A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it's been a while, but this is a long one so I hope it makes up for it. Please review so i know what you think! Thanks x

Chapter 13

For the remainder of that day up until early evening, The Burrow greatly resembled a circus, and its busyness, Hermione thought, could have rivalled that of the Ministry of Magic itself; people were rushing in and out of fireplaces every 5 seconds with a "whoosh" and a "pop", jostling about the tiny rooms and sprinting up the spindly staircase, Mrs Weasley could be heard every 2 minutes yelling instructions to the rest of the household to put up tables, hang up banners, ice the cakes and plump up the cushions. To do all this for Harry would normally be rather eccentric but Hermione completely understood Mrs Weasley's efforts on this occasion, as Harry really needed all the distractions he could get.

Hermione offered to help with the preparation but Mrs Weasley simply told her that it was not her responsibility as a guest, and she knew better than to persist with Mrs Weasley while she was in such a frantic mood, so she simply went up to Ginny's bedroom, lay on her bed and closed her eyes.

She was indeed looking forward very much to her best friend's arrival and the party that would follow, but she couldn't help feeling slightly nervous about George's last words to her before flooing to Diagon Alley. What did he mean, it's important to tell Fred before tonight? What would be happening tonight that he was discussing with Ginny? And why should she talk to Fred just because George insists? Its got nothing to do with him, apart from the fact that Fred is his brother. But whenever she thought about confessing her feelings to Fred, she felt nauseous; was it because of her fear of humiliation when she was laughed at by Fred and rejected? Or was it the anger she felt at his latest squeeze? Hermione realised she would probably be meeting her tonight. And that was another reason not to say anything – she wouldn't want to be looked down on by her either …

Hermione wasn't aware how long she lay there but she was aware of the painful poke a finger gave her in the arm to forcefully jolt her out of her musings.

"Ouch!" She opened her eyes to see huge brown ones peering down at her, both alight with brilliant sparkles, and framed by thick waves of carrot-orange hair. "Ginny what did you do that for?"

"The party's starting in half an hour, we should get ready!" She grinned before yanking open her wardrobe doors and chucking over her shoulder, so that they landed on Hermione's head, the largest number of sparkly, glamorous, over-the-top garments Hermione had ever seen in her life.

"Ginny, how many party outfits do you have exactly?" Hermione enquired, incredulously.

Ginny giggled. "Oh, quite a few. Pavarti and Lavender gave me a bunch at the end of last term 'cause they'd grown out of them, and Dean's got a muggle sister who's really cool and she's lent me stuff too. So take your pick!"

After being truly overwhelmed by the immense capacity of Ginny's wardrobe, Hermione chose a chocolate knee-length halterneck while Ginny opted for something rather more daring. (When Hermione had seen her outfit she had gasped: "Ginny! Is that really appropriate?" Ginny had simply giggled, blushed to the roots of her hair and replied, "Well Dean's coming and he might stay the night …" Hermione had laughed at this and said, "Well, I'm moving out of your room if that's the case – your bed creaks like crazy!")

Once the pair were downstairs, Mrs Weasley informed them that Harry would be arriving in about five minutes and that they should all gather round the fireplace in the kitchen with everyone else – that was after she had shrieked at Ginny to go and dress in something more "respectable and dignified", with the full support of the rest of the family – (all protective brothers and father of course), but much to the secret dismay of Dean who had already arrived and his eyes had almost fallen out the moment he saw her.

When everyone had assembled, they needed only to wait 2 or 3 minutes before there was a very dusty whirl of green in the kitchen fireplace, and Harry Potter had come tumbling out to meet the many arms embracing him enthusiastically.

"Harry! Oh my dear, my dear, how are you? Oh, look at you, you look famished, come and have some food … goodness, you look almost as thin as my wand –" Mrs Weasley, almost sobbing, was holding Harry in such a tight grip that her knuckles had gone white.

"Mum! Bloody hell, let him breathe! How are you mate?" Ron grinned, slapping his best friend on the back and giving him a warm handshake with both of his own.

By the time all of the Weasley family had greeted Harry, he looked thoroughly worn out, and smiled wearily at Hermione as he reached her at last, and she hugged him closely.

"Heavens, Harry, I've missed you so much! Have you been okay? Mrs Weasley's right, you do look rather thin, you should definitely go and eat something …"

Harry simply laughed appreciatively at Hermione's concern and did as she suggested; as Harry went out into the yard where the rest of the family were and where several tables had been laid out holding plate upon plate of Mrs Weasley's marvellous cooking, and helped himself to plenty while catching up with everyone else, Hermione remained in the quiet kitchen and helped herself to a Butterbeer from the table.

As she was opening it, there was a second roaring of emerald flames from the fireplace in front of her, and this time, out stepped George – he was evidently carrying a big box of Dr Filibuster's fireworks – but also had his arm around a blonde girl wearing rather thickly-applied red lipstick.

"Hi Hermione," he smiled. "Err … this is Verity."

Hermione dropped the lid of her Butterbeer bottle with a clatter. What was she doing here? And why did George have his arm around her? Surely that should be Fred?

For the second time, George appeared to read Hermione's mind and said, "Erm, Verity's just had a bit of a bust up with Fred, thought coming here might cheer her up a bit …" George shifted uncomfortably, his arm still around her, and Verity gave a rather pathetic 'sniff'.

"But that's not a very good idea is it?" Asked Hermione, slightly confused. "I mean, Fred will be here." She added, with a meaningful stare at George.

He avoided her eyes. "Actually, he erm .. said he might just stay at the shop tonight. You know, work on some figures …" He threw Hermione a vaguely apologetic look before steering Verity out of the kitchen, leaving Hermione alone once more.

Hermione sat heavily in a chair at the scrubbed wooden table, feeling utterly confused. So Fred had fallen out with Verity? That leaves her to tell him how she feels. Yet George had obviously only managed half of what Hermione assumed as his plan – he managed to separate the two love-birds, but Fred wasn't coming, so she couldn't talk to him and why on earth had George bought her here? Was Hermione supposed to floo to the shop to see Fred, and George was simply getting Verity out of the way for her?

But before she could even think about an answer to all these questions, a third person stumbled out of the fireplace before her, and to her surprise, it was Fred.

Was this part of 'the plan'? Did George tell Fred to follow? Apparently not, because before Hermione could open her mouth to speak to Fred at long last, he sped out the same door George and Verity had departed from and vanished from view within a second, only glancing at her briefly, looking extremely nervous and agitated.

"Arrgh!" Hermione huffed, exasperated. She gripped her Butterbeer bottle tightly. She could have talked to him then. Why do things keep getting in the way? Like sniffly blonde shop assistants, shifty looking Georges and anxious, clammy Freds … She pictured for a moment Professor Trelawney's great milk-bottle spectacles rising above a misty orb, and wispily declaring, "I see a blonde red-lipped barrier hindering your task my dear … 'tis truly not meant to be …" She let out a derisive laugh; she would never let a daft prediction like that from a pathetically desperate old fraud stop her from doing anything and make her think anyway differently before now, and it certainly wouldn't affect her right now. She ignored these negative thoughts, despite her increasingly negative mood and came to a conclusion: She had to tell Fred what she had told George, when she thought he was Fred, the other night. Everything. Because she meant it now, more than ever. She wanted to be talking to Fred again so much, the yearning was almost ripping her insides apart. That fuzzy warm feeling, being able to do anything and say anything without feeling stupid, forgetting who she was and becoming someone she never knew was the most amazing thing that has ever happened to her – including getting top marks in everything. She was sure that was the real her – someone only Fred could awaken. It only happened when she was with Fred Weasley.

It was now or never. She was standing it no longer. She wasn't sure what she was going to do when she reached him. She was angry at his ignorance towards her, and his reluctance to speak to her for the past week – was she going to scream, yell, stamp her feet and shake him until his little ginger head falls off? No. She just wanted to talk. Tell him. It seemed like years ago she had had that fuzzy feeling inside her, and she wanted it back. She wanted him back.

But what if he just laughed and told her he didn't have time for her silliness because he was so in love with Verity? There wasn't time to think of that – she had to do it now …

She stormed out of the kitchen door, buzzing with fear, excitement, anticipation, and longing worse than ever. Sooner than she expected, she spotted Fred's strangely pale, unfamiliar face through the crack of the closed living room door. He was wringing his hands and pacing around the room. She was just about to enter when she realised a second person was in there with him.

"I dunno Fred, I really don't …" The voice trailed away hopelessly.

"I've just got to sort this out. We got on so well before … I dunno what's happened. I suppose it's my fault really, I've been avoiding her ever since she told him she didn't actually like me. It was just a shock, you know? She said it so bluntly as if it was obvious. And I really thought …. Now she's just been hanging around with him ever since …"

"Mmm … our darling brother …" The second voice sighed.

So wasGeorge now seeing Verity? And the stupid bimbo had been playing them both? And Fred wants her back? Hermione's stomach gave a squirm and she leaned closer to listen as they continued.

"I suppose the two of them are better suited to each other than her and me … but she needs to know how I feel before, as you say, our 'darling' brother gets his mitts firmly on her. I've never felt this way before, you know? It's been agony without her … This is big man, I mean, I'm Fred – I never get deep feelings!"

The second voice gave a weak laugh and walked over to Fred and placed a hand on his shoulder. (Hermione saw that it was his older brother Bill.)

"What about …?" Bill trailed off again.

"Oh her? Bloody finito, mate. It was never anything anyway. So we spent like, a week together – it was crap. It meant nothing. I thought she'd be a laugh but she's actually a bit of a miserable cow …"

Hermione drew back from the door and stifled a cry – he was talking about her! That week really meant nothing to him? He thought she was miserable? Maybe it served her right after what he heard her telling Ron about him … But she hadn't meant that, and he certainly sounded like he had meant that …

"Hermione?"

Hermione started. She looked round and two heads were peering around the banister, all four eyes full of concern. She automatically forced a smile onto her face and put on an attempted cheery tone, although her eyes had begun to sting; "What have you two been up to, eh?"

Ginny and Dean came down the stairs, looking relieved that she seemed perfectly happy, and also looking slightly mischevious. Dean hastily cleared his throat gruffly, and suggested that they went back outside. As they passed Hermione, Ginny gave her a wink and whispered, "Can't wait 'til later! Its gonna be so cute!"

Bewildered, Hermione watched them out of sight and then decided to follow them outside as she remembered what she was about to do and why she had not done it.

When she got outside, she approached Harry and Ron, longing for a bit of comforting sanity and proper conversation. However, if she was expecting this, she was quite mistaken; when she greeted them and asked them what they were talking about, Ron went very green and muttered "nothing" in a very unconvincing, strangled sort of voice.

Hermione shot Harry a quizzical look and said, "What is it? Come on, you can tell me anything!"

Ron just starting fiddling with the label on his Butterbeer bottle while Harry bit his lip, looking rather uncomfortable and nodded meaningfully towards Ron, looking apologetic.

With that, Hermione got up, feeling even worse than she had done before; they were obviously discussing some secret of Ron's that he didn't want Hermione to hear. What about them all being best friends together? Surely they shared all of their secrets? Hermione now felt very lonely, despite being within a crowd of people. She looked around; Percy and his father were having a very heated discussion about what looked like work as Percy looked simply alight with excitement and his chest was pushed upwards, pompously and importantly; Mrs Weasley was fussing over several fresh-looking burns Charlie had acquired over the summer and insisted on dabbing them with a thick blue fluid she was holding while he patiently told her that they would heal if left alone; George and Verity were standing by the rose bush, George slowly stroking her arm and nodding sympathetically while she talked to him in a very whimpery, weak sort of voice; Ron and Harry were deep in conversation once more, looking very serious indeed and Ron looking greener than before (Perhaps he hadn't taken his potion? Hermione thought); she finally looked at Ginny and Dean who were wrapped around each other in a far corner – Ginny had her chin propped on Dean's shoulder so she was facing Hermione, and having seen her glance at Ron a few seconds ago, Ginny gave her another very big wink before nuzzling Dean's neck.

After finishing her second bottle of Butterbeer, Hermione returned to the kitchen for a third. Thinking hopelessly that no-one seemed to even care she was there, she sat alone in the kitchen and glugged her way through another two bottles while she could hear everyone laughing and chattering outside.

She was convinced that things would perk up as soon as Harry got here, so it would be just like it is at Hogwarts, but instead of the three of them having fun like usual, the two of them had just sat all evening looking like they're discussing how Voldemort could be lurking somewhere in the garden, ready to pounce any second – and even if they were talking about that, why couldn't she be included?

At that moment, Hermione heard a thump and a whimper that came from overhead; she walked up the hall, turned around the banister to look up the stairs, and there, sprawled all over them was Verity, underneath what looked like a horribly familiar lanky, ginger Weasley twin. Repulsed, Hermione kicked her way past them, ran up the stairs, stumbling several times along the way, and slammed herself shut in the bathroom. She slumped on the floor and sobbed.

As if things couldn't get any worse – there was always the hope that they wouldn't make up, but after Fred's speech, it seemed pretty evident that they would. She never thought she would think this because she loved staying with the Weasleys so much, but this time she had had enough. She was going home. She wiped her eyes and nose on a bit of toilet roll and heaved herself up with some difficulty, and staggered rather ungracefully out of the bathroom and carefully down the now-empty stairs, forgetting about all of her things in Ginny's room.

She made her way to the kitchen, heading for the fireplace to floo back home, when suddenly someone stepped out in front of her and grabbed her shoulders hard.

"Owwerr …" she slurred, and looked up into Fred Weasley's eyes. Although they seemed more grey than she had ever seen them, she knew those eyes anywhere.

"Hermione, I need to talk to you." He looked like he did earlier – pale and nervous, yet a spark of determination seemed to have ignited inside him, making him slightly more confident. "There's something I haven't told you that you probably should know –"

"I know abow Vehhty," Hermione replied – her words didn't seem to be coming out whole anymore. "Why arn you still ow on the stairs kissiner?"

"Verity's here?" Fred looked surprised.

"Wha? Don' you try an trick me, Wed Freasley …"

Not a second later, the back door burst open and Ron came marching through it, looking incredibly nauseous but he stood up straight and seemed to have the same spark of determination as Fred.

"Herm-mione?" He stuttered before anyone else could stop him. "Will you g-go out w-with me?"

Hermione was stunned. She let out a loud hiccough, but wasn't too drunk to understand what Ron had just asked her. Harry appeared in the doorway right behind Ron, grinning from ear to ear, accompanied by Ginny and Dean, who both gave her the thumbs-up and winked. She was so immensely relieved at the realisation that Ron and Harry were only ignoring her for that reason, and that Ginny was being so weird with her for that reason, and so hurt by Fred's unexplained ignorance towards her and betrayal of her trust that she turned to an extremely sweaty-looking Ron and said, "Yes".

Ron seized her and hugged her like she had never been hugged before. She thought he'd squeeze her into a pulp, but when he released her, she found herself still solid and standing. She looked over Ron's shoulder at Fred defiantly. His face was stone-hard and his eyes looked strangely bloodshot.

Ron followed her gaze and he turned to look at Fred too. "Me and Hermione!" He exclaimed weakly. "What's the matter?"

"Oh .." Comprehension suddenly dawned on Ginny's face and her grin vanished. "Did you see George and Verity kissing?"

"Wha-?" Hermione began. She looked back at Fred. His stare was painful.