A/N: Welcome back! My thanks to everyone who is reading, rec'ing and reviewing this fic. :) Remember, if you have a question that you'd like me to answer, please ask it from an account to which you are signed in and for which you accept PMs. Thanks!
Also, a bow and a wink to Lioness32, who caught review #1100!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Burrow, 1 January 1995
"So that's what, now?" Hermione asked, leaning on the kitchen counter while Bill Weasley was brewing in three small cauldrons.
"Sober-Up," he said with a quick glance in her direction. "Always good to have the morning after a party. Mum ran out, though. I think she wasn't expecting quite so much, er, alcohol."
Hermione winced internally. Surely her one bottle of Muggle champagne wasn't to blame for that.
"You need some of this, Hermione?" he asked with a tolerant look.
"No, thank you. I'm fine." At her use of the word "fine", Bill sent her a wicked grin and she fought her blush furiously. "I mean, Mr. Weasley, that I was at no point intoxicated last night, so I have no occasion to sober up."
"Well done of you, I'm sure," he replied, turning the stirring wands anti-clockwise in each cauldron. "There. Should be good to go, now. So," he went on, turning fully to her. "Since you're up and alert, would you mind helping me decant these? Then I'll get some breakfast on. Mum's usually up and frying sausages by now, but I do believe she rather enjoyed the Muggle champagne you brought her."
This time, Hermione fought her blush successfully. "Thank you. I'd be happy to help. And I'm glad if your Mum liked her gift. That was the idea."
While they carefully measured and poured the Sober-Up Potion into phials that Bill had lined up on the long wooden table, he asked, "So, you and the twins?"
"As you saw, yes." She did not look at him, but focused on the potion. "You know, this looks rather like Madam Pomfrey's Pick-Me-Up."
"They're very similar, yes." He corked his phials and moved on to the next cauldron. "I'm not meaning to pry, Hermione. Not really. I am just wondering if you have any questions."
She angled him a look. "Have you dated identical twins before?"
He laughed. "No. But as you know, my uncles did, and—"
She interrupted with a shake of her head as she said, "They did the research, told me what they knew about your uncles, and even referenced a book on Magical Multiples and so on. George and Fred wouldn't ask me to be with them blindly, you know. They're quite brilliant."
"Huh." He held himself still for a moment and she paused, too, her hands poised to pour another decanting. "That's good to know, on all counts." He cocked his head and studied her for a moment and she reminded herself that she had managed to wash that morning, even if she was dressed "full Muggle" in jeans, jumper, and trainers. She'd made sure to wear green, too. "You know, I think you'll do all right."
"Thank you."
It was well into the afternoon before Hermione was able to take a proper shower. Feeling much more the thing, she was sitting near the fire in the living room, holding a mug of hot chocolate while Fred and George got their own and joined her. She did enjoy watching them move, the pair of them, and was fascinated by their bantering. It was so lively, and sounded so spontaneous, yet she knew them. It was as if they knew what the other would say before it was said, and that was just amazing to her.
That they—astonishing wizards, both—wanted to be in a relationship with her was also amazing, but she didn't question it. They'd fit together since she was in her first year, even if it took them awhile to figure it out.
The house was quieter with the guests all sobered and gone home. Bill had left as well, heading to his own flat in London. Boudicca, she had seen earlier, was settled back in her cage, resting, as was Hedwig. Potter and Ron were playing exploding snap in Ron's room and Ginny had invited Luna Lovegood over and the two of them were looking at Witch Weekly in Ginny's room.
She had no idea where the adults were, nor did she much care. Right now, she was focused on a very necessary conversation.
"Was Mum awful, last night?" Fred asked quietly, regarding her over the rim of his mug. "She looked flustered."
"Well, maybe she was. Same prejudices, you know. House stuff." Hermione took a comforting inhalation from her own mug. "She wanted to know how you two got involved with someone from my House." Shrugging, she met the gaze of each of the twins. "And she asked if my parents knew."
"That's something we wanted to talk about," George said, setting his drink down on the low table in front of them.
"Yeah," Fred continued. "How will they take it?"
"Honestly?" She hated to say this, but she had to, so she tried to remember to be kind, because she cared for them very much. "I don't want them to know I'm dating both of you. Not until I'm of age," she told them directly, not flinching from the hurt that flared in warm brown eyes. "Now, I'm not ashamed of you. Not in any possible way. You have to know that. I'm proud, I am. But my parents are Muggles, and we don't have triads as a regular thing in that world. It's seen as, as deviant. Inappropriate. Even illegal, in that three people can't legally marry." She blushed, because she hadn't meant to go there, but there she went. "So if my parents knew that their underaged teenager was in a romantic triad with two wizards, they might take me out of school." The boys gasped. "They might even take me out of the country. It's possible. They're very protective, just like your parents."
"Well," Fred allowed, staring into the fire. "That does put some color on it, doesn't it?"
"So what do we tell them?" George asked.
She sipped at her chocolate. "I recommend not telling them anything until I'm of age. You're my friends. They've been hearing about you since my first year, one way or another. The names George and Fred Weasley have been a part of my letters home forever. Why would that be any different now?"
"Because your friends wouldn't be after snogging you senseless as soon as you walk in a room?" Fred suggested, turning to her with a spark in his eye. That was more like it.
"Nor would I be wishing for that," she admitted quietly. "From friends, you know. But, but you have to know, the pair of you, that—that's it's almost always been like that, for me." Vulnerability was not easy, but she was asking something hard from them, so she felt it was only right to relinquish something of hers. Like a bit of pride.
George's smile was tender. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Fred held is hand out to her and she set down her cup to join them on the smallish sofa. Snuggled between them, she felt more comfortable. They held hands and sighed all at one time. And then they chuckled. Together. And it felt grand.
"Okay. So what about at school?" she asked after a few quiet moments. "Your House?"
She felt George's sturdy shoulders move in a shrug as the fire crackled sharply. "I say we don't hide it. Not if you don't want to, Hermione. Triads aren't a problem in our world, though they're not usual. And we are identical twins, so it's not unheard of."
"What about with your House?" Fred asked, resting his head briefly atop hers.
"I don't know. No one's said anything about you lot, yet. If I'm dating two pure-blood wizards, will that be seen as good or bad? Will they hex me or congratulate me? I haven't any idea. We'll have to see."
Fred caught her chin with his finger. "So, we're open about us?"
"Absolutely. At least, at school."
2 January 1995
"So we've been trying to see if we can use that duplication charm on liquids."
They were in the Weasley kitchen the day before they were to head back to Hogwarts, and Hermione was leaning against one of the counters, wearing a U2 t-shirt from their Zooropa tour in 1993. When she went to the concert in France, she'd bought the shirt in a men's size, so that it wouldn't be immediately non-wearable as she had been growing again. And she was glad for it, because she could take it everywhere. It was soft and comfortable. Besides, she rather enjoyed tossing bits of Muggle culture out in the middle of a pure-blood world.
That day in early January, in said concert shirt and jeans, but bare of foot, she nodded at the display George was pointing to on the table. "We've got a metal cup here, like Moody's flask. And in it is some water, just in case we do something disastrous."
"You do lead dangerous lives," she acknowledged with a crooked smile. "What's been happening? And that isn't your wand."
Fred grinned. "No. It's Mum's!" He focused, lips compressed briefly before he did the twist with the wand required as he said "Geminio!"
A cup identical to the original appeared next to it on the table. Hermione smiled and met Fred's eye. "Looks very good."
"Well, yeah, you know, but inside?" He tipped the cup upside down and nothing came out. "Dry as the proverbial bone."
"Is the spell only focusing on what it hits first, then? Like, like with the flashcards? Those didn't have a lot of depth and there was, basically, only the one material involved."
"That's what I think," Fred said, Banishing the newest cup. He then took the original metal cup away and dumped out the water before putting it well away from his brother.
George took the wand. "I think it has to do with the fact that we can't see the liquid." He opened a cupboard and brought out a clear glass tumbler and filled it with water. "Geminio!" he called out in a clear voice.
This time, perhaps because of George's focus or perhaps because of the nature of the tumbler, the water itself was duplicated, plopping wetly on the table next to the glass tumbler before splashing into a formless puddle.
"Oh!" George exclaimed, thrusting the wand into the air and nearly hitting a heavy ceiling beam. "That's good, right there."
"Can you make metal transparent?" Hermione wondered, sliding a chair out and collapsing upon it. "Fred, you've got the Transfiguration O.W.L. Can you do that?"
He pursed his lips together to whistle. "That one's complicated, because metals are so dense and heavy, you know? I'd have to practice. And then practice transfiguring it to hold the shape with the liquid separate and inside."
Hermione bit her lip and studied the cup. "It might be easier to Stun him, steal the thing, pour out what's inside, Obliviate him, and give it back."
George strode around the table to pull her up and wrap her in his arms in a most satisfactory manner. "You're a scary, scary girl, 'Mione." He gave her a hard, smacking kiss, though, so she imagined he wasn't too terribly frightened. "And I'm glad you're ours."
"And I'm glad you're mine," she told him, holding out her arm to Fred so he'd hurry to join them. "And hey. I just had a thought. Just now." She frowned and arched her neck to look at Fred. "You share."
"Yes," they said together, both of them nuzzling her where her neck sloped to her shoulders.
She shivered and sighed, which only made them do it again. It was rather amazing, how hot that made her, and their lips weren't even on hers. "All right," she managed to say, her voice uneven. "So, what if there's only one of you? Like if Fred's in detention and George is free and we find a broom closet—"
"No broom closets," George murmured against her shoulder. "Flitwick has some of them charmed and monitored."
"And he rotates. Bill told us."
"Sure he wasn't taking the mickey?" she asked, moving restlessly between them. She ran one hand up one twin's arm, the other up the other. They felt quite similar, which didn't surprise her, really. She squeezed a bit, and they flexed for her. At the same time. Which made her smile.
"Pretty sure."
"Don't want to risk it," Fred told her, his voice thick. "But you were asking about just being with one of us, right?" He gripped her hips and she had to let go of his arm, but she honestly didn't care just them. Feeling his fingers moulding to her shape was enough stimulation.
She let her head drop back so that it rested against his shoulder. "Yeah. I don't want to step on toes or, or anything. Your relationship is important to me."
"I think I want to keep her," George whispered before he mouthed her throat.
She moaned and ran her hands up his chest and Fred took her lips in a kiss so immediately hot that all conversation was burned utterly away.
King's Cross Station, 3 January 1995
They came through the Floo and George immediately reached for Hermione, making sure she and Boudicca had made the transition without discomfort. Their girl leaned into him, kissing his jaw as Fred wrapped her up at the same time.
Rather a bold move, George decided, but it certainly made their whole "Be open about us" policy very evident.
Which had its downside.
"Slag."
"Mudblood whore."
"How many of them are you doing, Mudblood?"
Fred had never felt so furious. Not in all his life. Not the time that George got targeted in a Quidditch game and dropped from his broom. Not the time when Ron had been bullied by some random idiots in Diagon Alley when he'd been only five. It was close to how mad he'd felt when he found that Ginny had been possessed by You-Know-Who, though.
Which should have told him something, but it didn't.
They had arrived at King's Cross Station via the Floo, that morning. This was due to having two owls with them (and Dad had not found out that both Harry and Hermione had contributed surreptitiously to the Floo Powder Fund on the mantle, but that was just fine with Fred) and having so many people who needed to get to the train. He and George, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. As well as Mum and Dad. Eight humans and two animals. "There has to be a better way to do this," he had muttered to Hermione.
"I'll work on that. After the Moody thing. And the Tournament," she had responded with that dry tone she adopted so often.
She had huddled with Harry at their fireplace, as the owls seemed to want to be sociable. This had made Ron pink around the ears, but George had been glad to see that their threats against their brother held. Nothing like a warning about being an unwitting product tester to make a lad behave.
But nothing, he felt, would stop the abuse being heaped on Hermione's name. Ever since she had been seen waiting on Platform 9 3/4, holding hands with him and his twin, students and parents had given them long, questioning glances. When Ron and Harry arrived, they had clustered together in a group of five while Ginny Floo'd through with their parents.
At the first slur, Harry had moved in closer, bending down to soothe a ruffled Boudicca while Hedwig made comforting sounds. Ron glared at anyone who muttered such things, if they weren't of their House. George moved so that instead of holding Hermione's hand, he wrapped her shoulders with one arm. Fred held her waist, feeling how tense and unyielding she was under his fingers.
But Hermione herself showed no outward sign at all of hearing the wankers and their slurs. She addressed Harry about ordering more Tyto Treats, while leaning first into Fred and then into George. Her expression remained smooth and at ease. Only her body was tensed to run or hex, Fred didn't know which.
When Mum and Dad drew near, the comments ceased. "So, then, there you go. Hermione, don't forget to owl your parents when you get to school. I know they must be anxious with you having been away for a time."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Weasley."
"And good luck with your O.W.L.s!" he added cheerfully.
Hermione's eyes widened and Fred had to give her an extra squeeze. "You'll get Os. You know that. Best marks in the school, likely."
"I'll try," she whispered. Sure, the insults thrown at her didn't make her lose her poise, but the idea of not being brilliant on her exams knocked her for a loop.
Dad tapped Fred's shoulder and wordlessly asked him to follow him off for a bit. Nodding, Fred kissed Hermione's cheek, jerked his chin toward his father, and with a look, made sure that George would stay glued to Hermione's side.
"Do you have money for the trip up?" Dad asked, his expression earnest once they'd roamed out of earshot.
Baffled, Fred thrust his hands in his pockets. "Um, a bit, yeah. Everything all right, Dad?"
"Well, I know you'll be traveling with her, of course, and I wanted to make sure—"
Mortified, Fred mustered a smile anyway. "No worries, Dad. We'll be fine. You know Mum sends stuff up with us anyway, yeah?"
Dad looked a bit relaxed but then he tugged at his shirt collar and Fred tensed up again. What else was on Dad's mind?
"Good, good." His father paused, coughed, and blushed a bit. Fred felt a dreadful, clammy certainty what the true concern was, for his father, and he really wished this wasn't happening.
"Dad, no. I mean—"
"No, now, it's my duty as your father," he said with a stern light to his eyes that was rarely seen by the family at large. "You need to treat that girl with respect. She's Muggle-born, just for starters, and this will all be unusual for her. They don't think the way we do."
"Dad, we'll be fine."
"You know your spells, in case things get out of hand? Don't shake your head at me, son. It's important. You'll mean well, I'm sure, but you're young and—"
"Stop. Please." Fred wanted the platform to swallow him whole. "We know them. Bill's given us a speech. You've given us a speech. Mum gave Hermione a speech . . . Merlin!"
His father studied him for a long moment before digging some a few Galleons out of his pocket. "Here. A good a reason as any for my having pulled you away, yeah?"
Surprised gratitude cooled Fred's cheeks. He laughed. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."
"See you this summer."
"We'll be here!"
