Falling For

Fred awoke the next morning to the sound of an owl's claw scratching against the window.

"Mum—" he growled, chucking his pillow against the frame, jiggling it slightly. He curled to his side and pulled the covers as far up as they would go, not quite covering his hair. The scratching continued, now with a renewed annoyance from the owl.

He opened his eyes and supposed that it was about nine. Not super early, but earlier than he normally woke up on a Sunday. The shop would open in the afternoon from twelve to four. In full honesty there wasn't near as many customers. They just kept it open as a courtesy to those who braved an afternoon in the alley. With that, he still had another hour, hell— another hour and a half before he had to get out of bed.

He did the calculations in his head and he supposed that if it was his mother who was behind the post, she had written this letter at three in the morning. It was that or it was a loaner bird and it had gotten lost. He supposed it was the first and the letter had come to tell him his prat of a brother Percy had been offed by a Death Eater. Fred was slightly ashamed that was his first thought, even more so that that was his reaction.

Before Percy had gone to Hogwarts, he had been one of the three big brothers he and George looked up too. Percy was the know it all, but the know it all who would use his knowledge to help his younger two brothers skate around their parents. It was only when he was at Hogwarts, when he had to live in the shadows of Head Boy Bill and Quidditch Captain Charlie that he developed his big-head personality that Fred believed had lead him to being so eager to advance in the ministry. He had wanted to develop his own identity, which wasn't the least bit easy when you blended in like bland porridge amongst the Weasleys. He and George hadn't made it easier for him, standing out as the Pranksters. Or Ron, who despite his own perceptions was the laid back friend of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Identity crisis or not, Percy's betrayal had deeply raddled Fred. If you couldn't trust the brother who had once helped you sneak a gnome into the kitchen, who could you trust? He had seen the blow between his dad and Percy, it took a lot to get Dad that livid, but he understood why. It was the same reason most families went dark together. Family was Family. And you were supposed to stand by them no matter what. If Fred could understand this, why couldn't Percy? Why did he have to think he was right and leave them?

He opened the window and swore as the owl knicked his shoulder. He tore open the letter and did a quick scan. It wasn't his mother's handwriting. And Percy was nowhere in the letter. He'd have another chance to think of what his reaction would be should his brother ever die before they reconciled like mum believed they would. No, from his first initial scan there was another brother's name, and one who he would be wanting to kill.

The traditional loops of Ginny's handwriting were far more jagged than normal. In fact, she wrote with such force in her quill, he was surprised that she hadn't punctured the parchment.

Fred—

Well you did it. Either you did it or he was an idiot enough to do it himself.

I came back from the Quidditch lockers yesterday after the game and there was the traditional after party. Seamus has take up your role of knicking things out of the kitchens. Right as the party gets started, Dean pulls on my elbow and leans his head over to where Ron was standing. Or had been standing. He was sitting next to Lavender—she's their year. Golden hair, blank face, nothing in-between the ears—They start talking and then out of no where she kisses him. You know Ron has the will power of ghoul, he started snogging her. In the Common Room.

So either you gave him the potion to spike her drink or he actually did it himself. Regardless, please be advised that I will not be taking any relationship flack from that fat hypocrite. Or yourself if you are behind all of this. If this is your doing I hope you're happy. I just found Hermione sleeping in the Library with her scarf wrapped over her book like a make shift pillow. Hell of a year she's going to have if this potion doesn't ware off. Please tell mum it'll only be Harry joining us for Christmas this year.

Her signature was still jagged, and she had actually punctured the parchment as she dotted her 'I'. It was so brief he read it a second time to process it, and then a third time to try and put it all together. And by the fourth time, he wondered why she hadn't tried to make her own howler. Mum's was terrifying. Ginny's would have even Lucius Malfoy diving behind Bellatrix.

He could remember Lavender Brown. She had been in the DA with them last year. She was prettier than Ginny had painted her in the letter, but a different sort of pretty. She was the type of girl that would have flocked to the centaur's divination class and stayed outside after hours trying to weave the perfect boyfriend out of the stars.

The sky must have been dim if she was content snogging Ron.

Ron was snogging Lavender? he thought He couldn't remember the two ever talking. That didn't say he had forgotten how Lavender would look at his younger brother in their DA classes. But Ron? Maybe the occasional jab, heaven knew Ron was good at those, but Fred would never had but the two together. Because, for better or for worse, he thought Ron liked Hermione.

He read it again and focused on the last few sentences. There was a pleasant feeling spreading throughout his chest that was centered on the fact she wasn't with Ron. That it was some other girl. Ron had made his decisions and for some reason, had decided on Lavender. Not Hermione. He should have put a raffle in on the two of them and bet against it and make a small fortune off his family members and the Hogwarts staff.

But then he thought of Hermione. Sleeping in the Library with the scarf wrapped around the book as a make shift pillow—as quick as it had appeared, the pleasant feeling in his chest was now angry. Like a little monster ready to pounce on his brother for his sins. She's roommates with the girl, this isn't going to be easy for her. Part of him wanted to send Ron a howler and let it fall as it should, make things right. Maybe Ron needed to be yelled at during breakfast to make it all right. He'd leave that for mum. After all, he still hadn't gotten a reply from Dumbledore. Merlin forbid if Hermione was under the use of the Imperious Curse and this had happened. Then again, whose to say she won't use an unforgiveable if this keeps up.

Had she cried? No, this is Hermione, she's tough as nails, he told himself although he didn't actually believe it. She had probably cried. Angry tears. Like the ones from the Yuel Ball. "Why does Ron have to go ruin everything" still ringing in his ears.

If Ron's already blowed it , why don't you step in there? he thought to himself. No—certainly not. She wouldn't—

For a moment though, say that she would. Say that Hermione Granger could quite possibly fancy him, he could almost imagine it.

She wouldn't be coming by the Burrow this Christmas, with Ron having right and properly broken her heart. So he'd show up on her doorstep one morning with a little purple box with orange wrappings. She'd be so surprised she'd invite him and they'd have a talk. Mrs. Granger would invite him in for breakfast. They'd spend a day where ever she lived doing muggle-couple things, making snow men and warming themselves by the fire while drinking the butter beer he'd bring. The smell of lilacs creeping up his nose as she fell asleep with her head on his chest. That wouldn't be too bad. A cross he could bare. And when she had to go back to school, he'd see her off on the train. Maybe he'd kiss her this time, take her by surprise—but it'd be a pleasant surprise.

He and George had been looking at muggle fairy tales they could incorporate into their line for Muggleborns—if their research was true, the true love's kiss could break any spell—maybe that would break the imperious curse. Wasn't love supposed to be the strongest of all?

But she doesn't fancy you, she fancies Ron, an annoying voice that sounded like Percy went off in his head. The boy she fancies is with another girl, what do you think she'd do if you kissed her? Do her own bat bogey hex?

"Fred!" his brother's voice rang from the kitchen, "Fred, come 'ere!"

He looked at the little clock near his bed to confirm hat it was indeed before ten in the morning and George was calling for him. He pulled his sweater over his head and threw another biscuit at the owl perched precariously over his bed before he crossed the room into the main flat.

The flat over the shop was small, but it served their needs. There were the two bedrooms that they had half heartedly used, still falling asleep down in the work room more than they ever did upstairs. There was a large closet or small bed room—they called it the spare— that was on the other side of the flat—where they stored merchandise not yet ready for down stairs. A small kitchenette opened to a larger living area and breakfast nook that would host the occasional gathering of Angelina, Lee, and Alicia. The nook was empty, save for George, his hair up in its traditional bed head cow lick, who was looking down at his own letter.

"Why did Ginny write us separate letters?" Fred asked as he walked over to his brother.

"Ginny?" George looked up, "No this is from Lee. Apparently his Uncle's giving him his old Radio set and he wants to know if he can store it in the spare room for now. That alright with you?"

Fred smacked his brother upside the head, "You got me out of bed early on a Sunday to ask about a Radio Set older than the both of us? Are you barking?"

"But this is a magical Radio Set. He used it during the war to send Transmissions between the continent with Grindelwald on the move," George protested, scandalized at his brother's lack of interest. "Maybe there's rebel stations— maybe there's other resistances, people like the Order. Think what we could pick up"

"I'll tell you what I could have picked up," Fred scoffed, "Two more hours of sleep."

"Oh knock it off, I heard you swear from your room, figured you were already up," his brother waved off, he looked slightly annoyed now. The Radio was out of his mind, Fred could see that clear as day. There was something else now, "But, what did sister dearest write to you about? And why didn't I get a note."

"Ron's being an ass," Fred answered, tossing him the letter to read. "And as a result Ginny will no longer harken to any of our dating advice as Ronald is, in her words, a bloody hypocrite."

George gave the letter a quick one over and then another, "Ron and Lavender? Really?" he asked. "When literally everyone in the family thought he fancies Granger, he actually fancies her?"

Fred gave a shrug before opening a cabinet and pulling out a roll and jar of marmalade, "Apparently everyone in the family except Ron himself."

"Too bad about Hermione," Fred continued, " I was thinking about putting together one of those Bad Day boxes we were talking about marketing. You know, a quick pick me up."

George looked suspiciously over the top of the letter, "Is that so?"

"I know she fancies those sugar quills, we could get her some of those. And maybe a few daydream fancies—a pygmy puff—I know we were saving those novelty necklaces for Christmas but maybe a small pendent wouldn't be a bad idea either. My Time Line products are still in testing—"

"What exactly is going on with you and Miss Granger," George asked, his eye brow now raised in pure suspicion, "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were almost happy Ron had fallen out of fancy with her—"

"Course not—" he lied. He never lied to George. At least not openly and there were reasons why. If anyone could call him out on a bluff, it was always his brother.

"Right," George said idly. "Just as well. You probably wouldn't want to send her a bad day box then. If she's sleeping in library books over her friend actually hurting her, she'd be a right mess over being led on by the guy she actually cared for."

"Right—" Fred said automatically as the words sunk in. George knew? How the devil could George know, he wasn't even sure if he knew yet. "Wait—"

"Merlin's beard, you do like her," George said incredulously, " I wasn't sure this summer—but figured you wouldn't mess with her and Ron."

"Apparently there isn't anything going on between her and Ron so there's nothing to mess with." Fred said as he returned to spreading the marmalade over the roll. " We're friends, she's in distress. I'm making her a bad day box."

"You're making her a 'Pick the better brother' box," George laughed, as he too grabbed something from the cupboard for breakfast. "She's not a bad choice really," George started, "And you know I've had a feeling this was coming for a while now. You really liked teasing her our sixth year—"

Fred looked at his brother confused, "But I liked Ange our sixth year, remember?"

"I do remember that, but " George snapped his fingers and burner under the tea kettle turned on, "I also remember you stealing a dance with her after Ron and Harry had snuck off somewhere."

He had forgotten that. He supposed she had too. Didn't really matter much did it? But he could remember it now. She was just the girl who shared a room with his sister all summer. She had looked annoyed, he had said something to the effect that the only reason she should be annoyed is that he asked Ange and not her. That had made her smirk. His brothers mate, all grown up. And now, she was the woman who—what had she done? Lodged herself in his head like a catchy song?

"Make her a bad day box Freddie but remember, and if your forget you can ask Ron" George started, "There's nothing worse than leading on a Granger."

((*))

If Hermione had remembered, when she woke up in the Hospital Wing a second time after the Department of Mysteries, how hellacious a year with Lavender and Ronald had been she would have demanded to be catapulted to the future, consequences be damned.

She had claimed the library as her sanctuary. She could find a desk in there and wait until the Junior Dementors League stopped their search for each others souls and went to bed. The only silver lining she could find was the fact that Lavender was pretty strict about an early bedtime. She could sneak back into the common room around eleven and return to her dorm with both Paravati and Lavender sleeping—or faking it at lest until she was out for the night.

But it was so much easier last time, she wanted to yell to the gods from the astronomy tower. Last time, she could burry herself in homework. She did her assignments, but everything was so simple compared to the assignments she had been completing before the accident. Non-Verbals was child's play. She would finish her assignments, go through them a time or two and then just sit, in the Library, waiting for the clock to chime eleven so she could return to Gryffindor Tower.

But she didn't just sit.

Since Katie's accident, she had combed through the library, looking for anything related to the Fixed Points Dumbledore had spoken about. Had Katie's accident been a fixed point? And if so, Why? What was so important about poor Katie Bell getting cursed in Hogsmeade?

She figured the only topic more narrowly recorded was Horcruxes, because her search had only brought two small books, The Rassilon Chronicles and Harkness' Face of Eternity but even for someone as well read as Hermione, she couldn't quite grasp what these books were saying. Time was fluid, but there were instances where events were set in stone. In particular, events that would have catastrophic down stream repercussions, and usually was left to the seasoned time traveler to discern which was which.

So far she had only come up with a string of 'What ifs'.' If she had been successful in saving Katie and Rosmerta, she would have thwarted Malfoy's plan and he wouldn't have been able to sneak the poison into the school. Ron wouldn't have been poisoned and in turn, would have either had to continue in his relationship with Lavender, or end it himself. But Malfoy would've turned desperate. He'd have to find a way to kill Dumbledore. What if he actually did it? What if he succeeded before Snape could intervene? But more importantly, what if he failed and he was killed by Voldemort.

The Elder Wand would have died with Dumbeldore.

Malfoy had his faults. She could list them in any preferred order. He had declared a vendetta against her from their first day at Hogwarts. But the war—

In the War, she thought anyways, that Malfoy came to as close to good as he could possibly have. He hadn't told his parents and Bellatrix it was them right away when they were brought to the manor. He had spared them, he had drawn it out, not to torture them, but because he didn't want to reveal them. Or so she thought, you could never tell with him.

If Malfoy died, who would had been brought in to identify them? Dean? Luna? They would have recognized them on sight, and their reactions would have betrayed them. Pettigrew—he might be drawn to buy them some time, but he couldn't hold his own for long against Bellatrix Lestrange.

They would have called Voldemort—we would have been dead on arrival, all three of them.

In full honesty, playing the 'What if' Game made Hermione's head feel as though it could explode.

Which was why she had a sense of relief when a third year from Hufflepuff nervously handed Her Professor Dumbeldore's summons for another lesson to take place that evening.

Harry noticed the letter as the third year left her desk in the Library. Eyeing the parchment he whispered, "You're meeting with Dumbeldore as well? Why?"

"It has something to do with what happened in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione whispered back "Never you mind—"

But that wasn't enough for Harry. "What happened? Does it have to do with the accident?"

Hermione was growing to dislike the use of the word accident. It wasn't an accident—a Death Eater purposely attacked her resulting in immediate knock out and the failure of her spleen. He didn't accidentally recite an incantation that would leave her in a Hospital Wing bed taking a dozen potions a day for nearly two months.

"Shhh—" Madam Pince glared from where she stood returning books, "This is a library not a corridor!"

Harry got up and pulled Hermione's shoulder, as they exited for a moment to the far corridor in the back where they had spoken earlier.

It was still empty, classes would switch again for another few minutes. She had, unfortunately, time for a full Harry Inquisition.

"You have to meet Dumbledore because of the accident?" he missed the word a second time, "Are you ok? Did the potions not work—"

"I'm fine Harry. Truly," she lied. It wasn't a real lie. She was in fact the picture of health. And to top if off she had time traveled before so she hadn't gone through the shock that usually comes with it. But that was a lie too. Who wasn't shocked to wake up two years in the past?

"Are you though Hermione?" he asked suspiciously, "You're always in the library—'

"I've always been just in the library," she answered annoyed. "He has nothing to do with where I am." Now that was a lie. One she was pretty sure even Harry could pick up.

He looked at her with little belief in her words. But his face soon twisted to one or annoyance when a booming voice called from down the Corridor, "Harry! Hermione! Splendid!"

She turned around to see Professor Slughorn, waddling around the corridor with a wide smile on his face," It's so good to see you outside of class," Professor Slughorn smiled, "Why, I was just talk to Miss Granger about how happy I was we were able to snag you for the Christmas Party," Slughorn beamed, "Yes, haven't been able to make it to all my little parties, but we'll make it to the ones that matter most."

Harry gave a half smile as though he isn't quite sure if he should be excited or in pain. "Who are you hosting for the club that night Professor? Have you thought of a guest?"

"Oh yes, I'm working on that as we speak—" The Professor said in all seriousness, waving a letter now in his hands. "I had a pupil who has befriended a Vampire, he may bring his friend as a guest. But then Miss Weasley has also suggested her elder brothers, you know the entrepreneurs, pay a visit. A little more lighthearted entertainment I'd say."

"Would Filtch let them through the front door?" Harry asked and Slughorn laughed, "We could probably make an arrangement."

Hermione highly doubted that the old Caretaker would take kindly to Fred and George returning, even if it was just for an evening Christmas Party. But she couldn't explain or hold back the giddy feeling when she thought they could be back. Even just for that little time.

"You would love seeing Fred and George at work sir," she said, her voice sounding Happier than it had since Ron and Lavender started snogging. "Ask Professor Flitwick, what they can do with charms is mesmerizing, isn't that right Harry?"

"Just ask them to not bring the swamp," Harry said uneasily, "And see if you can get a room with a higher ceiling. Then they're unstoppable."

Professor Slughorn smiled and looked at the two of them "I may have to ask my pupil to bring his friend another year. These boys sound like quite the pair"

"They are," Hermione smiled without hesitation. She had decided against asking McClaggen to be her date again this year. She didn't want to go through with another evening of him chasing her around the room, especially with Fred and George their to make fun. He made Viktor look like a shy school boy.

She had ever intention of going by herself. McClaggen hadn't worked in making Ron jealous, at least, not that she ever knew. Getting to spend a night with Fred and George, getting to see them back at Hogwarts not about to rush into a battle that could claim them—that would be exactly what she needed.

"Well that settles it," Slughorn nodded, tucking the letter into his pocket, a crease now down the middle "I'll have to write to them and see if they can fit us in their schedule. I knew their uncles, Fabian and Gideon were part of the club back in the day—can't say I remember Albert—"

"Arthur," Harry corrected.

"Right. Arthur," Slughorn repeated, although he still wasn't quite sure if that was the name he was looking for, "Right, well, I'll let you return to your studies my fair slugs," he chuckled again, walking down the corridor, disappearing behind a suit of armor.

The two of them stood in silence for the slightest moment, as though they didn't know if they were being overheard or not. Harry turned to Hermione and in a low voice asked, "Are you allowed to tell me what you and Professor Dumbeldore are discussing?"

"No," she answered all too quickly, "But when the time comes, I'll be able to tell you."

((*))

She had returned to the tower for only a moment to drop off her school things and head down for dinner. When she got to her room, Paravati was opening the window for a rather persistent, large, tawny owl that held a large brown box with orange string. "I was trying to take a nap when this thing kept scratching at the window," her roommate muttered, annoyance bubbling to the surface. Paravati looked at the name scrawled on the package, "Did you order something from the Weasley's?"

"No," Hermione started but took the package any way. She dug in her trunk for an owl treat and passed it to the bird who took off thru the window, nearly knocking Paravati into her bedpost.

What is this? She asked herself cutting the string. Her thumb grazed the purple emblem of the WWW stamped on the side. She hadn't ordered anything. What was all this about?

"What did you get?" Paravati asked, walking over to the bed to see what spoils Hermione was getting from the Weasley clan that were not being sent to Lavender. "It had your name on it, right?"

"Yes, and not yours," Hermione said, taking the package with her and leaving the room. She wasn't Paravati's fan on good day, let a lone a day when she was doing her best impersonation of Harry's Aunt Petunia.

She walked to the top of the stairs to the little landing that over look the lake and the hilltop. The sun was beginning to set, lighting her little sanctuary and setting it ablaze in golden sunlight.

Hermione opened the box and immediately laughed. Inside was a small Pygmy puff, sleeping quietly against a plush of self-warming gloves and nestled under a stack of Sugar Quills. "What is this?" she asked to herself, her fingers dancing over a small amulet, a flower with sparkling stones pressed on to the deep blue stone.

The box was full of little oddities and merchandise she could only assume came from the store. An orange envelope with her name on it was tucked in the side of the box, pressed against the daydreams and lotion.

A little birdie heard you might be having a bad day. This is supposed to chase all your sorrows away. Don't throw a fit, a lot of these are samples. Suck it up and be happy Granger. It gets better.

-F.

Oh, and if you'd like us to test a WWW Howler on a certain brother of ours, please, let us know.

Maybe it was the sun shining in her face, or that her hand was resting on the gloves and little puff, but she couldn't quite explain the happy warmth that was spreading through her chest. Hermione read the little not a second time, and then a third. Oh she knew she'd have to come up with some elaborate story for why she got merchandise from Fred, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that for the first time in a while, she felt particularly happy.

AN: Hey friends! I know I had said that Hermione and Dumbledore would be meeting in this chapter, but when I got to that bit we were already flirting with 5k in words... So, next week well have Albus Dumbledore and more adventures with Fixed and Flexible time. And maybe we'll have the slug party. We'll see. The outline for each chapter isn't a fixed point, a lot more forgiving.

As for the Bad Day box, I'm sorry that's actually me pouring a bit of myself and my friends into the story. We actually make Bad Day Boxes for each other when going through a particularly nasty moment of life when we're having more bad days than good ones. They're usually filled with some of our favorite things that makes us happy- Books by our favorite author, dvds from the 5 dollar bin, a treat- it all varies on the friend and nature of the Bad Day. It may seem little bit of a stretch in realms of fanficition but I thought it fit in what Fred knows about Hermione and with what Hermione is battling through right now (Won Won and Fixed Points don't mesh well).

That's really all for my blurb today. Until next week's adventures I remain your faithful Author,

KH