Part 25:

Hermione prided herself on knowing most things, or least knowing enough about most things. But it had been three days since Fred had showed up at her flat, three days since the kiss, and she had no clue what to do. It felt silly, really, to be standing in front of her fireplace as if the flames would spark green and he would appear. She was no damsel in distress, there was no tower that she must wait in for her prince to arrive, and yet, she felt stuck. There was no laid out path, no roadmap. And so, often throughout the past days she found herself in front of the fireplace, or near the door, stuck halfway been wanting to go to see him and terrified of all that would have to be said. She wished she could talk to Ginny, to explain it all. But what if Ginny was angry? She had already dated one of her brothers, and that had ended oh so poorly. What if Ginny didn't want her to be with Fred? There were enough unknowns already, she didn't need to add Ginny into it just yet.

From upstairs, she heard the soft thump of Crookshanks jumping down from something, probably the dresser. The sound brought her out of the thick haze of anxiety. She focused slightly, breathing in. This couldn't go on forever. Fred had been the one to arrive at her doorstep, so shouldn't that mean that it was her turn to arrive at his? All well in good in thought, but as she reached her hand forward to the small jar of floo powder on the mantel, she paused. What would she say to him? Hi there, remember when you confessed your secret feelings for me and then I kissed you? What was that about, huh? She cringed at the thought. But what was there to do but try, at least. Perhaps once she saw him the words would come, some way to express all the fear and doubt that was tied up with the melting desire to feel his lips against hers again.

A knock, harsh and fast, on the door made Hermione jump. A tiny smile forced its way onto her face as she padded down the hallway towards the door. He had come. And as she realized this, the thought that only a few inches of door stood in between them, her worry seemed small. He was Fred. She had known him for years. He was not one to back down, simply because his family might disapprove. And as she unhooked the latch, she realized that she had made up her mind the moment she kissed him. He was worth it, and no amount of time would change her mind. She flung the door open with, perhaps, a bit too much enthusiasm and it knocked loudly against the wall. The "hello" was snatched from her lips as she realized that it wasn't Fred standing in the door as she had thought.

"Excited, aren't 'ya?" Her neighbor, an elderly muggle man who hated cats and therefore Hermione, stood a few paces back from the door.

"Sorry, Mr. Feldheim. What can I do for you?" She tried to mask the disappointed in her voice, but she could still hear it. The man didn't seem to notice, as he wiped his nose across the camel colored sleeve of his jumper.

"You can keep your cat out of my damn trash bin is what you can do." He said, no more than a mutter. Hermione furrowed her brows.

"Crookshanks doesn't go outside, Mr. Feldheim. I can promise you it wasn't him." She paused for a moment, "but Trixie, across the way, she got a cat a few weeks back. Perhaps it was hers?" The quiet, young neighbor had sheepishly asked her not to alert Mr. Feldheim to her owning a cat, and at the breaking of that oath Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. But Mr. Feldheim was a talker, a ranter really, and since mistaking his appearance for Fred's she was antsy to see him. She could not stand her and listen to him complain about house pets for half an hour. He had turned to look over his shoulder at the offender's door, a wreath still hanging.

"Soon this neighborhood will be overrun, cats breed like bunnies. You know that, Ms. Granger?" But he had already turned and begun towards Trixie's as he said it, so Hermione felt no need to respond.

"Goodnight, Mr. Feldheim." She called as she shut and relatched the door. Turning, she found Crookshanks lying across the bottom step, lazily tonguing his paw.

"Are you taunted him?" Hermione asked, giving his ears a playful scratch. He meowed in response, following her into the kitchen. She dropped a handful of cat food into his dish, and fetched her wand off the table.

"I'll be back a bit later." She said to the cat, although he was busy with his evening snack and didn't even acknowledge her the snap of her disapparation, however, Crookshanks raised his head and looked about the room and flicked his tail twice before turning his face back into the dish.

Hermione wobbled slightly as she apparated to the ledge outside the Weasley brother's flat. Careful not to step backwards and tumble down the stairs, she found her footing and took several deep breaths in. It was dark, and like a idiot she had forgot to put on a coat. The coldness spurred her to action despite a small tempest of fear raging inside, and she gave a few short raps against the door. A voice called out something that sounded like "coming" from deep inside, and she listened for approaching footsteps. A moment later the door swung open and she was met with first shock and then a lazy smile that stretched from ear to...where a second ear should be. George leaned against the doorframe.

"Well, good evening, Hermione" He gave a mock bow, never breaking eye contact as he did so. There was something in his expression that unsettled her, some deeper emotion she couldn't unravel.

"I, uh," She said, before pausing to clear her throat. "I'm here to see Fred." George nodded his head down.

"He's down in the workroom of the shop, hard at work trying to fix our newest version of the fever fudge. Madam Pomfrey seems to have figured out a way to detect the current one, the old bat. He'll be real glad you're here though." He said, smiling with something that looked almost genuine in his eyes. "The door should be unlocked."

"Thank you, George." Hermione said, a small shiver running up her body as a gust of wind pushed through her. As she made her way down the steps, one creaking loudly under foot, George yelled behind her,

"Just promise you won't shag him on the workbench, I have to use that too you know!" She heard one burst of laughter before he shut the door. Hermione felt the blush, and paused outside the back door until it receded. Should she knock or just go in? Suddenly unsure she gave one tepid knock and then opened the door slightly.

Fred had his back to her, hunched over a notebook. The curtain to the main shop was closed, so the only light in the space was from one overhead bulb. It sputtered slightly, and Fred ran a hand through his hair, letting out a small sigh.

"What is it, George? I told you I wasn't hungry."

"You know it isn't good to skip meals. It actually makes concentrating harder." At her voice, he spun around, knocking his elbow against the corner of the desk as he did so.

"Merlin!" He said loudly, grabbing his elbow and hissing slightly. "Hermione! What, what, why are you here.I mean...I'm you're here. I was, I mean, I thought about." He stood quickly, and released the elbow he was nursing. She smiled at his confusion.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to just burst in here." Hermione waited, holding her breath, as Fred blinked rapidly, seeming to overcome a little of the shock. Carefully, and with a slowness that had her heart racing, he took a single step towards her. A smile ghosting across his lips, he whispered

"I'm glad you're here."

Disclaimer: I don't own HP

Author's Note: Two chapters in one weekend...even I am surprised. But when you're a senior, and single, and avoiding TA work, then you write fanfiction and drink wine. Anyway, I love you all. As always, let me know what you think, I so appreciate your comments.

~E