Chapter Twenty-Five

Falling Routines

Despite the storm that was still raging within her over the next week, no one else seemed to notice or comment on it. The morning that Harry and Ron where released from the hospital was as routine as ever. Potter and Weasley, evading death and maiming yet again, rejoining the living after a stay at the Pomfrey Medical Resort.

She was trying to focus on the good. She'd come up with a list. She hadn't yelled at Dumbledore or said anything she thoroughly regretted. She hadn't tried to obliterate her own memories. She had received a letter from Fred. Her boys we're getting released. She'd have her friends back again.

And the universe seemed to be trying to balance out the scales of justice— Lavender, by an act of God or perhaps biology, had picked up a nasty cold while in the Hospital Wing visiting Ron and had slept through his discharge as a side effect of the potion Madam Pomfrey had given her. As a result, Hermione was enjoying a rare, perfect moment when it was just Harry, Herself, and Ron. And better yet, they were all joking again.

"Hang on—let me get this straight—" Ron started as the rounded a corner on the seventh-floor. He didn't get to finish as a young girl jumped and shrieked, dropping her heavy brass scales, the two boys fixed at their spots as they clattered along the floor.

Hermione looked at the scales and then at the girl. She knew who this was. She knew exactly who this was. The face was different but the bewildered eyes were the same. She knew what she had to do.

"It's alright!" she said, trying to keep her walk brisk and her words kind as she moved forward to help her "Here—" she tapped the broken scales with her wand and muttered "Reparo."

Goyle didn't mutter a thank you, but Hermione didn't expect him to. Not this time. After all, he hadn't before.

She didn't agree with Dumbledore on a great many things related to her sojourns in time. But her study of fixed points had left her with the understanding that everything surrounding Draco and the transition of the Elder Wand to him, and later Harry, had to stay the same. That was a line that couldn't be crossed or altered. The fate of the war rested on it alone. If anything, she had to ensure that stayed the same.

Trying to figure out what could be altered, that was what was difficult. Could she try and take the Prince's book now that Ron's life had been spared? Would that spare Malfoy from getting cut to ribbons with Sectumsempra?

Then Harry could get to play one last Quidditch game—what's the worst that can happen from Harry playing in the game? He was the captain after deserved that—One last act of being a teenage boy.

"I swear they're getting smaller," Ron said as they walked away, calling her out of her thoughts. She wasn't supposed to be thinking of fixed points or time. Just the present. Which, as always with Ron, meant food. Even from the seventh floor they were being beckoned by bacon.

"Never mind the girl," said Harry, a little impatiently Hermione might claim, "What did Ginny and Dean argue about Hermione?"

"Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you," she said. She tried to keep her voice even at this point as well. Maybe it was her hidden relationship with Fred, but she liked seeing Harry and Ginny's story rolling out a second time. He didn't know it, but what he talked about her he had this slight, yet ever present smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She had noticed it back in the summer when the four of them played Quidditch.

And it was only a matter of time before the Quidditch Finals. It was only two games away and there'd be no stopping that love story.

Ron started chuckling, "I would've liked to see that myself. It must have looked funny."

"Right, It must be hilarious watching your best mate falling from the sky. You know, I never get tired of it," she began, only to roll her eyes and slap Ron's arm, "He's lucky that Coote and Peaks caught him. Dumbledore wasn't in the stands and I doubt any of the Professors were expecting that."

"Still no need for Ginny to get worked up about it," Harry said, trying to play it down. "She didn't break up with the tosser over it did she? They're still together?"

Even Ron turned his head up, looking from Harry and then Hermione. It was as though Ron wanted to know for curiosity's sake, while Harry's expressionless said more. Ron was giving Hermione that hopeful look that she would explain later and fill him in on the gaps, just like they were in class. Come on Hermione, Tell me what Harry's so keen on knowing what Ginny and Dean are up to, oh and can you help me on that History of Magic essay?

Yes, she may be friendly with Ron, but not friendly enough to divulge his best friend's crush on his sister.

"Yes, they are. Why are you so—"

"Ron!" a voice shrilled from the next stair landing. The miracle of biology had failed, or God had decided Hermione's respite needed to come to an end. It was her.

There, in her red nose glory, Weird Sister's sweatshirt and bed head knot, was Lavender Brown. Her arms swinging open as she ran towards a bemused Ron.

"Hermione want to take the short cut?" Harry asked, taking her hand before she could root herself even more to the spot, "Come on—lets go—"

He led her down the corridor and a flight of stairs. They were long out of earshot when she finally found her words. "I was alright you know," she said firmly, giving Harry a particularly dirty look. "You don't need to worry about being a buffer. I wasn't going to do anything I —"

"Hermione," Harry seemed to sigh out of annoyance, "I was in the Hospital Wing when he said her name. I don't know whose face was more hurt, yours ," He paused for a minute next to a suit of armor, "or Fred's."

She seemed to involuntarily flinch. This wasn't a bad thing. And if anything, Harry had been hinting at things through the year—but this—she had been expecting him to coach her on interactions with the happy couple. Not confronting her about the Weasley Brothers.

"Harry—"

"No listen," he interrupted, "I know we've talked about this before, and—"

"Harry we really don't need to be having this conversation—" she insisted only to have him interject again.

"No we do, because, Hermione—let's face it Ron's an idiot," Harry said firmly. "He's my best mate but I'll be the first to say—He's an idiot. And you shouldn't wait for an idiot. Because you'll be waiting forever—"

"Harry, really don't—"

"And I can't promise that Fred will wait forever" he quipped, his hands now pressing down firmly on her shoulders, his emerald eyes flashing in the morning sun streaming from the window. "If Fred cares for you as much as his face looked like he did in the hospital, than—"

She grabbed one of his hands on her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze she said "Harry, stop. We're together. You can stop."

Harry looked as though he had been hit with a bludger all over again. "What?"

"Fred and I—" she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She shrugged, "We're together."

Harry broke into a goofy, almost uncharacteristic smile. She hadn't seen a smile like this since she had Fallen Through Time. He only smiled like that in the Post War.

"Since when?" he asked.

"Since the hospital," she caught herself shrugging again, "He—er, he didn't go to the kitchens. He left and found me. And we—"

"Yes—"Harry dragged out the word, looking inquisitively at her.

"Well that's neither here nor there," she started, her cheeks on fire. "We had a conversation, cleared up some misunderstandings and—"

"And—"

She shoved his shoulder and broke into a smile. "Oh shut up. That's it. Fred and I are together."

He shook his head pacing back and forth "You and Fred, eh?" he looked at her again, "And you're sure he's not the rebound brother?"

"No, he's the one that I want," she said, the words slipping out before she could really think of them. "He has been, for a while now."

She could feel her heart racing, but it was a good kind of racing. She was excited. She couldn't help but find herself getting happy watching Harry's expression. They hadn't had much to be giddy about before. But here they were, walking down the stairs to breakfast like two regular teenagers. She had spent so many of these years telling herself she wasn't a teenager, but a solider. But she wasn't. Not right now.

Right now, she was Hermione Granger, in love with one Fred Weasley. And telling her friend Harry all about it.

"And none of the Weasley's know?" Harry ask skeptically.

"We missed the Christmas card," she joked. Maybe it wouldn't be bad telling the family. Maybe it would echo what she was feeling now. She could bubble this giddy feeling. It would feel like rays of sunshine when on the hunt. "I'm sure George knows by now. Fred can't keep something like this from him. We thought it best not to tell Ron when he was still in the hospital although in hindsight—"

"We could've had him sedated," Harry jabbed. " So let's make a deal, I will guard your secret and talk Ron down when the family finds out . And in return—"

"I don't launch a full Spanish Inquisition when you ask about Ginny and Dean?"

"Exactly," He paused for a moment, as though he was weighing her words. "What are the chances you and Fred could help speed that along…"

She rolled her eyes, You and Fred, no one had refereed to them a couple yet. But she liked it. How one little conjunction could be so gratifying. "Probably not. But I'll put a word in with George."

They kept talking as they went down the stairs. He called her out when she seemed to have a bounce in her step. She often telling him to be quite as he started talking about Her and Fred with other students in ear distance.

Ron and Lavender had already gone into the Great Hall and Hermione was thinking that given her last half hour with Harry, she should be able to deal with the them. Maybe just for a little bit. But she wasn't running to it quite yet. She slowed her steps, "Any luck on Slughorn's Memory?"

"No, I need to visit Dumbledore after breakfast—" Harry sighed, scratching the back of his head, "He's not going to take this well."

"Well, maybe if you weren't stalking Malfoy and reading in the Prince's book every chance you got—"

"Hey, we've been having a good conversation, no need to put a damper on it," he tried, pushing her words aside "Just—Just go with it. Malfoy missing the game—why would he—"

And he's back to being Harry—she thought to herself, "Harry, Someday a Gryffindor Quidditch Captain will come around who won't believe the world revolves around Quidditch."

"Fat Chance," he laughed, this time the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Remember, this is Malfoy, who had his dad buy Slytherin Nimbus 2001's. Who had Fred, George and I kicked off the team last year-"

"I just find it hard to believe that Malfoy falling out of love with Quidditch correlates with him becoming a Death Eater," Hermione said, but she was reciting the script she would have said last time. Looking at it now, she couldn't help but want to kick herself. How did she and Ron push this to side? Harry's logic may have been flawed in someways, but on this case he was spot on.

"Listen, Harry-Dumbeldore wouldn't be asking you to do this if he didn't believe you could do it," she muttered, "He wouldn't ask you if he didn't think it was important." She trying to match her step with his. She had spewed sentimental statements like this before. Spewing hope and faith in whatever plan he had put together. As sure as Harry believed in Quidditch, they both believed in Dumbledore.

At least she had.

No you still do, a little voice said in her head. You want to.

"I'll think of something I'm sure—" Harry said, less confident now than he had been minutes ago. "Just a few things I need to take care of first."

"Just promise me you'll stop spending the entire day stalking the Room of Requirement trying to find what Malfoy's up to," she started, linking her arm in his.

"You sure you quit Divination?"

"Oh, I gave up on Divination. What I'm not giving up on is you," Hermione answered, as the two of them walked into the Great Hall. "Come on, let's give it a go."

((*))

Three Weeks later, George wasn't sure how brilliant Fred's radio idea was.

The brothers had began trying to work on the radio about five minutes after he idea was formed. The thrill of the theory came to a crashing reality as they lifted the sheet and pried open the back of the radio case. When it became apparent that the radio wouldn't be the quick fix—a puff of smoke fizzing out of the box after their first tinkering—they gave each other a look that said it all.

Back to the plan—

They'd escalate the code plan. That was logic, not mechanics. That's what Fred was doing right now. He'd even taken to going through their limited library to see if they could come up with a codex. He was trying to come up with something. Anything. Fred was always good at coming up with secrecy—George knew he had worked on something for Hermione over the summer, a diary or something of the sort—but George also knew why he was doing approaching it with such ferocity. Coming up with a list meant he could have a chance of seeing Hermione.

In a way he would have welcomed that. His Brother had been working on the war effort as though he was running out of time. Even during the shop hours he would be in the back. At first, George thought he was Brainstorming, but it wasn't long before he found him pouring through books and trying to figure out how to do a magical cipher. Maybe if Hermione was here, she would be able to make him happy again-not that he was unhappy. He just wasn't happy go lucky. At this point, he'd give anything to have his twin slopping scone batter in the kitchen after a good snog.

But there wasn't time for that. Not when he was trying to make up codes.

They had gone over the codes last night. Grimmauld for one. Fawkes was another. They had to steer clear of some of the common words—Dumbledore, Black, Snuffles, Moody, Padfoot—because that had a shared history with Pettigrew. That's where the codex was coming in handy. It would just take teaching people making sure the told enough but not too many—

George was finding himself slightly annoyed they didn't have years of Prefect Experience coming up with passwords—it might make this easy. As if you could have survived being a Prefect. Living with Percy would've been intolerable…

Percy would've been decent with this, George thought. George and Fred were good at inventing things, brain storming—making a show. Percy, whether he realized it or not, took after their dad where he was good at taking things apart and putting them together again. Both logically and, when necessity demanded it, mechanics as well. When the rest of them would play Quidditch as children, it was Percy who would make a crash landing somewhere and scurry across the orchard to Mr. Weasley's shed to see what their dad had brought back.

If he hadn't become a pompous, sniveling, Ministry lackey, George thought Percy would've found his ninch in the shop. Maybe not right away—Percy had always been a bit of an academic, an analytic in ways the twins hadn't, but sometimes when he was putting the Ministry Defense Order together, George wondered what it would have been like if Percy hadn't chosen Fudge. If he hadn't had the row with their dad. If he hadn't broken their mum's heart.

Can't put everything back together, eh Percy?

He wondered if his brother would come back, if they'd ever sort it out and be a family again. But that wasn't a matter of survival. Figuring out the radio was

He opened the book they had picked up at the Muggle Bookstore near The Leaky Cauldron. It was a manual for an Airline Model Radio manufactured in the 1950s—this Radio was from the late 30s at best. For once he understood why his father fancied Muggle technology. What they had been able to put together in 20 years was remarkable as the model and the book were as different as George and Percy.

The Hell with it. You're just going to have your dad look at it—he told himself as he tapped his wand against a grommet, a spark shooting out electricity before fizzling out.

He heard the shuffle of feet on the stairs. Taking the white sheet, he tossed it over the radio, just as their established protocol had been just before Fred and Lupin entered into the flat.

"Hello Remus," George said, stretching out, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I leave you guys alone for a month and your brother tells me you're coming up with two different means of sharing communication with the wizarding population," Remus smiled as Fred walked into the kitchen and pulled out three Butterbeers, "Probably should have left you guys alone sooner and you'd have ended the war by now."

"Don't give him ideas," George said, motioning to Fred.

"I heard that," his twin quipped, handing them both bottles. "I've already shown him the ad we have and some of the different codes we were able to hammer out. All we need to do is make sure we can share the initial code words with enough members of the Order so they know what to look for."

"He's been like this ever since we came up with this," George explained looking from his brother to their old Professor, "Please remind him that he works at a Joke Shop and not a Think Tank."

"Please remind my brother that we're trying to take down a Dark Wizard, not invite him over for tea and biscuits" Fred fired back.

Remus smiled while flipping through the small book Fred had been working in. "This is good, This is really good Fred."

"Next he's going to ask to when he can run to Dumbledore," George said casually, waving his hand in the air.

"I was going to ask him if he thought we should start marketing a side shop to Muggles. Prewetts Pranks, We're so good our pranks are like magic!" He said the last bit waving his hand like George just had, as though placing the words on the banner, "Water downed magic, low enough it would sneak through the Ministry, not cause any alarms to go off-If we could find a way to make them carry protective spells think how many people we could save-"

"While I think that has merit," Remus interrupted, " I think George is right. We can take this to Dumbledore."

"Smashing,"Fred said, clapping his hands, "I'll just floo to Hogsmead and—"

"Easy there" Remus started again, "I'll take it to Dumbledore. I have business in the castle."

George watched as Fred's face fell. It was as though he had just got hit by a bludger at first shocked and then the pain coursing through him. "But—but it was our idea—"

"And a good one," Remus agreed, "Don't worry I'll make sure you get the credit. But it's going to look odd if you keep showing up at Hogwarts."

"They're doing their apparation tests," Fred started. George could see he was grasping for straws, for anything that would let him come to the school. To get to her. "I could be the older brother being supportive as Ron takes his test—"

"No," George said, setting down his butterbeer. "Remus is right. We can't keep going to the school at any excuse. People know our family's aligned to Dumbledore—we can't fight that. But if we keep popping up unexpectedly, even at things like Apparation Tests—" George looked from Remus to his brother, "They're going to think we're more involved with the Order than we're letting on. We need to be able to involved but not omnipresent. You know that Freddie, its easier to get into doors that aren't being guarded."

Remus closed he book, "Your brother's right. You're going to want a low profile. Especially if you're about to launch an underground resistance radio channel."

George watched as Fred's face went a little more rigid. His eyes darting and his hands tightening on the back of the chair. "Right. You're right." He cleared his throat and took a swig from his bottle. "Here Remus, Let me go down stairs and I'll make you a duplicate copy for you. Add in a few notes for Dumbledore."

Fred disappeared down the stairs book in hand. George turned to Remus, "The war's getting to Fred. Don't get me wrong—I agree we need to do something, but these codes, the radio—" he shook his head, "I haven't seen him brainstorm a new product since we've started this."

"I know, James was like this, last time" Remus trailed off. George wondered sometimes if Remus had continued coming to them because, in some twisted way the two Weasley brothers reminded him of James and Sirius. Hagrid had made the comparison when they were at school. Now that George was older, he could see it himself. " I'd like to say he'll be back to normal soon but in full honesty It'll take till the war ending," Remus said gloomily.

"Figured as much," George sighed, taking a drink of his butterbeer. When he was younger, butterbeer always seemed to clear his head, make things seem right. It was in that moment of clarity another thought came to George's mind."I've got another question for you though Remus, do you honestly believe Fred's downstairs gift wrapping his brain child for you to take to Dumbledore?"

AN: This was turning into a modo long chapter, so I'm splitting it. Bright side: Shouldn't have to wait that long for the update, downside...well its a 4K chapter.

Thank you for all the love this story is getting. You all have been rays of sunshine when I need it, and I appreciate it.

Fell like this is a kind of filler, but a necessary one. At least on Hermione's end. Poor dear has been battling a lot in the last few chapters, she needed to have some sunlight. I've been learning that lately too.

Anywho, next chapter Hermione's Apparation's test has a familiar end with a new surprise, both good and bad. Also, we're going to see a slight change in the time line and see how that effects course of things.

Until next time,

KH