The confusion that she had felt in the aftermath of her conversation with Fred extended throughout the rest of the day and even into the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. Her mind was so concentrated on trying to decide if Fred that he was sorry, and on how silly he must have thought she was by pouring herself out to him like that, and when the next time they'd speak would be, that she couldn't focus on a thing. At one point, McGonagall had asked her a question, as she usually did, and Hermione had been so worked up in her own mind that she gave completely the wrong answer. She was mortified and spent the rest of the lesson sunk low in her chair as she avoided everyone else's surprised glances.

Even Ron, who things like this usually sailed right past, noticed there was something amiss with her. Both he and Harry had tried to coax the cause out of her the whole of Sunday morning at breakfast, but had got bored and given up by Monday when she'd repeatedly blamed the stress of studying and catching up on work she'd missed. She liked to think that she wasn't so much lying to them, as telling a small perversion of the truth. She honestly was feeling the stress of having to study, which wasn't helped by the fact that the two of them continued to rely on her to help them with a great deal of their own homework that they'd left until the last minute. As a result, she usually found herself in the library surrounded by various books and odd pieces of crumpled parchment, as she did currently.

The loose curls of her hair splayed itself over the large wooden desk in a small corner of the room and her nose inched itself closer and closer to parchment as she scribbled pieces of information down. When she had filled the parchment, she took a moment to grab a new piece and then set straight back to work again. Every so often she'd lean backwards and relax into her seat, dropping her quill on to the table to take a minute of rest and surveying the rest of the room. She hadn't quite realised how far behind being off for a week could set you, and, being Hermione, she wanted to make sure all of her work was thorough and precise. And after she had finished her work, she began on writing explanatory notes on the uses and benefits of using venomous tentacula in uncommon potions that she'd promised she'd finish for Ron and Harry whilst they started on the rest of their disastrously large workload. They knew they could always sweet talk her into helping them out when they really needed it, and, honestly, she was happy to help if it spared them detentions with a certain hook-nosed professor.

As it was, Madam Pince was so accustomed to having her in the library that it was as though Hermione had become part of the furniture, so that when she moved off to look for more books or, on very rare occasions, tried to strike up a conversation with her, the librarian barely batted an eyelid. Or do very much at all other than stamp books. She seemed, in Hermione's eyes, to be in a perpetual cycle of book stamping, where when she had stamped them all, more seemed to appear from nowhere, or rather, everywhere. But, in this case, Hermione couldn't have been more content with being part of the furniture. And at least studying here kept thoughts of Fred at bay.

There were never great amounts of students in the library, to nobodies surprise, usually only Hermione and perhaps the odd few first years whilst they still bothered to take care with homework. So when a new sound of footsteps ringing off the floor broke her concentration, she stopped for a moment and allowed herself to crane her neck in the direction of the door. She was unable to make out who it was, however, due to the rows of grand wooden bookcase that crept towards the ceiling and obstructed her view. The only thing she could see through the small few strips that weren't filled with age-old books was a headful of ginger hair that seemed to be heading in her direction, and she drew her neck back in and continued to study the words of the open book in front of her.

As she predicted, there was a scraping across the floor of chair legs and somebody sat down across from her, all the while she continued to read.

'I haven't quite finished these notes for you yet, Ron. Have you finished your Charms revision alread-'

'I wouldn't bet on that,' said a voice that clearly wasn't Ron.

'Oh,' she said as she drew her upwards, her book becoming suddenly disinteresting.

'Not unless falling asleep in the common room is his new way of studying,' he jeered.

'Funnily enough, he's been 'studying' like that for years,' she laughed, and so did the boy.

There was a silence.

'Hi,' blurted Hermione.

Really? she chastised herself inwardly. That is the best you can come up with?

'Hi,' he beamed back at her nevertheless.

And although her mind was becoming increasingly dizzy from thinking of something else to have said, Hermione thumbed the book in her hands slowly and let her eyes brush over him. He was still as unkempt as how she remembered him on the first day of term. The sleeves of his ashen jumper were pushed messily up at his elbows and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone so you could see a brief glimpse of his collar bone when his loosened tie wasn't in the way. The rest of his shirt stuck out awkwardly from the hem of his jumper, half-tucked in and half out and crumpled. His eyes flickered with flecks of amber in amongst the darkness of hazel. And his hair the same unruly mess that it had always been.

There was a brief silence as they looked at one another.

'You know, you're making quite the habit out of sneaking up on me,' she said as she returned her eyes to her book in order to have something to concentrate on. His face broke into an expression of confusion and raised his eyebrows.

'What?' he asked loudly.

And I've said something stupid yet again.

'Well, I- I just meant that you always seem to appear from nowhere, Fred,' she laughed awkwardly.

There was another silence.

'Fred might do, but I'm George,' he said with a crooked smile.

'Oh,' she said, bewildered. 'Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry'

She couldn't summon an amount copious enough to describe the extent of embarrassment to which she felt in that moment, but she knew that she desperately wanted to bury her head in her book and hope that he wouldn't be able to see the hot flush of her cheeks. Instead, she flashed an apologetic smile. They looked so much alike that it was hard to tell the difference between the two, even for Hermione who had spent rather large amounts of time in their company at the Burrow, but she had always managed it after a short while. She could feel the heat of his stare on her as she looked at anything that wasn't him, and wondered whether every Weasley could just naturally make her feel this way.

'Is something wrong?' he asked as though he had read her mind.

'No, I just thought you were Fred, that's all,' she replied, adding a humble smile on the end.

'Well I guess you'll just have to put up with me instead,' he joked.

'I've, um, I've come about Fred actually,' he added on a more serious note.

'Nothing to worry about,' he chuckled, raising both his hands at his sides when he saw the expression on Hermione's face. 'It's more like I've come for Fred.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and cocked her head to the side an inch, surveying his face as he continued.

'He didn't really know if you were angry at him for walking away from you the other day in the Owlery, so,' he finished and considered Hermione for a moment. Then he ran his hand through his hair in much the same way as Fred, and waited for her to speak.

'I'm still not too sure why you're here,' admitted Hermione.

'Right. Well, he wanted to say that he's sorry Hermione. But properly this time. A-And that's for making a big deal out of something he shouldn't have as well as for ignoring you, and just being a complete utter git. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you upset. If you didn't want to kiss him, you didn't want to kiss him and he wants you to know that he knows he over reacted a bit. He wanted to say thankyou as well because he thinks you were brilliant the other night Hermione, even more than normal, and you didn't have to help us at all with Draco.'

Hermione sat quietly stunned, slowly trying to process what had just been said. Had he just said that Fred thought she was brilliant? She was sure that he had and tried, and failed, to restrict the smile that was beginning to stretch across her face. The boy sat opposite couldn't help but notice and flashed an earnest smile into his lap before flickering his gaze back to Hermione.

'Why didn't he tell me this in the Owlery?'

He stopped in thought for a moment.

'He just didn't know how to, Hermione. Believe me, he's been sat trying to think of what to say for days now. He wanted to say sorry in the Owlery, like, really wanted to. And not just a lame apology like 'I'm sorry'. The words just wouldn't come to him properly. Not easy to get your head straight when you've just been hit with a pile of snow as solid as one of Hagrid's home-made rock cakes... or so I've been led to believe' he finished with a laugh.

'I can imagine,' she laughed. 'Well let him know his apology is accepted. All of this started from a pointless argument in a bathroom, and I think we both just want to forget all the bad things we said since. And I suppose I did over-react a bit when I saw him with Angelina.'

'...Can I ask why?' he asked in curiosity as he leant forward in his seat slightly. 'Why did it matter that he was with Angelina?'

Hermione was surprised by the bluntness of the question. And it seemed that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't form a coherent answer.

'Um,' she said pitchily. 'I- I guess it was since- Um. I suppose- I don't know actually' she offered in the hope he wouldn't continue that particular line of conversation. It wasn't something she even really knew herself yet, not properly atleast. It seemed to work, however, as he leant back in his seat once more and considered what Hermione had said. After a short moment, he started up again.

'It wasn't how it looked by the way, Hermione,' he said awkwardly. 'She came up to talk about Quidditch, and she just came and stood across from him. She was only there for a minute. Angelina is just a friend. W- They're over... have been for ages'

'Really?' she asked, not convinced.

'Really,' he said honestly. 'You have my word,' he winked and crossed his heart before holding up some sort of mock salute.

Hermione couldn't help but smile.

'The word of a prankster? Oh, how comforting,' she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes playfully. The boy sat opposite replied with feigned offence and clutched wildly at his chest. It was true, both he and Fred were so much alike that it was startling.

'I don't think I even got to say thank you for what the two of you did to Draco. It was completely brilliant. Mad, but brilliant.'

'No need to thank us,' he smiled heartily. 'Couldn't let that slimy git get away with thinking he can do anything he wants all of his life could we?'

Slowly, his hands began to furl into a loose fist on the table so that Hermione could see the whites of his knuckles. He saw that she was looking and relaxed them slightly, and moved them from the table.

'Not to a beautiful girl like yourself anyway,' he half-laughed, trying to diffuse the tension he had created.

In a small corner of her mind, Hermione was quite perplexed. She could never remember George being this inexplicably nice to her before and most certainly never so complimentary. Everything about him today was odd. They'd often be around each other when they were at the Burrow and with the others, but they didn't speak to each other all that much even then, so it was weird for them to be having such a long conversation with one another now. It seemed to Hermione that George was the more 'reserved' of the twins (which meant even then he was louder than most students at school) whereas Fred was the one who would tend to strike a conversation with her. In some small odd indescribable way, this didn't make sense.

But then something clicked.

Hermione flashed a knowing smile to herself and chose her next words very carefully.

'You've been awfully nice to me, George. I can't thank you enough. I honestly can't imagine Fred ever being this nice to me. He's way too stubborn.;

The face of the boy opposite looked taken aback and slightly offended.

'Well, yeah, maybe he can be a bit stubborn sometimes but-'

'And too proud,' she reeled as though she hadn't heard him.

'I wouldn't say prou-' he said indignantly.

'But I suppose you could say he is kind of nice.'

'Well-' he began with an oddly cocky smile.

'Even if it is in his own really, really, really strange way.'

'Ju-' he yelped.

'Not you though, George, you're much nicer.'

'I'll have you know that Fred is brilliant. And funny. And he's very, very, very nice to people when he wants to be,' he said crossing his arms matter of factly.

'Mhm, not that you mention it, you can be very very very nice to people when you want to be, Fred.'

'Now that's m-' he started. 'Wait, what? No. I'm George' he blurted quickly, and unconvincingly.

'Nice try, Fred'

The boy looked down and when he looked back upwards, an awkward smile curled itself into the corner of his thin face.

'How did you know?'

'It was a hunch. Although I guess a beautiful girl such as myself should have known soone-'

'Right, I take it all back,' he joked quickly as he stood to make a leave, when Hermione grabbed the hand that hung at his side. She quickly worked her fingers lightly into his so that their hands were intertwined, her slight hand slipping into the warmth of his palm. Fred's eyes flickered between the girls face and their married hands to try and make sense of the moment.

'This meant a lot, Fred. Thank you.'

'My pleasure. You genuinely had me going at the end there.'

'Now that was my pleasure. Even if you did pretend to be George,' she laughed and rolled her eyes.

'Well, yeah,' he laughed awkwardly back, using his free hand to massage the back of his neck. 'I just didn't know whether you'd be angry at me or not you see. You know, for just walking away. This way seemed easier. I never meant to upset you in the first place Hermione. Not ever. I couldn't deal with myself if I did.'

Hermione got up from her seat so they were stood opposite one another and drew herself up on to her tiptoes as she leant over and placed a gentle kiss on the soft of his cheek. She lingered there a moment. His eyebrows raised an inch as she pulled herself back and smiled at him sheepishly from the other side of the table.

Becoming aware they were still holding the others' hand, they quickly pulled away from each other.

'I, uh, I think your brother might be in real need of these,' said Hermione, indicating the piece of parchment she had begun to fill with notes and quickly set to gathering her things as Fred watched her do so. When her arms were heavily leaden with borrowed books and pots of ink, she spoke again. '

Bye, Fred,' she smiled.

She had only taken a few steps before the books began to slip from her grasp and she had to stumble to regain her hold over them.

'Come here, you,' said Fred as he swept in behind her and started to unload some of the books from her. After a few moments, he had full arms also which was met by a roll of the eyes by Hermione.

'What?'

'I can take care of myself you know,' she reminded him wearily.

'I know. But it doesn't hurt to help,' he smiled cheekily.

With another roll of her eyes, Hermione had set off back towards the common room and Fred, arms heaving with books, followed close in her footsteps.


Is there anything you guys would like to see happen next? If there is then please let me, I'm more than open to suggestions on where to go next :~)

Might not be another chapter for a few weeks though, I have exams and taking longer to write my chapters often means they're better too.