Someone prodded Hermione with their foot and she yelped and sat up. Fred stood over her, hands out stretched and eyebrows raised in a silent question.
"Oh Merlin! I'm so sorry, I -"
"Doesn't matter," he mumbled. "But the longer we leave it the worse these boils get." Making sure Hermione didn't see him, he looked miserably at his stinging aching hands.
Scrambling to her feet and retrieving her wand from where she'd dropped it in her fatal hour, she put an arm around Fred and lead him from the room. Once in the corridor, they were hampered by the Fat Lady, "It's only five minutes to curfew you know, you'll get yourselves in trouble!"
"Hospital Wing!" Hermione called back, not even turning around. Never had she been so impolite to a portrait, even in her worst moods. Being Fred was getting her into bad habits, and it worried her that she was starting not to care. Could it possibly have something to do with being in his body? Or was it just from all the acting?
"She doesn't normally bother me or George, it's probably because she saw you that she said something," considered Fred calmly.
"I don't see why," Hermione said, "I'm always late back from the library and I've been out on a few nighttime wanderings with Harry and Ron. And it's 'George or I.'"
"Yeah, yeah, whatev- Ow!" Fred broke off after trying to make a dismissive wave and knocking a suit of armor with his boil covered hand. "These are worse than the ones we got when we hadn't perfected the Fever Fudge," he muttered. "I almost feel sorry for Kenneth Towler, you know putting it-"
"In his pyjamas. I know. And you should feel guilty. He might have failed his exams," Hermione answered snippily. "And I offered to 'take the hit', if you remember. You should've let me do it."
"I'll roll in bulbadox powder before I put you in harm's way again," Fred said stonily.
"If making me tell Angelina she won't have a full team for Quidditch practice isn't putting me in harm's way, then I don't know what is," Hermione retorted. "Turns out we needn't have worried so much after all, what with practice being cancelled anyway."
Fred jerked to a halt and stared at her. "What do you mean practice was cancelled?"
"We may want to consider looking out of a window occasionally," Hermione said cheerily. "The blizzard is so bad that you'd not be able to tell which way is up once you were flying, let alone see any of the balls."
"You mean I did this for bloody nothing?" Fred scowled and raised his hands to chest height.
"Well, not nothing. In the end you did it for me..." Hermione suddenly looked pained and bashful. "All 'I told you so's' aside, I really appreciate what you did." She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
They continued on in silence after that, both rather red and both wearing soft, secretive smiles.
Madam Pomfrey wasn't happy. "Bulbadox powder? What on earth are you doing messing around with something so dangerous without protective gloves?"
"I'm afraid it was my fault," Hermione cut in, hoping to take some of the focus off Fred. "She was helping me rearrange my potions stores because I'd bought some refills in Hogsmeade this morning and one of the jars broke."
"I might've known you'd be involved somewhere, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, exasperated. "I don't know," she sniffed. "If it's not one thing with you students, it's another. I had four Slytherins in this afternoon, four!" she repeated, pouring a gloupy, fuchsia coloured concoction into a shallow bowl. "Came back from Hogsmeade in a right state," she continued, now mixing in a liberal amount of grey powder. "Looked to me as if they'd been fighting, but they didn't utter a single word the entire time they were here. I even thought they were under a silencing charm for a while, until one of them let out a grunt of pain. Right dear, just sit with your hands in there for an hour and you'll be right as rain." She placed the bowl in front of Fred and gently set his swollen, raw hands into the now turquoise mixture that appeared to have thinned quite considerably. Fred gave an instant sigh of relief and Madam Pomfrey patted him fondly on the head before bustling away.
"She's not a bad old stick, Poppy," Fred grinned.
"Fred!" Hermione admonished.
"What?" he asked, with an innocent look that was much more at home on Hermione's face than it would've been on his. "Hey, I can't wait to tell George about the Slytherins."
"I suppose not," Hermione said glumly.
"What's up? They kept their mouths shut, we're in the clear and your record's still perfect," Fred comforted.
"I know, it's just... I just..." She couldn't seem to find the right words. "I'll know." she finally said.
"Know? Know what?" Fred was lost.
"I don't just care what other people think. Every time I do anything against the rules, to help Harry, or to fix something that would otherwise stay broken, I ask myself if I can live the rest of my life knowing what I did. That fight in Hogsmeade would've had a huge red 'no' stamped on it without consideration. I know it sounds silly, I just..." she trailed off sadly.
"It's not silly," Fred said sincerely and almost taking a hand out of the healing potion to grasp her arm, but she grasped his forearms to stop him. "Oh, sorry. But it's not silly. I know you wouldn't expect me to understand, but I do. After walking in your shoes for three days, literally, I've noticed things. It's why you get upset if you can't do a spell perfectly on your first try, why you don't swear all the time and why you rewrite a piece of homework until you can't find a single mistake. You're trying to be the best that you can be, because it gives you a sense of pride and self respect." She nodded silently, her eyes locked on his. "I sometimes feel the same, you know." At her sceptical expression he explained, "Maybe not in exactly the same way of course, everyone's different after all, but I feel an accomplishment when I do a spell my first go, or when George and I have perfected a new invention." She smiled. "And it pleased me no end to do my best at being you, you don't know how good it felt to see your eyes light up because I'd written reams of notes or won you some house points."
"Oh Fred!" Hermione croaked, her throat dry and her eyes brimming.
"Now, now, none of that, no tears. Weasley twins don't cry, remember?" he teased, a little hoarse himself. "And if it helps, just think of it this way. It might have been your body, but it wasn't you. There's so much more to someone than what's on the outside, what other people see. Look at George and I, practically identical -"
"Apart from the mole." Hermione said with a watery chuckle.
"Alright," he conceded, "Practically identical to look at, but for the mole on my left hip and the one behind George's ear."
"Oh, yes, I noticed that," she remembered.
"My point is, we're still individuals. We don't have the same favourite colour - mine's blue and his is orange. I like lemon flavoured ice cream best and he prefers mint choc' chip. I'm better at transfiguration, while he excels in charms. It's the soul that counts, we should know that better than most after the last few days."
"I guess you're right," Hermione said, looking alot happier.
"Course I am," Fred said with an assertive nod. "That's another difference between me and George, I'm always right and he's always wrong." It wasn't true of course, but if it made her laugh like that he'd swear snitches were purple. "So, tell me, what were you and George getting up to for you to notice his mole? You're not getting into the twin thing, are you? " His body shook with silent laughter, sloshing a bit of the potion from the bowl.
"Fred!" she exclaimed, "We were partners while practicing the supersensory charm, I had to stand behind him is all."
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," He misquoted with a roguish grin.
"Alright then, you tell me, what were you and George getting up to that presented you with the opportunity of seeing Professor Flitwick in exercise gear?" she smirked. Oh how the tables have turned.
The grin vanished. Fred shuddered visibly and looked sick. "What'd you go and remind me of that for? It's taken me weeks to be able to go into a charms class and not see that in my head. George made a game out of it, kept reminding me of it at every possible opportunity, that's probably how you found out?"
"So you're squeamish and George isn't? Hmm, have to keep that for future reference." at his defeated look she continued, putting on a tone of mock concern, "It might help to get it off your chest, you know. Sometimes telling someone about something makes it seem alot less significant."
Fred watched her for a minute, then his eyes sparkled with mischief. "If that's the case, then you ought to tell me about kidnapping Rita Skeeter, you know, just to get it off your chest." She didn't reply, but gave him an incredulous look. "Oh, come on," he wheedled, "You said you'd like someone to see you as more than the 'know-it-all prefect', and you did promise."
Forty minutes later, Hermione had regaled Fred with the astonishing tales of her first four years at Hogwarts and the image of Professor Flitwick in Lycra had thankfully been forgotten. She'd just finished telling him about where and when she had freed Rita Skeeter, he in fits of laughter due to her rather accurate impressions of the woman making numerous threats, when Madam Pomfrey, dressed in a pale green dressing gown and matching slippers, came back to check Fred's hands.
"Nice to see you've been keeping her mind occupied, Mr. Weasley," She complimented with a small smile. "I'll just do a quick diagnostic spell to make sure the infection is completely gone and then you can return to your house."
So it was then five minutes later, with a clean bill of health and a permission slip to be out after curfew, Fred found himself strolling leisurely back to Gryffindor Tower with Hermione. Somehow they managed to forget the location of at least three secret passages along the way, making a three minute journey last ten.
"Ugh," Hermione half sighed, half groaned. "This feels like the longest day of my life… and that's saying something, the time-turner made days in third year rather long."
"It's almost over," Fred comforted. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow? Abseiling down the cliff face? Bungee jumping off the Astronomy tower?"
"What?" Hermione stopped walking, completely baffled.
"Well, you've already managed to black both my eyes and seriously endanger my family jewels. Not to mention all the ideas of self-inflicted harm you suggested to get out of quidditch…" he smirked.
"Oh, ha ha," Hermione groaned. "Your sides are splitting. Besides, it's not like you've been exactly careful with my body either, rubbing bulbadox powder into my hands and starting a brawl with four of the nastiest Slytherins we know."
"Call it even?" Fred asked, a beautifully soft, blemish free hand outstretched.
"Ok, even." Hermione smiled and grabbed the proffered hand.
They set off again, neither appearing to notice that their hands were still clasped together, or if they did, they didn't acknowledge the fact. Fred broke the comfortable silence as they reached the seventh floor and started along it. "You were great, you know." She turned and looked at him quizzically. "When you were acting out with George in the common room. And before that in the dorm when you let him plaster your face like that, you were brilliant. It was like an out of body experience, or watching a memory."
"Thank you," she said, smiling softly. "I just did what came naturally, after a prompt from you and a split second panic." They both laughed. "Maybe we left imprints of ourselves in our bodies, they remember us and so act accordingly."
"Nah, if that was the case I'd have known how to put a bra on," Fred joked. "And never in a mock sword fight with George have I jumped up on an armchair or work table." Hermione blushed profusely, but couldn't keep from laughing. "I think we're much more alike than you'd care to admit," he continued shrewdly. "You're a stickler for the rules, but if the need arises you'll break the most important ones. And you outwardly disapprove of fun and pranking, while secretly wishing you could join in. And no arguing," he said firmly, holding his free hand up to stay her inevitable protests, "I'm always right, remember?"
"I was just going to agree with you." Her statement left him stunned. She grinned. "When I was playing dead on the rug, I realised from the reaction of the rest of Gryffindor, that you and George must do that alot. Entertain, 'act out' as you put it. I'd never seen it before because I always had my nose stuck in a book in the library. But if this experience has taught me anything, it's to sample every dish at the table and not just stick to the one that I'm comfortable with. Maybe I'll hate some, but at least I'll know I hate them and not just think I do."
"And do you?" Fred's quiet tone puzzled her.
"Do I what?"
"Hate any of the dishes you've sampled so far this week?" he clarified, his eyes fixed on hers.
"Well, I wouldn't say being punched, or hitting myself in the 'family jewels' with a beater's bat are on my top ten list of favourites," but he didn't smile, he was waiting for something more, but she wasn't sure what it was. Taking a stab in the dark, she went on soberly, "But no, the rest of the dishes were very much to my liking. And..." she paused, getting lost in his stare.
"And?" he prompted.
"I might even order them again some time." she felt compelled to say.
This garnered an even stranger reaction in Fred, he blew out a breath as though he'd been holding it for a very long time, flashed her a satisfied smile and hugged her round the middle. Utterly bewildered by his behaviour, she just hugged back, enjoying the warmth and comfort it brought. After what seemed like an hour, Fred stepped back, reached up and brushed his fingers gently through her ginger hair. He caught his breath and looked into her eyes. What was he doing? It felt natural, but somehow not quite like himself. More like natural for Hermione. Maybe there was a small imprint... He mentally shook himself, recovering his usual happy go lucky demeanour and linking their arms. "Come on then, or everyone will think we've eloped," he joked, leading her towards the portrait hole. But as both their bodies entered the now empty common room, their minds were still firmly fixed in that peaceful stretch of corridor.
Binka Fudge, you're awesome! This chapter was all Binka! I just played the beta reader for this one. ^^ I think it turned out great. You're the best!
Kimgeer- Yes this story is turning out much longer than my other ones. But, with the exception of my one-shot, my stories seem to be getting progressively longer. And though that pattern can't go on forever, I have a feeling that the next two stories I plan on writing could be just as long or longer than this. And yes, I've already got a few more story ideas circling in my brain. ;) I don't know when I'll post them, so make sure you put me on author alert. ^^
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