George was sprawled across an armchair by the fire, and Fred thought his twin looked quite like Hermione's ginger cat, Crookshanks. His mouth was open, and he was evidently sound asleep.

Hermione herself was curled up a few chairs over, her books shrouding her. She balanced an ink pot on her lap and every once and a while she'd sink in her quill into the ink and then start scrawling again, her tongue stuck out into the corner of her mouth.

Whenever she paused for thought she'd stick the quill into her hair or behind her ear as she searched for a reference in yet another book.

Fred realised he was staring, and quickly looked back to his own essay. The common-room was deserted but for the three of them, and he reckoned it must be past midnight.

He'd meant to do a particularly vile essay for Umbridge on the applications of - of - he glanced at his essay again- defensive deferral tactics, or as Lee had aptly put it, when to run away.

Umbridge had already made him carve his apology onto his own hand for not handing the essay in on time, and he'd have another bout psychological warfare tomorrow, but Fred hadn't the heart to wake George and ask for his help.

Slowly, he began to write. He and George had identical handwriting, like everything else, and so in their characteristic scrawl he copied down the title.

He had no idea what to do next.

Fred's left hand throbbed, and he suddenly remembered an offhand comment Ron had made about Hermione and how Murtlap Essence had helped Harry.

"Hey, Hermione?" he tried.

She looked up from her books briefly. "Hmm?"

That wasn't very encouraging but the pain in his hand egged him on.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of that Murtlap Essence left, would you?"

That caught Hermione's attention. "Why, she hasn't-" and then the books were unceremoniously dumped on the floor and she made her way over to him.

"Let me see" she said, in that bokering-no-argument tone of her's, the one that oddly reminded Fred of his mother.

"Hermione, it's fine, nevermind-"

She glared at him, and then went to get the essence out of her bookbag.

Fred folded his knees up onto the armchair, making as much of a shield as he could from the oncoming wrath of Hermione.

She made her way back over again with surprising speed, the essence in bowl in her hands.

"Soak it in this for a while, it'll feel better", she said, softer than before.

"Thanks Matron Granger", he said with a wink, but they both knew it was more serious than that.

Instead of going back to her own work like he expected her to, Hermione leaned on the arm of his chair. She stared into the embers of the fire for a while, then asked, "How did you end up with that anyway?".

Fred considered making a joke out of it, but it was that time of night where you could actually tell the truth, and he was too exhausted to lie anyway.

"Didn't hand up my essay in time. Still haven't started it, to be honest."

"Here, I'll give you a hand-" she began, with that tone she took with Ron and Harry, and then paused.

"Actually, no I wouldn't be any good to you; we won't have got that far yet."

Fred looked at her. "Are you kidding? Hermione, you're the brightest person I've ever met. If I wrote down a rant about Umbridge, but used your words, I'd probably still get full marks cause it would be so damn brilliant."

That made her laugh, her front teeth large in her smile in an adorable way, and she relaxed against the armrest.

- if only he could make her laugh like that more often.

"If you have that much confidence in me, then fine, let's start this."

She just got him talking about the subject first, casually, and although he was doing a study session, it didn't feel too bad. Hermione was natural teacher, and he found himself saying things about defensive deference that he had no idea he even knew.

An essay grew in fragments; a couple of lines at a time in the beginning, and then paragraphs.

"You should quote Aurors International Bureau in your conclusion here, they've got some very relevant points", she said, leaning over him about two hours later, her brown hair tickling his nose gently as she pointed at a section near the end of the scroll. She had subconsciously went from leaning on the arm of the armchair closer and closer to him as the night wore on, not that he'd minded.

Fred slowly took his left hand out of the Murtlap Essence, hoping she wouldn't notice,and placed it very carefully on the floor, and then wrote what she said.

"That's brilliant, you're right, thanks. "

"Of course I am" she said, but she smiled, and Fred didn't know whether he was just sleep-deprived and grateful for the relief the Murtlap Essence had brought and for the help with the essay: or whether this was something that he'd thought of for quite a while now but had never acted on,

but he leaned forward just a notch and softly kissed her on the mouth.

"Thank you" he said again.

Hermione looked at him with undisguised panic, and he was suddenly very afraid that he had messed up badly.

The fire had gone out an hour or so ago but he felt the cold now for the first time, and he desperately wished that you could disapparate at Hogwarts so he could get away.

But then the unexpected happened: she laughed.

Now Fred was a great appreciator of comedy most of the time, but he didn't like much when a girl laughed after he kissed her. Especially a girl that he'd been trying to make laugh for months, and now he found out the trick to it was as easy - and yet as difficult- as kissing her? That didn't do a lot for his confidence.

But then Hermione did the truly unexpected, and kissed him back, her hands naturally running up through his hair, another sliding along onto the back of his neck. They were warm and yet not was he was focusing on at all.

He was focusing on the feel of her lips on his, the soft and welcome pressure - and then suddenly aware of the angle she was siting at.

With sudden confidence he placed a firm hand on each of her hips and lifted her- she was much lighter than he'd thought- and re-arranged her so that she was on his lap, facing him.

He was terribly afraid then that that was too much, but she laughed again, in delight - it had been this easy, all along, to make her laugh?- and then leaned back into him, smiling.

Their noses bumped a little and so he tilted his head and then they were doing what could only be called snogging. He held her lower back for dear life; his mind raced and his pulse notably quickened and he couldn't believe she wasn't mentioning it, seeing as she was pressed right up against his bony chest, how could she not hear his heart thudding like a knife against a chopping board?

Hands explored, as they are like to do, and admittedly his may have left her lower back, and she ran her own slowly down his thighs, and he couldn't help but shiver a little, though it was plenty warm again.

He'd expected her to be the sort to bump teeth- though he was perfectly fine with that too, everything in its time - and he had never imagined a situation like this, where she was pressed right on top of him, and he was the one shaking, not her.

She broke off suddenly though, and Fred let the euphoria seep out of him. This was the end. She'd say, this was a mistake, and then she'd say, goodnight Fred.

Hermione must have seen it in his eyes, because she explained apologetically, her voice breathless- he had made her breathless- "no, it's just - George!"

Fred, for probably the first time in his life, had cleanly forgotten he had a twin. George was still asleep in the corner, oblivious.

Fred looked back at Hermione, who was tracing soft runes onto the tops of his thighs with the tips of her fingers, which was making it just a little bit difficult to focus on the current problem.

They looked at one another.

"You can't come up to mine, the stairs-"

"Lee's already asleep in mine-"

and they both laughed then, because just like the way he'd pulled her onto his lap, it wasn't like that, a bedroom would be just a place to escape to- though of course he was absolutely perfectly fine with the other option bedrooms brought-

Hermione shifted an infinitesimal amount then, and that microscopic grinding motion hitched his breath.

"Oh" she said in a normal voice, like she'd just discovered an intriguing fact about Goblin Riots or something, but then she began to move in and out, in and out, and Fred was at a loss for words, another first for him.

He was meant to be the one wooing her, and yet he couldn't concentrate on anything other that simple rocking motion, the weight of her body sliding over and back on top of him.

He looked up at the ceiling of the common-room, looking for any distraction, any way to get his breath back.

What a beautiful ceiling, he reflected, his breaths shaky, what lovely-

"Fred", Hermione said softly, and his resolve broke and he looked at her again. She looked beautiful.

Her hair was tousled, her cheeks were red and her eyes lidded from tiredness. He leaned forward and cupped both hands around her face, framing it.

His hands must be huge; they dwarfed her face and that was so adorable that he was kissing her again and she was kissing him and this was all he ever had wanted-

and now they were kissing and more, and unbidden, his hands left her face and then she was the one caught for breath, panting softly into his ear and yes, this was bliss-

He woke before dawn to find Hermione asleep in his arms, her head nestled against his chest.

The common-room was empty. George had evidently woken and left at some stage in the night. Fred knew there would be hell to pay at breakfast this morning, but he didn't care in the slightest. He closed his eyes again, just feeling her weight against him, content as he'd ever been.