Chapter One: There's no place like London

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit

And the vermin of the world in habit it

-Sweeney Todd

There are only a few things in this world Fred Weasley hates. Sour candies (they're evil, who hides something sour in something that's supposed to be sweet?), You-Know-Who, Slytherins winning the House or Quidditch cup, Homework (that goes without saying), and cats.

No, seriously, Fred hates cats. They're clearly hell-bent on world domination and are willing to do anything to get it.

So, Fred found himself with a bit of a dilemma. He had the perfect flat-mate, really she was, but her cat was staring at him with a pleased grin. Evil little thing probably knew just how much Fred disliked it. It wasn't even a proper cat. It was a weird, funny looking, hybrid thing. Half kneazle or something. Either way, it's orange fur was patchy, it was bandy legged, and had a seriously smushed face.

Crookshanks was clearly not amused by Fred's assessment of him, but he was enjoying the fear Fred was radiating.

Let's review, shall we?

The year was 2003, five years since the Great War and the Battle of Hogwarts. Five years since Harry tricked the world into thinking he'd died, only to come back and deliver a good old-fashioned whooping to You-Know-Who. Five years since Fred and George had reopened WWW. Five long, fun, more or less happy, years. Business was booming and life was good.

Until George Weasley got down on one knee and asked Angelina Johnson to be his bride. Fred had been deliriously happy for the couple until he realized, while cracking open the bubbly, that it meant something horrible. Fred's twin, his best friend, his other-freaking-half, would be moving out.

The twins lived above 93 Diagon Alley, over WWW. It was the way it was, and had been, since the day they opened the business. They'd agreed upon buying the building that whoever got married first (neither one expected it to happen within twenty years-way to stick to the plan, Georgie) would move out, and the single twin would stay at the flat.

George moved out a week after the proposal, and Fred was left to realize just how lonely the two bedroom flat actually was. It consisted of five rooms: a kitchen/dining room, a sitting room, a loo, and two bedrooms. With only Fred living in it, the place felt like Hogwarts. Huge, and very, very empty. Fred Weasley, half of the dynamic duo, the terrorsome twins, the Gryffindor Gurus, the Jokers, was short one twin.

Fred had found himself talking to himself an alarming lot. He also started to hold conversations with the coat rack. When he imagined its responding, he decided it was time to do the obvious.

Fred Weasley needed a flat-mate.

It seemed a remarkably simple idea that should be easy to solve. Fred took out an ad in the Daily Prophet that stated the following: Wanted, one flat-mate. Address 93 Diagon Alley. 2 bedroom flat w/ kitchen, sitting room and one loo. Apply at WWW on 93 Diagon Alley.

He promptly regretted it. Maybe he hadn't been specific enough. Maybe it was just a bad time for flat-mates. Either way, Fred quickly found out he wasn't the only lonely, magical, person in England. He was, however, one of the few normal ones.

Fred detested that word, especially when it was applied to him. He was not normal, thank you very much, and he was happy that way. He liked to be loud and disruptive. He liked to stand out from the crowd and be different. He reveled in his uniqueness.

After a week of flat-mate searching, he discovered he wasn't weird so much as happy and loud. No, Fred did not even come close to weird. It was scary how weird people seemed to be, and how all of the weird people now wanted to be his flat-mate.

The first person to respond to his post in the Daily Prophet was a young witch, twenty-four, that had been at Hogwarts (supposedly, Fred didn't remember ever seeing her there) and had a strange love for old dolls. He could have lived with that (even if they were creepy and seemed to stare at him with their unblinking eyes) but he could not and would not live with her other hobby. He would not spank her while she ate fried fish, no matter how much she asked.

His next one was a bloke in his thirties. He was rather over-weight, but Fred didn't care too much about any of that. It wasn't until he mentioned that enjoyed drinking that Fred was suspicious. A quick check in with his previous landlord proved extremely insightful. The man apparently drank nonstop and would, without fail, get so pissed he would urinate on the front steps to the building every single night.

Fred moved to the next girl, decided against her because she wouldn't pay rent on time. The next two blokes were both fond of walking around naked (one while singing opera and the other while reading a newspaper.)

The next one was by far the most exciting. He was in his twenties, well-educated from Bulgaria, and paid his rent. He didn't walk around naked or drink a lot. He seemed normal, and nice. Fred was just finishing the interview when the problem appeared.

Fred still doesn't know how anyone found out, but in the middle of a question about rent payments, five aurors popped into his flat and leveled their wands at the bloke.

He was a wanted drug dealer. Harry thanked Fred for holding onto him, and then took the git to Azkaban.

Ten prospects later, and Fred was getting worried. Seriously, some creepy witches and wizards wanted to live with Fred. There was a schizophrenic, a death eater, and a person that told him he would only wear Fred's clothes. What should have been remarkably easy-finding a flat-mate-was turning out to be a tour through all the scary people in England.

Fred half wondered if he could talk George out of moving in with Ange. Or, better yet, maybe they could just both move here.

Then Harry, the Boy Who Lived, Chose One, and Voldemort's Bane, saved Fred.

"You know, Hermione is looking for a flat. Maybe you should check with her?" Fred had flooed her that evening, and he now found himself sitting across from Hermione and her evil cat.

"I trust everything is in order." It marveled Fred how Hermione managed to sound prim even when she was sitting with a furry, would be tiny tyrant in her lap.

"Yeah, it's even alphabetized." Fred flipped through the pages without interest. He didn't need all the references, resume, or thirty page dissertation about why she was the perfect flat-mate. (Seriously, who wrote thirty pages on that? Fred couldn't even think of thirty pages worth of material about Pranks, and that was his life!) He already knew Hermione was pretty much perfect. He had lived in the same tower with her for five years. (Okay, four and a half, but who was counting?)

Point was, he already knew she'd be the perfect flat-mate. Well, pretty near perfect. She had been a little annoying with the whole prefect-no-pranks thing… Come to think of it, she had been very against anything that wasn't studying. Hopefully she no longer did that-they weren't at Hogwarts anymore, after all. Fred didn't need someone to mother him, and he certainly didn't need a flat-mate that did that.

No, the only problem would probably be the cat. After his other interviewees though, a cat hardly seemed problematic.

Crookshanks flicked his tail and smirked. Something that a cat shouldn't be able to do, but Crookshanks had perfected.

"So, Crookshanks would be living with us?" Hermione furrowed her brow and nodded her head slowly.

"Oh, of course." She bit her lip and studied her familiar for a moment before adding in a rush; "but he's house trained and I take care of all his needs. You'll never even notice him."

Oh, Fred would notice him. Fred would never forget him less he try to attack Fred in the middle of the night. Hermione was biting her lip again, clutching Crookshanks to her chest tightly. Her eyes were suspiciously bright and refused to meet Fred's. Fred had enough experience with Hermione to know what that meant. She was panicking, but Fred couldn't figure why. She was still living in a flat, it wasn't like she'd been evicted or anything.

Fred was also leery. He still remembered living with her at Hogwarts. Fred didn't need someone yelling at him all the time. He wouldn't be able to handle it if she was manic about pranks and cleaning stuff. He really didn't want to live with someone that was going to mom him all the time.

"So, why here?" He didn't mean to ask it, but Fred said it out loud so he just went with it. Hermione startled a little and clutched Crookshanks tighter. If she kept it up Fred wouldn't have to worry about the cat because she would have strangled him. Crookshanks' eyes bugged out a little. He apparently agreed with Fred's assessment.

"I just really, really need to get out of my flat. This is my best option. I don't make a lot at the ministry, and I can't move somewhere that isn't magical with Crookshanks. Which also means I have to have somewhere pet friendly."

Fred studied her, taking in the way she was fidgeting, her downcast eyes, and the light blush coloring her cheeks. Whatever was wrong, she clearly didn't want to talk about it. She also clearly needed out, and Fred needed a flat-mate. He wouldn't leave her on her own, not after all she'd done to help Harry and his brother in Hogwarts.

Besides, he was a little terrified to see what the next prospect would be like. He could live with Hermione. Who knew, Fred might even talk her into helping with prank inventing. She was certainly brilliant enough!

"I tend to experiment at all hours, and it's usually loud. I talk a lot-regardless of whether I'm alone or not. I'm a horrible cook and I'm messy. I only have friends over on the weekends, and I hate having a lot of people over during the weekdays. It throws my schedule off. That said, I'll let anyone sleep over if they need to. Also, I tend to have pranks set up all over the place. I don't even remember where half of them are at. You will be experimented on, it's nothing personal, it's just gonna happen."

Hermione had sat still, eyes wide, during his entire spill. Now she blinked twice and offered a timid grin.

"I'm a heavy sleeper, so you won't bother me, and I'm brilliant at silencing charms. I'm quiet, but I don't mind listening to others talking, as long as you don't mind my ignoring whatever you're saying while I read. I'm a decent cook-as long as I have ingredients, but I love take-away too. I'm used to living with your brother and Harry, so messy doesn't bother me. I won't clean up all your stuff though. I'm fine with only having friends on the weekends. If you do something truly horrible to me though, I will retaliate. That said, I'm alright with accidental experimentation, or advance warning."

Fred grinned, dropped the papers Hermione had given him about why she was a good flat-mate on the table, and reclined back. "Brilliant. Any quirks I should know about? The reading thing doesn't bother me."

Hermione flashed a toothy smile. "I am extremely protective of my books-I'll knock you silly if you hurt one. I do a lot of things the muggle way, like cleaning. I occasionally sleep walk and talk. Only in French though."

Fred couldn't let that go. "Wait," he held up a hand to stop her, "You sleep talk in French?"

Hermione blushed beet red and nodded her head. "Yes, only when I'm stressed."

"That is amazing."

A shy smile later, and Hermione was continuing. "Also, Crookshank hates mice." She considered her cat for a moment, "and he turns nearly catatonic in front of a fire."

Crookshanks hissed and shook his head in annoyance. Fred grinned and nodded his head. He was fairly certain he'd need to know all the weakness the cat had to survive.

If this goes horribly, I'm blaming you, George. Fred thought with a grin. He handed Hermione the lease to the apartment and pointed to the bottom. "If you sign there, you can move in as soon as you want to."

"Thank you." Hermione signed with a flourish, still biting her bottom lip.

A/N: And here is a new story. I want to write a little grown up Harry Potter, so I'm doing this as well as Between Sleep and Awake. I'll eventually get back to 'What it takes' Once I figure out just why the site took it down. In the mean time, this one is going to be fun to distract myself with.

The description of the failed flat-mates are based off my sisters and my actual roommates in college. There are some scary and crazy people out there. i can give more stories if you're interested ;)

Let me know what you think, please? Leave a review and you'll honestly make my day.