"I still don't know why you couldn't finish those orders," George called from the kitchen, his annoyance as clear as day.

"And I still don't understand why you're on me about it. They got finished a week ahead of deadline, didn't they?" Fred called back.

"By Lee. He seems to be doing a lot of your work lately."

Fred scowled, pulling on his boot and yanking at the laces. Ollivander had been next to useless when telling him about his wand. Instead the sodding git had suggested Fred lay off whatever illegal potion he'd been ingesting. Fred ground his teeth as he recalled that particular conversation. Anyone who knew them knew that neither of them would do anything to put their business in jeopardy, let alone take illegal potions for any reason. Potions that skirted the letter of the law, yes, but something strictly forbidden was off limits.

"And I haven't seen you do anything around the shop except work the counter these past few weeks," George continued. "We'll be behind on new product if this keeps up, especially with the Christmas season starting soon."

Fred grabbed at his other boot. "Wouldn't hurt you to start coming up with product instead of catering to your wife all the time," he muttered.

George still had no idea what was going on with his magic, or lack thereof. The last thing Fred needed was for his brother to turn into a mother bird, fussing and worrying over something that was likely to pass quickly enough. Even Mum had said it wasn't unheard of for a wand to start acting up or a wizard to go through magicless periods. So why pull George into his own personal hell when he was already worried enough about his pregnant wife.

"And why is your flat so dirty? You've never been one to skimp on the cleaning charms."

"I've been busy, that's all," Fred told him, shoving his useless wand into his pocket. "Haven't been home long enough to do anything but sleep and shower." And brood over take-out how worthless he was without a working wand.

George frowned when he walked into the kitchen. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on with me. Can we just get on to Mum's?" Fred stalked over to the floo before George had a chance to answer.

"Look, I'm just worried about you is all," George said as he followed him. "You keep popping in and out of the shop, I haven't seen you cast a spell in weeks. Ever since Granger's birthday party you've been in such a bad," George paused and Fred stifled a groan as he realized where his brother was going. "Does this have anything to do with Granger? Has something happened between the two of you?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Why is it whenever I'm in a bad mood you think it has to do with some bird? My life doesn't revolve around women."

"I'm not saying it does, but you do seem to be hanging out more than usual lately."

Fred snorted. "Two trips to St. Mungo's within a week of each other doesn't count as 'hanging out'," he said, reaching towards the floo powder.

George stared hard at his brother. "Well, if it's not a bird, what is it then? You're my brother. Aren't you supposed to tell me when something's going on so I can help you? You don't have to go through this alone."

Fred narrowed his eyes at the floo. If there was one thing a wizard didn't share with his family and friends it was a loss of magic. He knew all too well what would happen to him if his magic didn't come back. And he wouldn't take George down with him if this was as serious as he feared. "I've got it covered George. Just leave it alone," he said. He stepped into the fire before George could continue the conversation.

xxxxx

Hermione stared at the fire and fiddled with her wand. It had been almost a month since she'd been able to cast a spell and she still wasn't any closer to finding out the cause. When she'd taken the blasted thing to Ollivander's he'd been able to shoot off an almost perfect spell the moment he touched it. And when he had no answers for her, she'd thrown herself into every book that remotely touched upon a loss of magic. Yet none of the solutions they'd offered worked. Even the books in the restricted section of Hoggwarts barely touched upon the subject.

It seemed as if witches and wizards were set in their belief that one's magic was a constantly replenishing source. There was little to no research on those whose magic for all appearances had run out or weakened greatly. Instead, those unlucky few who found their magic drained were ostracized from the community and often their very existence was forgotten. It was a bleak future staring her in the face, especially as the Ministry was expressly forbidden from employing squibs of any sort.

"What's the matter with you now?" Ron asked as he walked into the sitting room with a chessboard under his arm. "You've been moping about for weeks now."

"It's nothing, Ronald," Hermione said shortly, setting her wand down next to her and jerking her book from the side table. She knew he didn't mean anything with his bluntness, but his tone wasn't helping her already foul mood.

"Fine. Don't have to bite my head off about it," Ron muttered as he began to set up the pieces.

The floo fired up and they both glanced towards the fireplace. Fred stepped through, followed closely by George. "I won't leave it alone when you won't talk with me," George said the second he stepped through. "'Lo Ron. Hermione," he said, giving them a nod.

"And I said I don't want to talk about it," Fred snapped back.

George sighed. "Fine. Come talk to me when you do," he said before storming off into the kitchen. Fred watched him leave before sitting down on the couch next to Hermione.

"What's wrong with you two now?" Ron asked.

Fred groaned and lay his arm across his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"Good thing you two are still single. Can't see how anyone would put up with either of those attitudes," Ron muttered.

Hermione sneered at him and reached for her wand, a number of curses flying through her mind. To her surprise it wasn't just hers she picked up, but a second, longer one as well. When she tried to pull them apart the two wands seemed to draw closer together.

"Whose wand is this?" she asked shakily.

Ron and Harry look up, both looking as confused as she felt. Fred glanced at her from under him arm and his face went ashen. "Granger, I don't know what you're playing at but this isn't funny," he said.

"I'm not playing at anything," she whispered. He held out his hand and she gladly passed both wands to him.

Fred rolled them around in his hands, inspecting them from all angles. Once he'd had his fill, he began to tug at them to try and separate them. When they didn't move, he grunted and began to tug harder. Hermione watched, horrified as her wand started bending.

"Stop, stop, you're going to break them," she yelped, reaching out her hand to hold his still.

Fred frowned and set the two wands on the chessboard in front of them. "What are we going to do?"

"Ollivander's," she rasped. All moisture had fled from her mouth and her limbs were shaking with fear. "He'll know what to do. He has to."

xxx

Just a quick note to point out that I'm going with the book's interpretation of squibs. The only squib shown is Filtch, and that's only because Dumbledore keeps him around. Every other mention shows that they're pretty much outside of the magical world, see the Weasley's squib cousin, a Muggle accountant of all things. And the extremes Neville's family went to when he didn't show signs of magic. (Dropping a child out of a window? Who does that?) Not to mention Gaunt's attitude towards his daughter. They just aren't a part of the magical world as presented to us by J.K. Rowling and it seems, to me at least, that they're pushed out of the wizarding world almost entirely.