WARNING: Dialogue heavy chapter

The events of the Quidditch match had several consequences for Hermione. First and foremost, she was finally persuaded that Snape was up to no good. While everything up until that point could have had another explanation, she had definitely seen him trying to curse Harry with her own eyes – and there was no way she could dismiss that. Secondly, the information Hagrid had let slip in their post-match discussion in his hut meant that she Harry and Ron were spending every free moment they had in the library, trying to find out information on one Nicolas Flamel.

The most unexpected result of the game's events, however, was that Hermione had turned into a House hero. People had seen her running to the pitch when Harry had lost control of his broom and, without being able to give anybody the details, Ron had told Seamus, Dean and Neville that she had figured out a way to fix his broom. The story had circulated, and Hermione was now being hailed as the saviour of Gryffindor's Cup chances, along with Harry.

She wasn't sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, the fact that she had gone from being almost universally hated to being almost universally popular was remarkable, and she was grateful that she no longer felt the need to prove herself a valuable asset to the House. At the same time, it was a little disconcerting. She had never been one to enjoy a lot of attention outside the classroom, and the fact that total strangers were clapping her on the back in the common room didn't make her feel particularly comfortable. Nor was it making her research any easier.

She had already been interrupted twice that afternoon, when a voice came from behind the sofa she was sitting on in the library.

"Alright, Granger?"

"For the last time, please leave me- oh. Hullo Fred." He vaulted over the back of the sofa (very unnecessarily) and landed next to her.

"Well, if you really want me to go, maybe it should be 'goodbye'" He said, giving her an admonishing look.

"No, its fine – I just thought you were someone else coming up to congratulate me." For some reason she didn't mind an interruption if it was Fred's.

"Ah. Well, I could if you want," and before she could stop him he had seized one of her hands and was shaking it furiously in both of his, "good show, madam, jolly good show!" He said in a horrifically posh accent.

"You're going to summon Madame Prince," Hermione scolded, but as she was laughing he took almost no notice.

"Maybe she'll want to shake your hand too."

"Mmm, I feel like she'd have already done it by now if that was the case – I am here quite a lot." She said, raising an eyebrow at him. Then she was struck by a thought. "What about you?"

"What, you want me to shake it again-?" He tightened his grip on her hand once again.

"No! No," She said, only just realising her hand was still in his, she pulled it away and into her lap. "I meant – that's twice I've met you in the library, now. I thought you two prided yourself on not working. Why are you here so often?" He gave her an indiscernible look.

"Well 'us two' aren't here so often," He said carefully, and for the first time, Hermione realised that he was alone. This was the only place she had ever seen one of the twins without the other excepting her first encounter with Fred on the Hogwarts Express. Before she had time to ask where George was, he added, "and besides, we're here to talk about you, not me."

"We are?" She stared at him blankly.

"Well it's like you said, you've been here a lot, Granger – even more than usual." He was speaking slowly, significantly, but his meaning was lost on her.

"So?" He sighed.

"So what are you up to, firstie?" His light tone did nothing to quell the twitch of irritation at his use of that name, "and why are Harry and Ron suddenly into it to?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm just doing schoolwork, and I've persuaded the boys to-"

"It's almost Christmas, Granger, not even you could find that much work to do now – and we both know you haven't persuaded 'the boys' to do anything of the sort." His face was arranged into that familiar raised eyebrow expression; he'd called her bluff and they both knew it.

"Why do you care what we're doing?" She asked, trying a different tact.

"Why do I care what my kid brother and his friends are doing reading up on the latest developments in the dark arts?" He asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice now as he nodded towards the book in her lap, which she had automatically closed when he'd sat down, "why don't you write to my mother and ask her?" Hermione looked away from his face, trying ignore the sudden wave of guilt that had passed through her at his words.

"I'd hardly call it the latest developments, Fred, this book was written in-"

"Stop trying to change the subject, Granger!"

"I'm simply responding to your concerns-"

"You don't seem to give a shit about my concerns-"

"That's not fair, Fred, I-"

"Oh, but it's fair that you're hiding something potentially dangerous from-"

"I CAN'T TELL YOU, OKAY?!"

"Shhh!" Madam Prince had emerged from the thin air to point a long nail at them, glaring.

"Sorry!" whispered Hermione, as the librarian continued walking down the aisles, and then she turned to Fred. "Sorry." She said again, sincerely. She, Harry and Ron had already agreed that they should keep this as quiet as possible. If Snape found out what they were up to… the consequences could be dire – and anyway, telling Hagrid hadn't helped much. "I really can't." Thinking of Mrs Weasley, she added, "I promise, if it gets really dangerous we'll tell you"

Fred dismissed this compromise with a wave of his hand.

"It's not looking like a meadow of flowers at the moment, Granger, why can't you tell me now?" Incapable of answering honestly, she pressed her lips tightly together. He saw the change in her face and made a noise of frustration, back straightening so she could feel every inch of their height difference, "What?!" He burst, still trying to control his volume, "are you scared we're gonna tell someone? This is us, Granger – Weasley twins –" She was about to point out, as he had, that it wasn't the two of them here when he added: "-not goody two-shoes McGee who's gonna run to a teacher!" He had gestured at her with the last comment and she felt it like a razor to her skin.

"Well, thank you for the reassurance, Frederick." She said shortly, picking up her book and rising to leave, "I'm glad to know where we stand. If I'm such a goody-goody, I don't know why you would think I was involved in anything untoward in the first place." She could tell from his face that he was already regretting his words, "And as for running to teachers-" She choked for a second, remembering the speech he and George had given not two weeks ago, "-I thought we'd already established some ground rules. If not, here's some new ones," She took a step away from him, "I won't ask what you're up to, and you won't ask what's going on with us. If we can't trust each other, it's best if we each keep to our own side of the road." She had already turned her back on him and was halfway to the door when she heard him say, quietly:

"I thought we were on the same side." She hesitated, and then without looking back, she replied:

"Well I guess we were both wrong about that."

She left without giving him a chance to answer.