Emaleneangel: Me not own.
Hermione's third year at Hogwarts, and Fred's fifth.
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Hermione hurried to her class. One would think that with a time turner she would make it to every class on time but the thirty minute turn the ministry had approved for her use couldn't be used to cover up the fact that she had fallen asleep in the common room. It didn't help that her only friends weren't talking to her and that she was falling behind on her grades.
As she turned the corner her foot hit a crack in the tile and everything she had been carrying went flying down the corridor. She pushed herself up, grabbed the book closest to her and slammed it down the ground. Tears began to spring from her eyes, as she sat there, hugging herself. It was simply too much.
Suddenly she heard footsteps approaching, and raced to grab her things before the person arrived. The only thing worse than crying in the middle of the hallway was having someone see her crying in the middle of a hallway. But she wasn't quick enough and was forced to keep her head down as she grabbed a book from an outstretched hand.
The person didn't seem to take the hint, however, because he didn't continue on his merry way.
"Is everything ok Hermione?" he asked. She didn't even have to look up to know who the speaker was, the F's on his shoes revealed that to her.
"Yes, yes. Oh no it isn't!" she wailed once again slamming her books against the ground.
"Well that was a bit counterproductive," he said, winning a snorted laugh from her. He knelt down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
"There's just so much to do. It's almost funny, miss Know-it-all Granger has overreached herself. My homework seems to be reproducing. It wouldn't be so bad if Ron and Harry were talking to me, but they aren't so my life has become one gigantic to-do list." She still couldn't believe that she was confiding in anyone, least of all Fred Weasley but it only went to show how desperate she was.
"I'm sorry. But as you said you are Hermione Granger so if anyone can deal with this it's you. And if you can't you could always drop a class." She looked up at him
in horror. "Or maybe not. But I'm sure Ron and Harry will come around. They're just being stubborn but they'll return to you soon enough."
"I wouldn't be so sure. It's been months now since I had a decent conversation with either one of them."
"Look, I don't know you that well, but what I do know from the simple fact that you are able to look past some of Ron's more jerkish qualities is that you're a good friend. So just be patient." With that he smiled comfortingly and held out his hand for her. She wiped her eyes one more time and then allowed him to help her up.
"Thanks Fred. But if I'm a good friend you're certainly a good person." Fred felt himself blush partly because of her compliment and partly because of the sincerity of her smile.
"Well I had better get to Quidditch Practice," he said and then quickly walked off. Hermione decided not to mention that the Quidditch Field was closed on Tuesdays.
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Hermione's POV
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I returned to work two days later. I know that most people hate Monday mornings but I couldn't help but smile every time the hustle and bustle of a fresh week at the Department of International Co-operation enveloped me. Colleagues waved good- morning. Extrinsic smells filled the air. Papers covered the surface of my desk, threatening to spill over if I didn't begin work immediately.
Three cups of coffee later I was engrossed in a particularly complex profit list from a small company that sold exotic pets. My job was basically to go through reports that businesses gave us and make sure that they weren't cheating on their taxes or committing other crimes that would normally be lost in the chaos of international trade. I know it sounds boring, and a lot of times it can be, but I love the idea that I can catch a criminal simply using my mind. Plus, t's the only path to promotion and I work better with a positive attitude. As for the case I was working on at the moment, it didn't take a genius to figure out that kittens, even Egyptian ones, don't cost two-hundred galleons a piece.
"So how's it going, Hermy dear?" asked a relaxed voice. I turned around to find my boss, a Mr. Lloyd C. Abbott (and you always had to use the C when you wrote out his name), eating a hoagie (don't ask me how he gets them in England but he does seem to have an endless supply) and staring down my shirt. I actually have a lot of bosses but regretfully he was the one that I reported to.
"Fine Mr. Abbott." I felt his hand gliding around on my back and found myself glad for the first time that I was married even if the situation WAS temporary. Only a few more days and I wouldn't have to deal with this bullshit again. As it was I grabbed a random file and bit my lip as his hand traveled even lower. "I was wondering about these numbers…" I said, as I accidentally pointed to a sheet that contained only text. I silently cursed. Mr. Abbott didn't seem to notice, however. He leaned in closer and could feel his breath against my ear, the smell of Jack Daniel's traveling to my nostrils.
"So Hermy, How about tonight you and I—" But before he could finish whatever grotesque proposal he was about to make he was interrupted.
"Abbott, get over here and finish your work!" Suddenly the large sleaze-ball became a stuttering fool.
"Yessir, right away Mr. Weasley." And with that he left me alone. I turned to the man who had prevented an awkward conversation from becoming downright horrid. Percy Weasley sure had changed over the past few years. Not physically, but ever since his dad had almost died saving his life in my sixth year he had become, if not laid-back, than at least less anal and someone you could talk to without wanting to shake senseless.
"Thank-you," I mouthed to him, and he smiled in return. I found myself hoping that he'd still be as nice in a couple days if Mr. Abbott continued to be an ass. And, ok, I know what you're thinking: I, Hermione Granger, should have more self respect than to let a man handle me like that, but I have plans. Once I'm Mistress of Magic Mr. Lloyd C. Abbott is going to have one hell of a time finding a job anywhere, and that's IF he manages to get rid of the curse I'm going to put on him.
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Fred's POV
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I love my job, even if owning my own business means that it is a twenty-four hour a day thing. Honestly what sane person wouldn't revel in 'creating smiles' (it's our slogan and not something I invented. But what can I say? It sells.)? But although I love inventing things my favorite part is watching the kids play with them for the first time. Their little faces adopting pig snouts or bunny ears as they burst out into laughter. I mean I'm a Weasley, one of seven kids, it's like in my blood to like children. I probably would have become a teacher if it didn't mean having to like school, or as Hermione oh so politely pointed out the other day, graduating.
"Hey! Give it back." I turned to find three post-pubescent boys dangling a bag above a petite Indian girl. Could someone please explain to me why bullies always travel in groups of three?
"First we want to see if there's anything good in here," said one of the goons. The three of them proceeded to search through the goody bag I had sold her only a few minutes earlier. Stepping out from behind the counter I removed my smock (Ok, so most smocks aren't cool but I had pineapples dancing on mine).
"Hey," I shouted. "Give the girl back her candy and apologize."
The ringleader simply sneered at me but I could see the fear in the other boys' eyes. "Oh and why should I?" One of his cronies leaned over and hissed in his ear.
"Chris, that's Fred Weasley." I smiled as the kid's eyes widened in shock and horror. I know it was sort of sick but I kind of reveled in the power that I seemed to have over the next generation wizards.
"That's right, now do it and if I ever hear of you bullying someone like this again I'll ban you all from the store for the rest of your pitiful lives." At that a few ears perked up, doubtless other victims of this particular gang. Beside me I heard stifled laughter but decided that I would deal with the perpetrator in a moment.
"You wouldn't?" but he was practically shaking as he said it. I simply nodded.
He thrust the bag into the girl's hands and muttered, "Sorry." He then fled the store, his two friends only steps behind. The girl shyly looked into her treasure trove of goodies and the shop returned back to normal.
It was then that I turned to have it out with the adult that had been laughing at me only to find that it had been my younger brother. Sometime I would have to find out how he had managed to enter the store without me noticing.
"I'm sorry, you just looked so much like McGonagall," he replied wiping tears from his eyes.
"I'm in a good mood today so I'll choose to take that as a compliment, but promise you'll slap me if I start hmmphing like her."
"I promise."
"So what will it be for you today little bro?"
"I promised Nike that I'd stop by and buy your fantasia creams as soon as they came out. You know, you and George really shouldn't brag about your next big thing at family events. It makes it really hard for those of us with kids," but I could tell he was joking. He would buy Nike the world if he could.
"So is my little niece into playing pretend?" I asked, scooping a heap-load of pink, creamed filled candies into a bag. Fantasia creams were our newest invention. Pink ones turned the eater into a fairy, red, a past political figure, green, an animal, and blue, a monster.
"Like you wouldn't believe. Growing soft in your old age Fred?"
"And what is that suppose to mean?"
"Turning kids into fairies. No bleeding noses or engorged body parts?"
"And your point would be?"
"Nothing, but I think that Nike actually wanted the blue ones."
"Figures, but just so you know these things ARE for children six and up." No matter how many times I said that I still couldn't believe that THOSE words were coming from MY mouth.
"I told Nike that she can't use them unless I'm in the room." Ron had become an enigma in the past couple of years. Although he could be insufferably immature (did I just use insufferably? My wife's rubbing off on me even if we haven't spent a day together) he was also an amazing father. Luna Lovegood had named Ron Nike's godfather when the girl had been born four years ago, but I don't think even she expected him to actually have to fulfill his duties. Sadly she had died when Nike was only a few months old. You think with all the spells we have we would be able to cure something like cancer, but we were forced to sit back and watch her waste away.
It had been pandemonium when Nike had first come to live at the burrow (Ron had moved back home in an attempt to learn everything about being a parent as quickly as possible). To everyone's surprise, though, he had risen above and beyond the challenge and after a few short months Mom deemed that he was ready to give it a go on his own. The fact that Ron was a great parent might just be a fluke in his life of mediocracy but I think that it has something to do with immense ability to love (of courseI would never tell him that), and Ron couldn't have loved that little girl anymore if she was his own flesh and blood.
"Yo Ron!" I turned around to find my twin standing behind me in his disco-ball smock. It almost hurt to look at him, multi-colored lights flashing everywhere.
"Hey. Oh I almost forgot to ask you guys, how was Las Vegas?"
"Great," George answered for us. "It was an absolute blast, but not at all what we were expecting. But you know what they say, anything can happen in Vegas." I felt my hands slip as I wrapped the package. Ron simply laughed.
"Yeah. Hermione told me she was going to be in Las Vegas last weekend too, did you guys happen to see her?"
"No," I shouted just as George said, "Yes." Ron cocked an eyebrow.
"Fred was drunk, so it's no wonder he doesn't remember," George explained without missing a beat. Ron kept his brow raised but seemed to accept the explanation.
"I would have paid to see that. Fred pissed drunk around our dear perfectionist Hermione." At that I had to bite back a very black laugh. "But what about the store you two were looking into opening?"
"I think we'll do it but probably not til after I get my law degree."
I finally finished wrapping my niece's package and handed it to Ron. "Well I'll see you at Tuesday dinner." Tuesday dinner was the one official time when the entire Weasley family and all of our additions gathered at the burrow. When the door swung shut behind Ron I finally took the liberty to turn around, glare at George. When he simply smiled back I resolved that he wouldn't be able to eat a single piece of food for the next two weeks without using at least ten counter-hexes on it.
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Hermione's POV
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I had made up my mind to call Fred the moment that I got home, but it was a task easier said than done. I don't really know how long I sat there, staring at the fireplace waiting for some force of courage to bitch-slap me into taking action. Then, just as I had began to swish my wand for the sixth time, his head appeared.
"Hi, Hermione."
"Hi, Fred. Or is it George?"
"Really, not knowing your own husband's voice," he tssked. I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, is Tuesday night ok?"
"Ok for what." My husband's boggled brains were beginning to wear off on me and we hadn't even spent a day together.
"Telling the family."
"Oh, that's fine. But I was just wondering…"
"Yes Hermione Weasley?"
"Actually it's Hermione GRANGER-Weasley."
"What?"
"I found our marriage certificate and I kept my last name."
"You would. But what is it that you wanted to ask me?"
"It's just… I've known Harry and Ron forever, and I don't think it would be fair of me to let them find out along with everyone else. And as I'm having dinner with the two of them tonight I was wondering if I could tell them?" I finally took time to breathe.
"Sure."
"What!"
"You asked me if you could tell Ron and Harry…"
"…I know what I asked you I'm just surprised you agreed, that's all."
"Look, I understand where you're coming from. If George hadn't found out the way he had I probably would have told him." An image flashed into my head and I snorted. Unfortunately Fred heard me. "What's so funny?"
"It's nothing. I was just picturing what would have happened if it had been Ron not George who had discovered us."
"I'm pretty sure that he would have spontaneously combusted," he laughed in reply. "Oh and about Ron, make sure that he doesn't tell anybody. You know how he is with secrets."
"Yeah. There's two more things that I have to ask, though. First: we're telling your family the truth behind our marriage, right?"
"Of course. Mum may skewer me but she'll welcome you to the family regardless. You're practically part of it already. So what's the next one?
"I know I said that my family wasn't in touch with the wizarding world but I forgot that they receive the Daily Prophet and if our marriage is going to be in there it might be a good idea if we visit them in the next couple of days."
"Um, sure. What should I wear though? I've never met them. Seen them once or twice, but never met them."
"For good reason too," I muttered. "Just wear something without holes or funny quips written on it."
"Aww and I really wanted to wear my shirt about the drunk dentist who—"
"Fred!"
"I'm just joking. Anyway are we telling them the truth about our marriage?"
"I'm still deciding." As much as I didn't want to disappoint my dad the look on my mother's face would have been totally worth it.
"Should I not ask?"
"Yep." I looked one more time at the list I had written to make sure we had covered all of the topics. "Well, I think that's it so I'll see you on Tuesday."
"Yeah. Guess it's goodbye then."
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye." For a good moment we just stared at each other before the fire faded into nothingness
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Hermione's POV
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Neither Ron or Harry were there when I arrived at the Leaky Caldron, which was both a relief and a hindrance. A relief because I had a few minutes to myself and a hindrance because there was nothing to keep me from running in the opposite direction. But instead of fleeing into the night I requested a table and ordered a glass of pumpkin juice. Sipping on it I looked around the restaurant. There was a family reunion of wizards a few feet away and a meeting of half-giants in the corner (the ceiling had been broken so that they could sit without having to bend down). I was so absorbed in people-watching that I didn't even notice that Harry had arrived until he waved a hand in front of me.
"Earth to Hermione," he said smiling. I put down my mug in order to stand up and hug him. After we were finished greeting each other we sat down and Harry signaled for the hunch-backed waiter to bring him a drink
"So how are classes going?" I asked him. He smiled. Harry always smiled when he talked about teaching. None of us were really all that surprised when he dropped his Auror training in order to teach Defense against the Dark Arts. After watching him create the DA in our fifth year I honestly would have been surprised if he had done anything else.
"It's been a little hectic lately with midterms coming up and all. But our house has one hell of a Quidditch team. Oh and I'm planning a trip to the Forbidden forest for my third years. I wanted to bring all of Gryffindor but McGonagall pointed out that that wouldn't be fair to the rest of the houses. I only wish that I could get the twins to focus a little more on school and less on blowing things up. Fred and George have had way too much influence on them." I should probably explain shouldn't I? McGonagall had taken over as Headmistress when Dumbledore had died at the end of our sixth year. It was a blow but we were all pretty sure that he was happy wherever he was.
Anyway, Harry being the only teacher who was originally from Gryffindor, had been asked to take over as Deputy Headmaster of the house. The twins were Percy's daughters, two girls with freckles and reddish brown hair who were giving their uncles a run for their money as Hogwart's premier pranksters.
"I'm planning on going to the next game," I said, not wanting to get into anything awkward before Ron arrived.
"That's great." There was a moment of silence. He looked at me to say something, and when I blanked out he continued. "So how was Las Vegas?"
"Oh it was great, great, simply…great." Shit, nay, double shit. I think he was beginning to realize that something was, if not wrong, then out of place because he looked at me quizzically. Luckily at that moment Ron decided to make an entrance.
"I'm so sorry I'm late," he said tripping over stools. "Nike decided that it would be funny to scare the sitter by turning into a monster. I'm lucky I decided not to use a muggle service this time." Harry and I laughed then rose for another round of hugs.
"So what did I miss?" he asked when we were in our chairs again.
"Hermione was just telling me about her vacation," said Harry before I could maneuver the conversation in a different direction.
"Oh really?" asked Ron. He was breathing heavily as if he had just run a mile, and in all likely hood, he just had.
"Yeah. I was just telling Harry that it was… er… great." Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Cool. George and Fred said that they ran into you there." I looked at him, my mouth dropping open. Luckily he seemed to think my puzzlement was over the fact that he had seen Fred and George so recently. "I was at the store today," he explained.
"They said that they had seen me?" By this point Harry was watching our conversation with interest.
"Yeah. Well actually George said that they had and Fred said they hadn't, but it sounded like Fred was really messed up at the time," finished Ron.
"He wasn't the only one," I muttered.
"What?"
"Oh nothing," I replied. It was either now or never. "Um about Vegas. Something sort of happened there."
"Oh?" said Ron, seemingly concerned. But I was focused on the person to his right.
"What?" I asked Harry. He was wearing this gigantic grin that made me want to smack him.
"Nothing. I just have a feeling from the way you're fiddling with everything in sight that this is going to be rather interesting." I looked down at my hands and sure enough I was in the process of tearing a packet of sugar into pieces. If it hadn't of been for that comment I probably would have told him to lean forward in his chair when I broke the news. As it was I didn't.
"Fred and I got married." Sure enough Harry fell backwards, causing a few heads to turn. But it was Ron who really worried me. He hadn't moved, his hands were still holding a mug halfway between the table and his mouth, the same cheeky grin still upon his face. "Ron?" I asked, ignoring Harry as he pulled himself back up from the floor.
Ron turned to face me, but that was about it for a moment. "I'm still trying to figure out…" I had never heard his voice that monotone. Then, "WHAT!" he finally yelled to my relief.
"Fred and I got married."
"I hear it but it still doesn't make any sense." He turned to Harry. "Do you understand?"
"Give me a minute or two."
Ron turned back to me. "Are you pregnant?"
"What? NO!" Then I realized that I really had no idea. "At least I don't think so." I hadn't meant for those words to escape my mouth. Ron's face squished together in revulsion and Harry simply laughed.
"I don't understand," Ron continued elongating every syllable to a ridiculous degree. "How did this happen?" But Harry interrupted before I could answer.
"You see, Ronnikins, when to people love each other—"
"SHUT-UP!" both Ron and I screamed, causing a few people to stare.
I took a big breath and then began my explanation. "I got a bit wasted on my last night there. I really don't remember much after eleven o'clock, but the next morning Fred and I woke up next to each other." Once again Ron's face came together in disgust.
"Really Ron stop making that face. You of all people should know that I'm not a virgin." At that Harry laughed and I glared. "Anyway, we thought that we'd go back and just no tmention it to anybody. That was of course until George pointed out this," I said, pulling the offensive ring out of my pocket.
But Ron didn't seem to be interested in that. "Wait a sec, what was George doing in Fred's room when you woke up? Don't tell that you three..?"
"RON! Get your mind out of the gutter. Of course we didn't." By now Harry's sides were shaking. "Oh, so you think this is funny?"
"Immeasurably. Plus it's not like it caused any harm. You two will just get a divorce and everything will be back to normal." He didn't even have the decency to stop chuckling as he spoke.
"She can't," Ron interrupted. THAT got Harry's attention.
"What?"
"It's a wizarding rule. Couples have to take a year and try to work out their problems before they get divorced."
"Oh."
"That was pretty much my reaction," I said. "Only with a few more obscenities."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Well, I'll be spending Tuesday night at the Burrow doing damage control. And we're going to tell my parents in a couple of days. As for the actual marriage, nothing, except for file for a divorce in a year. That said, you two can't tell anyone. And I mean anyone." They nodded. I glared at Ron.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.
"Because you can't keep a bloody secret," Harry answered for me.
"Of course I can."
"Just promise me Ron."
"I promise." Suddenly the left pocket of his robe began to glow red. He pulled out a small globe and looked at it for a second.
"Shit. I'm sorry, but I've got to go. The Slovenian keeper broke his arm trying out a new broom." Ron was a sports reporter for the Prophet. Besides Nike his job was the love of his life. He got to watch games from the best seats and discuss strategy with people who were as passionate about Quidditch as he was. We of course were all happy for him, even if our delight was a bit selfish. (He no longer went into random Quidditch tangents in our presence.)
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he said leaning down to hug me goodbye, and slap Harry on the back. After he had dissaparated Harry stood up.
"Well I had better be going. I have an early day tomorrow and it's a bit of a trek from Hogsmede back to the castle." He was still chuckling as he said his good-bye.
"I'll see you soon," I said, and a few minutes later was left alone in the restaurant.
I sighed with relief, my task finally finished.
