A/N This is one of my more experimental fics. If I get good reviews I keep going with it. All I have to say is that, if you don't like FredHermione, don't read it. It's post-war and is compatible with the 6th book. I hope you read the summary because I don't like to repeat myself. I may seem snippy, but I do love you guys, so give me tips please! Ideas won't fall on deaf ears.

Disclaimer: If I could have one thing out of Harry Potter to own, it would be the twins, but alas, that is not the case… oh well, a girl can dream.

Chapter 1: The Visit

Hermione had kept much to herself since the war had ended. All who knew her understood why, which is why they all turned a blind eye as she slowly by slowly became more reclusive. "She's in mourning," they said. "Let her be." She had lost everything she held dear in the war: her family, her two best friends, and her innocence. All that had made her be the strong-willed, vibrant woman she was, was taken from her and laid at the feet of the Dark Lord before the end. It didn't kill her, truly, but it destroyed her spirit. The only thing that remained of that old Hermione was the outer shell, and she was hollow inside. She never smiled or laughed, which is why it was such a shock when she walked into Weasley Wizard Wheezes that day.

Fred was trying Rainy-Day Sugar Sticks, a recent experiment, out on a kid named Martin when a voice boomed behind him, "Fredrick Weasley! What have I told you about testing new products out on unsuspecting victim?"

"Mum, I swear, he offered to help!"

"You're going to call me 'Mum' now? I know I've gotten older, but I'm still younger that you," said Hermione, stepping out from behind to face him.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he asked in sheer wonder. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Is it such a surprise that I wanted to visit the few friends I have left?" she inquired while idly adjusting the shelves.

"No, of course not! I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, I mean us, completely."

"Fredrick and George Weasley: caused me hell as a Prefect, stuck dragon dung in Percy's 'In' tray, cause Professor Umbridge to have nightmares for years, and legends at Hogwarts for being the best pranksters since the Marauders, not to mention their magnificent exit on a pair of broomsticks after simultaneously setting off hundreds of fireworks and turning a hallway into a swamp. No, I haven't forgotten. How could I forget Ron's older brothers, who would have been my family had he survived. You guys are the only people that I could even call family nowadays." The obvious pain in her voice made him glance at her. Her expression made his heart ache.

"You know we'll always love you and be there for you, Hermione. This really isn't a conversation for everyone's ears. Come on, let's talk in the back," Fred said, ushering her towards the stairs to their flat that they had built above the shop recently.

The second they were in the common room, tears sprung to her eyes. "I failed them. I couldn't save them with this supposed intelligence I have. I got my Ron killed. I don't deserve to be alive," she wept. He put an arm around her and guided her to a couch.

"That's not true. They would never want you to say that. Did you know Ron made me promise him something before you went off to kill Voldemort?" She shook her head. "He made me promise to take care of you if anything happened to him. I'm sorry for not keeping my promise. I've been shirking my duties, and all the while you were suffering. I'm going to have to remedy that."

"What are you talking about?" she asked in a small voice.

"You are hereby relocated to the Fredrick Weasley relocation program. We'll have you move into our flat, and you won't go anywhere without George, Angelina, or me. Don't like it? Tough, I got a promise to fulfill, and we're family," he ordered.

"I couldn't possibly impose like that," she interjected.

"You can and will impose because I was a prat for leaving you alone all this time." He gave her a fierce hug. "Now, you are going to go back to you're place and pack. In a week, we'll move you in." She left, and once she was gone he dropped his head into his hands.

He hadn't bothered to tell her the rest of the promise or even why Ron had chosen him out of everyone in the family. One shock was enough for one day. All would reveal itself in due time, and hopefully without his aid. Yeah. Right. Like that was going to happen.

One week later-- "Fred? Why is there a pile of books three feet high in here?" George asked as he entered the flat.

"Because Hermione wants them there until she can figure out what to do with them," Fred replied from their guest room.

"And what does that have to do with our home?"

"Hi, George!"

"Hello, Mione. As I was say-" George stopped and looked again as his brain registered that a certain brown haired girl just passed him carrying a rather large box. "Uh, Mione, not that I'm not happy to see you, but what exactly is in that box?"

"Just my favorite clothes. The stuff I didn't sell." She just kept walking, entering the guest room door.

"Okay, next question. Why does it appear that you are moving into my home?" he asked following her into the room. He immediately noticed that the room, which was previously stark white with the basic necessities of sleeping and storage, was now light green and fashioned after a style that was just completely Hermione. It was neat and organized, of course, but natural and beautiful at the same time. She had a four-poster bed with cream-colored linens and a rich brown, down comforter. All the furniture was made of mahogany. A bookshelf that was filled, as much as possible and still be organized, with books stood in one corner. Tea-stained, lace draperies hung over the one window in the room. Crystal sconces provided light to the otherwise drab room. On another wall she had an eclectic assortment of scientific apparatuses. The whole atmosphere had been transformed, and she still wasn't completely finished yet. She placed the box on the floor and waved her wand to open it. Another wave and the closet doors were open; she flicked her wrist, and the clothes started to dance towards the hangers in an orderly fashion. Fred was standing by another box that contained office supplies and a minimized desk and started to set that up as well. George had never realized how much space was in this room.

She spoke without turning from her task, "Oh, Fred didn't tell you? I'm going to be living with you two from now on…or would that be three? I heard you proposed to Angelina! Congratulations!"

By this time George's jaw was hanging slack in shock. When he recovered enough to speak, he asked, "When did the idea of you moving in come up?"

"Last Tuesday," Fred said sparing a glance for his twin.

"Tuesday? Tuesday, and I'm just finding out about it now? Did it just happen to slip your mind that I might want to know? You know, me, your twin brother? Shared a womb with you for nine months? Ring any bells?"

"Oh, go count to ten or something. Hermione stays; she needs us right now. We're her family," Fred said, waving off the comment.

Hermione finally turned with a smile to Fred and said, "I can speak for myself, you know." Turning to George, she told him, "Look, George, it was Fred's idea. Apparently he promised Ron that he'd take care of me, and when I came to the shop the other day, he insisted to make good on it, so here I am. But if you're not comfortable with it, I'll leave."

"Merlin, woman, you really know how to make a guy feel guilty. I don't have a problem with you being here. Honestly, I'm a little ashamed to think I didn't offer myself. All that's bothering me is that I wasn't told, so next time a little heads up would be nice," George said, giving in.

"Then maybe I should tell you the little rule I set up," Fred said. Hermione glanced at him for a moment before going back to work.

"Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?" George said skeptically.

"Well, you see, I don't want Hermione to be alone anymore. She's been alone for far too long as it is, so Hermione has to be accompanied by either you, me, or Angelina at all times."

"Did you even ask Hermione if she liked the idea? Didn't you ever think she might want privacy at times?"

"Don't worry, I'm fine with it. He's just trying to do as Ron asked." Her voice cracked a little as she said it, and he knew she was holding back tears. Ron's name brought back painful memories even to him. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Hermione. Fred was pulling her into a hug before George even registered the movement.

He leaned over and whispered, "Hermione, what was t like to walk into the Great Hall on Viktor's arm and watch Ron go ballistic because he was too much f a git to ask you out first?" She remembered that night, the dress she wore, how ridiculously cute Ron looked in his old, used robes, all the offers to dance, and especially the feeling of victory as she walked down the stairs and Ron stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Like it was Christmas…oh wait, it was!" she laughed.

"And how would your Ron feel about his Hermione crying like that over a foolish git like him?"

"Okay, you made your point. No more tears wasted on the bad time, when there were so many wonderful times to outweigh them."

"That's my Hermione!" he praised and gave her a final squeeze.

George watched this exchange in silence, making a note to himself to have a very long conversation with Fred later. Seeing as they didn't seem to be aware of his presence any longer, he left them to their own devices for the time being and flood to Angelina's to invite her over for the night.

"So Fred, you told me about George's love-life, but not yours," Hermione said to start a conversation. "What's the latest? I know you always have some lucky girl on the line, or have you decided to switch, and it's a guy. Come on give me the details."

He threw a small bubble charm her way for the homosexual comment and said, "Nope, no girlfriend…" yet, he added silently to himself.

"Oh come one! You've got to at least fancy somebody," she insisted.

"Yeah, I do," he said, suddenly sounding very sober. "But she's in love with somebody else, someone I can't replace, so I don't know if it's worth it to try. Why try to catch a fish on somebody else's line, right?"

"Nice metaphor, but alls fair in love, war, and Quidditch," she said while making perfectly sure all the clothes were color and style coordinated. "You're a sweet guy. I'm sure the girl will fall for you if you put an effort into it." With her head stuck in a closet, she didn't notice the look of longing in Fred's eyes.

"Do you honestly believe that?" he asked, barely audible.

"What's the point of love if you don't fight for it? You can't surrender over your emotions if there's even the slightest chance you could be loved back." The conviction in her voice made him wonder what was the background behind the beliefs.

"I don't know if I have the guts to tell her. She might not understand," he said.

She finally just stopped working and came over to him. "Look, I don't know what you're so terrified of. This girl, whoever she is, must be something to make the craziest, loudest, most outgoing guy I know, other than your twin, go meek. You're one of the few people who could fight evil with laughter and win. It should be so easy: if it's dark, light a candle; if you like someone, ask him or her out. Why are you making such a big deal about such a simple thing? You have this insane, wonderful personality. Use it to win this girl over! Don't ever doubt yourself."

"I'll ask one more time: do you mean it?"

"Yes, of course I—" She would have said more, save for the fact he was kissing her…hard. Enough so that if she hadn't opened her mouth her teeth would have cut her. It seemed to last a long time, that kiss, but when he suddenly stopped, she realized it had only been a second or two. He just turned and left. She lost her balance the second he let go and fell upon her bed. Her mind was reeling, 'He said…then he…oh God.' She lay there for a while, halfway between shock and amazement. Her lips were still swollen from the pressure when she finally seemed to have reached a simple conclusion, she must have fallen asleep awhile back and dreamt the whole thing. Fred Weasley couldn't possibly love her.

A/N-See that purplish-blue button down there? Okay, what I want you to do is press the little button, and REVIEW ME!