"Detention, Miss Granger. Report to my office tonight at 8 o'clock, sharp," Umbridge sternly gazed at Hermione, her beady eyes daring Hermione to retort. Hermione raised an eyebrow and sat back primly in her chair, granting the teacher only the stiffest of nods. Satisfied that Hermione had been glared into submission (as if the little toad had the power), Umbridge waddled back to her desk and resumed supervising the classroom. That was all she was good for anyways - being a glorified babysitter. Not a real teacher, Hermione shook her head in silent disapproval.

She felt Harry offer her a sympathetic nudge with his elbow to her upper arm, which was basically equivalent to a hug from him. And from the corner of her eye, she saw Ron slip a licorice wand into her bag, although he would deny it if she asked later. At the desk in front of Hermione, Susan Bones bent over, pretending to get a new quill out of her bag, but really just jerked her head at Umbridge and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. Bolstered by the subtle support from her friends, Hermione spent the rest of the lesson staring directly at Umbridge while the woman tried desperately to avoid eye contact with a teenager.

…

"What an utterly pathetic woman," Hermione exclaimed in disgust the second they rounded the corner of the corridor, ostensibly now out of earshot from said woman.

"She's the worst," Parvati agreed sympathetically, and Lavender squeezed Hermione's shoulder in a reassuring way. Dean Thomas sent her a sad smile behind Seamus Finnegan's back, before shrugging in a helpless manner and chasing off after his best friend - who was the only one in her year and house to not give a word of support. Most of the Hufflepuffs even offered an "alright, Hermione?", possibly because Hermione getting detention was so rare as to be noteworthy.

"She's a right bint," Ron agreed while shooting a nasty look at Seamus' back. "What a little worm. You weren't even talking about You-Know-Who, just her shitty teaching. Guess it would kill him to show some solidarity," he muttered, clearly upset with his roommate's attitude. Hermione spotted the line of Harry's jaw going tense, and quickly redirected the conversation away from their wayward housemate.

"What'd you think she'll put me up to tonight?" Hermione asked, then immediately regretted her choice of distraction when Harry just clenched his teeth even harder.

"Lines, probably," he replied, trying to sound casual. His brow drew down over his glasses, "Ron and I'll make you some of that stuff you got for me last time. Just jot down the instructions for it at dinner."

"Thank you," Hermione looked at her best friends sincerely, trying to convey how much she cared about them and was touched by the gesture in a single glance. They probably didn't pick up on it, but they both smiled back at her regardless. She looped her arms through their elbows and picked up her stride. "Come on, let's get to Transfiguration. It will be nice to listen to a qualified professor lecture, for a change…"

…

When Hermione stepped through the door to Umbridge's office and saw someone with a shock of red hair already seated in front of the desk, she was torn between exasperation and relief. Of course a Weasley twin was in detention - term was in progress, after all. Whichever one it was craned his neck to get a glance at her, and his grin spread ear to ear.

Ah, so it was Fred then. George was much neater when knotting his tie. Hermione nodded at him in greeting, and seated herself at the chair beside his. He smirked at her, smug as the cat that ate the canary.

"Hel-lo, Prefect Granger," he drawled, chin perched insolently on his fist.

"Oh, well don't look too upset then, Fred," she whispered, mildly peeved. "We're only both going to spend the evening suffering great injustice; in pain because of that sadistic toad of a woman."

He whistled between his teeth. "Tell me how you really feel, Hermione."

But he was still smiling at her, less shit-eating now, and she couldn't help but lift the corner of her mouth back at him.

Her face dropped immediately when Umbridge waddled in, two sinister black quills in her grubby little paws.

"I'm glad to see that the two of you were punctual. Tonight, you will be doing… lines, to ingrain better behavior in you both," her eyes darted between the two of them, clearly thinking 'if such a thing is even possible'. Hermione bristled. "Mr. Weasley, you will be writing 'I must not disrupt class'. Miss Granger, 'I must not disrespect my professors'. You may begin. There will be no need to talk."

Hermione gingerly took the foul quill from the vile woman, and set the tip to the parchment in front of her. She hesitated for a moment, Harry's swollen hand drenched in murtlap rather vivid in her memory. But beady little eyes were watching her intently, clearly waiting to see her flinch. So Hermione took a fortifying breath, and began scratching out her punishment. Smiling rather nastily, Umbridge bustled over to the stove tucked along the far end of the room, and set to pouring herself a cup of tea.

Writing with the torture instrument (Hermione couldn't help but snarl. The Ministry was endorsing torture of school children. And they claimed to be a civilized government?) was rather like scratching a needle along her own hand, hard. She had to focus to keep her breathing steady, and felt like she had to swallow to soothe her dry throat every three seconds. She was almost unaware of the boy sitting next to her until he nudged his shoulder against hers. Hermione almost flinched, and her quill made an ugly line in the middle of her sentence. Reflexively, Hermione thought what a shame that was.

"What'd they do you in for, then, Granger?" Fred whispered to her.

"Asking questions in class," she replied under her breath, glancing nervously at Umbridge's back.

"What an absolute lunatic thing to do, Hermione. We expect better from our esteemed prefects here at Hogwarts," Fred tsk'ed. Umbridge stopped pouring her tea, and spun to glare at the Gryffindors.

"What was that, Mr. Weasley?" Umbridge questioned, saccharine sweet.

"Oh, was just asking what sins Granger had committed to wind up here," Fred replied, damn near cheerful. Umbridge's face twisted into an ugly glare, though whether at him having the nerve to speak at all or for doing so rather flippantly, Hermione could not tell. Umbridge huffed a few what were probably intended to be calming breaths, her magenta buttons straining with the effort. Fred gently kicked Hermione's ankle, and she just inclined her head slightly. If she even glanced at him, she would burst out laughing. As it was, she bit her cheek to tamp down her smile.

"Well, in the future I expect complete silence during detentions. Is that clear?" It was bizarre to hear a command in that gross little-girlish voice, but even worse to have to look at Umbridge's twisted face beneath a giant pink bow.

"Crystal," Fred grinned up at her, and did his next line with a flourish. Then almost imperceptibly winced in pain. Well, it was probably worth it for sheer effect.

"Cranky old bat," he muttered out of the side of his mouth. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek again to stop herself smiling. If he kept this up, she would draw blood. And she couldn't afford to lose much more.

With every line she wrote, she felt her throat getting drier and her eyes prickling from holding back tears. Her hand stung, but it ached too, bone-deep. She could only pray that it would go numb, and soon. She began to feel light-headed, and tried to forget that the red ink appearing on her parchment was being drawn out of her own body. Hermione lost track of everything- it was just her, and her aching hand, and this parchment and vile ink, and the words swimming in the forefront of her mind.

I must not disrespect my professors. I must not disrespect my professors. I must not disrespect my professors.

Honestly! As if asking justified questions was disrespect! As if seeking clarity was insubordinate! As if forcing Hermione to write her punishment in her own blood was not the very height of disrespect!

A righteous fury began to burn in Hermione's heart, and race through her limbs. She stopped slumping, fixed her posture so her shoulders were back and her spine dead straight. Umbridge would not make her bend.

Indignation and anger carried Hermione through the rest of her detention, although she could not tell precisely how long that was. It could have been hours. All she knew was that she had gone through nearly a whole roll of parchment, and had ground her quill to paper so hard that it ripped through in multiple places.ermin

"Stop. Let me see."

Hermione glanced up, almost confused at the command. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred drop his quill and lift his hand up for inspection. That little- !

Hermione gritted her teeth and offered her own for Umbridge to examine. Luckily, the old bat seemed nearly repulsed at the sight of Hermione's blood, beading up and beginning to run in thin rivulets down her wrist. She did not reach out to grab Hermione's hand, the way she had done to Fred.

"Well, hopefully today we have learned a valuable lesson. I hope it sinks in tonight, and we shall have no more trouble," Umbridge gave them a smile so fake that a corpse would've looked more pleasant, and Fred swung himself out of his chair and loped to the door.

"Of course, Professor. We wouldn't want that," Hermione sneered back, and wiped her bloody wrist along the desk quite deliberately before stalking away. She could hear the sharp intake of breath behind her, and smiled grimly at Fred in the doorway. He matched her expression, and they marched out of that evil pink office and down the corridor together.

Once they were out of earshot, Fred threw his arms around her and lifted her completely into the air, spinning her wildly.

"'Of course, Professor!'", he mocked delightedly, "Bloody brilliant! And the way you wiped your blood! I thought she would vomit!"

"Put me down!" Hermione shrieked, but she couldn't help but laugh, too. She felt punch-drunk. "Come on, the last thing we need is another detention for being out past curfew."

Fred set her back on her feet, but just looped his elbow through hers and tugged her along the hall to a tarnished suit of armor.

"Excellent point, Granger," he replied, and briskly rapped the suit's visor four times. To Hermione's surprise (although she really shouldn't have been), the suit stepped to the side and revealed a dark passageway. "Quickly now!"

She followed him into the pitch black, and heard the clank of the armor stepping back into place.

"Lumos," they whispered simultaneously. Lit up, the passageway was rather plain and narrow, with high vaulted ceilings and a few cobwebs.

"Not bad, Weasley," she muttered, impressed despite herself. She knew Fred and George had an entire network of secret passages they used to avoid prefects like herself and professors, some of which were not even marked on the Marauder's map. Maybe she shouldn't congratulate him for mischief making, but it was so late and she trusted that this would be a much quicker (and safer) route.

"What, are you trying to pretend we're not friends? Just call me Fred."

"You call me 'Granger' all the time!" Hermione pointed out. "Just now, in fact."

"Well, you're unique. There's three other Weasley's running around the castle at the moment," he pointed out. Hermione made a show of rolling her eyes at him, but he just stuck his tongue out at her.

"What are you, five?"

"You certainly seem to think so sometimes!"

Hermione merely arched an eyebrow at him, and he relented, grinning at her arrogantly.

"If you were anyone else, I might think you were calling me by my surname because you didn't know which twin I was," he said casually, and Hermione wondered just how often that happened. "Hey, how do you tell us apart?"

"There's plenty of differences." Fred scoffed at her, and Hermione scoffed right back. "Oh really, you want me to tell you? So that you can change all the things I notice and trick me?"

"Well, that would be nice."

"Look, your family and most of your close friends tell you two apart all the time. It's only when we're stressed or distracted that we mix you up," Hermione explained reasonably. In truth, she couldn't quite put her finger on how she told the twins apart- she just did. When she looked at them she could pick out the little differences (like the tie knotting thing), but she couldn't tell you when or why she had originally noticed those differences. It wasn't just one thing she checked for, and most of the time she did it automatically. Hermione was sure Harry would have a similar explanation- she seriously doubted he would be able to list the tells he noted, but he was always able to distinguish Fred from George.

"You're right. It would just be nice to pull off some of the same shenanigans we could when we were younger," Fred bumped her shoulder in a friendly way, and she bumped him right back.

"I'm not going to feel too sad that you and George are slightly limited in the mischief you can achieve, sorry."

"It's only a minor setback, never fear. We'll be back to annoying you with some arbitrary rule-breaking tomorrow."

"Fred, testing products on first-years is not 'arbitrary rule-breaking'! It could be really dangerous!" Hermione was earnest, but Fred blew her off as usual.

"George and I test them a bunch first, there's nothing extremely dangerous left by the time we do public trials," he dismissed.

"You're completely missing the point." Hermione insisted, still concerned by the rather cavalier qualifier of 'extremely dangerous'.

"Maybe, but you're just too cute when you get riled up," Fred winked at her. "Look, I promise once George and I actually have a shop, and proper money, we'll hire testers who are of age, okay?"

Hermione pursed her lips, but it probably was the best she would get out of him tonight. She'd just have to keep an eye out in the common room and swoop up any unsuspecting first-years.

"Alright, fine. Deal."

"Shake on it!"

Hermione shook her head, but indulged Fred in an incredibly vigorous handshake. Until he hissed in pain, that was.

"What is it?" she queried.

"Oh, nothing. It's just I'm left-handed, so…"

So the quill had drawn blood from his right hand, which she just shook.

"Oh, Fred, I'm so sorry!" she fretted. He punched her shoulder good-naturedly and said, "Don't worry about it, Granger."

The pair walked on for a bit, and Hermione couldn't help but feel some twinges of guilt. "You know, in the muggle world a lot of people think that being left-handed makes you more inclined to creativity," she ventured. Fred smiled at her and puffed his chest.

"Well, clearly the muggles have got that right."

"They also used to think it was a sign of the devil, so yeah, they're rather spot-on," she replied dryly. Fred hooted with laughter, echoing down the empty passageway.

"Umbridge certainly thinks I'm the devil incarnate. I'm sure she'd have gotten along quite well with all the witch-burners and Scourers."

"She's terrified of you, you know," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Fred scoffed and shook his head a bit. "No, really," she insisted, grabbing his arm so he'd look her in the eye.

"Sure Hermione, maybe she's a little bit scared of me and George- probably because there's two of us- but it's you and Harry that Umbridge is really afraid of."

"You don't understand," Hermione huffed, frustrated. "Of course she hates me and Harry - and Ron, for that matter - but she's not really afraid of us. She fears that we're trying to unseat Fudge and she'll be out of power, but she knows exactly what we stand for and how to stonewall us. You and George… Umbridge doesn't understand you."

"Well, good, because frankly we don't understand her either and have no interest in trying to get into the head of a slimy little toad."

"Well then, that's foolish," Hermione stated. Fred blinked at her. "You need to understand your enemy. How else will you destroy them?"

"Blimey, Hermione, destroy? I like where you're heading with this." He grinned at her, but Hermione remained solemn. She took his arm again and continued her impassioned speech while she dragged him down the passageway.

"Look, you say you don't understand Umbridge, but you do. That's why you're so excellent at pissing her off. You understand that she's a petty little tyrant, trying to make everyone as miserable as she is, who salivates over rules but thinks they don't apply to her."

"I guess…" Fred tentatively agreed, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye. Hermione's eyes held a glint that was simultaneously scary and awe-inspiring.

"So there. You understand Umbridge. But she doesn't understand you. She doesn't understand laughter for the sake of laughter, or chaos for the sake of chaos. She doesn't understand what you want out of life, and she definitely does not understand that it won't be achieved traditionally. She can't fathom why you and George break rules with abandon, not really caring if you get expelled, because she doesn't understand that you don't actually care if you get expelled. Not really," Hermione breathed in. "Umbridge can't find a punishment that will really work on you, or a way to break your spirit, because she could never understand your spirit. She doesn't understand your drive."

Fred slowed their walking, and swallowed hard. He seemed taken aback, but quickly regained his playful demeanor. "Wow, Hermione, if I didn't know any better I'd say you admire me," Fred teased, poking her shoulder.

"Well, of course I admire you," Hermione stared at him, surprised. "I don't agree with everything you do- testing on first years is just unethical Fred, don't even try to justify it- but you do extraordinary magic. And sometimes… well, sometimes I wish I cared about school just a little bit less, because it would make my life a lot easier to deal with. You're always having so much fun, and you make the best of everything that happens to you. You're almost fearless. You make so many people laugh, even though the world is falling apart right now. Obviously I admire that."

Hermione was so caught up in what she was saying that she stumbled a bit when Fred stopped walking. He turned to face her directly, and Hermione was a bit taken aback by how solemn he looked.

"Hey, Hermione?" he asked, and she swallowed nervously. "Thank you."

Fred smiled then, and it lit up his whole face. For some reason, Hermione felt herself flushing bright red.

"No problem," she muttered, ducking her head down. Fred clicked his tongue and pushed her chin up with his fingers. He was still smiling just as brightly, and he squeezed her shoulder tightly before continuing the trek back to the common room.

It didn't feel quite the same as when Parvati had done it earlier, and Hermione pondered why that might be the rest of her walk back.

…

When Hermione stepped through the porthole, she immediately saw Ron and Harry were waiting anxiously in front of the fireplace. Ostensibly they were doing Divination homework, but she suspected they were sitting in tense silence, awaiting her return. At least, that's what she and Ron had done the nights Harry had detention, after they found out what that entailed with Umbridge.

She spotted the bowl of murtlap essence waiting on the table and sighed in relief, making a beeline over. Ron and Harry immediately part on the sofa to make room for her, and she noticed that they had very carefully kept all their books and parchment away from the bowl to avoid knocking it over. She was about to plunge her hand in when she glanced up and met Fred's eye. Hermione immediately felt guilty, ashamed of being so selfish after Fred had done such a job of cheering her up.

"Wait, Fred, come over here," she called. He raised his eyebrows, clearly confused about the bowl, but willingly ambled over and flopped down to the floor. Ron and Harry looked at him, concerned.

"She nabbed you, too?" Ron asked sympathetically. Fred nodded, and Harry added, "That sucks, mate."

Hermione focused on conjuring a new bowl, then carefully poured half the essence into it and pushed it towards Fred. "Here, soak your hand in that."

Fred immediately submerged his hand, although he had been eyeing the slimy tentacles with mild disgust moments before. Hermione tried not to feel too touched by his blind trust in her instructions, reminding herself that this was the man who made himself vomit uncontrollably for hours just to test prank candies. Fred's eyebrows shot up at the immediate soothing sensation, and he rested his head on his arms to relax even more. Hermione sighed in satisfaction at the relief and tilted her head back onto the sofa.

"You did a good job making this, boys. You didn't have any trouble getting the ingredients, right?" she fretted. She felt more than saw Harry and Ron shoot each other a glance over her head, and felt a prickle of suspicion run down her spine.

"No, none at all," Harry said in his best attempt at an innocent tone. How anyone could believe this boy was 'spinning elaborate lies' about the return of a dark wizard when he couldn't even fib convincingly was absolutely beyond her. Hermione decided to let it go this one time, however, and bask in the relief murtlap essence provided as exhaustion from her day crashed down upon her.

Ron and Harry got off the sofa and began rustling up all their things, shoving papers into their bookbags in a way that made Hermione cringe internally. "Here Fred, get off the floor and sit up there," Harry instructed him. Fred huffed in acknowledgement and flopped down directly beside Hermione.

"Thanks mate," he said, stretching his legs out to rest on the table. "And come here Ronniekins, let me give you a hug for helping out your big brother."

Ron snorted, "I'll pass," and dropped his bag on the table in the corner. Now that Hermione was back, mostly in one piece, he and Harry set to work on their star charts. She enjoyed the noise of scratching quills and let her mind wander.

"You know Granger, you may have just inadvertently helped me with some product development," Fred informed her, quite seriously. She groaned and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

She felt Fred's shoulder shake slightly with silent laughter, but ignored it in favor of keeping her eyes closed. It was just so warm, and he smelled kind of good, and she was so tired…

…

Hermione woke up to a pitch-black common room, and blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted. Even the embers of the fire had gone cold, which must mean it was past three in the morning. She shifted her eyes up and spotted the sharp line of someone's jaw. Combined with her aching neck, Hermione realized she had passed out on Fred Weasley's shoulder. Someone had thoughtfully put a blanket over them, which must have been Harry and Ron before they went up to their dormitory.

Well, they could've woken me up so I could sleep in my actual bed, she thought, but couldn't really bring herself to be annoyed. Especially as she stood and looked at Fred, her eyes now adjusted enough to see his mouth hanging slightly open. The sight shouldn't have been so endearing. Hermione sighed and tucked the blanket in more closely around him. She couldn't bring herself to wake him up and send him up to bed, not when he looked so peaceful. She felt warm knowing that Harry and Ron must have felt the same way earlier, although she was simultaneously embarrassed that they had seen her cuddled up with Fred like that. Hermione uttered a quick prayer under her breath that they wouldn't tease her tomorrow, and scurried up the spiral staircase.

She chanced one last look down into the common room, and tried not to think too hard about why her stomach was turning pleasantly warm when gazing down at Fred Weasley.