Fred rolled over as the morning light crudely hit his eyes. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes attempting to wake himself up. He could hear George grumbling about the light as well, and he made an equally irritable noise in agreement.

He rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of it rubbing his eyes again and stretching his arms up high above him. Somewhere outside their door and below their room he could hear his mother screaming like the ghoul in the attic for them to get up because if not they "would be late to pick up Harry! If you don't get out of bed in the next five seconds I'm going to come up there, and later you'll have to degnome the garden!"

That leaving comment had both Fred and George leaping out of bed at breakneck speed, and, pulling on a grey tee shirt, Fred through open the door to see Ron basically falling down the stairs he was running so quickly.

As the three boys collapsed into their seats around the table, their mother walked briskly around them, dumping mountains of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages on their plates. Ginny, who was sitting across from Charlie at the table already – Bill was still in bed – looked up quizzically at Ron asking him if he knew when Hermione was going to arrive.

"Later this afternoon. When we're picking up Harry."

George looked at Fred and winked, then smirked when Fred rolled his eyes. No doubt that George was referencing the plan they had formed for their little expedition to Privet Drive, but when Fred had risen in his seat a little upon hearing of Ron's answer, all he had been thinking of was how at least when Harry and Hermione arrived he would be able to have a decent conversation with someone who wasn't Fred, his other older brothers, or Ron, the speckled git.

"We didn't give it to him because he was a Muggle!"

Dad looked at me fiercely, as if daring me to say another word to annoy her.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," George demanded indignantly. "Isn't he, Harry?"

Harry earnestly agreed, attempting to help the twins escape from the unusually formidable Mr. Weasley. "That's not the point! You wait until I tell your mother -"

"Tell me what?"

Fred put his heads in his hands. All hope was lost now.

"Tell me what, Arthur?"

Both Fred and George turned in sync with their father, who was eyeing Mrs. Weasley nervously, waiting for all hell to break loose. Suddenly Ginny and Hermione appeared in the doorway, coming into their view.

Hermione smiled at the scene, her grin lighting up her face. He could see that her brown hair was just as bushy as always, and that she had grown a bit. But mostly everything was the same. Except for those little things. Had her eyes always been that warm chocolate brown? Had her nose always been so dainty and attractively small? Fred stopped thinking momentarily, and dumbfounded, stared at the girl who although had not changed, seemed so different.

He was snapped back into reality when she spoke: "Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?"

"He knows where he's sleeping. In my room, he slept there last -"

"We can all go," Hermione pointed out. Merlin, sometimes Ron was an oblivious troll.

He and George made to follow the quartet, but stood rooted to the spot as their fire-breathing mother from hell commanded them to stay in the kitchen. Fred reluctantly watched the foursome leave, his eyes paying specific attention to the sway of Hermione's hips as she ascended the stairs.

Shaking his head, Fred hesitantly and anxiously turned to face his mother, who was now fuming at the ears. This would turn out to be an interesting year.