Hermione closed the door with the ghost of a smile peppering her lips. Harry is scowling deeply, staring at her as though he's missing something.

"What happened?" he asked, his thick eyebrows wrinkling. knows if this were Harry, he'd tell her and Ron instantly. She supposes she should feel guilty, but no harm would come from concealing the man's secret. The question shall remain unanswered.

"Nothing, really. He simply asked why I wasn't paying attention – I was distracted. He told me not to let it happen again," she lied, eyes away from his piercing green ones. She plucked her rug-sack from her bag, adding the new Honeyduke's bar into her 'Moody Ron' collection.

"Why have you a chocolate bar, then?" he asks, his head tilted to the right. As if a bar of chocolate was an indication of guilt. How preposterous.

"What?" she asks, huffing a breath.

"He only gives them out for bad news. What – happened?" he asks, eyes tight as he steps closer to her. Harry was able to see things sometimes, draw connections even she had yet to arrive to. She'd remember for the future the significance of the sugary supplement from her professor.

"You're awfully paranoid, Harry," and astute.

.

Fred had been planning his idea for the last few days. Hail, rain, sleet or snow - today was the day.

Lee really did have the right of it, this was the perfect way to openly declare his intentions. A spectacle, an exhibit of excellence to spread his gospel. His main fear was exacerbating tension with the wee witch. Though George had the right of it, too. She was not exactly impressed with him at the moment, anyway. There was only one way to find the solution of her heart. Devise a theory, experiment and quantify the yield of his operations.

Lee's idea was not the final plan, of course. Weasley wonders could only be devised by a wonderous Weasley. All Lee had suggested was the perfect arena for execution. It was so simple, he'd hit himself for not seeing it sooner. Her class.

In a perfect world, he'd simply ask around and have his answer. Is she in your class? He'd ask. Yes, I think so – said, everyone. Brilliant, he'd think, job done, Fred! Until, he realised it was physically impossibleto be in every single person's class. For one thing, Ancient Runes and Divination were at the exact same time, according to Lee. She was a brilliant witch, to be sure. Sadly, there were not two of her.

He may have had better luck with the second one, if there was.

So, he was back to where he'd started. Lunch in the great hall, staring at the cause of his tension headache. Actually, he's quite possibly further away from the answer than before. What a mysterious little witch, he thought. As he watched her lifting her slender fingers to her mouth, as the breath of her clapped laughter blew through them. Ron said something funny – rare, he considered.

Fred is man enough to admit, watching her go berserk with bludgers had set something off within him. The fact an attack had set his blood racing, should be more concerning. She was just so raw. So inexplicably her. He was shocked he'd not seen it before. The fires embedded in him burned for her. Short of murdering someone, there was little she could do to dampen them. Even then, he'd have to consider the circumstances of the murder fully.

The flames fanned, as her mystery soared. His elusive and mysterious little witch. He'd stare into the entrancing golden globes, as the muted grey tones flooded the gold, like light pouring through a steel colander. Fascinated by her beauty, coveting her sharp intellect and lightly barbed tongue.

The only explanation was nobody truly remembered her from their class. A crime in his mind. Though, explained the inconsistency of the mock-timetable he'd drawn for her. He knew she'd be in her core classes, which was less than ideal as they were shared with the snakes. He'd make do. Hopefully, the grand scale of his spectacle would be enough. He'd already gathered the three elements of his plan. Accomplices, notwithstanding. He asked around for any girl in Gryffindor to bring him any Wuggies in their possession.

Wuggies are the quintessential wizarding teddy bear, given to paramours and children alike. Their tan, fluffy, elongated round-bodies narrowed towards their necks. The large bottomed torso covering their stout legs, causing a shaking wobble as they walked. Their squashed faces with large light blue eyes made for a rather adorable companion.

The Gryffindor girls reluctantlyallowed him to borrow their beloved plush toys, given by given mostly by lovers. Surprisingly, Lee Jordan had one for him, too. Gifting his precious Wuggie under strict ordersfor a safe return from him. He'd made no promises, he was somewhat terrible at predicting her reactions. He could not return something that has been blasted with a flat swish of her wrist.

Why Wuggies? Well, he needed something to increase his entourage, they would do nicely as his companions. A parade of sorts, to proceed his arrival. What better way, than Wuggies? Witches went wild for them on Valentine's day. Was that day not the epitome of romance?

True, he's good enough with transfiguration, though he can't very well configure the bears from nothingness. No, he needed to borrow them. Use his transfiguration knowledge elsewhere. What's better than twenty normal-sized Wuggies? Twenty super-sized Wuggies.

The one hitch was an unexpected one. Wuggies made a quiet humming noise – like a murmured conversation when walking or squeezed. It was so quiet, truthfully, he forgot they even did it. He'd not anticipated, as they swelled, so would the incessant nattering. He was almost caught by his swot of a brother Percy. Truthfully, he'd have disowned him if he'd ruined this. George's quick silencio, allowing Percy to return home for Christmas.

George had already enchanted the giant Wuggies to follow the direction of his wand. Leading the plush creatures ahead of him while Lee would ready his red carpet from the shadows. He'd already burrowed surprisingly swanky formal robes from Longbottom. 'A good pureblood never leaves for a long stay, without their robes – n-na-nan says, anyway,' he'd said.

Lee had suggested a top hat, but that seemed tooover the top. Instead, he went with an intricately carved golden walking stick. The tip had a large animated lion that growled low as it touched the ground. One they swiped from Filtch, silly squib collected the oddestof things.

So, he'd gotten his three components together. Wuggies, runways and one dashing outfit. Complete with a cane, that could make Lucius Malfoy weep with green tears. He just needed his stage to perform from. Transfiguration was a bust. This would likely resolve in detention, and he did not have the head for Minnie today. Charms was a resounding no – the last detention he'd served with Littlewick was excruciating. Was Potions ever an option?

That left him with Defence Against the Dark Arts, which suited the boys just fine. He'd yet to get detention from Lupin - a crying shame. The devilish duo prided themselves on their well-rounded Hogwarts education, which meant detention under all educators. See? The plan was already delivering.

With the last brick laid, he bit his apple with a satisfying crunch.

.

After lunch, he'd gotten to the agreed meeting point to begin Operation Fred's Witch, OFW for short. Running faster than the latest firebolt, he ran to the meeting point. He arrived outside the dark black double doors of her classroom, short of breath. He looked at the obscured doors, which was swarmed with waddling Wuggies. With a grin and tap of his cane, the boys got into their positions with the aid of some notice-me-not charms. It was hardly impressive, if he'd had help.

The double doors swung open as he got in position, with a gasping creak. Lee rolled his lush carpet to mark his destination, at the foot of his witch. The Wuggies waddled forth, as George enchanted them to dance from the shadows, their bodies jiggling jovially eliciting some hushed laughter from the class.

The bears finished entertaining the classroom of confused third years. One by one, the Wuggies began to form a guard to adorn his path. As the crowd dissipated, he was revealed to the enchantress. She was less enchanted than himself.

Hermione looked as though she was about to birth a kitten. He gulped, before giving his signature Cheshire grin with a complimentary wink. He righted the lapels of his midnight black robes before beginning his strut. With each footstep, the cane roared ferociously. Its jaw widening with a snap at each gasping student he passed. The closer he got to the witch, the tighter her jaw wound ready to release growl of her own. He needed to get his message out before he was prematurely murdered.

"I, Fredrick Gideon Weasley the First, humbly inform you, Hermione Granger, that you are being formally courted," he said, with a salacious grin. Tapping his cane against the ground harshly, eliciting a bellowing roar from its lion mouth.

The kitten was no kitten at all- it was a mammoth-sized leopard. He could see the sweat creeping down her forehead in exertion, as she held her breath in composure. The sweat evaporated, as her blood grew hotter. Her skin seared so hotly - it could probably cook a nice egg, he thought. The intense crimson forming was a clear sign of danger. Flee, Fred, his mind shouted. His lips twitched, a little before he regained his control. He was less certain if it was because it was him before her, or because he'd interrupted her lessons. A combination of the two, probably.

Yes, he could see she was angry. No. She was furious. No. She was beyond furious.

"How-dare-you," she seethed, as the classroom began to chuckle at their display. She looked around quickly, the crimson of her carved cheeks was medically dangerous now. He tried to appear unaffected, hoping she couldn't detect the fear in his voice. He was not stupid enough to be fearless.

"I haven't dared anything, yet. No, wait – I dare you to say yes," he said, lifting his cane on to her desk and leaning over her.

"Never – you, utter imbecile," she hissed, pushing his cane off her desk, roughly. He stumbled back a little with the force, he hadn't expected to be attacked by his own snapping cane. Why had he expected anything? That was a mistake on his part. She was just so easy. It was his instinct, near impossible to reject. Even if her responses chipped him, little by little, each time.

"I'll settle for a kiss, then – this was a lot of work, love. Have you seen the size of those Wuggies?" He said, eliciting laughter from the other students. She stood from her chair, swift as a thief. He fought the instinct to flinch, his psyche remembering the last time she'd taken the fighting stance. Professor Lupin looked on his mouth wide open, as though unsure how to deescalate the climbing situation.

"I'd rather kiss a dementor. It would be lesspainful," Alright. That one smarted, a bit. The growing laughter dug the knife further in, clawing the wound to open further. Is that atme? What a funny feeling.

Before he could retort, she raised her wand high, her small stature bringing the weapon to his chest. She spoke her enchantments perfectly, the spit from the speed of her voice hitting his chest first.

"Ventus," she cursed, with a winding twirl of her pale wand. A great gushing of wind burst forth, lifting the parchments of the nearby students into the air. His long hair lifted from his hair instantly, as he raised his hands to protect his unshielded eyes from the slapping parchments.

Fred tried to keep his feet locked in place. Tried to fight his locking ankles, and the mounting need to buckle his knees. He spread his legs apart with a considerable effort, as he drowned in the blasting air. Her eyes followed his changing footing. Countering by manipulating her wand with some effort, fighting the power emitting from the end of her wand. She redirected the force towards his legs, shoving him forward, catching the wind and lifting. She expelled him out of the doors, with a strangled yelp from him as he lost control of himself. He landed with a harsh thud, as the doors forced shut with a loud boom. Forbidding him from entering again.

"Merlin, Fred! You alright?" George asked frantically, dropping his notice-me-not charm. He was better than alright, he thought, as he did a limb count. Yes, all four, same as before. His brother, dropped to his knees, his lips pursing.

"Bloody brilliant. Did you see that, Gred? Where'd she learns that?" Lee arrived by his side, raising his eyebrow high at him before looking to his twin. George simply shook his head, his jaw clenching hard. He was still unsure what exactly Fred saw in the witch, though he'd never voice it. Twin laws forbade it. You could question one's taste in chocolate, neverin women. That was just poor taste.

"I did," George said, choosing his words carefully. Understandable, Fred thought Katie Bell was a crazy bint, although he'd never say it. Albeit, some support would not go astray. "Success, then?" He frowned, George should know the answer to such a question. What was wrong with him today? He was as in tune with him as Hagrid was to Professor Snit.

"Obviously," he said, lacing his fingers behind his head as he lay back on the cold, ungiving stone floor he'd been ejected to. Hey, beats Transfiguration.

"Oi! What are you lo' doing? Down there!" shouted the meddlesome squib, screeching in his pitching squeal? Fred propped himself on his elbows, to view the rushing caretaker, limp towards – fast little bugger. He should get a cane. He chuckled lightly at his joke, he was far too funny.

"Away, we go," said George, laughing. They picked the daydreamer up from underneath his armpits, scampering down the hallway with him.

.

Utterly ridiculous. Detention. All because Seamus Finnegan had to pick a few pieces of parchments, from some hanging candelabras. Hermione Granger in detention, had the world gone mad?

She felt as though it had. Every time she'd feel comfortable, something would happen. Between Sirius Black, Buckbeak's upcoming trial, friendly werewolves and Fred Weasley, she could not catch a break. Add detention to the growing list of woes in her life now, too.

Professor Lupin had pulled her aside, telling her she didn't reallyhave to serve a detention. She could do her homework while he did work. Going as far as telling her it felt disturbingto administer detentions, as if he were duelling against mother nature herself. Especially to Hermione. She'd not deserved one, in this case. She respectfully rejected the plea. It would not do to cause further discord within her house. She remembered the last time - she'd rather not have a repeat of that. She'd take her medicine, dutifully. No smile, though – it was a farce, after all.

In fact, she'd even asked to serve her detention with another professor. He'd been taken aback at first, she acted quickly explaining she did not believe he'd give her the correct punishment. He laughed, before telling her he'd planned on letting her "clean" the library shelves. She'd almost retracted her suggestion. Almost, being the operative word.

She expected to receive some sort of tension with her schoolmates. She was pleasantly surprised to find that was not the case. It seemed people had grown used to the turbulent relationship between the two. Most choosing a neutral path in lieu of barely concealed hatred towards her. Shockingly, Lavender Brown had even gone as far as sympathising with her. Citing his behaviour as unbecoming. It had done wonders to mend the shattered fences between the two, the wood reforming slowly. If Lavender could see that, she was not entirely without hope.

Ron had kept his lips firmly closed. She could understand. She never expected him to go against the grain. Family trumps friends, even if the family member was an incorrigible git. Percy on the other hand, was unrepentant in his support. She felt uneasy in having the Weasley as such a staunch supporter. The boy was far too hungry, he'd become mad with power. Offering to inform the Weasley matriarch of her son's behaviour, too. She'd assured him it was not necessary. Truth be told, she'd rather the woman remained blind to her son's attentions. She could not predict her reaction, to either loathe or love the young witch. The danger of either reaction was too great.

The lack of house hostility was a small consolation for her. The world felt heavy on her shoulders – a burden decidedly lighter than her playmates. Harry seemed to be doomed for a life of constant danger, with less support than he deserved. It was for this reason, she'd barely fought his decision to sneak into Hogsmeade. Barely.

The entire situation spelt danger. She reasonably thought that the professors should know where the boy was, if not for his own protection at least. Harry should not be so careless. She ought to march him back to the carriages by his ear, this instant. Then, he'd release a short burst of laughter and she'd stay her hand. It was so rare to see him so carefree, that she allowed him his moment of recklessness. One walk in the sunshine, before the nearing darkness shrouded him was okay.

Though, where Harry walks so does trouble. She seemed to regularly forget this lesson, no matter how often life beat it into her. That's what lead her to this moment. Pacing outside of the Three Broomsticks. She can't help but feel irritated as they await Harry's return, unable to access the pub themselves.

So, they simply wait outside, as she paces the small area across from the offending pub. While Ron samples his newly acquired wares from Honeyduke's. Honestly. She slaps the fidgeting frog from his hand. The frog took his leap of faith, bounding miserably into a dissolving puddle of snow.

"Oi!" Ron shouts offended by her actions. She holds a finger to her lips with a stern brow, before pointing to the deflating snow as it crunches below Harry's boot. They follow Harry quietly, not wanting to startle the boy as he sniffles below the cloak. Also, not hiding their pursuit. He wanders to the edges of the surrounding hollow forest, sitting atop a large rock.

Ron takes Hermione's arm, discouraging her from going further, but she does, filling his footprints with her own smaller ones. Kneeling before the snow-covered rock, as the licks melt away from the heat of the sobbing boy perched above. She ever so gently lifts the wispy cloak with pinched fingers, revealing the nimble boy beneath. He stares into the mist, the brilliant emerald of his eyes glistening with the tears of betrayal, resounding from a time departed.

"He was their friend, and he betrayedthem!" he shouted, the birds fleeing from their nests. She pressed forward, gauging her friend's emotional state. The gathered tears in his eyes, revealing the truth. Thinking a hug was the best course of action had the roles been reversed. Alas, they're not. So, she stays silent as she maintains her eye contact pouring every ounce of love, she has for him in the breaking glance. "He was their friend, Hermione and he…god, he betrayed them! They loved him and he BETRAYED THEM!" Her lips remain mum as he shouts into the abyss, wanting to envelop him but knowing better.

"Merlin – He's my… godfather, 'mione," his wobbly chin had broken the knowing part of her, as she clenched his hand tightly in hers. As though she was intertwining their lives, connected them in all things. He draws from the strength she pours into him, as his emerald eyes overshadowed by a pitch-black harden.

"I hope he finds me. When he does, I'm going to be ready. When he does, I'm going to kill him. I swear it," he promises. She doesn't want too, but she believes it. She squeezes his hand, as words turn to ash in her mouth.

.

Hogsmeade forced the witch to reevaluate the dangers of Sirius Black. She's said to none but herself, but she's always been confused by him. The true motivations and tale of Sirius Black were unknown to them. Nothing makes sense. Even after what she had been told from Harry. Why did he betray them? Why was he so intent on killing Harry? If he'd been so intent on killing Harry, why had he left him with Hagrid? Why were James Potter and company friends with him? He was born from a family of known blood purists. Why?

She knew nothing about the man - nothing tangible anyway. Everything she knew was secondary information, worse still – tertiary. Possibly biased, too. That would soon change, she thought as she cut a familiar path down the moving staircases and winding halls, landing outside the soul of her Hogwarts journey. The library.