Hermione took a quick shower, and changed into some black skinny jeans and a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, then took a deep breath. She walked steadily up the stairs, and stopped at the door belonging to Fred and George's room. She rapped on it three times, and waited.
Fred heard the knock on his door, and not really caring who saw him in just some Muggle cargos, swung himself off the bed, and walked over to the door. He opened it, and he caught not one glimpse of who knocked before a spell shot him backwards, flinging him into the wall. "The hell was that?" he asked, somewhat winded from impact.
"Get up!" growled someone from the doorway, lightning flashing and lighting up the room. He stood up, using the wall as a little bit of leverage, and reached for his wand from his pocket. It wasn't there. He swung his head around, his eyes sweeping the ground near where he fell. "Looking for this?" said the person sweetly. He looked up.
Hermione was there, looking incredibly sexy, and devious, in all black, leaning against the door frame, her hair damp, her skin a little pale, and a devious smirk playing across her lips. A smirk to rival both his and Draco Malfoy's. His wand was being twirled around her fingers like a baton. She had an air about her that made her seem very confident, and mysterious.
He kept strong front, or what he hoped what was a strong front, but he could feel some fear course through him. Hermione Granger was known as the Gryffindor Princess, the brains behind Harry Potter, and the brightest witch of her age. It was very unlikely he could out-duel her, even if he had all the advantages. But he didn't have his wand, he had no chance.
"H-Hermione," he stuttered, backing away from the center of the room a little, fear flashing in his eyes, "Um, l-let's not get hasty here." He said, as she raised her wand. With a flick of her wrist, a spell shot at him. As the spell hit, he could feel the blood rush to his head painfully quickly, and it took him a few moments to realize he was hanging upside down from his ankles. Just when he thought he would pass out, the spell released him, and he shot towards the ground.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and braced himself for the collision, but it never came. He opened one eye, and found himself laying on his back. His room was completely wrecked. The two beds were shoved up near the wall, and the two bedside tables knocked over. The curtain rod and curtain that had hung over the window had clattered to the floor. Several boxes of things were knocked over, some open, with different Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes spilling out.
Fred heard –well, more felt- the thunk of something. He looked around to see Hermione coming closer. She was leaning over him, and had brought out a needle. A sewing needle, yes, but a needle nonetheless. Fred paled a little bit.
In the Weasley family, fears were spread out, and passed on. For example, Bill and Ginny and George were all afraid of kappas, as was their late Uncle Fabian. Fear of spiders occurred once in a generation, so Ron, their father, and their Aunt Muriel all had it. When it came to Charlie and Fred, they were both desperately afraid of needles. Hermione seemed to know that, as her smirk stayed steady. Charlie must've told her. that bastard! He thought.
She knelt by his right hand, and used a sticking spell to stick it to the floor, palm up. Slowly, she pressed the tip of the needle against the tip of his index finger. He waited, his breathing irregular and showing his fear, for penetration. Before it was deep enough to pierce the skin, the needle withdrew. Fred seemed to calm a little, until the needle pressed to his middle finger. He tried desperately to turn his head away, or to close his eyes, but was unable. He watched as the needle went almost deep enough to penetrate, and again, the needle left. It happened with the rest of his fingers, almost penetrating, but not exactly, and she continued, covering the tips of his fingers in little holes.
All the while, he pleaded with her to stop. Not only was this painful, it was jarring his sense of peace. The suspension of expected to bleed, and then not. And she was so steady, and slow, as if to make the pain worse. She shifted on the floor beside his hand, and repositioned the needle from his fingertips. Instead, it hovered above his palm. The tip of the needle pressed into the sensitive spot just off the center. She pressed it deeper this time, deeper than before, and he thrashed against his bindings. "Hermione, please stop." He pleaded, and the needle froze. "Hermione, please, please stop it." he said again, and she pulled away, sliding the needle out of his skin.
He fought the urge to throw up as the needle slid out with ease. She waved her wand, and all the spells she had him under disappeared. She stood up, and tossed his wand onto his bed. It bounced off, and clattered to the floor between the bed and the wall. She walked to the door, and before she shut it behind her, she waved her wand again. Little yellow birds shot out of it, and flew towards him. He hurried to shield himself from the attacking projectiles, and Hermione slipped out.
"That's what you get." Hermione whispered to the room.