Sorry, again, for the delay. At least the wait is over now. I hope you like the chapter enough to make it worth it :)

I had a couple of people wondering why George didn't ask Hermione about her past sexual experiences, so I wanted to explain myself really quickly. I originally had planned for George to ask while they were on the subject, but the conversation just kept going in a different direction. (That happens a lot! Those silly characters don't always want to say what I want them to say! :)) But, have no fear! George has made it pretty clear that he feels it's an important topic, so I wouldn't let him not bring it up again ;)

I hope you all enjoy!

Oh. And there is a bit of fluff in here, but it is dedicated to Phoenix Phlames who expressed a particular interest in the "wicked" dream that George had about Hermione. I tried to stay within my comfort zone, so I hope I was able to do it justice. :P

I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. Please don't sue me.

And, again, please forgive any typos you come across.

The next morning, I rolled over in bed, stretching and yawning as I opened my eyes to greet the new day, and even though I couldn't remember any of my dreams from the previous night, I felt a subdued giddiness in my heart the way one typically does after dreaming something particularly pleasing. Then I smiled, raising one hand and pressing my fingertips to my lips as I realized my happiness had nothing to do with a dream. George had kissed me. He had kissed me and it had been soft and sweet and exciting and every other wonderful adjective I could possibly think of, and even though it was untimely interrupted, it had definitely been the best kiss of my life.

Viktor Krum's kisses had been polite and gentlemanly, enjoyable enough but lacking in passion on both his side and mine. Ron's kisses were certainly passionate, and they were special because I cared so much about him, but they were also rushed and, if I was being perfectly honest, just a bit sloppy... But George's kiss? Tender. Intense. Controlled. Passionate. In other words? Simply perfect. I closed my eyes, letting out a long, dreamy sigh, and completely missed the sound of the bedroom door opening. I did, however, clearly hear the giggles coming from a certain red-head just before she flung herself onto my bed.

"Spill it!" Ginny said, propping herself up on her elbows to look at me.

"Spill what?" I tried to sound annoyed with her, but I just couldn't stop smiling.

"I know that George took you on a date and that he gave you Nana's ring--mum told me this morning--" she paused to explain when I gave her a curious look, "but I want to know what else happened and why you look so sickeningly happy right now!" Ginny was laughing but then she quickly made a face like she'd eaten something bad. "Unless the two of you shagged, in which case I don't want to know a thing! No offense, but George is my brother and I really don't need that image of him in my head..."

"Ginny! Of course we didn't!"

She grinned. "Okay then, tell me!"

I groaned, but was actually quite excited to have someone to confide in. "It was just... really sweet. He set off fireworks, gave me the ring, and then we talked for a while and got to know each other better."

"And?" Ginny said, emphasizing and drawing out the word like she knew there was more to the story.

"And," I paused, trying to remain calm and composed even though my stomach was flipping as I thought about it again. "We kissed."

Ginny squealed and jumped up from the bed, running towards the open door. "Mum, come here!"

"Ginny!" I hissed, quickly sitting up. "What are you doing!?" She smiled but before she could answer, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the doorway, looking a bit frightened by her daughter's shouts.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, looking back and forth between Ginny and myself.

Ginny shook her head. "George and Hermione kissed last night!" She was clapping her hands together in excitement and I seriously considered hiding under my blanket.

"Ginny..." Mrs. Weasley shook her head at her daughter, gently admonishing her. "You're embarrassing her." Still, when Mrs. Weasley turned to me, there was a rather large smile on her face, showing just how delighted she was over the news. "Can I see the ring?" she asked, walking towards me. I held out my left hand and she pulled it into hers. "It looks beautiful on you, dear. I knew it would. That ring never looked right on me but it's just perfect on your dainty, little hand." Her eyes were misty with tears and she suddenly let out a loud, bubbly laugh when she realized how emotional she was becoming.

"You know," said Ginny who had also walked over to examine the ring, "we really need to get you a wedding dress, Hermione."

I nodded my head. Thanks to the wonders of magic, witch-seamstresses could complete alterations and modifications in a matter of hours, but seeing as how I didn't even have a dress and I only had nine days to go until my wedding, I was pushing my luck. "We need to get your maid-of-honor dress, as well," I said, grinning at Ginny.

"And we need to order George and Fred's tuxes," Mrs. Weasley added.

I frowned slightly. "Shouldn't we get George's input on that?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at me like I'd just made the silliest suggestion ever. "These things are much better left for the women to decide and I'm sure George would agree. Besides, if we left it to those two, there's no telling what they'd show up in!"

I winced as I thought about the twins' horribly bright, magenta work robes, and the green, dragon-skin jackets that they were particularly fond of wearing. "Good point."

"Well, that settles it then," Mrs. Weasley said, patting the back of my hand before walking towards the door. "Get your shower, I'll fix you girls some breakfast, and then we'll head off to Diagon Alley for some shopping."

*****

Several hours and about 10 stores later, I'd found the perfect wedding gown, a beautiful dress for Ginny, and we'd placed an order for two very handsome tuxedos for George and Fred. After a late lunch, Mrs. Weasley returned to the burrow, leaving Ginny and I alone to leisurely explore the shops.

"Want some ice-cream?" she asked as we passed the newly reopened Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor. "It would be a great excuse to see George," she added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

I shook my head at how absurd she was being (and had been ever since finding out about the kiss), but I had to admit, I was a bit curious... "And how, exactly, would getting ice-cream give us an excuse to see George?"

"Because," she said like the answer was so obvious that I shouldn't have to ask, "we'd get some for us and some to take to Fred and George!" She jerked her head in the direction of the twins' shop just around the corner. "They love ice-cream and they always get mad whenever they find out I've been here and didn't get anything for them." She was grinning widely now, obviously thinking that I would jump at the chance to see George again, and apparently, she was right. Without saying anything, I grabbed Ginny by the wrist and dragged her inside Fortescue's, choosing to ignore the fact that she was laughing at me.

*****

"And to what do we owe this honor, ladies?" Fred asked, smiling as Ginny and I approached the place where he was standing behind the sales counter. "Oh, and what's this?" Like an excited child, he eyed the four ice-cream cones that Ginny and I were holding. Ginny held one of the cones out to her brother and he happily accepted it, immediately drawing it into his mouth. "Verity," he said, turning to the girl beside him, "would you be so kind as to watch the register for a moment?" When she nodded, Fred walked around the counter and stuck his head through a door at the back wall, which I assumed led to the storage area of the shop. "Oi, George! Come look what I've found!"

When several seconds had passed and George did not emerge, Fred rolled his eyes and then opened the door again, but this time he held it open and motioned Ginny and me through it. The room inside was wide and spacious, the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of potions and powders and trinkets, and there were several large tables positioned around the room, holding what appeared to be a variety of gadgets and vials and bubbling cauldrons; inventions in all various stages of development. It was, clearly, the room where the twins did all of their inventing and testing.

"Geor-gie," Fred said in a silly, sing-song voice as he approached his twin whom I could now see, hunched over a nearby table with his back to us.

"I'm in the middle of something, Fredd-ie." George used the same, silly tone when he said his twin's pet name but he didn't turn around.

"Oh, fine," Fred said with an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'll just have to turn away the very pretty girl who was kind enough to bring you a cone of your favorite Snazzy Razzy Swirl ice-cream."

I saw George's shoulders tense up but he still didn't look back. "You know, one would think that being engaged would mean a decrease in the number of girls coming on to us." My mouth hung open slightly, and I immediately closed it again, angrily clenching my jaw.

"Yes, well," Fred began, speaking in a serious tone even though he was smiling at Ginny and me, "you're just going to have to accept it, Forge, we're just too desirable for our own good." I looked over just in time to see Ginny, who was still working on her ice-cream, roll her eyes and shake her head at her brother's comment.

George, however, was obviously amused, rewarding his twin's remark with a snort of laughter. "Nonetheless, would you kindly tell her that I'm flattered but not interested?"

"Sure thing." Fred turned on his heel so that he was directly facing me, a wide grin on his face. "I'm sorry, Hermione. George is flattered but he just isn't interested."

George's head immediately whipped around at the sound of my name, and upon seeing me, a smile to rival that of his twin's settled on his lips. "Hey," he said, hopping down from the stool he'd been sitting on. He was wearing a nice brown suit, though the jacket had been removed to reveal a dark green button up shirt, an even darker green vest, and a purple tie, on which was pinned a small, golden W. As he approached, with his long, confident stride, he ran a hand through his hair, letting the long red locks sweep across his forehead in a perfectly disheveled way.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual even though my mouth suddenly felt dry and my knees felt a little weak. I knew the twins were attractive but had George always been that gorgeous? I shook my head, trying to stop staring, and held one of the ice-cream cones out for him.

"Thanks," he said, taking it and, like his twin had done just moments earlier, immediately bringing it to his mouth. He took a bite and swallowed, turning his attention to his sister. "Thanks, Gin." She shrugged her shoulders but stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his midsection for a quick hug.

Finally, I started on my own cone, thankful that Fortescue's ice-cream was enchanted to not melt. My teeth were too sensitive to bite into something so cold, so instead, I lifted the frozen treat to my lips and opened my mouth, running my tongue up the side of the chocolate ice-cream before pulling just a little off the top into my mouth. I was busy studying the contents displayed on the nearest table, so my side was facing George, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Fred moving towards his twin, casually slinging an arm around his shoulder. He inclined his head towards George's and said something, speaking so quietly that I was sure he hadn't meant for me to hear, but I did.

"You're not breathing, mate," he said.

I looked over then, only to find both twins staring at me, though they were wearing vastly contrasting expressions. Fred was smiling, incredibly entertained by something, but George, roughly biting on his bottom lip and wincing slightly, looked more than a bit uncomfortable.

I pulled away from my ice-cream, and shot them a confused look, licking my lips before I spoke. "What?" Fred started laughing and George shook his head, raising a hand and using it to cover his mouth as he tried unsuccessfully to hide the grin that was slowly creeping over his face. Ginny was wandering around on the opposite side of the room, not paying attention to any of us. "What?" I said again, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, afraid that I had chocolate ice-cream smeared on my face or something.

"You wanted to know what you and George were doing in that dream?" Fred asked, laughing even harder when George turned to give him a menacing glare.

I looked at my ice-cream, and then at George who was watching me again, though he was now a bright shade of red, and I suddenly understood. "Oh-OH." I turned away, blushing furiously, and levitated my unfinished ice-cream cone to the nearest rubbish bin, far too embarrassed to eat any more.

"You were not supposed to repeat that," I heard George mumbling to Fred.

"I didn't," Fred responded in an indignant tone. "Our Hermione is just exceptionally smart and was able to figure it out. If I was to repeat it, I'd just come right out and say that you had a dream about Hermione giv--mmmpphh--"

I turned back around, choking back a laugh when I saw George with one hand firmly clamped over his twin's mouth. "You'll have to forgive my brother. He seems to have forgotten his manners, and," he paused to fix Fred with a very pointed stare, "he seems to have forgotten that our baby sister is standing just over there."

Fred nodded his head and held up his hands in sign of surrender, so George removed his hand.

"I need some help out here!" came the sound of Verity's voice and we all turned to the door to see her standing there, looking wide-eyed and panicked. "Some rotten kid thought it would be funny to try out the engorgio spell in our magical beasts department and now we have gigantic pygmy puffs running around the shop!" She disappeared again and Fred and George exchanged glances before they both started laughing.

"This should be fun," Fred said, drawing his wand before heading towards the door.

George followed but stopped when he reached me, gently placing a hand on my arm. "You alright, Hermione?" he asked, his weak smile making it clear that he was still embarrassed.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"You're sure? I don't want this to make you feel uncomfortable. It was just a dream and I know that we're getting married now but I honestly don't expect anything from you and I'd certainly never want you to do anything you weren't completely comfortable with. I only told Fred because he threatened to tell you about the dream himself and I knew that he really would do it and that whatever he came up with would probably be much more offensive than that and--" George suddenly stopped himself, frowning as he stared me directly in the eyes. "Am I really rambling?"

I nodded, so amused that I didn't even feel embarrassed anymore. Never, in all my years of knowing them, had I ever seen either of the twins resort to nervous rambling.

"What are you doing to me, Granger?" he said, shaking his head, though he was now sporting a much more relaxed smile.

"Oi!" The door was opened and Fred was poking his head inside. He smiled when he saw us. "Kiss her already and then come help me with these bloody pygmy puffs before they destroy our shop!"

George laughed and then turned his attention back to me. "You heard the man." He grinned and then leaned forward, bending slightly to compensate for our height differences, and he pressed his lips to mine in a sweet, but all-too-brief kiss which set off what felt like a thousand butterflies in my stomach. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he whispered and I nodded as he stood up straight and gently kissed the top of my head before leaving to join his twin.

I stared after him until he disappeared through the door, and I only noticed that Ginny was standing right behind me when she spoke. "Wow."

I turned around, finding her watching me with a shocked expression. "What?"

"I saw that kiss," she said, flashing me a warm smile. "You two almost look like a real couple." She paused for a minute, her eyes suddenly glinting with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "And what did he mean by 'I'll see you tomorrow night'?" she asked, her voice deep and mockingly seductive as she quoted her brother, and we both started laughing.

*****

It was Friday night and Ginny was already in her bed, lying on her side and watching me as I pulled on a pair of shoes and prepared to apparate to the twins' flat.

"I expect you home by midnight, young lady," she jokingly scolded, giving me a sleepy smile before flipping onto her stomach. "Just promise you won't give me any details."

I grabbed the pillow from my bed and smacked her with it but she just giggled. Since the previous afternoon when she'd overheard George and I confirming our plans to meet, Ginny had teased me mercilessly, convinced that I was sneaking out to snog him. Not that I'd done much to correct her, really. I didn't enjoy misleading her but I also couldn't tell her the truth - that I was meeting both twins so that we could go over the final details for Fred's wedding to "Millicent" which was taking place the next evening.

"Night, Ginny," I said, moving to the center of the room.

"Have fun!" She called in a teasing voice and I could still hear her laughter echoing in my ears as I disapparated.

Just a moment later, I was standing in the living-room of the twins' flat. I was immediately greeted by the sight of George, sprawled out on the couch, wearing a dark blue t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hanging limply off the edge of the sofa, and his long legs bent slightly in order to fit. He was fast asleep. I smiled to myself, wondering if he was always such a heavy sleeper, (I knew from first hand experience that it was practically impossible to sleep through the sound of someone apparating into the same room) or if he was just especially tired that evening, but, either way, he didn't stir and I didn't want to disturb him. I knew that Fred was supposed to be at Millicent's, collecting a "sample" to add to the polyjuice potion, and so, as quietly as I could, I made my way to one of the chairs and lowered myself into it, content to watch George sleeping while we waited for Fred to return.

George's chest was rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, and I could just barely hear the air entering and exiting his lungs as he breathed. He made a soft, whimpering noise in his sleep, and I smiled again. But then I heard him murmur a sad-sounding "no" as his entire body gave a slight jerk.

I immediately abandoned the chair and, since there was no room for me on the couch, I knelt on my knees on the floor beside George's head and I reached up, brushing the hair away from his forehead which was now slightly damp with sweat.

"George," I called out gently, hoping to wake him from his nightmare.

His body trembled and he gave a low, distressed moan. His voice was so quiet, so thick and strangled with desperate emotion, but I clearly heard two words as he pleaded with someone in his dream. "Don't leave."

"It's okay, George," I whispered, unable to properly speak over the painful lump in my throat. "It's just a dream," I said, though I knew it was a lie. I knew that he was dreaming of Fred, of his death, and that had been a very real experience. I continued running my fingers through George's hair, whispering to him until his body finally stilled and grew quiet. I watched as his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks for a moment before his eyes slowly opened. His gaze eventually settled on me, and he tilted his head back in an attempt to see me better, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted.

"Hermione?" he said, his voice rough from sleep.

"You were having a bad dream," I said, still dragging my fingers through his red locks.

He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. "Was I?"

I studied his face, not trying to mask the concern that I felt for him. "You don't remember it?"

He was silent for a moment as he thought. "No." He took a deep breath and held it for a second before slowly letting the air out of his lungs. "But I'm sure it's the same as every other dream I have these days." George gave me a sad smile which I returned with one of my own. His face relaxed as he took in another deep breath, and he allowed his eyes to drift shut again as my fingers continued to comb through his hair, across his forehead and over the place where his right ear used to be, down to the spot where his hair rested against his neck, before reaching up and traveling that same path again.

"You know," he said, opening his eyes again as a soft but happy smile settled on his lips, "minus the whole nightmare bit, this is actually quite a splendid way to wake up." I stilled my hand, blushing slightly, and George chuckled to himself.

"Sor--" I began to apologize but was cut off by a loud pop.

I dropped my hand as Fred apparated into the room, and George and I watched as he shrugged off his jacket, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor as he began making his way towards the back of the flat, without a glance or a word to either of us. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and then reached down to tug at his t-shirt, yanking it up and over his head before discarding it to the floor.

George sat up, his gaze following his twin's movements. "Fred?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Shower," was all Fred said in reply and George and I watched as he continued away from us, now only clad in a pair of jeans. Then I heard the sound of a zipper being undone and I let out a surprised shriek, immediately bringing my hands up to cover my eyes.

"Oi, Fred!" I could hear George laughing but I didn't dare remove my hands to look at him. "Think you could wait until you're actually in the bathroom to do that? You're going to give poor Granger a heart-attack."

I heard Fred say, "What?" in a sincerely confused tone before adding, "Oh. Sorry."

I felt someone gently prying my hands away. "It's okay. He's decent-ish," George said, still laughing. I let my hands fall from my face but I still didn't look in Fred's direction, though I could see out of the corner of my eye that his pants were still in place.

"Did you get the sample, then?" George asked his twin. Interested in the turn of conversation, I looked at Fred now, waiting for his response.

He nodded but when George opened his mouth to say something else, Fred held up a hand to silence him. "Shower first, talk later," he said and then turned and made his way to the bathroom in the back of the flat. The sound of running water could be heard just a minute later.

George reached past me to grab his wand which was lying on the coffee table and with a lazy flick of his wrist, the loose articles of Fred's clothing gathered and folded themselves into a neat pile against the furthest wall.

George placed his wand on the table again and then grinned at me, patting a spot on the couch right next to himself. I began to stand and he reached out to help me, pulling me up and spinning me around before gently tugging me backwards. I let out a tiny yelp as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand gripping my hip and yanking me towards him so that, when my backside finally landed on the sofa, I was snugly pressed against his side. George leaned back, making himself comfortable, but I could only stay where I was, my body rigid as I tried to adjust to reality of being snuggled up on the sofa with George Weasley. I turned my head slightly to the side so that I could see his face, and I found that he was staring at me closely, but there was still a faint smile on his lips. I guessed that he must be trying to gauge my discomfort level.

"I'll move if you tell me to," he said, already loosening the grip of his hand which was still firmly grasping my hip.

"No!" I said, but it came out much more desperately than I'd meant for it to.

George chuckled. "Relax, then," he said, letting his hand move to my shoulder, gently urging me to lean back into him. "I won't bite."

With my head now resting against the back of the couch, I turned my face towards his as he turned his towards me, and I raised a curious eyebrow at him, watching him with an expectant expression.

He raised an eyebrow, as well. "What?"

"I'm just waiting for you to finish," I said, flatly.

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, come on," I said with a dry laugh. "You said 'I won't bite' and I'm waiting for you to finish. What'll it be? I won't bite... hard? Or, I won't bite... unless you ask me to?"

A sly grin shaped itself on his lips. "Is that what you want me to say?"

I groaned in frustration, but was unable to suppress the smile that he inspired. "You're very irritating, George Weasley."

"Mm." He nodded seriously. "And yet, here you are, giving me quite a lovely smile and sitting so close to me that the only way you could be any closer is if you were actually in my lap."

It was only then that I noticed that George's thumb had made it's way beneath the hem of my shirt and was tracing small circles on the bare skin just above my hip bone, and just that small amount of skin-to-skin contact, in addition to his flirtatious words, sparked something inside of me. I felt butterflies in my stomach, something that was becoming a common occurrence in George's presence, my entire body began to feel warm, and the rate of my breathing increased. George was watching me carefully, no doubt noting the quickened rise and fall of my chest, and after several seconds spent looking back and forth between my eyes, he slowly brought his left arm around, sliding it under my thighs, lifting me and turning me before positioning me across his lap.

"Is this okay?" he asked, brushing the hair out of my face so he could see my expression.

There was an unusually tender quality to his voice, and it caused those butterflies to start flitting all about in my stomach again, and I could only nod in response to his question. George smiled and settled back against the couch once more, but this time, he held me close, cradling me against his chest, occasionally running a hand up and down my back.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" I said, softly. The faint sound of his heart beating in his chest, combined with the soothing strokes of his hand against my back, was beginning to lull me to sleep.

"Are you a virgin?"

My previously half-lidded eyes popped open. "What?"

"I said, are you a virgin?" He spoke each word clearly, enunciating each syllable, much to my embarrassment.

I could feel a heated blush creeping over my entire body. "George..." The tone of my voice indicated that I didn't want to have this discussion.

"Hermione..." The tone of his voice indicated that we were having this discussion whether I wanted to or not.

I sighed. "Do you really need to ask?" I shifted against him, suddenly feeling far more uncomfortable with our close proximity than I had a few minutes earlier, but his arm tightened around me, holding me in place. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I have my suspicions," he said, very matter-of-factly, "but it would be a really bad idea for me to make assumptions about this. So, I need you to muster up some of that legendary Gryffindor courage and answer my question." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Fine. Yes, I'm a virgin."

"Okay. Thank you," George said and then fell silent, bringing his hand to my back again and resuming his long, gentle strokes.

"That's... that's it?"

He pulled back to look at me, his hand immediately stilling again. "What do you mean?"

"You're not going to tease me?"

He lowered his eyebrows and frowned. "Why on earth would I tease you about that?"

"I.. I don't know..." I paused, looking down at my hands which were folded in my lap. "Ron did."

"Yeah, well, Ron's an insensitive prat, isn't he?" His frown vanished when I smiled at his response. "Besides, he was probably only teasing you because he wanted to shag you and you said no. Am I right?"

I let out a soft snort of laughter and nodded. Just a few weeks after the war was over, Ron and I had been snogging in the shed outside the burrow, and he'd wanted to take it further. I quickly and firmly told him no because, honestly, I'd always imagined saving myself for the man who was committed enough to put a ring on my finger, and also because, married or not, my first time was not happening in a storage shed.

"He asked me to sleep with him in your dad's storage shed," I said, and then clamped a hand over my mouth as I laughed at how ridiculous it was (though I'd found it far from amusing at the time.)

"Dad's storage shed," George repeated slowly and then shook his head, making a disapproving, clucking sound with his tongue.

"Ron tried to shag you in our dad's storage shed?" came the sound of Fred's voice as he made his way into the living-area (now fully dressed). He plopped down beside us on the couch and I went to remove myself from George's lap but Fred just gave me a warm smile and shook his head, implying that I stay put. Good thing too, because, when I moved, George only tightened his grip.

"Ron has so much to learn," Fred and George said together, bringing my thoughts back to the conversation.

"And you two know it all, do you?" I said, trying to laugh and trying not to think about the fact that I was discussing intimate, personal, details with Fred and George Weasley while sitting in George Weasley's lap. Both boys looked slightly affronted by my question.

"Enough to know that most girls wouldn't appreciate the suggestion of being deflowered in a shed--" George began.

"--where a number of relatives could walk in--" Fred continued.

"--and the only flat surfaces available are the dirty floor--"

"--the wall--"

"--a dirty table--"

"--and a work bench."

"Not exactly the picture of romance," they finished together, flashing identically charming smiles.

I opened my mouth, ready to question the importance of romance to two boys who'd had one-night-stands and couldn't even remember the girls' names, but a sudden yawn prevented me from speaking.

Fred shook a warning finger at me. "Don't you dare go to sleep, Granger. We haven't even started going over the final plans for tomorrow yet."

"Yeah, I reckon we should get on with it, Fred," George said. "So, you got the sample?"

Fred nodded, standing and making his way towards the pile of clothes he'd removed earlier. After a moment of digging through them, he returned to the couch and held out a vial containing several hairs.

I had an awful sense of deja vu. "You're certain that those aren't cat hairs?"

"I'm positive. Unless she has an extremely long-haired cat which she brushes with the hair-brush that she keeps on the sink." Fred laughed and it calmed my nerves, if only just a little bit.

"Alright, Granger," George began, looking at me, "what's the first thing you do in the morning when you wake up?"

"I rush to the bathroom, pretend to vomit, and when Ginny checks on me, I tell her I'm feeling really ill and that I don't think I'll feel up to attending the wedding."

"And?" Fred prompted.

"And I tell her that I'm coming to stay at your flat for the day so I can get some much-needed, uninterrupted rest. She'll try to convince me to stay at first but she'll finally let me go when I convince her that I won't be able to rest and recuperate with all the Weasley family coming in and out of the house all day."

"And then what?" George asked, a smile beginning to form on his lips as I effortlessly rattled off my list of assignments for the big day.

"And then I come here, get the wedding dress that the two of you are providing," I paused, fixing both twins in an unhappy stare (I'd had no say in the choice of wedding gowns), "I drink some polyjuice potion, transforming myself into Millicent Bulstrode, and then the three of us will be off to the burrow for the wedding."

"Excellent," Fred said, grinning.

"Hermione Granger," George began, staring at me in awe, "the curly-haired, know-it-all bookworm, plotting and scheming with the Weasley twins." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my entire life."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a playful shove, but relished in the feelings of those silly butterflies as George leaned towards me and began peppering my cheek with kisses.

Thanks for the fantastic reviews! You guys are so stinkin' awesome! :D