That evening, Hermione arrived promptly at eight o'clock bearing three boxes of fish and chips. She knocked hesitantly on the closed shop door, which swung open without assistance.
"Sorry, love! We're just back here, lost track of time!"
"No worries! Do you need a hand?" she called back, making her way through the shop to the workroom.
"Nah," Fred assured her, appearing suddenly. His hair was a flaming mess, his face sooty and his hands—purple?
"Uh, Fred?" she indicated his hands, confused.
"Ah!" he exclaimed in delight. "It works, Georgie!"
Hermione chuckled as he ran back towards his brother, his purple hands aloft for him to see. There were a few moments of scuffling and muffled conversation before George emerged, looking just as ruffled, slightly more embarrassed but significantly less purple.
"Sorry about that; he gets very excited."
"It's honestly absolutely fine. He has a lot of love for his work, and so do you," she smiled.
George returned it. "Yeah. Oh, hey, let me take those for you. Thanks for this, it smells amazing and we're even hungrier than usual, even after Mum's lunch."
"My pleasure, anytime! Especially if you're going to help me on my quest."
They'd been winding their way through to the back of the shop as they talked, and now George opened a back door and did a little bow for her, grinning. As she passed him she ruffled his hair in laughing thanks, and he followed her up to the twins' flat.
"Speaking of your quest, when are you going to tell us what it is? We've been trying to guess all afternoon."
"Not until Fred gets in here! It would just be rude otherwise," she chuckled.
"In that case," George said as they reached the cosy living room. "I will go and tame my hair. The potion vapours, Hermione, they rest for no man."
"You're telling me," she agreed, holding up her own tempestuous locks. "Go, I'll find us some plates."
He smiled gratefully and vanished into another room off the living room. A few moments later, Fred arrived through from the shop, looking slightly sheepish.
"Sorry about that, love. It was the first time it had worked and—"
"Don't worry about it, Fred. I know how excited you can get," she reassured him with a grin before she felt an awkward breeze brush over their conversation.
"I know you do," he added softly.
It was all Hermione could do not to look into his eyes.
"Why won't you—" he started.
"Plates! I said I'd get plates," Hermione burst suddenly. Before she could move, however, three plates accompanied by their respective cutlery and drinking glasses zoomed over from the kitchen area.
"Damn the plates, Hermione. Why won't you even consider going back to how it was?"
She watched them settle gently onto the coffee table, perfectly arranged.
"I think we proved then that I couldn't carry a fling, let alone a relationship," she answered, looking into his eyes properly for the first time since that morning. Their conversation had made their interactions stilted, awkward; it wasn't how either of them wanted it, but they couldn't avoid it.
"No, we didn't. We just proved that you didn't want to try," Fred responded coldly.
His tone wounded her a little, and as she looked into his pained eyes she began to wonder whether this agreement would really be beneficial to either of them. After all, Hogwarts' potions dungeons could serve her just as well, and—her thoughts were interrupted by George loudly opening his door.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything!" he declared loudly, bludgeoning his way through the tension to sit on the sofa. "Oh this looks ace, Hermione! Thank you!"
"Yeah, thank you," Fred mirrored almost automatically, but significantly less cheerily as he maintained their eye contact.
"Oh! You're so welcome, George!" she breezed, breaking the building pressure of the stare and dropping herself onto the cushions next to him. "I'm assuming you want to know what I have to say for myself?"
"Yes," he cackled. "What the bloody hell do you want from us?"
She grinned and reached into her front pocket with an air of mystery. "Are you ready?"
Even Fred—despite himself—had sat in an armchair with a vaguely excited look on his face, trying his best to suppress it. Looking from one to the other, Hermione slowly took out the time turner and—reminding herself deliciously of Professor McGonagall—placed it carefully on the table between their plates.
As had been the case when she'd seen it for the first time, a silence broke out over the room and both twins' eyes went meteoric.
"Is that what I think it is?" Fred asked, lowering his fork back to the plate.
Hermione nodded eagerly and levitated it into the air between them, spinning slowly.
"And it's real?" George added.
She nodded again and began to fill them in on the afternoon's events. As she talked, the time turner rotated slowly, shining mutely in the light of the pale post-sun sky that was streaming in through the skylight.
"Wow," George breathed once she'd finished. "So you're trying to figure out what it was used for?"
"Yeah, although everyone says there's no way to find it, and it looks as though they're very right."
"Of course you checked, though," Fred chuckled, directly avoiding her gaze.
"That's our Hermione," agreed George, ignoring the two internally screaming individuals either side of him. "So," he began. "You need a couple of dashing wizards to help you—if there's no current way to solve it, we'll have to invent something, right?"
"Right!" Hermione concurred. "And if those wizards happen to be the best inventors I know, so much the better for me!"
George laughed. "Flattery, as I'm sure you've noticed being friends with Ron, will get you everywhere. So, what's the plan?"
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