"Where have you been?" George asked.
"Couldn't get out of the Burrow," Fred muttered, yanking his shirt over his head and marching into his room to change.
George nodded morosely, "Verity has been running the register. Business is, not surprisingly, down."
"We'll need to pay more attention to mail orders now," Fred's voice trailed out of his room.
"Y-You think it's all right that we sell love potions?" George asked, flicking his wand toward the kitchen. An orange bounced out of the basket and started unpeeling itself.
"That isn't what's bothering you, is it?" Fred stuck his head out of his room, skepticism clear on his face. George sighed.
"Angelina's at training."
"So?"
"So, no one is supposed to know where," George answered, anxiety moving his legs until he was pacing. There was a long pause as Fred waited for him to continue.
"But?!"
"The owner of the team is a bigot and an asshole," George said.
Fred strode out of his room wearing his staff robes. "You're worried about-"
"Him learning that I'm in the Order from his Death Eater pals and then- then he kicks Angelina off the team or worse- what if they hurt her Fred? What if they hurt her because of me?" George asked, all in one breath. Fred picked up his orange and started pulling it apart. George waited, still pacing, for the answer he should've been able to predict. Instead, his own thoughts dominated his mind.
It would be selfish not to break up with her. But that might draw even more attention to the relationship. And he needed her, much more than she needed him. What if she moved on while George was still convinced they could be together once the war was over? What if she didn't and he died? How could either get through this unharmed in some manner? It was impossible, but George didn't know which way was the best to minimize the damage.
"Why would the owner know who she's dating?" Fred asked, chewing thoughtfully on the first section of orange. George paused. "Why would anyone care?"
George wanted to fight it, this- this making Angelina insignificant. He even opened his mouth to, only to realize that he wasn't objective in the slightest about Angelina. He hadn't been since... when had he met Angelina? The train? He hated that his younger self had failed to remember their meeting. Too busy plotting the downfall of Hogwarts. George closed his mouth and opened it again, "She was in Dumbledore's Army."
"McGonagall and Kingsley made sure the full list of students was never released to the Prophet because most were underage," Fred said calmly, "They couldn't even say Harry was in it."
George recalled very vaguely Hermione mentioning something to that effect. He shuddered, "What if she mentions it to a teammate and-"
"George, you're torturing yourself over nothing. Angelina can take care of herself, she'll be all right," Fred threw a piece of the orange at him. George watched it land on the floor after bouncing off his chin. He rubbed the spot lightly as he stopped to retrieve the fallen fruit.
"You aren't worried about Hermione?"
"Why would I be? She's at Hogwarts," Fred said, so plainly artificial. His back had straightened, and he'd started playing with the orange instead of eating it. George leaned against the counter next to him.
"After last year-"
"He was expelled, admitted to St. Mungos," Fred snarled.
The murderous rage in Fred's eyes wasn't directed at George. Most people failed to realize that once they had seen it. People liked Fred, but they were also afraid of him. He had it in him to go farther than George could ever bring himself to alone. George held his twin's gaze silently. Fred's eye twitched slightly and he clenched his fists.
"We can't both be scared," Fred said finally, looking away from George. "Hermione is... I can't stand to see her like that ever again. You- you don't know what it's like to see- she thought she was broken and unfixable, and I-"
Fred's voice cracked, and he didn't continue. George rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Hermione is strong-"
"She's also a target," Fred whispered. He blamed Harry, George knew. Sure, Harry could survive the Killing Curse, but could he spread his immortality to the ones who would end up hurt because of him? Naturally not. The fate of the world in a sixteen-year-old's hands. George would not have wished the burden on anyone. Fred shook his head, "Why did we join the Order? It's only more to use against her."
"You don't think she'll be hurt because she herself stands opposed to You-Know-Who?" George asked after a moment. "If she didn't agree, she'd have dumped you and Harry by now. She's brave, Gryffindor through and through. She puts you and me to shame, really."
"That supposed to make me feel better?" Fred laughed drily.
"It worked either way," George shrugged and took a piece of orange. "We ought to get to work."
"Oh, so now that I'm miserable and you aren't, we can-"
"-go out and be judged by the public?"
"It is quite typical of you."
"I just remembered that I can see Ange in a week and a half."
"You're a bastard."
"Then so're you," George pointed out. "After all, we are identical."
~m~
"Excuse me," Hermione tried to squeeze past a few fourth years huddled in the corridor. Ron was lagging a carriage and a half behind talking to Lavender and the Patil twins.
"Hey, the lady said to move," Hermione could feel her stress double at the sound of his voice. Hermione slid by the younger kids, trying not to look back. She wished she hadn't left Ron now. She tensed when someone grabbed the back of her robes. Her heart beat tripled in pace.
He's in St. Mungo's, he's in St. Mungo's, he's in St. Mungo's.
"Let go," she ordered, clenching her wand in her hand. Sparks snapped out of its end.
"No thank you?" McLaggen grinned down at Hermione. He was too tall. Too cocky, too brash. Too... expectant. Not enough light in his eyes.
"I didn't ask for your help," Hermione tugged free of him. "You should go sit down."
"Actually, I'm off to meet Professor Slughorn. He's having a meal with some of the more important students," the child puffed up his chest, still grinning like an idiot. Hermione tried desperately not to roll her eyes at him. McLaggen winked at her, "I'm sure he wouldn't object if I let you tag alone."
"Hermione! There you are!" Ron appeared behind her, and she stopped dead, letting him catch up fully. "Who's this?"
He rested one lanky arm on the shoulder closest to him. Harry did it occasionally too. Hermione hated that they were all so much taller than her. Fred was a much more appropriate height.
"Cormac McLaggen," He narrowed his eyes, "I didn't realize you were together, Weasley."
He said the family name the same way Draco Malfoy did.
"Together?" Hermione scoffed. "As if. Run along to your lunch, McLaggen."
"We have Prefect duties to attend to," Ron flicked his badge and made a shooing gesture. Once McLaggen was walking away, he made a rude one.
"Let's find Harry," Hermione said, pushing him off her gently.
"What'd that creep want?" Ron asked.
"To take me to lunch."
"You think the twins would give me free stuff if it was to help you out?"
The question seemed innocent. But Hermione knew better. There was an ironic bitterness to it, slightly self-deprecating. Ron played chess, and he was testing her strategy.
"Ugh, probably," Hermione groaned, "You should tell your brothers to mind their manners. You know Bill burst drunkenly into my room convinced you and I were... well-" Hermione cleared her throat, "Being intimate."
"Really?" Ron snorted. Hermione had answered well enough that his suspicions had been put to ease. "Fred needs to get some so he'll leave you alone."
"Fred getting some would really benefit both of us," Hermione couldn't help the smirk that danced across her lips. She couldn't wait to tell Fred about this. She couldn't understand what she was doing to Ron.
~m~
"The Slug Club?" Hermione asked Ginny, flinching. Every time she heard the word 'slug,' she thought of Ron vomiting them up second year.
"It does sound repulsive doesn't it?" Dean asked. Ginny had taken up residence in his lap, seeing as neither Ron nor Harry were around. Seamus walked by, and Dean's eyes followed him. Hermione wondered if they were having a row. "Harry's captain of the Quidditch team this year, right?"
"Yeah," Hermione nodded. She stared at Dean's hand where it rested on Ginny's leg. Harry would've been boiling. He'd developed feelings for Ginny that were perfectly mistimed. He hated any mention of her and Dean. She, on the other hand, felt hollow to her core. "I'm going to go up."
She collected her stuff and hurried up the stairs. Of course, Ginny caught her wrist before she reached her dormitory.
"Quidditch couldn't have scared you off that quickly," Ginny said brightly. "You all right?"
"Don't expect me to be happy just because you are," Hermione muttered, pulling away, "I'm going to take a nap."
"Oh- Okay," Ginny said, significantly dimmer.
Hermione went straight for her very first Daydream Charm.
~m~
Hermione drew her sword and turned slowly. Only six of them. Fools.
"What are you doing, all alone on the road, little one?" Hermione faced the man as he spoke. He was the leader, as no one sent him a scolding look to goad him into silence.
"What is a soldier doing in the clothes of a bandit?"
"What is a soldier doing in the clothes of a farmer?"
"I have the feeling only one of us deserted," Hermione ran two fingers up the blade of her sword. The curling runes on the blade flashed purple. "You will not take me alive."
"We shall see."
He was a distraction. The man behind her to the left was not so quiet as he thought he was. His foot scraped in the dirty gravel road as he moved toward her. Her sword split into two, and she whirled, bringing down the blade in her right hand. His blood contrasted brilliantly against the dark evergreen forest.
She jumped over him and landed lithely between the next two soldiers. They did not bother checking their fallen comrade. One spun axes over in his hands. He would have trouble blocking her blows.
The runes flashed green. Her sword melded together, growing into a much longer and heavier great-sword.
The runes flashed blue. She launched throwing knives at the largest of the men.
The runes flashed gold. She collected her spear from the back of a man.
Purple again. The last two men attacked her at once, the leader snarling. She pushed one back so hard, he tripped over his speared companion. He hit his head on a stone and was still. The leader didn't stand much longer. She was an expert at dual swords, the best in the kingdom. Six men to capture her was, quite frankly, insulting.
"That's a very unique sword," she sheathed the blade at his voice.
"Are you still following me?" She answered, searching the bodies for supplies and clues as to where their camp might be. She was running low on food, and winter was fast approaching. She couldn't rely on the berries lining the sides of the roads much longer.
"It'd be much harder if you weren't so determined to use the roads," the man swung down out of the tree he'd been hiding in. She should've seen his bright copper hair between the trees. He'd probably used some kind of camouflage spell.
"Thanks for your help," Hermione said sourly.
"If I had joined in, you would be telling me that you didn't need my help," Hermione knew he was right. He didn't know that though. She scowled.
"You think you know me well enough to make judgements?" Hermione demanded, pulling a map from one of the soldier's pockets. It was crude but, hopefully, accurate.
"I think you're a very transparent person," the wizard said calmly. Hermione rolled her eyes. They all pretended they knew everything, when they could barely manage to see past their own noses. "Your mental shields are somewhat less impressive than your sword."
"Get out of my head!" Hermione growled, cursing herself. She had enough mental strength to keep the magically inclined from controlling her, but more often than not, her thoughts flew by too quickly for her to keep them completely safe.
"How can you hold yourself to such a high standard and have such a low opinion of yourself?" Hermione loathed the concern in his eyes. She drew her sword once more and raised it.
"Would you like me to cut out your tongue?" She asked. She imagined a wall, a wall of pure black obsidian surrounding her thoughts, penning them in and keeping him out. She needed to plan her attack, and if he saw where she would strike before she did, killing him would be very difficult.
"Before you do, I have something to tell you and an offer to make you," he answered. The concern tensing his body was still not for his own well-being.
"I hope you don't expect me to remember your last words and proclaim them to the world," Hermione said drily. Judging by the his slight shifting of weight between his feet, he was anxious about how this would end. Perhaps he'd practiced. Hermione didn't think anyone had thought hard about their words before speaking to her before, and she'd been proposed to.
"First, I must warn you that I am Frederick of the House Weasley, and if you're going to kill me, my mother will shred you to pieces," he said with a small bow. "Secondly, I was sent by Albus Dumbledore himself to ask you to join us at Hogwarts College of Sorcery."
Hermione scanned him for the lies he must have been speaking. Slowly she said, "I met your brother William once."
"I didn't know you went to the White Cliffs-"
"I was sent to kill him."
Frederick paled slightly. "You're the assassin he got drunk with?!"
"To be fair, at the time I was the King's Hand, and, well, I didn't know his betrothed was in the next room," Hermione shrugged, sheathing her blade with a dangerous smile. "Can I call you Fred?"
"No," he shook his head, then scratched it. "He owes you his life, you know."
"Technically, I wasn't told that I couldn't warn him that the King wanted him dead, or that there was no soldier presence on the South West Cysternian border, or that his wife-to-be was going to end up bait if he didn't keep her close."
"Is that any different from what I said?" Frederick asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Still going to try to take me to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, her smiling faltering, "I didn't warn all of my targets."
"Do you regret that?" Frederick edged sideways, as if to begin circling her. Hermione twisted to follow him.
"Do you want a murderer on the loose in your precious college?"
"Dumbledore believes in second chances."
"I've had four," Hermione shook her head. "I've run clean out."
"You've had three," said Frederick quietly. "And after so many, will another really hurt?"
"My first was when I nearly wed a man I hardly knew," Hermione began to tick off her chances on her fingers, "My second was when I ran off the day of the ceremony to join the army, the third when I agreed to be the King's Hand, the fourth when I deserted to become a mercenary. Maybe, I'm on my fifth, since I've left them too. I don't think your silly wizard school is going to keep me very long."
Hermione tensed as she felt something warm and bright brush against her mind. She clenched her fists, brought up that obsidian wall inch by inch until the light was gone. "I swear to the gods, if you don't stay out of my head-"
"That wasn't me," Frederick said lowly, scanning the woods. He reached out to her, "Take my hand."
"I don't think she wants to. She'd rather take my head off."
A second Frederick dropped out of a tree. Hermione's mouth dropped open. It had to be magic . . . Or maybe she was hallucinating? Frederick cursed, "Damn it all, I knew you were following me!"
"You- What's-" Hermione blinked, pointing her finger between the two, "Did you copy yourself?!"
"William did when I was four. Mum was furious, as you can imagine," said the second Frederick. "Percival threw quite the fit, and it threw off balance all our team games-"
"We're twins," said the first, "This is George."
"You aren't in a very good mood, Freddie. The girl have your knickers in a twist? She'd love you to twist hers," Hermione turned red at the words and growled lowly, touching the sword at her hip. She might've thought that during her first encounter with Fred, but he got even more annoying with time. George winked, not at all concerned.
"The girl is Hermione, formerly of House Granger, the Army, the King's Guard, and the Wolf-Fang mercenary troop."
"Hermione," the second Frederick, George, repeated, paling. "Some girl."
"She's also the assassin William tried to adopt," Frederick said quietly.
"He did what?!"
"How old are you?" George asked abruptly, "You have a rather impressive resumé."
Hermione shrugged with a snarl, "If you don't watch your mouth I might add to it."
"Please don't tell me you're here on official business."
"It seems, as I suggested, I'm not wanted at Hogwarts," Hermione said. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel good or bad about being right. She settled for apathy. Apathy was good; it kept her safe. She told herself it didn't matter until it didn't.
"You're being fantastically helpful," remarked Frederick, glaring at his duplicate. If they started to move, Hermione feared she was going to mix them up. A minute was not enough time to be able to begin telling them apart, despite the fact that she was scouring them for any kind of difference.
"At your service," George bowed, starting to stalk around Hermione as Frederick had. She growled to find her mental shields crumbling slightly. He must've known. Hermione kept her eyes on Frederick, wondering how much convincing he would need to let her rid them of the nuisance that was his twin brother. "She struggles with mental shielding-"
"She thinks too quickly for it. She just needs practice."
"Yet when she tries to build it, she's so slow and panicked she sucks you into her own mind-"
"She's better than most are. Most would've trapped you inside with them!" Frederick snapped. "She asked you to keep your mind to yourself, why don't you respect her wishes."
"Be quiet," Hermione said, holding up a hand. She could've sworn she heard something beneath their arguing. She turned her head slightly, closing her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was an ability of her own or one granted to her by her sword, but occasionally, she could enhance one of her senses.
There was breathing, and a lot of it. Mostly the twins'. George's feet in the road as he came to a stop, filling his lungs to ask a question. Kicked stones skittering over one another, dirt grinding beneath them. The ringing of metal on metal as someone wearing chain mail shifted. Fabric pulling against skin. Joints popping slightly with sudden movement. The knotted sound of one clenching wood just a bit too tightly. The protesting of a squirrel as its home was briefly invaded. A leaf detached from its branch. A strong string pulled taught, fingers stroking feathers-
Hermione flung open her eyes, unaware that they were glowing slightly. She moved to take a step toward Frederick as she warned, "Archer!"
Then something hit her shoulder with the force of a large, charging animal, sending her spinning to the ground. Something wet seeped down her side and her arm.
"Son of bitch!" said one of the twins, "I'll find him, you stay with her!"
"Bastards," muttered darkly whichever twin it was that hadn't run of. Hermione suspected him to be Frederick, but she couldn't be certain. She noticed that a long wooden stick fletched with dyed red feathers was stuck nearby. An arrow. She turned slightly to see it better but, whatever had hit her shoulder hurt intensely. Frederick pulled on her shoulder then touched it lightly, and she cried out. Maybe the arrow wasn't just nearby. "I'm going to vanish this, but you're going have to let me hold it. Otherwise I could vanish . . . Something else."
"Just do it," Hermione gasped. She gritted her teeth. Frederick muttered something and then it was gone. "You have to stop the bleeding."
"I know," Frederick touched the wound, and Hermione twisted. There was a flash of golden light, but it did not stop the pain. "Time dilution. It'll wear down fast, but I'm not about to take your clothes off."
"I'd rather you see my chest than I die," Hermione grumbled.
"Ah, but I don't think I'm the twin you think I am," answered the copper haired man. Hermione groaned, trying to follow what he was saying. Did that mean he was George? Was he in her head again? Did he know she thought he was Frederick? Or did he think that she thought he was George? Did any of it really matter at all? There was a tapping on her cheek as she became to bored with her own thoughts to care. She wanted to sleep. "Hey, hey! I need you to stay awake! Can you do that, just stay awake! FRED! "
Hermione murmured something quietly and turned her head to the side. It was pulled back up abruptly as someone snapped their fingers in front of her. She forced her eyes to open sluggishly. There were two of them, and she couldn't tell if it was all in her head or not. Judging by the way they moved one at a time, it was both of them. But maybe she really was hallucinating.
"Hermione? Hermione!" She made her eyes focus on the scared one. She blinked at him as he blurred again.
"I don't think she'd mind!" said the other. For a brief moment there were four of them as her gaze slid to him.
"You've too many brothers," Hermione warned with slurred words. Then there was only two of them again and her arms were getting cold and so was her stomach but she didn't really understand because it was summer and the sun was gleaming off their hair as they poked and pulled and prodded at her. There was red everywhere, it was on her arm and her side and their hair and in the trees and on the ground. Then everything changed and she must've been dreaming because they were on a beach instead of in a forest but it still didn't matter because she was still dying so slowly and they still wouldn't let her sleep.
"Hermione?" She blinked again and looked at the pale one of the twins with her head pounding through her eyes. "I hope you don't mind, but the soldiers had us surrounded."
"You left me behind?" Hermione asked sluggishly. She wasn't sure she knew what was happening. The two men exchanged looks.
"No," said the pale one, shaking his head, "We took you east, to the sea."
"How? Have I been asleep?"
"Wizard's trick called Apparation," said the second man. "You just think of where you want to go and you're gone."
"Seems like you'd go places accidentally a lot," Hermione mumbled. They both chuckled the same way.
"When you're first learning it's near impossible to get anywhere," said the first. "You aren't bleeding anymore."
"That's good," Hermione sighed, pushing her head back into the warm sand. She started to close her eyes but there was that tapping on her cheek again.
"You don't get to go to sleep until we're positive you'll wake up," said the first twin. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Then how, exactly, do you expect me to recover?" She asked, shaking her head slightly. The sun glared at her angrily.
"Are we not magicians?" The second twin asked of the first.
"There's a town nearby; when you can stand, we'll take you there and buy a room in the Inn," said the first. "George will leave, but I will continue to bother you about enrolling at Hogwarts."
"It would be very rude to solicit an injured soul," Hermione picked up her head, fighting off the fuzzy darkness at the edge of her vision.
"Has your soul not been injured this entire time?" He asked quietly.
"I told you to stay out of my head," Hermione tried to sit. The second twin helped her, sending a smug look at his brother.
"Check your shields," said Frederick. Hermione tried to haul them up, but she couldn't even manage to see if they were intact or not. She guessed not. "You're basically shouting."
I hope you die burning in a fire that does not smoke enough to suffocate you first.
He laughed, as did George beside her.
That goes for both of you.
Frederick pressed an image into her mind. Warmth filled her to her toes as she saw what was around her.
The water sparkled as the sun caught on its movements. It was clear and bright, the color of a dazzling sapphire far from shore and something much lighter close to the sand. The sand was embedded with shells, and was not tan or yellowed, but pure white. A log of driftwood was being pushed around by the waves. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, but a few birds skimmed over the water. Sand pipers skittered along the edge of the shore, ducking their heads into it occasionally. The water bubbled and fizzed at it reached high onto the beach before whooshing back to the sea. Waves curled and broke with white crests away from the shore as well, sending droplets flying into the air, where they too glimmered like jewels.
"The White Cliffs?" Hermione asked aloud, turning to look over her shoulder. Sure enough, the sea glowed warmly behind her.
"Just north of them," answered George. Hermione glanced down at herself. She wasn't wearing anything but her trousers, a wrap over her breasts, and a bandage over and around her shoulder.
"Did it go through?" Hermione asked, twisting to try and look at her back.
Another image forced itself on her mind. She lay on the road, stones clenched in her fists as she stared up at the sky, her mouth open as she gasped for air. There was movement and a hand pulled her off the ground, enough that the tip of an arrow could be seen peeking through her tunic. She groaned lowly, her hands shaking with what must've been pain or shock or maybe even something worse. It was no wonder Fred had lost his shit.
"St-Stop that," Hermione said, touching her head as if that would protect her. She tried to build that wall of hers, but she could barely raise it at all. She glared at George, "You could at least answer me like a human being."
"But then he would have to stop being an ape," Frederick shook his head. He winced, his fingers twitching slightly. George chuckled and Frederick snapped his teeth at him. Hermione struggled with her walls again.
"All right, have it your way," George held up his hands in surrender. "But I'll have you know that this is far less effective-"
"But far safer," Frederick growled.
"Who's ever overheard a mental conversation-"
"What wizard has ever controlled many others all at once without an already established mental link-"
"You're paranoid about other wizards."
"You're paranoid about non-magical folk."
"And I'm paranoid about them all," Hermione muttered. The twins looked at her as though surprised she was still there. She checked on her shield to see in standing tall and immovable. She'd never understood mental shielding.
"Well done," Frederick said, surprising Hermione with a smile. She surprised herself further by returning it.
George cleared his throat and did something with his hands that Hermione didn't quite catch. Frederick snarled, "Not going to happen."
"What isn't?" Hermione asked.
"When a man makes love to a woman-"
There was a sharp bang and a puff of smoke. Hermione watched as George shifted into a large, growling wolf. She smiled at his nearly blue grey eyes and touched his muzzle lightly. She didn't fear the curved, sharp teeth in the slightest. The Wolf-Fangs had had wolves too, and while they were dangerous, they never minded Hermione. Besides, this wasn't a real wolf, and if George bit her, it would be much easier to excuse her beheading of him.
She ran her fingers up his nose, between his eyes, and scratched behind his ears. "I like him better this way."
This is better than an iguana, said a warm voice in Hermione's mind. It wasn't quite through her walls, it was more like he was shouting up at them. Though, he wasn't really shouting at all.
"I thought you'd enjoy it," said Frederick with a far more devilish smile. George licked Hermione's wrist as she continued to pet him.
That feels really good, you know, George blinked his eyes at her as his tail began to kick up sand with its thumping.
"Don't encourage him," Frederick rolled his eyes.
"He's soft," Hermione said. There was no dirt, grime, or blood matted into his fine fur, which made him the cleanest wolf or man Hermione had ever touched.
Little Freddie is just jealous, George commented, nudging Hermione's hand with his head. He winked at her with those predator's eyes, He doesn't like to think of you stroking other men-
Enough! Frederick growled. His mind was subtly different from George's. There was still all that happiness and light, but it wasn't as bright, and there was a lot more anger simmering beneath it. He wasn't as naturally kind or giving as George could be, and it was much harder for him turn off the instincts that told him to lie-
Hermione gasped, clutching at her head. She repeated her name to herself over and over and over to cover what she thought she'd done. She'd gone past his shields. She didn't understand it; she didn't know how to do that, how to dig inside people's minds. It was a- a Wizarding trick.
Frederick touched the hands covering her head lightly, pulling them down. It's all right. I let you see that. It wasn't . . . an invasion. I just wanted to help you understand.
And as she stared into his softened eyes, she did.
"George just doesn't like you 'cause he thinks we'll get along too well," Frederick said wryly, rolling his eyes at his twin. He shifted back into a human, already scowling.
"Do I have to stand, or can you just magically make us appear at the inn?" Hermione asked, eyeing her shaking hands as she pulled them away from Frederick's. She wasn't sure she could stand, but she definitely needed food. And water. Or wine, preferably wine. Anything to make the dull pain beginning in her shoulder stop.
"Apparating isn't like traveling. You can't start and stop and start. You get one jump, and then you have to start recompiling all the energy it takes," George explained. "You might manage three short jumps, but we took you halfway across the kingdom. It nearly killed you, and it would've if Fred had tried it alone."
"Oh," Hermione said simply.
"She gets less hostile with blood loss," George commented with a grin.
"I can still take your head off-" Hermione's hand drifted to her waist and she nearly died then and there. "Where is my sword?!"
"And she's back-"
"WHERE IS IT?!"
"Freddie, why don't you take this one?"
"I SWEAR TO THE GODS- "
"It's right here," Frederick said, pulling it from his back. It'd been wrapped in a leather sheet to protect it. Hermione wondered just how long she'd hovered on the edge of consciousness. They'd removed her clothes, taken her halfway across the kingdom, invaded her mind, and stolen her sword.
Why wasn't she killing them?
"Fuck your inn, I won't go to Hogwarts, and the only reason I'm hurt in the first place is you two buffoons," Hermione growled. The runes on her sword flashed, and it grew into a staff embedded with iron and artful whorls. She tried to stand using it. Frederick's hands steadied her before she'd reached a crouch.
"You had to say something," he grumbled at his twin. Hermione tried to pull out of his grasp. It didn't go well. He just narrowed his eyes in something that was almost anger. "You can't go off on your own. You'll die."
"I don't see why you would have a problem with that," Hermione snapped. No one else had ever been so . . . invested in her well-being. It was odd.
"You're a human being."
"Only barely," the words had left her mouth before she had done more than thought them. The dark part of her mind clamped her mouth shut; the exhausted part made her slump back into the sand until her hair was full of white flecks. She closed her eyes.
"Killing people doesn't-"
"I killed for money, power, and to end my own boredom," Hermione said. "You should be lucky the two of you are mildly entertaining, weak, and poor."
"Hermione-"
"You don't get to say my name like that."
"L-Like what?"
"Like I mean something," Hermione turned her head toward George. She didn't understand how Frederick could think that his brother was the happy one. Happiness generally annoyed her, and Frederick was very good at that.
Unfortunately, George had wandered away, leaving her with the sociopath who was likely about to end up hurting her. She looked up at Frederick. Now his anger was very recognizable. Even his thoughts-
She was worth it. If he died saving her, she was worth it. If she refused to believe her, he would tell her again and again and again and again , because no one deserved to think like that.
"Stop it," Hermione murmured, closing her eyes. Walls, she had walls, she needed them-
She wasn't damaged, wasn't evil, wasn't broken, and if she was, it wasn't anything she couldn't come back from.
"I said, stop it," Hermione repeated, with no more conviction.
"You wouldn't let me judge you; you can't judge yourself," Frederick said lowly. "Not like that."
"I- Why do you care anyways?" Hermione asked dully. "I thought George was the caring one, and William was the companionable one, and Percival was the worrying one, and Ronald was the foolish one."
"Well, I'm the smart one," Frederick smiled slowly, "And you forgot Charles."
"Ah, the daring one, of course," Hermione rolled her eyes. Then she narrowed them, pushing herself up with a groan, "You never answered my question."
"If we're going, we need to leave-"
"Oh, come on, can you not even find a decent lie? I thought you were the smart one," Hermione challenged, poking his shoulder lightly. He held her eyes until heat flushed her cheeks, then leaned closer.
"Well, maybe I'd just hate to see such a beautiful woman waste her life," he winked.
"Are you always so boring?" Hermione asked drily.
"You've never been to bed with a wizard, have you?" Frederick cocked his head slightly, eyes drifting down her mostly exposed torso. "It's anything but boring."
"I do believe you're all talk, Fred ," Hermione said.
"Oh, no, no, no," He shook his head with a half-smile, "You'll be the one screaming. Mostly my name, but-"
"We should leave now, if we're going," George called, wandering back toward them. Hermione gifted Frederick with her most saccharine smile before creating a nonplussed mask to cover her face. She held out a hand to George. He helped her up carefully. She slipped in the shifting sands and steadied herself with one clenched hand on each twin.
"Easy," Frederick murmured.
"Oh, be quiet, Fred, I'm perfectly fine," Hermione said with very little conviction. She released her hold on him (but not George) and took a careful step forward.
"On second thought, we could probably camp on the beach," George said, giving Frederick a meaningful look. Hermione clenched her free hand and tried to force another halting step from her shuddering legs. She could do this. Blood loss or no, she could certainly walk a short ways.
"I'll carry her," Frederick said quietly.
"I'm fine-" there was a pop and a wolf had taken his place. Hermione glanced at George.
"He's admittedly not all that original," George shrugged. Hermione let her fist relax as soft, rust colored hair brushed against her. He was a quite massive beast.
You can't be serious. I don't think this is how you want me to ride you, Hermione thought at the thick wall of closely knit trees that now shielded Frederick's mind.
Are you going to get on or not?
Are you sure you can carry me?
Please, I know my limits, he snorted and licked her hand, making her jump. Don't forget your surroundings. You have to be aware on two levels when you communicate mind-to-mind.
Hermione rolled her eyes, giving his ear a flick before mounting him in the not-fun way.
He surprised her by breaking into a sprint. George kept pace, an odd wind surrounding him. It was almost like his feet didn't need to touch the ground.
"I thought you were going your own way," Hermione said quietly.
"Eh, maybe in the morning," George answered tightly. Hermione left him to his magic running.
You're growing on him, Frederick explained. It was odd to hear him both panting and speaking with immense knowledge and clarity. Hermione tried not to focus on his words. She didn't often give people enough time that they started to like her. More often than not she was afraid that they'd do the opposite.
William had been easy. She'd been drunk; he'd been drunk. She didn't know if she could've tried to have a conversation sober with him. She wondered if Frederick would take her to Cystern.
It wasn't like she had anywhere better to go.
You think so quickly.
Stay out of my thoughts.
I'm not in them, you just start . . . Buzzing. It's how I tracked you.
Buzzing?
Like this. It was a low vibration, like a plucked string on a musical instrument, mellow and mature and rising until falling into silence. It was slow but it wasn't. It was so fast it gave the appearance of being slow. So deceptive, so much like her, who was deceptively strong, even if she did not see it. He wondered what it'd take to silence that humming, or quicken it-
"Wow," Hermione said aloud, feeling her face heat. They slowed to a stop. George helped Hermione clamber off of Frederick and he shifted back into his human form. He gave her a somewhat knowing grin as he pulled at his hair.
"Shall we?" George gestured through the trees. There was the small hustle and bustle of horses and people talking raucously behind closed doors. Hermione turned even more red.
"Not without something to cover this," she waved her hands at her still mostly exposed torso.
"George?" Fred smiled at his brother. George rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, leaving Hermione in an interesting new outfit.
"What is this?!" She demanded, pulling at the skirt of her pale blue dress. She scowled with a fierceness that could've killed a small bird. George reached out a hand for her sword. She gave it to him with a hiss.
"Your disguise," George answered. Hermione reached up when a breeze touched her neck. He'd even pulled up her hair. Hermione growled and started marching for the sounds of the road.
"You have to let yourself simmer down for a moment," Frederick caught her elbow in his hand, then slipped his arm through hers. "Remember; this is where the King has little hold. The old ways aren't exactly kind on young women, traveling alone."
"The one good thing to come from his blasted reign," Hermione said darkly.
"Try to remember that Freddie dearest will be ravishing you for all the world to hear tonight," George said slyly. Hermione groaned as the act became clear to her. They were betrothed, she and Frederick, and George was a chaperone of last resort. Fucking brilliant.
"Not now."
The inn went quiet for a moment as they entered, its occupants sizing them up. Hermione leaned into Frederick, a small whimper escaping her as she locked eyes with a man she should've killed but hadn't.
"It can't be," he stood, setting his mug down and turning to face her fully. The inn went even quieter, people examining Hermione closer. "Little Hermione comes running home."
"C-Cormac," she said softly, nodding her head. She wanted to ask George for her sword back, but he had twenty men on his side by the looks of things.
"Thank you for bringing back my lovely wife-to-be," his eyes slid sideways to Frederick. He narrowed his eyes and gave a little smirk.
"The way I understand it, she left you."
"She has no position to do anything of the sort."
"Sword," Hermione said, reaching back to George. He shook his head.
"Please, you couldn't touch me if you tried."
There was weight in her hand, solid glorious weight. She ignored her injured shoulder. With a flash of purple she held a sword in each hand. Frederick moved away.
"I've already killed six today," Hermione gave half a shrug and grinned, "Would you like a very fast trip to hell as well?"
"Not too fast, I hope," Frederick said with a small smile.
"Twenty-two to two, and you want to pick a fight?" asked the foolish, pompous, arrogant sod.
"Three," George said, but Hermione didn't risk a glance back at him. "I suggest anyone without a death wish leaves."
"Don't harm the girl," said the tall man, jerking his head toward the twins. "She's mine."
"Good luck with that," Frederick said. Then he summoned a sword from absolute nothing, Mind your shoulder.
I can take care of myself.
Hermione jumped onto a table, launching herself forward at the bastard with a snarl.
Do you get in fights wherever you go? George asked. Hermione knew that he was completely still, weaving magic through the air.
No one seems to want to let me do what I want, Hermione growled, bringing down her swords. She ducked under a blade and tackled Cormac to the ground. Lightning crackled through the room, connecting with no less than a dozen of the men. They fell to the ground, twitching.
"You- You saved me?"
"No," Hermione said, a large smile on her face, "I've been looking forward to killing you myself for a year. I'm not going to let George ruin that."
And there was real, honest, immensely satisfying fear in his eyes, even as her shoulder dropped crimson blood onto him. Hermione straightened and winged a knife behind her; one of the men was sneaking up on Frederick.
I had him.
Sure you did, Hermione extricated herself from the floor. She collected her knife and rolled her eyes at Frederick's grinning.
You two are enjoying this far too much.
As if you aren't, George.
I'm not . . . At least, not as much as you are.
Watch it! Frederick slid past her and held up his arms. His hair shined as he incinerated an assailant.
Oh, Hermione, your lovely almost-husband is fleeing, George said flatly.
She looked at Frederick, You coming?
Wouldn't miss it for my mother's raspberry pie, they ran after Cormac, who appeared to be trying to make an escape via the roof . . . somehow. Hermione rolled her eyes at his idiocy. Why had she ever let herself believe he was more intelligent than her?
"You are more a fool than I recall hearing," Frederick commented to him when they'd cornered him. The window behind him was of thick glass, too small for him to climb through, and too high for him to escape through unharmed. Frederick hung at her elbow.
"Who is this guy?" Cormac asked her.
"No idea. We met only earlier today," Hermione admitted.
"Oh, the King will want him; as bait to draw you back, or just because he enjoys disillusioning people about whatever power they perceive to have," Frederick said quietly. And Hermione actually considered it.
Some of his men are waking up.
Why didn't you kill them?!
There were too many, the bolt wasn't concentrated enough!
"Please, not the King."
Try a sleeping blanket.
You think you're so clever; I've already done that.
Then why are you complaining?!
"I won't go to the King!" Cormac rushed forward. Hermione shoved Frederick out of the way and moved her sword in a merciless arc.
"No. You won't."
~m~
"Er, Hermione?" She jolted backward, her head smacking against the wall with a crack. Someone had waved a hand in front of her face. Hermione panted as she blinked away that fading image of her sword and Cormac's head rolling across the dirt stained wood- Lavender sat down on the edge of the bed. "You were way zoned out, even for you."
"D-Daydream Charm," Hermione admitted, nudging the box with her toe. She rubbed the back of her head with her good arm — no, her perfectly normal, usual arm. Her shoulder was perfectly fine.
"Oh, which did you choose? Purple for an ancient fantasy, green for a futuristic adventure, black for a pirate quest, deep red for . . . Oh. Wow. I need one of those."
"Just find a living, breathing boy, I'm sure you'll do just fine," Hermione slumped down in her bed.
"Like Harry?"
"Oh, God, anyone but him, Lavender," Hermione turned to bury her head into her pillow. "He's hung up on- on someone else."
"Ron then?"
"Just don't hurt him too badly," Hermione let out a muffled groan. "Then I'll get hell from my Weasley."
Lavender giggled, which was a slightly less obnoxious sound than it had been, "We could really be sisters."
"Wouldn't that be something," Hermione groaned.
"Which one should I write to, to get a free one of these?"
"George. Fred'll recognize my handwriting; he's much more perceptive. But George might try to destroy you, if he thinks you know about us," Hermione turned her head, catching the slightest glimpse of Lavender's waving golden hair.
"And 'us' is?" Hermione shook her head slightly. "Still not letting me know which one you're-"
"Not a chance, Lavender," Hermione said, a note of boredom in her voice. "I need to get studying."
"You're such a bore," Lavender chuckled, set down the box for the Charm, and stood.
"We can't all be wild," Hermione grumbled.
.o0O0o.
Okay, so I haven't been as reliable as planned (no big surprise). I'm not sure why some chapters are spaced and some are just nauseating blocks of text, so I'm going to be trying out this method until I hear that everyone hates it. Also, may be re-uploading some chapters, if that's a thing I can do easily (which it probably isn't).
Side-note: If I did a Shallura fic (Voltron: Legendary Defender) or a Zutara fic (Avatar: The Last Airbender), would any of y'all be interested?
aimsm: I missed you too! ^.^
CATCRAZYSTANLEY: Is this soon enough? I doubt it is . . .
Anon: I 'oh well' well who I want to 'oh well' *snaps fingers* (also soooorrry)
Rebekah: This is a chapter. I have a pirate daydream coming up too
OrangeColorSky: I was seriously concerned that you were gonna review each chapter, which would've been interesting, but time consuming. I'm glad I could temporarily occupy your attention.
brittanyjanee: Yeah, IDK what's up with the spacing ever. It's confusing to me too.
BananaNutSandwhich: I made you wait! Sorry!
katmeows4no1: Hahahaha that's meeeeee; I'm a serial binger and it isn't healthy.
cochran4444: The feelings of canon are rarely good.
AnotherAddicted: *bows*
LoonyGleek: Thank you, boi (which is not only the correct way to spell 'boy' but also the most fun)
StarGirlPotter: Life does happen, but I promise I won't die until I finish this story
Just 1 Thought: I liiiiiiivvvee! Patience is a virtue (lmao I was in a presentation today where the speaker spelled it patients, as in a doctor's charge, my friend and I were dying)
Newsie35: Haha, next on HGTIIWCTM (please don't call this story that; the acronym is atrocious): Daydreams and Passageways
westc0astsm0ker: Sadness is a human emotion. Why would I write about humans if I wasn't going to make them sad every once in a while? *cackles maniacally* I feed off of tears anyways.
Raventhatfliesatnight: No idea why lol, but lol
I was BOTWP: Yeah, he's not obvious like Fred. Flirting can be a lot of different things, depending on the person, which is why IT'S SO FUCKING CONFUSING WHHHHYYYYYYY?!
Fandomqueen104: NEWT SCAMANDER IS MY CHILD! I have also gone mad. But maybe we're the sane ones and society is the insane. Who knows?
