick."

"'Mine."

"You need to learn to share."

"I know how to share!"

Alicia scoffs and falls in to the seat next to Hermione. "Sure you do," she says.

Fred pouts. "I grew up with a twin, I only own half of what I own!"

Hermione resists the urge to drop her head to the table. "That's not how that works."

"Trust me, that's how it works." George says.

"Also five siblings!" Fred hurries to add.

Hermione looks at Alicia. They shrug. "You still don't have full control over a name that anyone can call me."

"Yes I do," he says. "If you can make up the o'Mione rules, I can make up the 'Mine rules. 'Mine is mine. If not, the o'Mione rules are no more."

"Fred!"

He raises an eyebrow, challenging.

She submits (because really, she's added more rules to the o'Mione rules since their creation and she doesn't know if she could take it if Fred threw those out the window), but not before glaring. "You're an arse."

"Hermione!" George gasps, dropping his jaw, laughing giddily. Alicia barks out a laugh from beside her, and Hermione blushes. Fred grins, wide—victorious.

*\

"Did Harry ever tell you what the bloody hell he was doing?" Angelina demands as soon as Hermione sits down for breakfast Sunday morning. "He didn't say much after the match, but that might have been because Oliver was alternating between yelling curses at whatever he was doing and praises at him catching the Snitch."

"It wasn't Harry," Hermione says. "Professor Snape was jinxing him."

"What?" Katie gasps. "But… how do you know? Why did he stop?"

"I saw him. He was staring at Harry muttering something. I set him on fire."

"What?" Fred, George, and Lee all cry out.

"Tell me you're being serious—that this isn't just a joke," Lee pleas.

"I'm serious. Just ask Ron. He doesn't like me enough yet to lie for me."

"Oh, my poor old heart can't take this," Fred says, clutching his chest.

"You're thirteen," Hermione scoffs, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing old about you."

"I'm a twin, Combined we're twenty-six years old."

"That's still not old, and that's still not how it works."

"We have twenty-six combined years of life experience how does that not work Granger?" George huffs.

"You two have gone through almost everything together. You've got the exact same experiences."

"That's debatable but we're getting off track, here," Fred says. "You set Snape on fire?"

"Not so loud!"

"Blimey, I think I'm in love," George breathes.

Lee scowls. "Who did Snape just fail because he felt like it? Me. She's mine."

"She likes me best," Fred says. "And I'm the one sitting next to her, so—"

Hermione is tugged to the side into someone's arms, but it's not Fred. She laughs as she hears Alicia threaten the boys about not pissing on her like she's something to be claimed. When Alicia releases her, the boys all look suitably threatened, but Fred still quirks an eyebrow at her and smirks.

Hermione's stomach rolls. She looks at her plate, which is still very full, and thinks she must just be very hungry. She tucks in to her breakfast and away in a book for the remainder of breakfast.

*\

"Hey, 'Mine," Fred calls as she's walking through the courtyard later that day. She's promised to help Ron and Harry with their potions essays and is on her way to them from sending her parents an owl. She slows and turns to face Fred. George is right beside him, which is no surprise. "D'you know any targeting spells? We, uh, have a self-propelling spell for something, but it lands way off and none of our books we have right now have a targeting spell."

She narrows her eyes. "What is the something?"

"Nothing bad. Just… for a snowball fight?" George says.

She rolls her eyes. "We do have snowball fights as muggles as well, I'm not against them! Let me get back to you at dinner." She turns away but thinks—Fred and George read a fair amount... Maybe… "Have you two ever heard of Nicolas Flamel?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Just someone I read about once that I can't find anymore information on, but I can't quite remember where, or what he's even done," she lies. "It's nothing. I've got to go help your brother with an essay on the known uses of Asphodel. Mind you, the essay is due tomorrow—"

George grins. "Better hurry along then."

Fred smiles. "Dinner?"

"Dinner," Hermione nods. "I'll see if I can have that targeting spell for you two."

"Thank you!" they call before walking off. She does the same, and then freezes.

"If you two dare use it on me I'm never helping you again!"

"We would never!"

*\

Christmas break passes fairly quickly. There are more presents under the tree than ever, and she's sure her neighbors must be confused about the abundance of owls on Christmas Day (one from the twins, Harry and Ron, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and even Lee).

Returning from break is a whirlwind. Harry's been reckless going around looking for magic mirrors and she can't believe him, but in the end they do find Nicolas Flamel and discover the Sorcerer's Stone.

She's thrilled when they find it, and she's tempted to run off and tell Fred and George and Alicia about it right then, but she knows she can't—not when Professor Snape is trying to steal it, not when Professor Dumbledore has gone to such great lengths to protect it, not when it's so dangerous, not when this has more to do with Harry than her and she won't put him at risk. So she tucks the book away again and smiles at her friends and tells them about her classes, and doesn't mention a thing about immortality, or alchemy, or three-headed dogs guarding trapdoors.

*\

A hand reaches out, snagging a piece of already buttered toast from her plate. She twists in her seat and scowls. "Fred!"

The table falls silent.

"I think this is the first time I've ever seen Hermione mistake George for Fred," Lee says, staring at Hermione. "Are you tired? Unwell? Did they do something to upset you?"

Alicia frowns, her face tight as though she's thinking hard. "I think that is the first time she's ever mistaken either of them for the other."

Hermione looks at the twin next to her. "What? That—you're? This is Fred."

Fred stares at her for a long moment, and then his face breaks in to a wide grin. He looks to George and Hermione sees George looking at her with raised eyebrows as well. "How could you tell?" George wonders.

"What?" Katie yells.

Hermione's eyes flick to the others at the table. They're all either staring at her or studying the twins intensely. "There are a few physical differences, but I don't go off those as much. You can cover those up or spell them away, but you can't change your mannerisms or the way you carry yourselves for the most part."

"Like what?" George asks, his voice full of curiosity.

She studies the two of them. "You tried to mix everyone up today!" she accuses. "You covered up your mole with your sweater and switched how you wore your robes, which is the most obvious to everyone else!"

"Well—"

"I'm not going to tell you," she says, shaking her head. "I'm not going to tell you how I know who is who, because I'm not going to let you try and trick me as your idea of a prank one day. You've whined that so few people can tell you apart, and then you go and play this joke on the people who put in the effort?"

"'Mione—"

"Why?"

They share a look. "Social experiment? It's not a prank," George says, "and we wouldn't ever use it against anyone. It was more so to see if there was anyone who could tell. Being a twin gets frustrating some times, and there's nothing wrong with the cues people have come to rely on—we appreciate that they've made any effort at all to differentiate us, because most professors just call us 'Mr. Weasley.' A lot of people in the school can't even tell us apart by our robes, mostly because they don't care enough to learn even though we wear them purposefully different. We just wanted to see if anyone could tell beyond the two most obvious physical differences."

Fred nods. "It wasn't to be rude."

Hermione sighs. "I won't list everything, but there are some things… Fred is louder. He usually talks first. George slouches a bit more and he smiles more than he smirks, while Fred is the opposite." She looks to the others. "You four… I will fill in on their differences later."

"That doesn't seem fair," Fred pouts.

"Oh, it's more than fair," Angelina says glaring between the twins. "I can't believe you're still doing this!"

"We've done it twice!" George defends. "Once was because I was failing Astronomy and Fred sat the exam for me and we didn't want anyone mucking it up for us."

Hermione gasps. "You didn't!"

"Oh, we did. Almost had matching marks for the term after I failed his exam for him, too."

"We're never going to use Astronomy," Fred shrugs, "he just had to get a mark high enough to pass the year."

"How did I end up friends with the likes of you two?" she groans, dropping her head to her hands.

Alicia cackles. "We ask ourselves that every day. Luckily, they seem to have more redeeming qualities than condemning."

"Are we sure about that?"

Katie laughs. "To be determined, but so far, yeah."

"We're right here, you know?"

"Oh, shut up, Gred," Lee says. He pauses, looks up. "I'm so sorry; you are Gred, aren't you?"

The group breaks in to laughter, save for the twins who roll their eyes at their friends, but still break out in to grins.

*\

Alicia waves at the boys' dormitory steps from across the room and Hermione takes that as her cue. She activates the sonorous charm and steps forward. "Happy birthday!"

"Ahh!" Fred shouts, jumping away from Hermione's amplified voice. "Bloody hell, 'Mine! Are you trying to make this birthday my last? My heart isn't as strong as it used to be!"

She rolls her eyes, tapping her throat to take the spell off. She looks to the steps, nearly falling to her knees when she sees George sprawled across them. She laughs and laughs and laughs, unable to control herself. The girls join her and Angelina throws an arm around her shoulders to help keep her standing. "The only thing I regret in this is that you didn't get to see their faces."

That only makes Hermione laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah," George says, getting to his feet. "Are we going to breakfast or what?"

"Where's Lee?" Fred asks.

"Upstairs, probably," Katie says. "We warned him what we were going to do and he told us to send one of you up for him after."

The twins look at each other, and then call up the stairs. "Traitor!"

Lee pops out. "Oh, is it over? Can I come down now? Morning, everyone!"

*\

"What d'you think happened there?" Angelina nods at the hourglass, indicating the absence of the 150 points Gryffindor had lost last night (while Harry and Harmione secretly were trying to actually save a dragon's life and groundskeeper's job, thank you very much). Hermione groans and buries her face in her hands. "'Mione?"

"Got to be a mistake, doesn't it?" Katie shrugs.

Hermione groans again.

"Hermione?" Alicia murmurs, shaking her shoulder.

She lifts her head and starts packing her bag. "I'm so sorry." She pushes herself up from the table and moves to leave, but Alicia catches her wrist.

"Sorry for what?"

"For that," she snaps, flicking her eyes to the hourglass. She yanks her wrist from Alicia's hand. "I'm so sorry, alright?" her eyes start to brim with tears because she is sorry and she made a terrible mistake and she really does need to leave before—

"Morning!" an overly familiar voice chimes.

Oh no.

"I need to go," Hermione mutters, rushing from the Hall.

She hears the twins and Lee questioning the girls. She can't stick around to hear the answers.

*\

"What did Harry do?"

Hermione looks up. She'd retreated to the library to get some form of peace during breakfast. She's not sure how long it's been, but she shouldn't be surprised that Fred and George have found her. She isn't surprised really. She's just a bit confused, especially with that opening line. Fred is standing there, hands pressed against the table as he leans his full weight on to them. The heels of his hands are turning a pale white. His fingers are still. It's a stark contrast to their first encounter in the library, at this same table so many months ago. George stands behind him at his full height, arms crossed over his chest.

Hermione stares. "What?"

"It's going around that Harry, Neville, and you are the reason we lost the points. There's no way you'd do anything to lose points like that, so what did Harry—"

"Don't be so sure," she snaps.

Fred scoffs. "You whined when you lost five points, you think I'll believe you were willingly a part of—"

"Considering I'm never an unwilling participant because I can fight my own battles, yes. I'm not a child, nor am I a push over, nor am I an idiot. Don't blame my friends for my mistakes."

George narrows his eyes. "You still haven't said what you've done. I'm willing to wager it wasn't your mistake to make."

"I haven't said because it's not your concern."

"No—" Fred shakes his head. He moves so he's stood up straight and comes around the table to sit next to her book. "No. See, the last time you said that, you locked yourself in a bathroom for hours and ended up fighting a troll. I'm not about to have you go off an fight a dragon now."

Hermione has to hide her face so they can't see the quirk of her lips. "Then it's too bad that you can't force me to tell you anything, because I'm not saying a word."

"'Mione," George says warningly.

"No."

"'Mine," Fred says harshly. "Talk to us. We're you're friends."

"So is Harry, believe it or not. There was a misunderstanding but we couldn't tell McGonagall the truth, because a lot more people would have been in trouble, okay? That's all I'm going to tell you."

"Hermione—"

"Would you stop!" she hisses. "I'm not going to tell you, not now at the very least, and I'd actually like to get some studying done. So if you're not going to leave, I am."

George looks at Fred. "C'mon, Freddie."

Fred glares, nostrils flaring.

"Fred," George whispers, giving Hermione a sad look.

Fred waits another moment, and then shoves himself away from the table at last.

They don't find her for the rest of the term, and she doesn't find them.

*\

"He's worried about you, you know?" Alicia sighs. "George tries to keep him in line but I think he feels responsible for you."

"Well, he's not," Hermione says.

"No," Alicia says. "He's not. But he cares. We all do. You're our friend, Hermione. You're the twins' closest friend beyond Lee. And your other best friend is The Boy Who Lived, who doesn't have the best track record and has already gotten you in to some pretty sticky situations that could have had some serious repercussions. You've taken the fall for him more than you should already."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Not you too. I got myself in to those situations. I'd do it again. I'd hope for different results, but I don't regret what I've prevented."

"I'm not saying anything against that, 'Mione. I'm just saying that we care, so we're going to get scared, and worried, and upset, and even angry," she explains. "It doesn't mean we're against you or Harry—or that we don't think Harry is a good friend. It just means you're our priority."

*\

"You stupid girl," a voice hisses, pulling her backwards into a hug. She recognizes both the voice and the hold as Alicia.

Hermione laughs. She pries the arms from around her neck and turns to face her friend. "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you, but I couldn't not help Harry."

"You can always tell me, Hermione," she says seriously. "I know there are times that I won't like it or that I'll think it's dangerous and will want to go to a professor, but I trust you. I want you to know that you can always trust me, okay?"

Hermione smiles. "Thank you."

Angelina, Katie, and Lee are standing behind Alicia, and Hermione turns to them. Angelina and Katie both move in to hug her at the same time. "We were so worried when we woke up to the news this morning. Hearing that Harry and Ron were in the infirmary and you weren't in your dorm and—"

"I'm fine."

"Fred and George have words for you," Lee smirks from the back of the group. "They're with Ron right now, but they're not happy."

Hermione sighs. "I wasn't expecting them to be. Thanks for the warning, anyways."

"Best not to avoid them too long," he advises.

"I was headed back to Harry and Ron after I got breakfast, so I'm sure I'll run in to them."

"No need," a new voice enters. Hermione whips her head around to find the twins. Both of them are stony faced, but she's just—oh, she's just so relieved to be in their presence again.

She leaps up and runs, colliding with both of them. They each wrap an arm around her, and she struggles to get an arm around each of them—struggles to hold them as close as she longs to. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what was going on. It's not my business to tell."

"The moment he dragged you in to it it became your business to tell," George says.

"He didn't drag—"

Fred squeezes her to his body. "Yeah, yeah. You can still tell us. Where you're involved, we'll help you out. Trust us."

"And Ron."

"Sometimes Ron," he says, teasingly. "Always you."

Hermione rolls her eyes and pulls away. She looks up to both of them. They're staring down at her with… relief? "You're one of my best mates, 'Mione," George says. "But you're so bloody stupid. Don't you dare put yourself or my brother at risk like that again."

"At least not without telling us," Fred adds. "So then we can help."

"No!" Alicia calls. "No stupidity allowed at all! I like my friends alive!"

"I am alive!" Hermione argues.

Each of them laughs—laughs filled will joy and relief and mirth and contentment. They'd be going home in three day and separated for weeks on end, but they are where they belonged for now, and are armed with the knowledge that they'll be returning come September to this family they belong to.

---

Thank you sincerely for giving this a chance. I hope this does each character justice over the story we're about to take. Any comments are genuinely loved and feedback would be appreciated. I am very American so Britpicking is more than welcome!