As the floo flashed out and the green light faded, George's knees began to shake. He lunged forward and almost pitched into the ground but Fred grabbed his shoulders and pulled George to his feet. George's tremors did not lessen, even after Fred wrapped his arms around his brother.

"Why, Fred? Why?"

Fred ran his hands over George's hair, trying to soothe him. "She just needs some room. You know her, we know her. She likes to look at everything from every possible angle, but she didn't do that when she made the choice to move in with us."

George made an affronted noise in the back of his throat. "What, so are you saying that we need to give her time to change her mind? That she made the wrong decision?"

Fred froze. "That is definitely not what I was trying to say."

George stepped backwards. "Then why did you hesitate?"

"Because I can't believe that you would ask me that!"

"You know it's true Fred? Once she has time to think about it, she's going to pick, not the two brothers who can't resist the pull of each others flesh, but the gorgeous Slytherin, who has a reputation for being the number one knicker dropper in England."

Fred actively moved farther away from George. "Why are you trying to make everything out to be so much worse than it is? Do you not want Hermione to come back? And why are you making me out to be something horrible?"

George lunged towards Fred, grabbing his collar. "You did this to yourself. This is your fault. I wish and I wish that one day you'll hurt as much as you've made me hurt."

Fred pushed George backwards and fixed his collar. "How have I possibly hurt you? Every time anything happens you go and throw a little hissy fit and blame those around you. Why don't you look at this like a rational person. Hermione needs space. We will give it to her. And once she's had her space, she'll come back. Because she loves us."

"No!" George shouted, poking Fred in the chest with a finger. "She loves you. And it's not fair! It's not fair! You buy her jewelry and you make friends with her friends and you give her everything her little heart could desire, ensuring that there is no possible way she could love me like she loves you!"

Fred shook his head and pushed George back again. "I don't want her unless I have you too. This barely worked with just the two of us, and it won't work with just one of us and her. We work together. The three of us. I love Hermione, but I love you too. I want to know why exactly you seem to want this to fail. Why can't we just be happy?"

George scoffed. "No, a better question is why you keep trying to ruin my happiness?"

"Have you gone positively stark raving mad? I'd say that ruining your chance at happiness is essentially the opposite of what I've done. Every time you decide to fuck things up, I'm the one who patches them up so you can get on with your life! You mishear Hermione and throw a fit, running off to Mum!"

"Well, Fred," George said with an accusatory tone. "I'm not so sure now that I did mishear things. She could very likely have been proclaiming her love for you and you two lied to me so you could continue to play with me and my emotions."

Fred rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I can't help but ask this again. Are you mad? We showed you a pensieve!"

"Just because you're a complete twat doesn't mean that everyone else around you is. Hermione's a fairly clever witch. It wouldn't be very hard for her to alter the memory and try to pull a fast one on a poor, stupid Weasley! I bet you gave her the idea in the first place!"

Fred couldn't help but be confused. What could he possibly have done to cause this? This had quickly deteriorated from trying to make his brother feel better to a bit session of 'Blame-Fred-For-Every-Damn-Problem-We-Can-Think-Up'.

Fred sighed and attempted to walk away but George grabbed his hair and pulled him back. Astonishment was the only thing running through Fred's head. Well, astonishment and pain. Fred twisted, undoubtedly losing some of his hair (he'd need to look into getting that cut, soon) but also freeing himself from George's grasp. Fred reached for his wand at pointed it at George.

"Stupefy!" As the spell shot from the wand, George seemed to anticipate what was coming and rolled to the side, and the spell bounced harmlessly off of the couch. George hopped up as he rolled, pointing his own wand at Fred.

"Waddiwasi," He shouted as he pointed his wand at a bowl of marbles before flicking the point towards Fred. All of the marbles in the bowl flew at Fred, the tiny projectiles pelting his skin. They hit him hard enough that a few punched through his Oxford button-up, undoubtedly leaving bruises on his pale skin. He could feel places where they had broken the skin entirely.

Fred sat heavily on the couch, flicking his wand at George. "Impedimenta." With George moving in slow motion, Fred turned his wand on himself, murmuring "Episky," feeling his skin go burning hot and then ice cold, as the wounds healed. After Fred canceled the slow moving spell, they both pointed their wands at each other. Neither of them spoke for the longest moment.

"Expelliarmus!" They shouted at once. Twin spells came from twin lips and twin wands, hitting twin bodies. The wands flew from their hands, and George immediately rushed at Fred. George's arms wrapped around Fred's middle, tackling him into a wall. Fred's head slammed backwards, and pictures fell from the wall, slamming into the ground in a crash of broken glass. George grabbed Fred's arms and held them up so that he couldn't fight and used his other hand to slam Fred's head against the wall.

George stopped slamming Fred's head back and instead brought a fist into his cheek. Fred was almost positive that he felt his cheekbone shatter. When George pulled his hand back to hit him again, George brought his head to the side so that George's clenched fist hit the wall where Fred's head had just been. In the shock of the pain, George jumped back, shaking his hand.

Fred hated to fight with George, but if he didn't fight back, this would hurt all the more. Fred brought an elbow in George's diaphragm, George's gasp leaving him in a whoosh. So in retaliation, George grabbed Fred's hair again and pulled his head into the ground.

Fred slammed his knee up into George's crotch and pushed him down into the coffee table. The glass center broke under him, and he lay in the glass gasping for breath as he cupped himself. Fred rushed to the corner and grasped his wand, turning his wand on himself again to try to heal the pain in his head. As he did that, George used that moment to grab his wand which was closer to where he was laying.

Again, the twin spells came from twin lips and twin wands, and hit the twin bodies.

"Stupefy!" They both slid to the ground.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Molly Weasley knew she had made a mistake. She'd talked to Ginny and Harry, both of whom had told her that they approved of the relationship between her sons and Hermione. Ginny had made the point of saying how happy the boys were with Hermione, and how she had made them so happy. Now that she knew that Hermione had been with them for as long as she had been, she realized that she was the reason her sons had been acting more cheerful.

Fred and George had not been quite the same since the war. Most of the children had gotten better at dealing with the aftermath of the war. However, Fred and George had had a more difficult time of it, spending weeks holed up in their flat, not talking to the rest of the family.

She missed her sons. Fred and George reminded her so much of Fabian and Gideon, and not just because of the F and G names, and the fact that they were twins. Fred was remarkably like Gideon, with their preference to hide their true emotions behind humor and facades, while George and Fabian were sensitive men who attempted to hide their emotions behind other emotions.

She remembered that Fabian used to act the opposite of how he truly felt, in order to try to throw someone off of his trail. When he was up to his most alarming pranks, he'd pretend to be sick or he'd throw a fit a few days before what ever was going to go down began to start so that he'd throw people off of his scent. Unfortunately for him, the Prewetts were clever, and they nearly always saw through him. But with George... it was much harder to tell how he really did feel. George was much more adept at hiding his true feelings than Fabian ever had been.

Molly stood at the sink, washing the potatoes to make a shepherd's pie for dinner. She could have used her wand to do it for her while she finished knitting, but she didn't really want to. She owed her sons apologies, but most of all, she owed Hermione an apology. When she thought about it, how could Hermione have made her sons the way they were? And when she thought even harder, she couldn't say that her own brothers hadn't had those same proclivities. She could see a bit of the same somewhat unnatural closeness that her brothers had in her sons.

Hermione was a war heroine. She had helped saved lives, her sons' included. And if she was making them happier, then who was she to call an end to it? As she stood at the sink, she realized what she needed to do. She finished the shepherd's pie and cast a stasis charm, deciding to take it over to the boys and Hermione.

She made sure it was wrapped up nicely, and apparated to Diagon Alley. She headed to the boys' flat and opened the door. What she saw, made her drop the casserole.

There was blood. Everywhere. There was broken glass littering the ground, and she could see what looked like...

Oh god. It was a body. From the position of the couch, she couldn't quite see who it was, but she could tell that it was a male.

She stood shaking in the middle of the doorway for a few seconds, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, ground beef, and cheese littering the floor around her feet. She let out a high pitched sob and rushed over to the body on the floor. As soon as she moved past the barrier of the couch, she fell to her knees. It was like a flashback to the First War. She was seeing her brothers laying on the floor, wands just out of reach of their fingertips, bloodied faces and hands, surrounded by carnage.

But this was worse. These weren't her brothers. These were her sons. Where was Hermione? Who could have done this?

The floo flashed green and Molly whipped out her wand, pointing it at the fireplace. Hermione stepped forward, and then, seeing what was around her she, too, sank to her knees.

"Oh my god! George! Fred! Oh Merlin!" She crawled closer to the boys, her war medical training coming in handy, and rested a hand on each of their necks, checking for a pulse, relieved to find two. She cast a quick diagnosing spell on the boys to check for injuries. Fred had a minor concussion which she quickly fixed, and he also had a couple of broken fingers. He also had a myriad of small circular cuts on his abdomen which she healed as well. George's entire right hand was broken, and had several long gashes in his back from where he'd landed in glass.

After making sure that was the extent of the damage, she went to cast a quick ennervate when a hand reached out to still hers. She gasped, not realizing that there had been someone else in the room with her.

"Molly? Do you know what happened?"

Molly Weasley shook her head slowly. "I was hoping you would. Wait... before you wake them up... I just want to apologize to you. I did some thinking. It's not your fault that my sons chose to be in a relationship with each other as well as you. It's no one's fault, really. Some things are just the way they are, and there was nothing having to do with you that caused that. You did so much for all witches and wizards during the war, but you especially helped my family. I am so sorry Hermione. I am so sorry."

Hermione nodded. Then, pressing her wand tip to a temple in turn, she murmured "Ennervate."

George was the first to awake. "Mum? I... oh. Hermione."

"Bullocks, George-"

"Hermione Granger!"

"Sorry, Molly. George, what in Merlin's beard happened here?"

George chose to ignore her question and offered up one of his own. "Come to gloat?"

Hermione couldn't help but be confused. Gloat? What the devil could she possibly have to gloat about! She'd only swung round to collect a copy of As I Lay Dying.

"Gloat about what exactly?"

George scoffed and sat up, pulling off his torn sweater. "You're 'The Smartest Witch of The Age', I'm not sure why you insist on playing dumb."

Hermione stood, hands on her hips, temporarily forgetting to rouse Fred. Molly sat on the floor looking up at the unfolding drama.

"George Septimus Weasley, I suggest that you tell me just what it is that I'm being accused of."

George leaned back against the couch, one hand to his ribs. He may have been healed, but there was absolutely nothing to heal the ache in a muscle.

"You know bloody well what it is that you did. You made me think that you loved me, and then it turns out you only wanted Fred. What, am I a consolation prize? 'With the heart of one Weasley, get one of equal value free'? "

Hermione slapped him. "How could you? How could you? I thought I made it quite clear how I felt about you."

"Oh," George said, butting in. "You definitely did that."

Hermione stood, turning her back to him. "Molly, let's see if you have any better luck with him than I did. I'll see you Sunday."

And with that, Hermione went back to the floo.

"Malfoy Manor!"

-0-0-0-0

Earlier that morning, Hermione had been sitting in a drawing room in the bowels of the manor with that book she had found the previous night, the one with the excerpts from damaged works. She read and re-read the part that she had about the triads, wishing like hell that she had more.

Draco came in, a cup of tea in hand, and set it in front of her. "What are you up to?"

She pushed the book towards him, letting him read for himself. When he turned the page and saw the information about the robes, he flipped to the cover, much like she did. He sighed, and paused for a moment before going to the index at the back of the book.

"This says that this was supplied by a Dettice Leavenethorpe, the writer isn't mentioned at all. That name doesn't sound very familiar to me at all, I'll have to do some more research. I'll see if I can find any more for you."

Hermione set the teacup down heavily, letting out a sigh as she pushed her already enlarging hair from her eyes. "You read the cover yourself, these are the last remnants of things damaged. You won't be able to find more, simply because there isn't more to find."

Draco shook his head. "You forget, I am a Malfoy. The Malfoys personally had a hand in enlarging the inventory of most of these libraries, and although we are cunning businessmen, we are also very greedy. We never would have sold an original to something. Just... simply made an acceptable copy. There are 6 different libraries here in the manor. You go run some errands for a while, I'll see what I can scavenge up."

When Hermione got back much sooner from the Weasley flat than expected, Draco had already amassed all of the work that they had in the manor that had been written by Dettice Leavenethorpe, which consisted mostly of field notes on a study of species of raven as well as a literature of a mermaid crafted chair gifted to Charlemagne.

"However," Draco said with an air that captured Hermione's attention, "For some reason we have a letter that she wrote to a friend. I want you to read it and tell me what you notice."

Constance,

With trembling hand, parched lips and aching breast that I carnally compose this composition to you my Constance. Please pleasure me. Prick my desires with your perfection, my prayer. I live entirely for you alone. I want your body. I want it now. Were desire a tea-pot I would be the tea-cosy, you the cup and my dreams the chocolate biscuit. Do you not moisten with longings? Is not the knocking of your kneadable knees? Sheep are no match to your wily ways, my lambkins. Lipidly I long for your lovely lashings of love. Sob not, suck your breath. Suck, suck, then suck some more! Nibble me! These gruntings are no more than squeals of anguish. But hear them, hear them my impassioned piglet. I write heatedly with expectant flushments of fleshy paradises. Your beauteous belly belies your bountiful brandishings of boomsened belongings. If this letter be your bone of contention, think of how you could concoct your bone of contentment. There is no use pretending this thing will go away. The jig is up. Co-mingle we must, with rutting abandon. To bed! To bed! There is sinning to be had! Let us thrust our outpouring with mail no more, my magnificent. Let us be carnal. Let us be blunt. Be open with me, as I am with you. Wide open my harbour, my refuge, my prison! I have rent open my feelings so that, however rudely they may be expressed, I have been left nakedly nude of any pretense otherwise. I can write no more, my nib is numb from these outpourings. It lies limp and inkless.

Always Yours,

Dettice

Hermione set the page down. "Well, that would appear to be a rather impassioned love letter. It appears to be written between two women, sometime within the past thousand years."

Draco nodded. "Yes, yes. That much is quite obvious. Read it again."

Hermione did, some of the more passionate wording making it hard to just read it through without showing a reaction.

"What am I supposed to be seeing, Draco?"

"Well, look! Some of the letters were formed using harder strokes."

Hermione sighed. "Well of course they were. This is very... passionate. I assume the writer wasn't worried on maintaining a steady quill pressure."

Draco spun the paper around so that it faced her once more, handing her a quill of her own and a parchment.

"Read it a final time. Record each letter when it comes bolded."

Hermione did as he asked.

C

Hermione sighed again (she was beginning to realize that she did that entirely too much as of late) and looked at him.

"Lauda Evergood D'Orbec?"

Draco nodded, producing a volume from beneath his robes.

Unconventional Relationships in the Wizarding Society, or The Care and Keeping of a Heart

Hermione looked at him, astounded that he had done all this so quickly. "Our dear Dettice may have focused on birds and the like, but she also wrote under a penname. I flipped through this earlier, and realized why. In this book by D'Orbec, she says that witch/witch relationships, while difficult to most beyond friendship, tend to be the least damaging to all of those involved, and that in the eyes of Merlin they were deemed on par with a conventional hetero relationship. If she wasn't trying to convince her lover that it was alright to go farther, I couldn't have found this. And luckily, the Malfoys are all over any manual regarding sexual deviancy. So here. Read away."

Hermione was stunned. Draco had used skills that made her own seem quite paltry, and had quickly maneuvered from one step to another, finding exactly what she needed. She opened the book to the part about triads, and began to read.

A/N I'm sorry this took so long to get up, and that it's a bit shorter than I usually try to make things, but I wrote this maybe 6 times and lost it each time, and I ran out of the patience to start again. Finally, I did. And here it is.

I've finally got that Bill/Hermione fic up that I promised you on New Year's (I am a horrible person). Go check that out!

And as always, Please Review :) I love reading what you guys have to say about the story.