Fredrick Gideon Weasley had a problem. A big one, that needed fixing immediately. See, he'd recently tried another iteration of his puking pastille. He'd taken incredible care with this batch; the counter cure was improving with each batch and the latest was the one. He could feel it in his bones.

The effects were taking hold faster and faster, once he figured the problem lay in the stirring pattern. He'd incorporated three new anti-clockwise turns before the addition of the rare doxy eggs, they were exceedingly less rare when stolen from a certain big-nosed member of staff.

This was a special batch for the Weasley twins, and one half was extremely eager to test it.

He'd taken her advice to heart, and he'd planned to limit his testing to willing participants or Slytherin purists in need of a palette cleanser. He'd had planned to ask a few if they were interested that morning, he'd even prepared a pitch for the unsure ones.

He awoke fresh-faced with a broad grin already present, and ready to test the yellow candies, he'd finally close the potions book on their first completed product. He'd gone straight to his trunk to collect the batch along with his shoes, but the problem was, the pastilles were no longer there.

Which was the worst news he could have gotten, as this meant George had taken them and George could give a damn about what a certain third-year thought.

George had not taken her advice to heart, if he had, it was not as fiercely as Fred had. He knew George would have no qualms testing the product on some first years, George didn't have to deal with the fallout the last time. He wasn't the one who'd been chased around the Quidditch Pitch by cursed bludgers, so he'd yet to experience what an enraged Granger could do with her wicked wand.

Fred was not afraid of Hermione per se, though experience told him she was not to be trifled with. No, he was afraid of what she would think of him. She'd think him unworthy and all his efforts so far with her would be for nought.

Truth be told, he'd had no idea if she was warming to him at all. Every day, he asked her to Hogsmeade and every morning she refused. He studied her face each time for any indication that she liked his declarations – a possible smirk, maybe a light blush or some fluttery lashes.

She'd barely move her bloody face, all he could ever see was the perpetual persistence in her forceful chin. One thing he was a bit to slow to learn was to only ask her once a day. If he asked her more than once, she'd throw a jelly-legs jinx, or something stronger if annoyed enough, then she'd tear away, forgetting the sad wobble-kneed man behind her.

He was trying, too. He'd set a few of his adoring fans on a quest for romantic poems to melt her heart, he'd sent red roses to her classroom (she'd set those on fire before they'd reached her desk, Lee refused to be a messenger ever again), and he'd even got a few of her classmates to schmooze him up to the witch when he was otherwise occupied. Parvati was more receptive than Lavender, he had no idea what her problem was, but when he asked her the little favour, she looked at Fred as if he'd asked her to Avada her grandmother.

One thing, he did know was this would cool her faster than you could say Wiggenweld, if she heard the faintest whisper that Fred had returned to the old ways.

So, he rushed down to the Great Hall to confront George before he could doom him to a lonesome life without her. He stood at the exit and scanned the long Gryffindor table, for a glimpse of his twin or Lee.

Then he saw her, as she gathered her belongings to leave, and it reminded him of his normal morning routine. Hopefully, he could delay her while he'd stuff the vomiting first-years behind some tapestries in the meantime. He rubbed his sweaty forehead on his sleeve before he plastered a shaky smile across his face.

"Hey, want to go to Hogsmeade?" He said quickly. Hermione's arched brow flew across her forehead, he couldn't say exactly what had shocked her, there was nothing unusual about it. The smart witch should have known as she saw him, what he was up to. She couldn't possibly know, could she?

He peaked to the entrance hall over her shoulder to see if any bludgers were waiting for him.

No, there was no sign of danger or spewing pre-teens. She narrowed her eyes, and he couldn't help but tap his foot. Why was she taking so long? Most days she said no before he opened his mouth. She was taking her sweet time, and he couldn't afford to let her stare at him any longer. "Well?"

"I'm thinking about it," Fred's eye's doubled. Now, this was new, and if he was honest, it couldn't have come on a worse day. He wasn't even wearing shoes!

"Really?" he said, his voice higher than any man his age. He sounded like the unsuspecting Percy when they put a few friendly pins on his seat.

"Obviously not," she obnoxiously rolled her feline eyes, and he barely felt the disappointment. Her refusal was a bit of a relief, he'd never get another chance if she found out what was happening somewhere on Hogwarts grounds. She'd never believe he was an innocent. Well, this time, anyway.

"Right, yeah. Awful shame that – yeah. Good day, and all that usual stuff about your hair. Bye, love," she barely stepped out of his path, before Fred had fled the hall to stop his menace of a brother from ruining his future marriage.

Once he came to Hogwarts, Fred, George, and later Lee, had searched high and low for somewhere to brainstorm their pranks in peace. A den to hide from peeved professors or Filthy Filch and his odd companion, Mrs Norris.

Many detentions and several explosion later, they found a hidden room by complete accident. Lee had made a bad joke and George retaliated by pushing Lee, a tad too hard, into a large tapestry depicting an early Quidditch game. As he made contact with the tapestry, he was sucked inside.

They freaked out for a good few moments, as Molly would go berk if they'd lost a small wizard in their second-year. As they thought about how likely Lee's parents were to notice their child's disappearance, Lee popped through the wall with an excited grin before pulling the two awed twins through the tapestry by their arms.

The room hadn't even been marked on the map. It wasn't spectacular, there was no furniture or special features within. That was alright, they didn't need an extravagant layout, just a simple room with four walls and a cat-free zone.

That's where the boys would most likely be, and if not, well he'd put on his protective gear and wait for the fierce firecracker to come for him. He slowed down as he spotted the back of his handsome brother's head and emitted a trapped breath. Thanks be to Merlin.

Before he could relax he saw a small wizard tucked behind George's turned back, dressed in yellow robes and a nervous frown. He was looking up at George, who was holding his hand out in kind.

"Oi, lads," he shouted down the hall, as he fastened his pace. George turned around to face him, his forehead wrinkled as he stared at the frantic Fred near-running at him.

"Fred, normally I'd say you look good, but I'm not sure about your new style. Too free for me," George chuckled as his shoeless feet came into view.

Fred's lips were paper-thin as he glared down at the fresh batch of puking pastilles in George's hand.

"Mate?" Fred glared at George before turning to the twitchy first year beside his twin.

"You know what that little lemon sweet does?" The slight boy nodded in a confused manner. Fred delivered the boy a reassuring smile towards, before dropping his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder. "Well, what my brother failed to tell you, though I'm sure he was going to–" Fred threw a haughty scowl at George. "– Is that sweet is no ordinary sweet," the blue-eyed Hufflepuff looked up to him with a quizzical eye.

"If you eat it, you'll start vomiting everywhere, maybe even from your nose," the blue eyes grew twice as big when the word vomit was heard. "Now, we have a counter curse that should stop the vomiting if you want to try it."

"No, I don't want it," the boy bobbed his head fiercely. He wouldn't want it either with that description. George was huffing like a dragon beside him, Fred knew he'd be getting an earful when the boy left without his sweet.

"It sounds terrible, but you're not seeing the beauty of it," Fred held the yellow candy between his fingers and towards the sun as if it were heaven's beacon. "Take one of these, and you can get out of Potions for the rest of the day. All you have to do is take one, vomit a little and take the green counter candy when you're sent out of class. Then, when you've time dossing through your work-free day, let us know how it worked out," the boy looked at the sweet uneasily, but there was curiosity there, too.

"How long will it take to stop?" His blue-eyes narrowed on George in suspicion. Fred couldn't blame him. George probably said it tasted like lemon and made you even more attractive than Gilderoy Lockhart. Fred had no intention of lying to the boy, any buffoonery from him would be sniffed out by the golden hell-bringer and her bopable nose.

"That's the thing pup – we don't rightly know. You'd be testing it for us; it shouldn't be long, the batch before took about two hours to stop and this one is far better quality. Your choice," he held the sweet out in cradle of his palm.

The boy levelled his scrutiny to Fred now, wondering if he should trust the other twin.

"Alright, I'll give it a go," he took the sweet from his hand hesitantly, then curled his lip at George and moving from the vacant hallway.

"What the bloody hell, Fred. You almost ruined it, we'd have been set back until lunch," George cried, while he threw his hands in the air.

Fred breath left in slow bursts, as he attempted to reign in his anger at George before he addressed him. He hated being angry at George, it felt unnatural, as if he was hurting himself in a way.

George had thrown his hands across his chest, and the brown-eyes flashed at Fred. What right did he have to be angry?

"Me? I bloody well saved it!" He waved his mighty finger in George's face. George gawked at the finger as if facing off against violent death eater. "What did you even say to him? he hadn't a fecking clue what it was."

"I told him what he wanted to hear to get what we wanted him to do – like normal," he snapped back. Fred gave himself a quick shake to clear his mind, swiping a hand across his clean jaw.

They were different people under the matching jumpers. Fred was always a little more ruthless in his pranks, willing to go to extremes when it was called for. George often stayed his hand when he jumped a bridge too far. It's probably why he was so offended by Fred, now.

"George, we talked about this... it's not right. They've no idea what they're taking, and we're not doing it that way anymore," he pleaded with George, but he wasn't backing down and pulled closer to Fred.

"No, you talked about it Fred," he shouted at Fred, mere measures from his nose as he boomed in his ears. "Besides, you're only saying that because of Hermione," George funnily sneered her name, that irked Fred a little.

Maybe what George was saying was right, maybe he was only here to save his neck. Did that make what George was doing right? Not in his mind.

"Maybe I am – but she's not bloody wrong. What are you even angry about? He took the sweet, and he knows what we want from him. It worked even better," George laughed, the laughter lacked the vibrant spark it normally had.

"He may have – but the others won't. Do you not see that?" he said, his tone dripped with condescension.

It was hard to control his anger, as it was for most Weasleys, but he had to. If he didn't, it would be worse than the Weasley War II, or WWII for short. He'd rather avoid another prank war, the summer of 1989 was a dark year at the burrow, Bill's right eyebrow never grew back right - forever crispy looking. Still, he tried to reason with George, even though it was failing him miserably.

"Did you ever think that one day we're supposed to sellthese things? If we can't get someone to take one for free, how would we get them to buy them?" He delicately propped his hand on George's shoulder, ignoring the muscles twitch in response.

"Haven't left me much choice, have you, Freddie?" He spoke through gritted teeth, as he shrugged off Fred's hand. It was clear George had zero interest in resolving the fight, his lifeblood too wild at that time.

Fred watched his best friend and brother storm away from him and out of sight. He doubted he'd up to any good for the rest of the day, he actually felt a bit sorry for any loitering snakes that crossed George's path. All the same, they probably did deserve it, payment for some guilty act they'd committed away from watchful eyes.

He knew George would calm down in time, and then they could move on like nothing happened. Fred would make a joke about Lee's ears, and George would take that as his opening and laugh. They didn't need to apologise to one another anymore, they grew out of that at four years old.

A cough from behind Fred caused him to turn around, he'd have thought it was Lee, despite its decidedly female nature. It wasn't Lee Jordan behind him.

He was truly surprised to find her outside their secret refuge. It seems he was so busy running, he never caught sight of the brown-haired straggler on his tail.

Fred's tawny eyes dimmed, as he realised what she'd heard. Was she going to hex him?He could never tell what was actionable in her eyes, her justice system was a bit wishy-washy for his taste.

She was chewing her bow lips slowly. Fred had inherited Molly Weasley's dislike of fidgeting, his hand twitched to swat her as Molly would to her brood. He was able to resist easily enough as he didn't fancy a visit to Madam Pomfrey.

"I saw what happened," Hermione said, her arms slowly laced across her chest. "I followed you - I mean, I shouldn't have, but your smile was weird…"

Fred braced himself, while he debated if he should even bother to defend himself. If she'd just jumped to her conclusions already, would it even help?

He'd gotten him to stop, hadn't he? Was that worth nothing to her? For Godric's sake, it wasn't even his idea!

"I don't know I'm sorry I guess," she'd spoken so quietly, he wasn't even sure he'd heard her. Fred creased his brow

"Why are you sorry?" He asked with a lifted tongue. She stared at him as if he were the dullest knife in the drawer.

He had a bizarre urge to laugh, as he was truly the worstat reading Hermione Granger. Her arms fell from her chest limply to her sides, as her head bent in question.

"For following you. It wasn't right," he gazed into her gilded eyes, as he attempted to read her.

Yes, she shouldn't have followed him, but he couldn't believe she'd apologise to him. Crookshanks ate Scabbers and Ron would die if he kept waiting for his apology, which only meant this was some sort of honey-eyed trap.

"Okay…" he braced himself once more, but the bedazzling witch simply smiled – she smiled at him...at Fred...bloody smiled.

"Thanks. Oh, and thanks, for telling him about it before he took it, as I asked. " He should have said she didn't ask, more demanded with unimaginable aggression and promises of pain, but she was still smiling at him. Still smiling at Fred.

"When you're right, you're right," he said, giving her a cheeky wink in addition to his charming smile. He'd like to attribute her bruising smile to his dashing wink but he knew better, he knew it was from being told she was right. It was praise that caused the bright girl's smile to broaden.

He felt fizzy and weightless – as light and airy as a fresh-poured butterbeer. He knew the image of her glittery golden eyes, as the edges crinkled with her smile, would be the last image he'd think of tonight. A picture to guide his dreams to higher grounds. Then something occurred to him, as they at smiled at one another.

This was it. This was the moment. The moment to change the narrative and rewrite his story so far. If he handled this carefully, it could be the start he'd been searching for. He raised his hand and leaned against the wall of the corridor, aiming for an air of nonchalance, even though he was freaking out. There was a high probability that his organs were sweating along with him.

Be smooth, Freddie.

"So…" she looked uneasily at his casual leaning arm, and her smile dimmed a little. When he saw her smile fade, he should have reassessed his words. "…Hogsmeade?" Her smile plunged at the corners, and her small ink-stained hands fisted at her sides.

He stood straight and reinforced his grin; he tried to backpedal and catch the moment as it fleeted by him, wishing he had a time-turner in his back pocket.

"I really shouldn't have followed you," she muttered, her pale upper lip flipped, exposing the dark flesh within before she thundered away. He was wrong, her sneer would be the last image he'd have tonight.

.

With George angry at him, and Lee off sulking with him, Fred was left to his own devices, which weren't much when there was no one there to laugh at your joke. George would come around, but hours later, he still wasn't ready.

Fred was sprawled across a small couch in the common room, reading over his little blue book for the evening, the little book stuffed with product ideas that they couldn't quite master. The twins had far too many ideas and very little ways to bring about the ideas; most of the book was just full of puns and clever wordplay, naming the products was as easy as breathing for the boys.

With no entertainment in tonight's program, he decided to invest some time in his future and set about working on the most developed idea they had; Grindle-bald. Its purpose was all in the name; a small charm placed on an object that when picked up by your victim, it made them bald, simple as.

Anyone looking at Fred would think he was reading Widdle Walt's World of Warted Wonders if the transfigured cover was to be believed. He hadn't a clue about who Widdle was or what could be so great about warts, it was the title of a book he'd seen in Diagon Alley once and it amused him to no end. He couldn't use a schoolbook cover; if Fred was seen reading for education, it'd mount suspicion and end in a trip to St. Mungo's.

"We could try steal it. I'd try anything at this stage," Fred's mischievous ears perked at the sound of Harry plotting in the common room. Maybe there would be some entertainment after all.

He lay the open book across his chest and remained mute. He decided to listen to the boy first, as he'd yet to spot him, his form obscured by the back of the large sofa. He could have jumped straight in, but he wanted to see how this played out, see if Harry had any true potential as a troublemaker.

"Don't see that happening, I'd say they've locked it up better than the philosopher's stone," his ickle brother grumbled, he'd know that broody character anywhere.

"That didn't stop us last time," Harry teased. Fred didn't feel assured by the playful nature, whatever the boys were up to was no good. The bad kind of no good.

Should he suspect anything less from Harry Potter? Ever since the boy came to Hogwarts, danger danced behind him and seduced his baby brother along with him.

"I mean, really – did you see her reading at lunch? She doesn't even feel bad about it!" said Ron.

Fred groaned internally, obviously, it was about the broom Harry and Ron couldn't seem shut up about. Everyone in the common room knew of the fight between the younger ones, and the house was divided 99:1, the odds never favouring Hermione.

Fred and George may not be on good terms, but other than Lee nobody could tell, any grievances the boys had stayed between them and never leaked into their family or friends. A significant lesson his little brother had blatantly ignored from their shared times at the Burrow.

Fred had fussed with whether to get involved in their squabble, it wasn't something he'd done, and he thought if he left it, they'd sort it out like siblings always did. He'd reached that decision nearly two months ago.

"Mind, her barmy cat's probably eaten Scabbers and she cuddles the bloody monster! It's been months and she won't even admit it's possible; I know he ate my Scabbers, and she acts like it's her monster that's been hurt by me," Fred only half-agreed with Ron, to be honest, he was glad to be rid of the missing-toed rat.

It always gnawed at his shoes, and he'd caught him eating his Chocolate Frogs one too many times. Still, he'd tried to cheer his brother up when he'd lost him.

"Can we do anything about the broom?" Harry pleaded, ignoring the Scabbers tangent, exactly like Fred would've, Ron never gave up if you let him. It was the responding voice that surprised Fred.

"I've tried Harry. She's not budging, at all. Say's the team broom will do you fine," he'd have confused the grumpy tone for Ron if he didn't know the voice of his captain so well. "The firebolt would have pushed our chances at the cup. With our seeker on an ancient broom, it's not looking good. She's single-handedly lost us the cup," Oliver lamented. Fred could feel his anger rise, as he gripped the chair's smooth frame before finally giving in.

That was the final straw for Fred. It was one thing for Ron and Harry to moan about her, even if he didn't like it, it was another for the far older lad to do it. He sat up noiselessly, not wanting to alert them just yet.

The three Gryffindors were huddled together by the portrait door like sketchy street urchins selling dodgy enchanted watches. Ron took after Arthur Weasley as Bill did, the thirteen-year-old boy was nearly as tall as Oliver Wood. Fred was only a little bit taller but based on trajectory his ickle brother would surpass the twins soon enough.

Harry was the smallest of the three, he looked like a small child compared to the two boys surrounding him. Fred had yet to speak up, wondering if either of the boys would jump to her defence without his prodding.

"Yeah, she did it on purpose. Jealous is all. Oh, and she hates being wrong. She'd no good reason, right Harry?" Ron nudged his shoulder, as his hands gripped his boyish hips.

Fred caught Harry's eye as he gnawed his lip, he glared at the boy, willing him to man up. Harry looked away from him and nodded to Ron. "We could try Dumbledore, surely he'd understand what's going on, right?" Fred slammed his precious book on the table beside him.

The deer-eyed Ron looked away from Oliver to the raucous bang in front of him. Oliver startled too, as he spotted the stiff-jointed Fred sat on the chair in front of him. He was confused by the anger emanating from him, an emotion he'd yet to see on the jovial beater. Even when they were being pummelled in a match, Fred and George kept on laughing. He wasn't laughing now.

"I don't think Dumbledore would agree with you at all," Fred said coolly.

"Why not?" Ron rolled his eyes as he awaited a punchline that wasn't to come.

"Dumb may be in his name, but he certainly isn't," his demeanour cold as the words slipped by his tight lips.

"You don't know what you're talking about anyway," Ron huffed, as his puffed cheeks reddened. Fred slipped from the chair with ease, he wanted to lure his height over Ron while he still could. He smirked, far more sinister than any of the boys were used to. Harry and Oliver stayed silent, which was for the best.

"Anyone who's been in the common room the last two month knows all about it Ronniekins, you speak as quietly as you eat," he sauntered closer to Ron, the Weasley blood exploded across the younger boy's cheeks.

"You only say that 'cause you fancy her," Ron almost shouted. The silly word caused Fred's nose to wrinkle.

"Don't say fancy, you make it sound childish," Ron scoffed mercilessly as if it was truly ridiculous. Though he ignored it, knowing it would anger the disenfranchised Ron more.

"Besides, even if I fancy her, she's still right. You don't just get sent a broom that costs more than our bloody house from nobody. It's suspect, and you should have been gifted the dear old Headmaster's name instead if you don't think so," said Fred.

"He's right Ronnie," the soft amble of George's voice sounded from the bottom of the boy's staircase to his left, he turned to him in surprise, as George leaned against the bannister with crossed ankles. Fred's eyebrows raised slightly before a delighted smile bloomed across his face.

He always knew they'd be alright. George gave Fred a subtle wink, the others wouldn't even notice. They were always alright.

"See? And he doesn't even fancy her," Fred mocked, he relished winding Ron up and getting his squared jaw to clench. He loved it even more when George was here to enjoy it, too. He put his hand on Harry's skimmed shoulders and stared him down. "Don't be like Ron. I can barely manage the one I already have," he hoped Harry would be less stubborn as his hot-blooded brother.

Ron was seething beside him, annoyed he'd been the brunt of the mockery as usual. Only Harry had the decency to look guilty, yet he never agreed with Fred.

Fred sighed dramatically before pulling away from Harry. Whether Harry kept quiet from fear of Ron, though Godric knows why he'd be afraid of Ron, he had no idea.

All he could do was hope his message had registered; talk to your friend, you gits. He scowled at Oliver before he walked away, the Gryffindor had stayed out of the brotherly squabble, but Fred wasn't finished with him and he wanted him to know it.

Oliver looked at Fred like chickens were popping out of his ears, he subtly bumped his shoulder as he passed him. He said nothing, he wouldn't berate their leader in front of the house seeker or any other teammates, but he wanted Oliver to know this was not the last of their discussion. He had certain words for Oliver Wood that shouldn't be spoken in front of young ears, either.

"Alright? George asked with a grin, as he knew what Fred had done, nothing ever went by the other without notice.

"All-left," Fred grumbled, unable to shake his anger off. George threw his arm around Fred as they walked up the stairs.

"I know what will get your sides straights, brother of mine," George was smirking again, as he knew something Fred didn't.

"Out with it, Georgie," Fred huffed, he was in no mood for their usual banter.

"Is that any way to speak to your brother? Especially, when he knows what he knows, what Fred doesn't know, but someone knows what George knows, and boy do they know," George sang.

"It is when Fred knows George will be hit with what he knows if he doesn't get to the point," Fred said, no true bite to his words.

"Ah but Forgie boy, you can't hit me with what I know, as I happen to know if you hit me with her, you'd be hexed by her in return," George bounced on his feet as they reached their door further down the corridor.

"What are you even talking about?" he asked with an incredulous laugh. George was impervious, as he grinned from pretty ear to prettier ear.

"Well, it wasn't just me to come upon your match with our blight of a brother," George waggled his eyebrows, but Fred wasn't in on the joke. "Another righteous little Gryffindor saw it as well, Fred," George pushed the centre of Fred's forehead with his finger, forcing him back. That didn't give him the in George thought it would. George sighed loudly. "Granger, you dolt."

"What are you on about?" He never saw her there, was George having him on? George groaned, truly bothered by his normally sharp brother.

"Granger was coming down her stairs when I was. Course, she stopped when she heard you defending her so soundly," George laughed as Fred's mouth fell open in a funny manner. "While still dashing, we're less comely with your mouth open like that, Fred" George grinned as he pushed his jaw closed with his finger.

Fred was grateful, as he was too shocked to do anything other than wonder what Hermione thought of him. Did she hate him for defending him like she couldn't do it herself? That seemed like a very Hermione thing to think. Fred laughed loudly to a bewildered George.

As if he'd ever been able to predict what she thought, how silly was he. If he was asked her favourite fruit, he'd say orange, and then she'd say a Brickhouse.

"Did she seem pleased?" He asked, with a gleam to his eyes which caused George to smirk once more. Fred would honestly slap him if he did another riddle-y thing like before. He had no use for Ravenclaws tonight, so George could go shove it somewhere it could be more useful.

"I don't know if her girly little smile was anything to go by when you called Ron thick, I'd say she rather enjoyed the manly display…" George kept his infuriating smirk as Fred's smile returned in full. The confrontation from moments ago, along with the one yet to be had with Oliver, were forgotten in favour of imaging what her 'girly' smile looked like.

As Fred threw his arm around his slightly younger brother, he wondered how he'd copped for all three minutes before he was born. He certainly couldn't imagine he copped well.

"Is there a reason you're still barefoot, Freddie?

.

Hi all,
I really like this chapter. It was supposed to have another scene too, but it all ran on the longer side. If I included the scene we'd be at 11,000 words for a single chapter which would be a migraine to edit. Speaking of editing, It wasn't until editing I realised this is my first chapter without any Hermione perspective, at all. I liked having Fred's mind for a whole chapter, it's a nice change of pace, I think.

As you can see, our boy is developing ever so slightly. Yes, he only really cared because she'd care but he acted on his own for the interaction with Harry and Ron. I don't know when I decided to villainise Oliver but that happened. I love George and Fred so much, it genuinely hurts when I think about his death. I understand they're both different people but I can't imagine one without the other. I's like having toast with jam with no butter - it's not the worst, but it could be better. That strange analogy is how I feel about a world without Fred.

So, I've said before that I'm struggling with the time aspect of PoA, haven't I? If I haven't, well, I get PTSD when people ask me for the time. It's the absolute worst. Sometimes I feel like copping out and giving it a happy little ending where nothing happens to anyone and we just move on to the next book, but that's no good.

On to my second rant. Though this isn't my first story, it's my first fanfiction story, which is cool but also a bit annoying. Why's that? Because if I'm halfway through a story, and suddenly have a brainchild for a plotline, I can't go to chapter 3 and suddenly start weaving it because that's already published and is canon to my story. It was a brilliant idea too. I'll have to save it for another story, which I'll be doing soon. I plan on writing a long one-shot or maybe like a short ten chapter story, but I want to do a rare pairing. Any ideas? Taking any.

With this week's ramble closed, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter or the story so far! Leave a review/fave, if you're feeling it.

Until next time