September 20

Hermione was frantic. She had little less than forty-five minutes to coax her cat up from the floor vent. Now instead of showering she was laying down on the floor trying her best to remind her cat why her apartment was infinitely preferable to the vents. In the past half hour she'd done everything she could think of to get his attention once she discovered her arm didn't go past the u-bend in the vent. She'd tried dropping a disturbing amount of gouda, anchovies, and cat nip into the vent hoping that would entice Crookshanks to stick his head out far enough to grab. When that didn't work, she'd begun pitching cheese and fish as far as she could around the bend to draw him out.

Now she was reduced dangling a toy mouse from the laces of her trainers down into the vent. She slowly began to lower the mouse, jumping a bit as Crookshank's paw darted out and dragged the mouse into the vent with him. Hermione pulled at the string, a grin forming as she saw the tips of his ears coming out. Her grin was shortlived, however, as Crookshanks found a footing in the vent and yanked hard on the mouse, dragging the shoe lace out of her hand and down the vent with him.

She briefly wondered how much trouble she'd be in if she called emergency services to come fish her cat out of the vent.

Sighing, Hermione decided to change tactics. "Crooks, baby. Don't you want to come back in here with me? It's much more comfortable and clean. And look, I've got all your favorite treats and toys," she told him as she squeezed his favorite mouse. Crookshanks gave a short meow and she could hear him padding further down the vent. Hermione growled in frustration and sat up. She glanced at the clock on the wall – 9:30. If she didn't get in the shower now she wouldn't have the chance of making it downstairs in time.

"Fine. Stay down there. See if I care you ruddy cat." Hermione turned around, determined to leave the stubborn cat to his fate. Her resolve faltered as soon as she made it to her bedroom door. She ran back to the vent hoping to see Crookshank's flattened face staring at her.

"Crooks, come on, please," she pleaded with the cat. "I can't stay here all day waiting on you." No response. Sighing, she gave up and made her way to the shower.

xxxx

Hermione emerged showered and dressed twenty minutes later. She glanced around anxiously hoping to find some sign of Crookshanks. Images of her poor cat stretched out in the vent above flames from the basement furnace began flashing through her mind and she ran over to the vent. She groaned when there was no sign of him. Crouching down, Hermione began clicking her tongue to get his attention.

"Crooks, it's time to come out. I've got an important meeting I need to get to and I can't leave you down there all day." She reached into the vent wriggling her fingers. A knock came from her door and she ignored it in favor of trying to bribe her cat.

"Come on baby. You're not in trouble. If you come out I promise to make you curry with extra cheese, just so long as you get your fat orange butt up here," she growled.

She heard a muffled laugh coming from the door and glanced up at it. Whoever it was it seemed they weren't planning on leaving anytime soon. Hermione stood up and brushed the dust and fur off her jeans as she walked towards the door. Hermione threw the door open only to find her cat lounging around Fred Weasley's neck like some demented purring scarf. Fred nodded at her in greeting.

"He was in the bread box this time. Gave Ang a bit of a scare this morning when she went to make some toast."

Hermione sighed in relief and motioned him in. "Oh thank goodness. I was scared I'd have to call someone to pull him out before he made his way into the basement furnace." Hermione reached up to take her cat from Fred but pulled back when his ears went flat and his eyes narrowed at her. Hermione scowled back at her cat.

"First he runs down the vent and refuses to come out and now he's mad that I left him there. Are you sure you don't want to keep him?"

Fred laughed as he pulled Crookshanks from around his neck. "George would kill me. Do you know he likes to sit on the edge of the tub and watch people shower? Freaked Ang out to no end. Your cat that is, not George. Mum broke him of that habit years ago."

Hermione laughed and took her squirming cat from him. "I would hope so. Boys are so much easier to train when they're young," she teased.

She took Crookshanks to her bedroom and closed the door behind her, not wanting to take the chance her cat would run to the vents again. She could hear him growling and scratching at the door as she walked away. "I wouldn't have to lock you in if you listened every now and then," she scolded.

"I take it he went through this way?" Fred asked her, leaning over the back of her couch.

Hermione nodded. "He ran under my feet this morning as I was making coffee and I accidently stepped on him. I chased after him to check and see if he was alright but he'd already run under the couch. By the time I moved everything around to get back there he'd jumped in and refused to come out."

"That would explain the redecorating," Fred mumbled as he moved back behind the couch. Hermione looked around and saw that she'd moved every bit of furniture in the living room in her frantic attempts to chase her cat down. She bit her lip and began nudging the love seat back against the wall.

"Do you have a screwdriver? Phillips should do it," Fred asked, his voice drifting over from behind her sofa.

"Who? Is that the new landlord?"

Fred's head popped up behind the couch and he grinned at her. "The guy who made that particular screwdriver I would assume."

"Oh! Is it the flat one or the pointy one?" she asked.

"The pointy one."

Hermione began rummaging around in her front closet, looking for the toolbox her father had bought her when she'd first moved in. He'd been adamant that she have some tools around just in case something broke. She doubted keeping her cat out of her neighbor's bread box was what he'd hand in mind. Finding the right screwdriver, she leaned over the back of the couch and handed it to Fred. She could hear the metal slide across the floor and watched as he twisted the screws back into place. Less than a minute later he was done.

"That should do it," Fred told her as he stood up. "Unless the barmy thing's learned how to use a screwdriver." He returned her screwdriver and came back around the couch, stopping to shove her loveseat further against the wall. He really was helpful to have around, wasn't he?

"Honestly, I would put it past him," Hermione told him as she began putting the toolbox away. "I caught him playing with TV remote once and ever since then I've been convinced he watches soaps on it while I'm at work."

She turned around to find that Fred had already moved the couch against the wall and was beginning to move her coffee table. She walked to the other side and began to help move it.

"I had a business trip last year and Harry and Neville were supposed to watch him for me while I was gone," she grunted as she began to shove at her end. Had her table always been this heavy? "By the time I'd reached the hotel, Neville had called at least five times saying they'd lost him. I couldn't go anywhere at the time so I went up to my room and popped open my suitcase to change. Turns out he'd snuck into my suitcase when I wasn't looking."

"Just so long as he doesn't show up in George's suitcase. Don't think either one would survive that," Fred told her as they finally managed to center the table. "What is this made of anyways? Stone?"

"Er, granite, actually. It's why I can't ever move again."

"Why's that?" Fred asked as he took a seat on the corner of the table and rubbed his arms.

Hermione stood up and shook out her arms. "After they dragged it up the stairs Harry and Neville threatened to never speak to me again if I moved. Neville even threated to superglue it to the floor so I couldn't ever take it with me."

"If it ever comes to that, I'll gladly supply him with the superglue. How on earth did you manage to move that by yourself?"

Hermione straightened up and placed her hands on her hips. "I am stronger than I look you know."

Fred only laughed. He threw his thumb back towards the pictures she had on the wall behind him. "I'm guessing that's them then?"

Hermione hummed and smiled. "Yes, they're my best mates. Saved me from a bully when we were in our first year at school and we've been inseparable ever since." Fred glanced back at the pictures. "They've liked each other for years but never did anything about it until we went to university. It's one of those romantic stories everyone always hears about but never actually happens. They really are brilliant together. I don't know what I'd do with them."

She smiled softly at the pictures before she realized that Fred had turned his attention back to her. She cleared her throat and glanced at the clock to find it was fifteen after ten. "We should probably get going if we want to eat beforehand."

Fred agreed and stood up to stretch. Hermione opened her bedroom door and Crookshanks took off to the kitchen before she could stop him. They made small talk as she gathered her things, stopping on their way out to lock the door.

"I meant to ask earlier, but did your apartment smell like old fish and cheese this morning round about nine? It was the oddest thing. We couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from."

Hermione shook her head and smiled before ducking into the stairwell to cover her flush of embarrassment. "Nope didn't smell a thing."

xxxx

"You know, it would have been nice if you'd mentioned you had a twin last Friday." Hermione told Fred as she mopped up the last of her eggs with a piece of toast. They'd managed to make it to the bookstore in almost record time and agreed to have breakfast at a small diner across the street.

Fred looked up at her and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Why's that?"

Hermione paused to take a final bite before she continued. "I may have made a pass at your brother the other night thinking it was you after I'd split a few bottles of wine with Parvati and Lavender."

"Really?" Fred stopped and thought a minute. "Wait. Don't tell me you're the bird who grabbed his arse when he went to get the mail?"

Hermione blushed and turned to pick up her coffee. "I didn't grab his ass," she said. "I discreetly brushed against it in a provocative manner in order determine his interest." She looked up at him, mischief in her eyes. "I may also have catcalled him and complimented said arse when he walked up the stairs in front of me."

Fred broke out in loud laughter and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "It's really not my fault, though. Think about it! One day you're snogging me senseless on my couch after sitting on my fire escape all day and letting me feed you curry, and not three days later you refuse to even look at me or say anything more than, 'I see,' or 'You've got a spot on your face.' I was beginning to wonder whether you had multiple personalities or something."

Fred winked at her. "Senseless, eh?"

Hermione threw her napkin at him, laughing. "Oh, hush."

xxxx

"That was brilliant, wasn't it?" Hermione asked as she walked down the aisles of the bookstore. She'd enjoyed the talk immensely and while she was disappointed her father wasn't able to make it, she was happy with her choice of company. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books beside her before stopping at one in particular. She lifted it off the shelf and flipped it over to read the back cover.

"It was, wasn't it? I've been wanting to hear him talk for ages but have never been able to get ahold of tickets before they'd sold out. Thanks for inviting me, I really appreciate it."

Hermione smiled at him before putting the book back on the shelf. "Not a problem. I just wish my dad could have seen it. He's always loved a good spy novel and growing up I always remember him with a book in his hand. He's the one who got me into reading, really."

Fred held up the heavy bag of books Hermione had purchased. "Is that why you got so many of them?"

"Yes. He had to get rid a lot of the books he'd had for years when he moved to a smaller apartment. It wasn't until this past year that he's started reading again like he used to so this should be a nice surprise for him."

Fred opened the bag and looked inside to inspect its contents. "If that's the case, you've missed the most important ones at the beginning. These are just the latest ones in the series, bit confusing if you haven't read the first ones."

Hermione smiled at him before continuing back down the aisle. "He saved his earlier ones; what I got there should finish the set." She picked up a book further down the aisle, seemingly at random, and handed it to him. "Have you read this one? It's got a lot of the same spy elements, intrigue, cross-Atlantic mystery, and backstabbing at every turn." She handed it to him before grabbing another book just above her head. "And this one is always good for a cold day."

Hermione continued down the aisle, handing Fred books as she made recommendations, secretly pleased that he'd managed to hang on to two of the books she'd handed him. She turned the corner and came back with a copy of Catch-22 and Dune. "And these two are something I always recommend for the casual reader. Did you know it took Joseph Heller eight years to complete it? And then when it was released here it went straight to number one." She held up Dune before continuing. "And this one is full of political intrigue, treachery, giant sand worms, and general galactic chaos."

Fred laughed at her enthusiasm. "You forgot the Bene Gesserit. Despite my pretty looks, I have read a few of these." He followed her to the next aisle and watched as she returned the books to their original places. "And if we're going for book recommendations this is one I'd recommend everyone read at least once a year."

Hermione eagerly took the green book from him, always ready for new book recommendations. She scowled at him as she read the title. "Goodnight Moon? Really? And here I thought you'd be more of a Where the Wild Things Are." She replaced the book.

"Nah, reminds me too much of my brothers. Did you know my brother Charlie works with tigers?" He reached out and grabbed a different book and held it out to her. When she refused to take it he flipped it around so that she could see the title. "This is a real recommendation this time, I promise. Fantastic word building in this one and the magic is at least halfway believable."

Hermione took it from him. "I'll read just about anything once. I can't guarantee I'll like it though."

"Anything?" Fred asked her, his teasing grin slowly rising.

"Yes." Hermione brushed passed him and began walking towards the front of the store. "And before you ask, yes, I have read that particular manual, and no, I would not recommend it for everyday use. You'd end up in the hospital if you tried any of it."

Fred's laughter followed her as she made her way over to the new releases table. She glanced back and found that Fred had picked up some sort of architectural book and was flipping through it. Turning back to the table she found that Gilderoy Lockheart's newest book in The Travel Trilogy was the second most recommended book. She hesitated a moment, her hand hovering over it. His books were more associated with housewives and flights of fancy rather than something you'd want to be caught reading in public.

Deciding she didn't care who found out if she read this type of book (and if a certain person cared that was his problem, not hers), Hermione picked up the book and placed it under the one Fred had recommended. She let her eyes wander across to the other books on the table. The cover of number four was a golden ball with wings on a purple background. Large white words proclaimed it to be The Golden Snitch by G.M. Weasley. Hermione paused as her brain slowly ground into gear. She grabbed the book and flipped it over to find a smiling woman with bright red hair who bore a striking resemblance to Fred.

She stalked back over to Fred, now flipping through a car manual, and pointed the book at him accusingly. "I knew I'd heard your name before!" Fred started and almost dropped the book he was holding. He turned to her, his eyes crossing to try and focus on the book being waved in his face. "I can't believe I didn't place it before, Neville and Lavender have both been absolutely raving about these books. They haven't been this mad about a series since the Tom Riddle series hit the shelves."

Fred took the book from her and flipped it over, smiling as he recognized the author picture. "Hey, look at that. Gin's book finally came out." Hermione's jaw dropped as he began to casually read the back. "Never understood how she went from star football player to bestselling author, but Mum's never been prouder. Well, except for the smutty bits. Never could read any of it after 'Her heaving bosoms' in the first book. Bit weird thinking your baby sister thinks about that sort of thing."

"Wait. She's your sister?"

"The one and only. Mum always blamed George and I for corrupting her. She never figured out that Ginny caused more trouble than we could ever hope to."

Hermione could only gape at him. Neville would die when he found out. Lavender, on the other hand, would do her best to befriend Fred on the off chance she might meet her favorite author. Fred grinned at her astonishment. "Never had that be anyone's reaction before. Usually it's either squealing or a lecture on how my sister is going to be the downfall of modern civility as we know it."

Hermione closed her mouth with a soft click. Neville would never forgive her if she failed to take the opportunity presented. And Lavender would be needing something to read soon with the baby on the way. "Do you think she'd sign a copy out to Neville? And Lavender, she would absolutely kill me if she found out I didn't get one for her as well. I mean, it's fine if you don't want to, it's just they're so over the moon about her, and the holidays are coming up."

"I'll ask, but I make no promises. She's not too happy with me lately." Fred looked around before leaning closer to her. Hermione leaned in towards him on instinct, wondering what the big secret was. "I changed her car horn week before last during the family dinner. George was able to distract her by claiming that Old Maggie was the greatest thing since sliced bread and I was able to sneak out the back. She hasn't talked to me once she found it now honks out that Spice Girls' song that's been everywhere," he told her proudly.

"Spice Girls? That's an odd choice. I wouldn't have expected you to listen to them."

Fred winked at her. They began walking to the registers and stopped for Hermione to pick up another copy of The Golden Snitch to have signed.

"Let's just say I was hit by a sudden bout of inspiration when a certain cat made his way into my crisper." Hermione blushed at his words; she made a mental note to throw away those ridiculous pyjamas when she got home no matter how comfortable they were.

Hermione laid her books down on the registers and showed her ticket for the bag of books Fred was carrying. Fred raised an eyebrow at the book lying on top of the pile.

"Lockheart? I wouldn't have pegged you for a fan. You seem more like the sort to read Joyce or Rushdie, or Austen even."

Hermione sniffed at his comment and turned to pay. "Even literary snobs need a break every now and then you know."

Fred's grin reemerged and he held up his own copy of The Travel Trilogy that had been hiding under his architecture book. "So glad you agree."

xxxx

October 15

Three and a half weeks after the book signing, Hermione slowly eased herself in the hot bathwater. She'd had a miserable week, full of yet another series of impossible deadlines and headaches due before she could leave for the weekend. And the worst of it all was finding out that Malfoy had been promoted off of her hard work. At least the week hadn't been a complete waste if last night had been anything to go by.

"So, how did yesterday go?"

Hermione smiled and leaned back against the tub, letting the warm water and Epsom salt relax her muscles. She shifted the phone to her other ear, trying to find a comfortable spot. "With the exception of getting completely lost on the Tube and spilling wine everywhere once I'd arrived, I'd say last night went very well. Fred was a complete gentleman; he even pulled out my chair for me."

Harry chuckled. "I'm glad you made it there all right. You never did have a good sense of direction. It was the longest week of my life when we went camping and you were in charge of the map. I never thought we'd reach civilization."

"It wasn't nearly that bad," she told him. She cringed a bit when she thought about it. They'd ended up about twenty miles away from their intended campsite and all because she'd been holding the map upside down. "Besides, if it wasn't for me you'd have only packed a tent, a pair of socks, and two cans of beans. I was the only one who thought ahead and packed everything we could have needed."

"And everything we didn't need."

"Oh shush or next time I won't share my ponchos and insect repellent." Hermione couldn't keep the smile from her face. Even when Harry was teasing her he put her in a good mood.

"So things are going well with him?"

Hermione gave a small hum. "Very well, actually. Did you know he's good with his hands?" Hermione blushed as she realized what she'd said. She could almost see the smirk on Harry's face.

"Oh, really? And how is it you came to find this out."

"Not in that way! I just meant that he's handy to have around. He changed out the cabinet door that Crookshanks broke last week in ten minutes. Last time it took me two hours." She flicked a bit of water at the cat lying at the edge of her tub. Crookshanks opened one eye and turned his back to her.

"Hopefully he won't show up with take out tonight. You might propose," Harry teased.

Hermione could only laugh at that. After one too many messy break ups she'd drunkenly announced after a party that she was going to make a list of requirements for any man she'd ever consider settling down with. Number one was to get along with her cat (which Fred easily managed considering her traitorous cat preferred him to his owner, largely due to slipping him pieces of food when he thought Hermione wasn't looking). The second requirement was an understanding that Hermione was not and would never be the domestic type and would burn water if given the chance. This was followed closely by number three, a love of take-out that equaled her own.

And every year around the holidays, Hermione had dutifully gone back to add or subtract as needed, often times with the help of Harry, Neville, or Luna. ("Hermione, men just don't wear suits anymore. If you're optimistic you'll get clean jeans and a button-up, but anything more and you'll be cooped up in your apartment like a modern day Missus Havisham.") Last year she'd added 'Willing to talk about something other than his father' and 'Not suggested as a 'nice bloke' and 'dateable' by Harry James Potter' after the disastrous evening with Cormac McLaggen. This year she'd added handy with a hammer after Crookshanks had broken off three cabinet doors in the span of three weeks in retaliation for her working so late.

"I can't propose Harry, you know that. He doesn't meet requirement number nine, wears glasses, nor does he meet requirement number eighteen, a love of Little Shop of Horrors and the ability to do a drunk sing along with Neville."

"Ah, poor lad. Since he fails in those regards I suppose you'll have to toss him to the side one of these days. And here I was so eager to meet him."

Hermione snorted at that. "Harry Potter, is that sarcasm I hear?"

Harry laughed. She could hear Neville's voice in the background and picked up her wash cloth, squeezing soap into it as she waited for Harry to return to their conversation. Idly she wondered how Fred's get-together was going with his school mates downstairs. She hadn't heard anything break yet and muffled laughing was only heard every now and again.

She heard Harry mention her name and strained to hear the conversation at the end of the line. She didn't have to wait long until Harry returned to the phone. "Neville sends his love. And he tells you that you need to bring your new boyfriend over so we can run him around a bit."

Hermione chuckled at that. "He's not my boyfriend. We've only been on five dates."

"Five and a half. You forget the time you bumped into him at the coffee shop and argued with him about the ethics of the Australian's going to war against the emus."

"Well it was an entirely valid question," she argued, a bit embarrassed that they'd spent that long on a minor historical anomaly. "Besides, you and Neville needn't worry. Crookshanks has been doing a good enough job of checking up on his background references. You should see the two together; poor thing has him eating out of his hand."

"Really?" Hermione could hear the incredulity in Harry's voice. "He has Crookshanks trained? Never thought I'd see the day any man could get close to that furball."

"No, I meant that Crookshanks has Fred trained. If I didn't know any better I'd think the man kept asking me out to see my cat."

Harry laughed. "It could always be worse you know. He could be after your left shoe. We had a bloke come in this week for questioning because women were accusing him of going on dates with them solely for the purpose of stealing their left shoe."

"And what exactly is so wrong with my right shoe that it would be so neglected?"

"Bollocks if I know. But seriously, we should meet for dinner one of these nights. Things are finally starting to slow down at work now that we've gotten the first real freeze. People don't seem to want to go out much when it's below zero out. We could always meet up at that Italian place Nev's always raving about."

Hermione raised her eyebrow as she rinsed off her arms. "Italian? You've hated Italian since college. What did you do this time?"

Harry sighed, probably running his hand through his messy hair, a habit he'd never grown out of. "I might have forgotten an important dinner date and worked late on Tuesday."

"Harry! You didn't. Please tell me you didn't miss going to see Alice." Hermione could almost feel Harry wincing through the phone.

"And the worst part of it is that Alice asked where I was. I didn't think she even remembered me at this point," he added, mostly to himself.

"Poor Neville. Perhaps you could go again this weekend?"

"That's the plan. Neville's got some training he has to do for the school so it's doubtful he'd make it. He's barely started speaking to me again and I'm not sure what I can do to make things better."

"The same thing you've always done, Harry. Be there for him and makes sure he takes care of himself," Hermione told him, trying to find some way to comfort him. She pulled the drain and watched the water slowly swirl around.

Neville's father had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's when the was eight; only two years later his mother had received the same diagnoses. Frank Longbottom had passed away eight years ago after a long bout with pneumonia while Alice was still as strong as ever and on good days her personality came through as bright as a torch on a winter's night. It was a struggle for Neville when he went to visit every week, sending him into a foul mood that lasted well until the next day. It was one of those cosmic tragedies that Hermione still hadn't forgiven the universe for regardless of how much his own experiences had helped her with her own mother.

The water finally drained out of the tub and Hermione stood up and carefully stepped out onto the cold tile. She grabbed her towel and began drying off. "What about Scotland?" she asked as the idea suddenly hit her. "Weren't you two talking about visiting the old castles up there?" Crookshanks began batting at the towel and she shooed him out the door. She hung up the towel before following him out into her adjoining bedroom.

"That's actually not a bad idea."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "When have I ever had a bad idea?" she asked him before pulling out her bedclothes, deciding on her new fleece pyjamas covered in cats (a belated gift from her Great Aunt Minnie up in Caithness, along with a book detailing of the legend of King Author and Merlin in England). "He'll forgive you, Harry. Just like you'd forgive him."

"I know he will, but there shouldn't be anything to forgive. It's just been so easy lately to get caught up in the paperwork and all the little things that need to be done."

"You're only human Harry. You can't catch all the bad guys by yourself. And regardless of what Kingsley tells you it is okay to take a break every now and then."

Harry snorted. "This coming from the woman who would work eighty hours a week if given the opportunity."

Hermione scowled and pulled on the maroon robe her mother had given her when she;d entered university ten years ago. She brushed the golden lion on its breast pocket absently before tying the robe closed. "I've been better. I only worked fifty two this week."

"Yet you still didn't get that promotion despite all the time you've poured into this job."

Hermione sighed. She really didn't want to get into this conversation again. She padded into the kitchen intent on having a proper cup of tea before curling up with her new book.

"Kingsley asked about you," Harry continued. "The offer is still on the table if you're interested."

"I might have to take him up on that before long. There are rumors going around about layoffs."

"There are always rumors about layoffs going around."

"It came from Abbott in accounting this time," Hermione told him, shoving her hand further into the cupboard for her peppermint tea. She came up with chamomile and set it aside. "I really think I might be the first. Umbridge is convinced I'm nothing more than a mouthy show off and Malfoy's had it out for me since day one."

"So jump ship before it's too late and help come catch bad guys with me."

"More like saving you from yourself," Hermione muttered. She took the kettle from stove, taking care to side step Crookshanks who'd followed her into the kitchen and was winding around her ankles. As she set about making her tea a knock came from the door. "That's odd."

"What is?"

"Someone just knocked at my door."

"At this hour? Just ignore it. They'll go away," Harry told her, overly cautious as always.

"I doubt it's your left shoe bogeyman at this hour."

"It could be. There's all sorts of strange men about after ten o'clock," Harry warned as she made her way to the living room, stopping briefly to set her mug down on the coffee table. "There was a man over near the Globe going around knocking on people's doors. If they answered he budged in and threatened to steal their silverware unless they gave him their mail," he continued. "When they didn't answer he jimmied the lock and stole their mail. It really was quite odd."

"I doubt he's here tonight. Besides, I never get anything interesting in the mail, just more adverts for take-out." She opened the door an inch to see Fred standing outside with a bag of take out in his hand. She unlatched the chain and let him in, holding up a finger to let him know she was almost done. "Harry, I'll call you back tomorrow."

"Why? Who is it? Do you need help? If you're in danger say parsnip."

"It's your mail burglar demanding all of my left shoes and threatening my silverware if I didn't give it to him. I've decided to invite him in for tea and a scone instead and give a go at talking him down from it." Fred looked at her in confusion and she shook her head at him. She pointed at her cup, asking silently if he wanted one. He nodded, still looking adorably confused, and dropped down on her couch. Crookshanks took the opportunity and bounded up into his lap, happy to finally be getting attention from someone.

"It's only my neighbor Harry," she said as she walked into her kitchen. "He's come up with take-out. And not another word Harry James Potter," she scolded as he began snickering.

"Just be careful. And Neville says to call him tomorrow and update him. Apparently I don't give him enough details or something."

Hermione grabbed a mug covered in broomsticks and a tea bag to busy herself while she finished up her conversation. "I promise I'll call tomorrow. And I have an update on those rose bushes Nev's been after, they might come in earlier than expected but I'm not sure if he has room in his greenhouse. I might have to go over there and help him clean things out a bit."

"Are you trying to steal my boyfriend away from me?" Harry teased her. "Because if you want him I could always do with a bit of a break. There's a big rugby match coming up over in Liverpool that I've been wanting to steal away to."

"I'm always up for stealing him from you. He is the only one who knows how to make a proper English breakfast." Harry laughed at that; neither Harry nor Hermione had been able to determine what a proper English breakfast was despite Neville's demonstrations over the years. It hadn't helped that Neville's definition of a 'Proper English Breakfast' changed each time he found a new recipe. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Night Hermione. And if you need anything just ring."

"Will do. Thanks Harry." Tea properly made, Hermione walked into the living, mug in hand, and set the phone down in its cradle to charge. She set the mug down in front of Fred who was leaning back against her couch with his eyes closed. She shooed her cat away from the take out bag, idly wondering if he'd fallen asleep. Curious about what he'd picked up, Hermione began rummaging through the bag and opening the containers as she went. Never one to turn down an attractive man bearing free food, she did have to wonder about his sudden appearance. Wasn't his get together tonight? Or had it ended early?

She glanced over at him only to find him looking at her. She snatched her hand away from the take out bag feeling like the proverbial child with her hand in the cookie jar. Fred only smiled at her and reached for the mug in front of him.

"It's peppermint," she told him. "If you don't like it I've got loads of other tea. Chamomile, herbal, green, Earl Grey."

Fred blew on his tea before taking a sip. "Peppermint's fine."

Hermione grabbed her own mug before sitting back in the loveseat and tucking her legs up under her. She took a small sip of her tea in an effort not to begin asking the question at the forefront at her mind, namely whether he'd abandoned his own party and if he had, why? For once she decided it would be best wait out her burning curiosity. Luckily she didn't have to wait very long.

"I didn't know if you'd eaten yet, so I grabbed something from down the road. Mum always told me it was rude to show up uninvited without bringing something over. Went to that curry place down the road you introduced me to though the owner wasn't happy I'd come in so late. He threatened to ban me from the shop until I told him I was picking up something for you." Fred chuckled a bit at the memory. "Once I mentioned your name he acted like Christmas had come early. Threw in enough to feed eight and some bread I don't think he charged me for."

Hermione laughed. She knew firsthand how enthusiastic her favorite restaurateur was. "That would be Mr. Dubois. Harry and I helped him out a few years ago after his son got into some trouble over a pair of silk socks. He's always been so happy to see us since then, but it really wasn't a big deal. It was just a misunderstanding; once the socks were returned everyone was happy again."

"That would explain his gushing over you and Harry. I don't think I've ever heard so much praise before." Fred began taking the boxes out of the bag and set one down in front of each of them. "Do you want plates or are the boxes fine?"

"It's fine like this, thanks." She smiled and took a fork from him. She could get used to this kind of delivery service. "How was the party?"

"S'alright. Ducked out about halfway through. Too many people," Fred told her as opened up his box. He took a bite and swallowed before continuing. "George and Angelina announced their engagement tonight," he added in an offhand manner.

"Really? I hadn't thought they were that close. Well, my congratulations to them."

Fred laughed but it rang hollow to her ears. "Didn't even know he was planning to ask her to be honest."

"That's odd. I thought you and George were closer than that."

"I did too. At least, if I was planning on proposing to someone George'd be the first I'd tell." Fred paused and moved his food around before taking another bite. "Glad I'm not the only one who thought so. Lee seemed to think I was taking the whole thing a bit hard considering it's been ten years. It's just more that the whole things a bit uncomfortable is all."

"Ten years since what?" Hermione asked looking at him curiously.

Fred glanced at her before taking a large bite, curry dribbling down his chin. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away, staring hard at his food. "Don't know how much you want to hear seeing as how we're –" Fred paused and cleared his throat. He waved his fork around a bit, clearly unsure of how to put it. Instead of continuing he stabbed at his food. Hermione tilted her head and watched him. She found it interesting that she wasn't the only one who was unsure as to what it was they were doing with each the one hand, they had gotten rather close as friends, hanging out on weekends and running errands together. On the other hand, they'd snogged several times, once getting caught by Ms. Pomfrey across the way. She hadn't been able to look her in the eye, afraid to see that knowing grin on the older woman's face. Yet neither of them had used the word date nor had they solidified any terms of contact. It was relaxed and comfortable, and yet somehow Hermione had a feeling that if they sat down and spoke about things it would become terse conversations, fussing over how she looked, and scrutinizing every word said and every move made. Sshelved that train of thought for later analysis, preferably over a cup of tea and some mindless television program following young professionals who were more beautiful and far more hopeless than she was.

"Ang and I dated through secondary and most of university," Fred told her easily enough.

"Oh." Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "That does complicate things."

Fred snorted. "That's putting it mildly." Fred turned back to his food.

She chewed thoughtfully, wondering what she would do in that situation. The only person who could come close enough to being her George would be Harry, but they never did have the same dating pool. And they certainly didn't look like one another. Nor did they live together.

"How long have they been dating for?"

Fred glanced up from sneaking a piece of lamb to her cat. No wonder he was getting so heavy. "About nine months, give or take."

"Hm. Not long at all." Hermione took another bite, unsure of how many questions she could ask before being deemed too nosy. "Does it bother you?"

Fred shrugged. "Honestly? Not really. It's been years, and it's not as if they were dating right after we'd broken up. As long as she makes him happy and treats him right why should I try to ruin it?"

"That's very mature of you," Hermione told him. "I don't know if I'd feel the same if I was in your position."

Fred gave her a small smile and returned to his food. They ate in silence, the occasional faint laughter reminding them of the party below. When she could stand it no more, Hermione offered to put the television on mostly to cut the silence between them. "Channel Four usually has a movie on around this time."

"Sounds fantastic," he told her and she could almost hear the relief in her voice. She relaxed at his soft smile as she realized his tension stemmed more from the sounds of party downstairs rather than anything she had said.

Hermione grabbed the remote and turned on the telly, flipping over to find Conan the Barbarian playing. During commercial breaks, Fred began telling her about some of the pranks he and his brother used to play in school and she reluctantly admitted to him that it was unlikely that they'd have gotten along when they were younger. By the time the Eye of the Serpent had been stolen, the pair had finished eating and Fred offered to clean up, standing before Hermione could even protest.

"It's really not a problem, love. I did barge in here uninvited after all," he told her packing everything into the take out bag and heading towards the kitchen.

When he came back, Hermione had arranged herself on the opposite end of the couch claiming that the love seat was at an odd angle to the TV. She watched as he settled back onto the couch, closer to the middle this time. Crookshanks, ever the opportunist, jumped onto Fred's lap and curled up.

Two commercial breaks later Hermione had finally drawn up the courage to inch further down the couch. She glanced over only to find Fred slumped down in the corner of her couch fast asleep. Hermione yawned as the work week finally hit her. As she turned off the television a soft bass thumping rose to take its place. Apparently the party was still going strong downstairs and from what Fred had told her earlier about his antics in school it was unlikely to stop anytime soon.

Taking pity on the sleeping man and too tired herself to bother with waking him, she went to the hallway closet and took out the blanket and pillow normally kept for overnight guests. She made her way back to the couch and left the pillow on the armrest next to Fred before draping the blanket across his lap. She yawned again as she turned off the lights and made her way towards her bedroom, making sure to leave the door open just wide enough for Crookshanks to come and go as he pleased.

xxxx

Fred woke up to darkness and gasping for air. Something was covering his nose and mouth, blocking any air from coming in. As he sat up, he felt something small and heavy drop to his lap and he began heaving in deep breaths. He coughed and groped for his bedside lamp. Reaching only air, he looked around confused, unsure of where he'd ended up sleeping.

He heard a soft thump followed by a woman's voice groggy with sleep. "Ow, you ruddy cat. What was that for? It's 3 a.m., any other sensible creature is sleeping."

Fred's breathing slowed as he realized where he was. Apparently he'd fallen asleep at some point on Hermione's couch. Soft sounds of laughter filtered in at the edge of his hearing; apparently George's surprise engagement party was still going on. He sighed and lay back down. He'd deal with George's sulking in the morning. For now, all he wanted was to sleep and come up with a plan to convince the woman in the next room to accompany him to brunch tomorrow.

xxxx

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed and read! Especially EverchangingWords for your thoughtful offer! Hope this chapter isn't horrible. I finally decided to just wade through it the best I could, especially once I realized this was not going to end up being just a three part story as originally planned.

Below I've included the first draft of the phone conversation that was originally with Neville instead of Harry. It's rough, but I thought it might be something people are interested in seeing. If not, that's all for now! Let me know if you'd be interested in seeing more roughs like this, I'm more than happy to show the evolution of my plotting.

Also, fun fact: Cormac McCarthy is not interchangeable with Cormac McLaggen regardless of what my brain tells me. It is for this reason that Google was invented.

xxxx

"So, how did today go?"

Hermione smiled and pulled her hair back before stepping into the tub. She shifted the phone to her other ear and eased into the hot water. "Well, with the exception of me getting lost on the way to the restaurant and spilling the wine all over the table, I'd say it went quite well." Hermione still couldn't believe she was acting the nervous school girl in front of Fred. They'd known each other for about a month now, and she was still feeling giddy like a nervous school girl whenever they'd gone out.

"Really? That's fantastic," Neville told her. She could hear the faint sound of a game in the background as Neville walked through his flat. "This makes what, five dates now?"

"Five and a half, if you count tagging along with him and his brother when they went to the hardware store."

"Which you are. And from what you've told me it seems like his hit the major things on your checklist early on. If he shows up with curry tonight, promise me you won't propose this early," he teased.

Hermione laughed at that. Her infamous checklist had been a running joke between them for years. After the messy break up and accompanying fall out with Nott, Neville and Luna had surprised her with take out and wine a few weeks later. Harry was out on assignment and sent his apologies, but Hermione knew it was more likely that he'd ducked out using work as an excuse. He never knew what to say or do when things got emotional, that was more Neville and Hermione's area.

Three bottles in, Hermione had stood up and loudly announced that she'd never be serious about another man unless he meet the requisite criteria. She'd ran to her bedroom (sliding on the linoleum tile and almost breaking a mirror) to grab a notebook and pen. Brandishing them like a sword and shield, she sat down in front of Luna and Neville to begin the list, her two friends adding suggestions and vetoing certain aspects ("Hermione, men don't wear suits anymore. It's just not done. You might as well go for clean jeans and a button up if you're serious about it.") The first on the list required that he get along with her cat, followed shortly by an understanding of her lack of cooking skills and a love of take-out curry.

Since then, she'd gone back and adding and subtracted to the list as she got older. She'd added handy around the flat after Crookshanks had broken off the door where she kept his food and willing to talk about something other than himself after the disastrous few dates with McCormack from Harry's work.

"Don't forget glasses," she teased back. "You of all people should understand that. Unfortunately he fails in that regard, I'm afraid I'll have to toss him at some point. Shame too with those arms."

Neville just laughed. "I'm glad things are going well. What does he do anyways?"

"He's a mechanical engineer as far as I can tell. He started off telling me he focuses on the mechanical, then he started talking about chemistry, and went into technical details about engines and chemicals and I'm afraid I might have gotten a bit distracted after that. Did you know when he smiles he's only got one dimple on the left?

Neville laughed again. "Sounds like he's a bit like you. Can't see the forest for the trees."

"Hey, I'm not that bad!"

"Not that bad? Hah! Who decided a baby shower was the perfect place to tell us all exactly what it was in wine that gave you a hangover and then proceeded to list all the major additives and then gave a detailed analysis about how the French wine embargoes in the 19th century affected today's legal precedent on jaywalking or some such nonsense."

Hermione paused, holding her razor up as she thought back. "I said that?"

"And then went into a detailed reenactment of the Emu war in Australia."

"Neville, promise me two things."

"What?"

"You never let me drink champagne again and you never breathe a word of this to anyone."

Neville laughed. Hermione rinsed off her legs and pulled the plug in the drain. She stood up and grabbed her towel. "It really is a shame you won't talk to Luna, you'd be brilliant for her paper. You'd just have to write down whatever it is that goes on in that fuzzy head of yours while drinking, then go back in and edit it the next day. I'm sure she'd love to have you."

Hermione sighed and pulled on her maroon robe with the lion on the breast pocket. It had been the last gift she'd received from her mother and it always gave her a sense of security when she needed it most. "Unfortunately I may need to take you up on that soon. Apparently they'd lost some big genius as a client and there are rumors of layoffs. With Malfoy being promoted I don't see myself being there for much longer."

"I'm sorry to hear that love. You know, the offer from Kingsley is still on the table."

"So Harry keeps telling me." Hermione walked into her kitchen, looking into her fridge to find nothing but left over take out and a half finished bottle of wine. She glanced at the take out before deciding on the wine. "I really don't know what I'm going to do about it Nev. They're one of the biggest firms in England; if I'm sacked from there where else would I go? And no one will give me a real interview for fear of being taken over in retribution."

"Could always come teach with me. Civics and government teachers are still in demand."

"And deal with that many children at once? I couldn't even deal with Luna's two let alone thirty." She began pouring the wine as she pulled out a can of cat food for Crookshanks. He'd been refusing to eat much of his own food after Fred had started sneaking him piece of lamb and chicken and he'd gotten used to richer foods.

A knock at the door drew her attention. She glanced at the clock – 11:30 p.m. "Hang on Nev, there's someone at the door."

"At this hour? How rude?"

"I know." Hermione made her way into the living room, stopping to set her wine glass on the coffee table before opening the door an inch. Fred waved at her and held up a bag of what she could only assume was take out. She unlatched the chain and let him in, holding up one finger.

"Neville, I'll call you later."

"Is it him? Did he bring take out?"

"Yes and yes." Hermione watched him set the bag down on the table and fall onto her couch, closing his eyes the minute his head hit the back of the couch.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"There's very little you wouldn't do, including voting Tory." Fred opened an eye at that and quirked an eyebrow. Hermione shrugged. She pointed at her glass and raised her own eyebrow. Fred shrugged and closed his eyes again. Hermione took that as a yes and went to the kitchen for another glass.

"What can I say? I was young and easily influenced. They were giving away free t-shirts, you know."

"I know. I still have the Margaret Thatcher shirt you gave it to me as a birthday present when I turned 19."

"By the way, do you still have it? I have to give a lecture on the politics of early 90's Britain and the students love demonstrative props."

"Nev," Hermione growled.

"Oh right. Ginger on the couch. Don't immediately song him this time." Neville paused as he considered that. "No, wait, do. You need something to take your mind off work."

"Thanks Nev. Give Harry my love."

"As always. Have fun." Hermione hung the phone up and replaced it back on the charger on her way to the living room. She set the glass in front of Fred, shooing Crookshanks away from the take out bag before sitting on the love seat and curling her legs under her.