"And as the world comes to an end/ I'll be here to hold your hand/ 'Cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart" - Of Monsters and Men, "King and Lionheart"

Hermione herself was an independent, stubborn individual. If you told her what to do and she didn't want to listen, she would give you hell for it. It was how she was raised, really - never put up with people if they give you the go around. Unless they were professors. Or her Gran on her mum's side.

So when the marriage law was declared over the weekend, Hermione - surprisingly - had taken Monday off. She'd still been attempting to wrap her head around it, and quickly realized by Tuesday morning that she'd had no such luck in doing so by remaining in bed and reading Muggle works. So she'd hauled herself out of bed and faced the day - not necessarily head on, but she did face it, and that had to stand for something.

"I'd thought I'd have to call on Harry and Ron today," Percy said casually as he stood before one of many filing cabinets, clipboard in hand and glasses perched on the tip of his nose. They'd been assigned the arduous task of clearing useless files out and reorganizing pertinent ones. Hermione had a running theory that the wizarding world had a surplus of parchment and didn't know how else to use it up, and their work was proof of that.

"Why would you have to call Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked as she shed her coat and reclaimed her cup of coffee, inhaling it's soothing aroma.

"You took a day off, you never do that," Percy snorted, shooting her a teasing glance. Hermione scrunched her nose and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

Since working together, Hermione had discovered a new side of Percy that she hadn't seen before the war. His sarcastic comments could often be humorous, and downright scathing if he felt like it. He'd even taken to keeping up a running commentary on the files they sorted, and they often spent the days going back and forth on the ludicrousy that they found. He was particularly malicious to those who misused proper punctuation. Hermione found it hilarious.

"I couldn't think," she admitted, standing beside him and regarding their work for the day.

"I understand," Percy said, and she knew he did. He'd ran out and avoided the very thing that was plaguing her, and she couldn't really blame him.

So she shrugged, and they got to work in silence. They spent several hours like that, passing files off in stacks and perusing them for anything of significance. Hermione had been reading about proper signage in 1603 when Percy finally spoke again, muffled into his fist.

"Heard you met with Fred," he said, turning the page on his file of mandated housework spells that witches in the late 1800s had been instructed to learn to "better themselves as future wives and mothers." They'd had to trade. It'd made Hermione mad.

Hermione hummed.

"And?" Percy prodded.

"It went fine," she said, thinking for a moment before checking her watch. 11:24. "I'm meeting him at noon, actually."

Percy lifted his head and stared at her quizzically. While he didn't voice it, Hermione felt a conversation coming, and sighed and set her paperwork in her lap.

"It's just...unexpected," Percy said delicately. "You aren't who I thought he'd go for."

"Well, I'm not," Hermione declared with a simple shrug, "The Ministry matched us together, didn't they?"

"True, but…" Percy must have lost a conclusion, and shrugged as well. "How're you feeling about it?"

"Numb, honestly," she said, picking at a nail with a frown. "I can't wrap my head around it. I didn't expect to be getting married so soon, and to not have a say in it."

Percy nodded, tilting his head in understanding and folding his arms over his chest comfortably, slinking down in his chair. "Understandable. I'm trying to badger the Unspeakables into releasing their matching system in order to piece things together, but so far they've given me nothing."

"They don't quite like you, Percy," Hermione said with a soft smile. Percy gave a shrug, unperturbed. He was quite alright with being disliked.

"Now, that sounds preposterous," a voice called, and Hermione twisted in her wingback chair to blink at Fred, picking over papers on her cluttered desk in the corner. Percy snorted, not even righting his posture, rolling his eyes at his brother. "Who wouldn't like Percy?"

"Get away from there, that's not yours," Hermione demanded with a frown, scooting her file onto an end table that Percy lazily conjured and standing. "What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at noon, at the atrium."

"I was done early, and the atrium is so boring," Fred insisted with a pout. He turned his gaze to his brother, lifted a brow, and asked, "Neville Longbottom?"

Percy gave a hefty sigh, furrowed his brows, and settled a heavy glare on the twin. "No," he gritted.

Fred shrugged, and Hermione glanced between the two.

"He's trying to guess who I'm engaged to," Percy explained simply, crossing his legs at the ankles now. If he had an outfit change and a pair of shades instead of spectacles, he would've looked like he was on vacation in the tropics. "He's guessed Seamus Finnegan and Malfoy too, if you're curious."

"I'm filtering through people you'd be worried to mention to your family, who love and worry about you and your happiness," Fred declared, as if he were reciting Molly herself. He probably was.

"Seamus and Neville aren't worrisome, nor gay," Hermione said simply as she gathered her coat and empty coffee cup. It looked like the only way to drag Fred out of their domain was if she accompanied him, and she was hardly upset to be departing a whole - she checked her watch - thirty minutes earlier than expected. "Seamus is bi, anyways," she mentioned as she dug her hair out from under the collar of her coat.

"So the man is confirmed to be gay," Fred hummed, putting his hand on his chin in a pensive manner.

"Get him out or I'm starting a fight," Percy declared casually, uncrossing his ankles and arching his brows as Fred grinned.

"We're going, we're going," Hermione said, taking Fred's arm and steering him towards the door. "Honestly - he'll tell you when he wants, don't antagonize him."

"But can you imagine how funny his face would look if I guessed it?" he grinned, peering down at her as she stuffed him in the lift. Hermione pressed the button that would take them to the ground level, and waited as she regarded the passing numbers. "Err...how are you?" Fred asked after a thoughtful silence, and Hermione blinked and turned to look up at him.

"I'm...good," Hermione answered lamely, and she watched Fred's face reignite with a grin that caused her to match it. "And you?"

"As good as I can be in an enclosed space," he remarked casually, and Hermione blanched.

Turns out waking up in your own coffin would result in an accompanying fear of closed spaces, as one could expect. Fred had had a relatively easy time of avoiding such spaces, yet it hadn't occurred to her that maybe shoving him into a small, metal box traveling at high speeds and making jerking, shuttering halts before hurtling onwards wouldn't have been the best idea.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," Hermione began, but Fred waved it away effortlessly.

"No worries, how do you think I got down to your neck of the woods anyway?" he said with a shrug, "So long as I have something to preoccupy my thoughts, I'm good. I did chatter off the ear of the old lady I was in here previously with, but you're far more understanding."

"I hardly doubt she minded," she reassured, and Fred chuckled when the lift finally stopped, and he strode out into the atrium with her at his side. "Anywhere you have in mind for lunch?"

"Where do you usually go?" he asked instead.

"This little cafe around the corner, they make great sandwiches," Hermione said, and led him there as soon as he seemed interested.

Once they opened the door, Hermione inhaled the scent of fresh coffee deeply, appreciating the roaring sound of milk being steamed for some hot drink. She moved her way to her usual table, already shedding her coat, and waved to the barista who had looked up to see who had entered. The girl, who was studying an English degree at a Muggle university and would often pick Hermione's brain for her thoughts on various authors, gave a smile and nod and went back to frothing the milk, knowing Hermione well enough that she'd be able to sort things out herself.

"Do you come here often?" Fred asked, as he had watched the exchange in the midst of taking off his own coat.

"Mornings and lunch," Hermione admitted, somewhat guiltily. "I've become a bit of a coffee addict, the barista lets me try new recipes before they put them on the specials board for the week."

"Anything you'd recommend?" Fred asked, sitting down beside her and peering at the menu, written on a chalkboard and hung up on the wall.

"The Love Potion," she said before coughing at his amused, curious expression. "It's got white chocolate, caramel and cinnamon. It's very sweet, so it's good for people who don't particularly want the taste of the coffee itself, but want something a little different."

"Hey, Hermione!" the barista said, appearing at the table with a notepad in hand, smiling genially. "The usual?"

"Yes," Hermione said with minimal embarrassment.

"And for your friend?" she asked with a nod of the head towards Fred, who was still peering at the menu with a lost expression. "There's quite a lot up there, don't feel bad for feeling overwhelmed."

"There's not enough time in the world for me to figure this out, so I'll have whatever Hermione's having," Fred said with a shrug, although he was still staring at the board like it had personally offended him, "Though I'll take a Love Potion. The coffee, not the potion."

The girl laughed, pocketing the notebook and whisking away back behind the counter.

"She's nice, what's her name?" Fred asked casually as he righted himself to face Hermione head on.

"I haven't a clue, and I've been coming here for ages," Hermione said with a sigh. "So - you wanted to talk more?"

"Not necessarily talk, more just...hang out," Fred said lamely, shrugging as he took to reorganizing the napkins on the table, peering down at the offered sweetener packets. "How's work?"

"Dull," Hermione huffed, smiling at Fred's grin. "What about you? I didn't know you got half days off."

"Well, yeah, we try to talk a half day each, George and I," he shrugged, ruffling up his hair. It'd gotten longer, and needed a trim, as it was beginning to get a bit shaggy, yet it rather suited him. "Since we both work long hours on Saturdays, it seemed necessary for our sanities. Or, what's remaining."

"Merlin knows that must remain intact," Hermione said, grinning when she got Fred to laugh. It felt rather like an accomplishment - her, the studious bookworm, getting the prankster to laugh. It felt a little rebellious. "How's George?"

Fred snorted, picking at a divet in the table, grinning down at it, "He's being weird. Seems to think that I'll be offended about him and Ang - which I'm not, obviously. He's just walking on eggshells around me now."

Hermione's brows furrowed, and she leaned across the table to recapture his gaze. "Have you explained things to him? He certainly didn't choose her any more than you did me."

"Nah, it's funny," he insisted, laughing at her glare, "George has never been nervous around me before - it's different. He'll pull his head out of his arse eventually."

"Alright, here's the sandwiches, Love Potion Number 9, and the Mocha Orange," the barista announced, swiftly setting everything on the table between them, Hermione leaning back to allow for the space yet still maintaining her glare at Fred, who seemed giddy at such a reaction. "If there's anything else I can get for you, just let me know!" the girl insisted before she seemed to halt in her next footsteps, twirling back and switching gears. "Oh, Hermione, real quick - do you know anything about Neville Longbottom?"

"He's not gay," Fred answered, and Hermione gave him a swift kick in the shin before turning to smile sweetly at the girl.

"That's - that's good to know," she said, eyeing Fred in confusion before turning back to Hermione, "I got matched to him, you see, but I don't know much about him."

"Oh, Neville was in my year and House at school, he's great," Hermione insisted as she watched Fred take a cautious sip from his cup out of the corner of her eye. "He's the Herbology professor at Hogwarts now, I believe."

"Was Auror for a spell, but quit as soon as the rest of the Death Eaters were rounded up," Fred offered.

"So he's okay?" the girl reiterated.

"Yes - he's a good friend, and if he gives you any trouble at all, you tell him that he's got a few harsh words coming from me," Hermione reassured, smiling when the girl laughed and told them to enjoy their lunch before hastening back behind the counter.

"You really don't know her name, do you?" Fred remarked casually, taking the lid off of his cup and peering down at the liquid sloshing beneath.

"Haven't a clue, and it's far too late to ask her for it," she sighed. "I know she was a Hufflepuff a few years below me, and what she's studying for and where, but not much else."

"Could ask Neville for it," he said with a shrug, swiping her cup before she could drink from it and popping the lid off to inhale. He thought over the scent, nodded, and sipped from it. "Yours is better."

"Because it's mine, now give it back," Hermione said with a huff, glaring when he passed the cup back and swiveled around to peer back at the menu. "Mocha Orange - you can get it next time you come here and not steal mine."

"It's not on the menu," he remarked.

"They take things off the menu on occasion, but will still make it on request."

"You mean this thing has had things removed from it?" he asked in surprise, Hermione quickly shushing him, although she heard a short laugh from the barista anyways. "Insanity. I need to try each one."

"Fred, that would likely take you years," Hermione insisted with a sigh.

"A worthy challenge," he said with a shrug, nonchalantly swiping her drink once more and taking a sip. Hermione rolled her eyes, claiming his, and gave him nothing when he gave her a cheeky grin. "How else would I know which is my favorite?"

"What else do you have for today?" she asked instead, diving into her sandwich as she awaited a response.

"Chores - laundry, dusting, that sort of thing," he said with a shrug, biting into his own sandwich and nodding in approval. "I'll likely take a crack at a charm that's giving me trouble."

"What sort of trouble?" Hermione asked, gears already turning.

"Don't bother - it's given me a headache for months," he insisted, giving a frustrated sigh. "It's meant to mimic the voice of others - like professors, or your mates or your mum or something - but every time I make it, they sound like an old, grainy recording of the person."

Hermione hummed, chewing thoughtfully before saying, "You could break down spells of the opposite nature and tweak them - like muffliato."

"And instead of the intense buzzing in the ears, I could make things clearer," Fred mused, chin in hand as he thought. "It's a thought, for sure."

"Let me know how it goes, I can dig through some research to help," she offered, looking up from her meal to find Fred's perplexed gaze. "What?"

"You do realize you've just offered to help me with a product for my shop, right?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "My joke shop?"

"I'm well aware of where you work, Fred," Hermione deadpanned.

"You hate our jokes," he insisted definitively, arms coming up to cross over his chest as he sat back to regard her, as though she'd lost her head.

"I do not - I hated you two testing them on first years," she said.

"We paid them."

"Well then of course they'll agree if you pay them," she huffed, shifting in her seat. "Most of them had no idea what they were agreeing to half of the time."

"We explained the effects completely," he said before faltering at her strong gaze. "Most of the time, at least - unless it would've spoiled the joke."

"I think that the products that you and George have invented are wonderful, and I'm proud to see your shop succeed," she explained simply, and Fred returned to gazing at her like he was concerned for her mental health. "I just - I don't know - sometimes the younger ones just jump in. Especially Muggleborns - the only kind of magic we'd known of at the time were things like what Cinderella's godmother does."

"Who?" he questioned.

"It - well - another time," Hermione insisted flippantly, waving her hand through the question, "My point is, when the only things you know about magic are floating feathers and singing hats, you'll agree to anything."

"I never thought of it like that," Fred hummed before taking another drink of his stolen coffee. "You know we tested things on ourselves first, right? Tests on other students were just to gauge public reaction."

"I rather hoped so, at least," she shrugged before pausing. "Do you still test things on yourselves?"

"Well we can't just go up to a stranger and say 'oy, drink this,' now can we?" he snorted.

"You could pay somebody who would test things for you," she offered. "Wait - haven't you got a product that inflicts boils?"

"Testing stage was real nasty for that one," Fred answered flippantly. "We flipped a galleon though, so my skin remained blemish-free. Well, unless you count freckles and war scars, but let's just say - "

"Don't you have a product that makes it look like someone has rotting, blackened teeth?" Hermione asked, her face in her hands at the memory.

"Alright, yeah, that one was me," he admitted shamelessly, shrugging casually. "Had a date with a bird that week too - you can imagine how that went."

"That one gave me nightmares," she said, opening her hands to shoot him a glare, to which he grinned gleefully at.

"Normally, I wish my products to inspire laughter and smiles," he said before regarding her cheekily, "However your glares and huffs are probably the most I'll get from you, and it shall have to suffice."

"Certainly so when the first product I picked up in your shop punched me in the eye without warning," she reminded, grinning at his wince.

"I said I was sorry, Hermione," he insisted.

"Wasn't even a label on the display," she said coolly as she took a sip, mainly to hide her smile. "Nothing to warn my poor, unsuspecting eye as to what fate had in store."

"I gave you bruise paste," he said, rubbing his face at the memory.

"Merely an innocent, only sixteen," she tutted.

Fred pulled his hands away from his face, regarding her strangely. "That was before your sixth year, yeah?" She nodded, taking a bite before he continued. "Isn't your birthday during the school year?" She nodded again. "How old are you?" he asked with a gape, leaving Hermione to chuckle with her mouth full. "Are you - wait, hang on - " Fred seemed to do the mental math by looking up at the ceiling, abruptly turning back to stare at her in awe. "You're only a year younger than George and I."

"Technically, yeah," she shrugged, as she'd finished her bite by the time he'd reached his answer.

"I have no idea who you are anymore," he fretted, worrying his hands through his hair while she laughed. "You've suddenly aged since we entered this coffee shop, and my mind is spinning."

"I've hardly changed in the span of - " Hermione checked her watch, " - Twenty-five minutes."

"You could've been in an entirely different year of Gryffindors," he wondered, musing allowed by now as Hermione resumed eating. "You wouldn't likely be friends with Harry or Ron."

"This is likely true," she shrugged, unperturbed.

"How odd," Fred hummed. "I wonder what kind of person you would be instead."

"Annoying," she answered, rolling her eyes at his confused stare. "Come off it - I know how bad I was back then. Without friends, I'd be worse. I'd be like Percy before the War."

"Likely true, but who says you wouldn't have friends?" he asked.

"Harry and Ron were only friends with me because of the troll incident, and everyone else was only friends with me because of Harry and Ron," she answered matter-of-factly. "Well, except Neville, but we likely wouldn't have been friends due to being in different years."

"I would be friends with you," Fred vowed.

"Liar," she snorted, "You thought I was annoying too, don't lie."

"You constantly shooting down our pranks was annoying, yeah, but you weren't," Fred insisted. "I'm serious! You were smart and had a good wit - well, you still do - you'd be valuable to have around in case of good, decent comebacks."

"I am particularly scathing," she nodded, sharing a smile with him. "Well, thank you for the sentiment, but things worked out the way they did, so I doubt there's need for further ponderings."

Lunch continued simply, swapping small stories from childhood back and forth, before time was up and they stood to exit the cafe.

"Want me to walk you back to the office?" Fred offered, standing and tugging on his coat.

"For Percy's sanity, I'll have to decline," Hermione said, smiling when Fred chuckled. "Enjoy the rest of your day off, then - and let me know how that charm works out."

At the reminder, Fred's face soured and he scowled. It was such an odd expression upon his face, that Hermione had to laugh. "Alright - but if things aren't working out properly I'm heading to stand outside your office until 5."

"Then you'll be buying me dinner," she insisted.

"A truly dreadful act, how malicious you are, Miss Granger," he deadpanned before snorting and smiling, heading towards the door with a wave over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Hermione! Goodbye, kind yet nameless barista!"

At the mention, the barista lifted her head and stared in bewilderment after him. Hermione stifled her laugh, and had to bite her lip when the barista turned her gaze over to Hermione.

"You didn't tell him my name?" she asked curiously, a hint of a smile on her face as she straightened from where she was leaning over the counter. As Hermione got closer, she could see a textbook laid open, a finger marking her place.

"I'll let him live in confusion," Hermione answered, loathed to admit that she had no clue what the poor girl's name was.

She chuckled anyway, grinning brightly at her, "You know, it's funny. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but the way you two talked and laughed and joked around - it's like you've been together forever."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and her brow furrowed, and she had no earthly idea as to how to respond to that. Thankfully, she was saved by the barista closing her textbook and settling it back into her bag behind the counter.

"I'm a little jealous - it seems like you two will have it easy," she said with a shrug, like she was talking about the weather and not trying to throw Hermione's carefully structured world off-kilter. "Anyway - I know you need to get back, but here - take one for the road."

She handed Hermione another cup of coffee, a replacement for the one Fred had stolen, and Hermione smiled and wished her a good day before stepping back out onto the street.

What an odd and silly thing to say - her and Fred were simply familiar with each other, and that was that.

She said so when she reunited herself with Percy, and was left with him silently staring back at her.

"I am making the decision to refuse a comment," he announced after a few silent minutes.

"Percy!" she shouted, aghast. "That's not - that's - that's - "

"She's not saying you're star-crossed lovers who've had a secret affair for years, Hermione," he answered simply, shrugging as he moved their organized piles of the day's work around the room. "Just that you get along well - there's nothing wrong with that, and it's preferable in this situation."

"I suppose," Hermione admitted, chewing on her lip in thought. "She said she's gotten paired with Neville - and I love Neville, don't get me wrong, but I highly doubt he's come out of his shell to her yet."

"It'll take time - not everybody's gotten paired to people they've known since the age of eleven," Percy said simply.

"Or managed to avoid the whole thing altogether," she said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, those lucky bastards," Percy tsked, grinning when Hermione laughed.

Work continued easily, with the files Hermione reviewing being lengthy and rather informative on the goblin uprising of the early 1600s. She always felt better about their work when they happened upon something interesting or useful - not that what they were doing wasn't incredibly useful, of course, as their boss and department heads and even Kingsley had insisted. She'd started off in the Apparition Testing Centre, but she'd rather been a distraction to those attempting to apparate, what with being somewhat of a celebrity, so she'd been moved to the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee before being asked to take her current job alongside Percy. She was assured that once their work was done, they'd be moving on to bigger and better things.

By the end of the day, Hermione had shelved her paperwork and gathered her things, and happily bid Percy goodbye. She opened the door and stepped outside to halt abruptly, staring down at the sullen redhead sitting in the floor against the opposite wall.

"What do you want for dinner?" Fred asked irritably.

Hermione tried to smother her smile, and found it rather hard. "Did it not work?"

"I wouldn't be here asking for your help if it had, now would I?" he snarked, standing and making his way towards her, grabbing her coat and holding it open for her to slide her arms through.

"Have you ever had sushi?" she asked instead, tugging her hair out of the collar of her coat.

"Nope, but I'll try anything once," he said, offering her his arm, "Lead us - I'm too frustrated to do it properly."

Hermione apparated the pair of them, in an alley outside of the restaurant, patting down her hair from the wind.

"Is it Muggle?" Fred asked as he took in their surroundings, frowning when Hermione nodded. "I don't have Muggle money on me."

"Why would you - oh," Hermione scoffed as she remembered their deal, "I was only joking - come on, I'll pay."

"I'll pay you back," he insisted as he followed her in, holding open the door for her and smothering a laugh when her hair blew around her face.

"Honestly, don't worry about it," she said before turning and pointing to a broad menu on the wall beside them.

Fred groaned, rubbing his eyes, "What's with these places and their giant menus?"

"It's not giant," Hermione defended.

"There's fifty things on this."

"Fifty isn't a lot for a restaurant menu."

"I'm too - my brain can't do this, Hermione."

"Do you want me to order for you?" she offered simply. She knew the feeling - when she'd been studying for her N.E.W.T.s, Ginny had had to make simple decisions for her, such as dinner choices or which subject to tackle next. Fred nodded, and Hermione marched her way up to the counter. Ten minutes later, she was being handed bags of styrofoam take-out containers, and she handed one to Fred to hold so she could grip his arm and apparate to the twins' flat.

Hermione had only been to the twins' flat once, when she, Ron, Ginny and Harry had volunteered to help fix up the shop after the war alongside the rest of the Weasleys. The flat was directly above the shop, and at the time had been entirely gutted. There had been no furniture, windows had been shattered, and walls had been punched clean through - the shop below had been no different.

Now, however, it looked far better. There was a mismatched living room set that greeted them, a small dining table that was scattered with papers in the corner, and two chairs sitting beside a bar countertop. Fred took the food towards the countertop as Hermione shed her coat, draping it over a squash colored armchair.

"There's water, I can make tea, wine, butterbeer, we have - " Fred halted in his beverage options, staring down at the first opened container of food. "What is this?"

Hermione drew closer, peering over his shoulder, "Salmon roll."

"No, what - what is it?" he insisted, staring at it like it's existence only served to further confuse him.

"Salmon - rice - seaweed," she explained further.

Fred stared at it some more, and Hermione fretted that perhaps sushi wasn't the best of ideas, especially if Fred had never had it before. Just when she was about to suggest something else, Fred's hand darted out, picked up a piece, and easily popped it in his mouth. Hermione held back a laugh at the motion, as Fred was settling against the counter to chew thoughtfully.

"I don't hate it," he decided, although his tone was appreciative.

"Try it with soy sauce," Hermione said, tossing him one of the little packets before sorting through the rest of the food. By the time Hermione had turned back around, three more pieces of the sushi were gone. "Looks like you like it."

"What else did you get?" he asked instead, and at this Hermione did laugh as she broke down her other choices, explaining each roll, what was inside of it, and how she ate it.

They were trying to master chopsticks by the time George walked in from the shop, looking at them in confusion.

"It's sushi," Fred explained, as if that answered things.

"Ahh, yes, of course," George said before turning to Hermione with a pleasant smile, offering his hand to shake, "How-do-you-do, Miss Sushi?"

"She's helping with the bloody charm," he explained, far more irritable, as thought he'd forgotten what he'd asked Hermione there for.

"Ahh," George laughed, knocking shoulders with Hermione easily, as though her presence in their kitchen was a common, everyday occurrence, "That's been giving him trouble for over a month."

"Hence why she is here," Fred huffed, "Do you want food or not?"

George glanced at the array of food, tried his best not to grimace, and said, "Pass."

"You barely gave it a try," Hermione argued.

"What can I say? I'm a coward," George said with a shrug, turning to the fridge to grab a butterbeer. "Besides, I'm - err - meeting someone. For dinner."

"Tell Ange I said 'lo," Fred said casually, Hermione glaring at him as she caught sight of George's shoulders tensing.

"You know he doesn't really care, right?" Hermione explained, ignoring Fred's affronted gasp at her ruining his fun game. "You hardly made the decision to pursue Angelina, as we're all stuck dealing with this stupid law."

"I just - err," George fidgeted with the label of his butterbeer before halting, thinking over her statement, and then giving Fred an incredibly dirty look. "Oh you bloody - "

Fred began to laugh, ruffling his hair, "Mate, why would you think I care?"

"Well, once upon a time, I remember a conversation -!"

"We were fifteen, if I stood by everything I said at fifteen I'd - "

"Well how could I know?!" George shouted, arms crossed over his chest, "You didn't even tell me why you two broke up!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she found herself slapping her hand over it, as if maybe they wouldn't have noticed, regardless of the noise the action had produced. She'd assumed that the twins told each other everything, especially what had made Fred and Angelina break up, but that apparently wasn't the case. It was also a sore spot for the two, it seemed.

Fred shrugged, unperturbed, as he had turned back to the sushi selections before him. "It hardly mattered."

"Mate, it matters now - because Angelina's acting like I know what happened, and that I'm cold because of it, but I just haven't a clue," George insisted, frowning at him.

Fred sighed, taking another bite and thinking over his next words before swallowing and turning back to stare at his twin. "Because...it was rather my fault. And I feel guilty."

"What the hell happened?" George asked incredulously, "I thought - "

"We rather split...because of the shop," he admitted, looking over at Hermione as she listened intently. "We were in the early stages, and then the war, and when we got back to it she just...thought I'd take a managerial position."

"For the shop?" Hermione questioned, blinking in surprise as George pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The shop has been our dream since we were stuffing spiders into Ron's teddy," George insisted. "Why did she - ?"

"I dunno, I guess she didn't realize how much time I needed to spend here, she just thought it was because we were getting our bearings or doing things for the war," Fred shrugged, growing more sullen as he absentmindedly picked at the sushi, still fumbling with the chopsticks. "And once she joined the Harpies, she thought I'd step back from here. Or hire someone to take over, or just leave it all to you - I don't quite know. We got into an epic fight, and I said if she couldn't respect my dream then I wouldn't respect hers, and wouldn't go to a single game. She got pissed, said it was her or the shop, and I...didn't even hesitate."

Both Hermione and George were silent, George mulling things over with a hand rubbing his face.

Hermione, on the other hand, was always one to speak her mind.

"Oh, what the fuck," she muttered, and both Fred and George whirled their heads around to stare at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, but - " But it was too late, as both twins were laughing, and Hermione realized it was likely the first time they'd heard her swear. Hermione chuckled, allowing them to enjoy their mirth, but as soon as they settled down she continued, "While I understand her frustration, to an extent, owning and operating a business takes a lot of time and effort, and she should've been more understanding on your end."

"Yeah, well," Fred shrugged, a smile still hanging on his lips, "We both said things we shouldn't have. I can't blame her - she wanted someone who could be more present than I was."

"Explains things," George huffed, tapping the neck of the butterbeer against his chin, "Which means we need to have a long, incredibly awkward chat."

"Seems so," Fred said, smiling when George passed him the butterbeer and headed for the door, determination in his step. "Tell Ange I said 'lo!" he called, chuckling at George's salute before he exited.

"You might want to apologize to George when he gets back," Hermione offered, shrugging at his curious look, "He seemed upset that you never told him something rather important."

"Yeah," Fred sighed, "I just - him and Angelina were friends, and he was already upset with her just by us breaking up. I didn't want him to hate her, and I was mad about our fight for a long time after the break up. We said a lot of things out of anger."

"Remind me to never get you mad, then," Hermione said, smiling at Fred's laugh.

"Trust me, Granger, I've seen you angry, and you're bloody terrifying," he insisted, "Remember what we said about scathing remarks? I'd never be the same man again."

Hermione laughed, and they quickly ate before tackling the problematic charm. Fred went through every solution he'd tried so far, and even did a quick demonstration - the voice of McGonagall was far too soft and warbled to be recognizable, and so they got to work.

Such work had Hermione slumped over the coffee table hours later, hands in her hair as she stared at the various formulas.

"That's been me for a month," Fred remarked, sitting across from her on the other side of the coffee table, staring at the same formulas.

"Have you tried adding a sonorus, maybe?"

"Just makes it louder, does nothing for the sound quality."

Hermione clenched her jaw and set her chin on the wood, staring at the papers in anger as her mind whirled. Every possible solution was only quickly shot down by eventual roadblocks, and Hermione pitched herself backwards and flopped against the sofa cushions in anger, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah," Fred agreed with a heavy sigh. "I'd hate to pitch it - it's a good idea."

"It's a really good idea," Hermione agreed, rubbing at her temples and squeezing her eyes shut. Admittedly, she hadn't had to think this hard in quite some time. Work was only reading files, deciding upon their relevancy, and refiling them. She also had to admit that despite her frustration, this was fun. "Maybe, I don't know - we switch gears?"

"What do you mean?" Fred asked wearily, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Instead of a charm, we could essentially take a...voice recorder," she said, stumbling in her explanation, "But instead of replaying the same audio message, you'd be able to manipulate what is said."

"I'm confused on your words, but I get the gist," Fred admitted, tapping his fingers to his chin. "Could work - I'm assuming a voice recorder is a Muggle thing?" At her nod, he tilted his head thoughtfully. "Can you help me get my hands on one?"

"We can check Muggle thrift stores, they're likely to have cheaper ones," she mused.

"Excellent," he said with a clap of his hands, standing to stretch, "It's a start, and I'll take that."

Hermione nodded, checking her watch idly before lurching forward, "It's past midnight - Merlin, I've got work in the morning."

"Shit," Fred said with a wince, checking his own watch as if she were mistaken. "Sorry, I wasn't keeping track."

"It's alright - my own doing," she said, standing and stretching herself. "The next day you have free, we can head into Muggle London and look for voice recorders."

"Sounds like a plan - thanks for your help, and dinner," he grimaced, "I'm not normally so needy, I swear."

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her coat and bag. "You're hardly needy, Fred, shut it." He grinned and laughed, and Hermione heaved a heavy, tired sigh as the day caught up with her. "Well, I'm off - see you."

"Bye Hermione, thanks again," he said, waving at her as she exited through the Floo.

Her bedtime routine was a rushed blur that she hardly remembered even doing as she drifted off to sleep. Her alarm blared much too early for her liking, and she had already decided on sizing up her coffee choice as she trudged into her usual cafe.

"Here you are," the barista said, already pushing an extremely large coffee across the bar for Hermione, even before she could get her wallet out.

"You aren't giving me another free drink, I already feel bad for not protesting the one from yesterday," Hermione said with a heavy sigh, as though she weren't emotionally ready to plead her case.

"I'm allowed to give out whatever I decide, thank you," the girl said before pointing at the cup with a grin, "However, that is not from me."

At her remark, Hermione looked over the cup and found writing, partially hidden beneath the sleeve. She pushed it down a bit, and found a slow smile spreading across her face.

Hermione,

Dinner's on me next, promise.

Fred

Hermione hummed, ignored the pointed look coming from the barista, and thanked her on her way out of the door.

If she were a bit chipper that day, well it could all be easily explained by the coffee.